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diff --git a/16539-8.txt b/16539-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4965b1b --- /dev/null +++ b/16539-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11336 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hero Tales and Legends of the Rhine, by +Lewis Spence (1874-1955) + + +Project Gutenberg's Hero Tales and Legends of the Rhine, by Lewis Spence + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost +no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use +it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hero Tales and Legends of the Rhine + +Author: Lewis Spence + +Release Date: August 17, 2005 [EBook #16539] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERO TALES OF THE RHINE *** + + + + +Produced by Steve Pond + + + + + +HERO TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE RHINE + +By Lewis Spence (1874-1955) Originally published: Hero tales & legends +of the Rhine. + +London; New York: + +George C. Harrap, 1915. + + + +CONTENTS + +INTRODUCTION + +CHAPTER I—TOPOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL + +CHAPTER II—THE RHINE IN FOLKLORE AND LITERATURE + +CHAPTER III—CLEVES TO THE LÖWENBURG + +LEGENDS OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE + +CHAPTER IV—DRACHENFELS TO RHEINSTEIN + +CHAPTER V—FALKENBURG TO AUERBACH + +CHAPTER VI—WORMS AND THE NIBELUNGENLIED + +CHAPTER VII—HEIDELBERG TO SÄCKINGEN + +Conclusion + + + + + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +An abundance of literature exists on the subject of the Rhine and its +legends, but with few exceptions the works on it which are accessible +to English-speaking peoples are antiquated in spirit and verbiage, and +their authors have been content to accept the first version of such +legends and traditions as came their way without submitting them to +any critical examination. It is claimed for this book that much of its +matter was collected on the spot, or that at least most of the +tales here presented were perused in other works at the scene of the +occurrences related. This volume is thus something more than a +mere compilation, and when it is further stated that only the most +characteristic and original versions and variants of the many tales here +given have gained admittance to the collection, its value will become +apparent. + +It is, of course, no easy task to infuse a spirit of originality into +matter which has already achieved such a measure of celebrity as have +these wild and wondrous tales of Rhineland. But it is hoped that the +treatment to which these stories have been subjected is not without a +novelty of its own. One circumstance may be alluded to as characteristic +of the manner of their treatment in this work. In most English books +on Rhine legend the tales themselves are presented in a form so brief, +succinct, and uninspiring as to rob them entirely of that mysterious +glamour lacking which they become mere material by which to add to and +illustrate the guide-book. The absence of the romantic spirit in most +English and American compilations dealing with the Rhine legends is +noteworthy, and in writing this book the author’s intention has been to +supply this striking defect by retaining as much of the atmosphere +of mystery so dear to the German heart as will convey to the +English-speaking reader a true conception of the spirit of German +legend. + +But it is not contended that because greater space and freedom of +narrative scope than is usual has been taken by the author the volume +would not prove itself an acceptable companion upon a voyage on Rhine +waters undertaken in holiday times of peace. Indeed, every attempt has +been made so to arrange the legends that they will illustrate a Rhine +journey from sea to source—the manner in which the majority of visitors +to Germany will make the voyage—and to this end the tales have been +marshalled in such form that a reader sitting on the deck of a Rhine +steamer may be able to peruse the legends relating to the various +localities in their proper order as he passes them. There are included, +however, several tales relating to places which cannot be viewed from +the deck of a steamer, but which may be visited at the cost of a short +inland excursion. These are such as from their celebrity could not be +omitted from any work on the legends of Rhineland, but they are few in +number. + +The historical development, folklore, poetry, and art of the +Rhine-country have been dealt with in a special introductory chapter. +The history of the Rhine basin is a complicated and uneven one, chiefly +consisting in the rapid and perplexing rise and fall of dynasties and +the alternate confiscation of one or both banks of the devoted stream +to the empires of France or Germany. But the evolution of a reasoned +narrative has been attempted from this chaotic material, and, so far +as the author is aware, it is the only one existing in English. The +folklore and romance elements in Rhine legend have been carefully +examined, and the best poetic material upon the storied river has been +critically collected and reviewed. To those who may one day visit the +Rhine it is hoped that the volume may afford a suitable introduction to +a fascinating field of travel, while to such as have already viewed +its glories it may serve to renew old associations and awaken cherished +memories of a river without peer or parallel in its wealth of story, its +boundless mystery, and the hold which it has exercised upon all who +have lingered by the hero-trodden paths that wind among its mysterious +promontories and song-haunted strands. + +—L.S. + + + +CHAPTER I—TOPOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL + +There are many rivers whose celebrity is of much greater antiquity than +that of the Rhine. The Nile and the Ganges are intimately associated +with the early history of civilization and the mysterious beginnings +of wisdom; the Tiber is eloquent of that vanished Empire which was +the first to carry the torch of advancement into the dark places of +barbarian Europe; the name of the Jordan is sacred to thousands as that +first heard in infancy and linked with lives and memories divine. But, +universal as is the fame of these rivers, none of them has awakened in +the breasts of the dwellers on their banks such a fervent devotion, +such intense enthusiasm, or such a powerful patriotic appeal as has the +Rhine, at once the river, the frontier, and the palladium of the German +folk. + +The Magic of the Rhine + +But the appeal is wider, for the Rhine is peculiarly the home of a +legendary mysticism almost unique. Those whose lives are spent in their +creation and interpretation know that song and legend have a particular +affinity for water. Hogg, the friend of Shelley, was wont to tell how +the bright eyes of his comrade would dilate at the sight of even a +puddle by the roadside. Has water a hypnotic attraction for certain +minds? Be that as it may, there has crystallized round the great +waterways of the world a traditionary lore which preserves the thought +and feeling of the past, and retains many a circumstance of wonder and +marvel from olden epochs which the modern world could ill have spared. + +Varied and valuable as are the traditional tales of other streams, none +possess that colour of intensity and mystery, that spell of ancient +profundity which belong to the legends of the Rhine. In perusing these +we feel our very souls plunged in darkness as that of the carven gloom +of some Gothic cathedral or the Cimmerian depths of some ancient forest +unpierced by sun-shafts. It is the Teutonic mystery which has us in +its grip, a thing as readily recognizable as the Celtic glamour or +the Egyptian gloom—a thing of the shadows of eld, stern, ancient, of a +ponderous fantasy, instinct with the spirit of nature, of dwarfs, +elves, kobolds, erlkings, the wraiths and shades of forest and flood, of +mountain and mere, of castled height and swift whirlpool, the denizens +of the deep valleys and mines, the bergs and heaths of this great +province of romance, this rich satrapy of Faëry. + +A Land of Legend + +Nowhere is legend so thickly strewn as on the banks of the Rhine. Each +step is eloquent of tradition, each town, village, and valley. No hill, +no castle but has its story, true or legendary. The Teuton is easily the +world’s master in the art of conserving local lore. As one speeds down +the broad breast of this wondrous river, gay with summer and flushed +with the laughter of early vineyards, so close is the network of legend +that the swiftly read or spoken tale of one locality is scarce over ere +the traveller is confronted by another. It is a surfeit of romance, an +inexhaustible hoard of the matter of marvel. + +This noble stream with its wealth of tradition has made such a powerful +impression upon the national imagination that it has become intimate in +the soul of the people and commands a reverence and affection which +is not given by any other modern nation to its greatest and most +characteristic river. The Englishman has only a mitigated pride in the +Thames, as a great commercial asset or, its metropolitan borders once +passed, a river of peculiarly restful character; the Frenchman evinces +no very great enthusiasm toward the Seine; and if there are many Spanish +songs about the “chainless Guadalquivir,” the dons have been content +to retain its Arabic name. But what German heart does not thrill at the +name of the Rhine? What German cheek does not flush at the sound of that +mighty thunder-hymn which tells of his determination to preserve the +river of his fathers at the cost of his best blood? Nay, what man of +patriotic temperament but feels a responsive chord awake within him +at the thought of that majestic song, so stern, so strong, “clad in +armour,” vibrant with the clang of swords, instinct with the universal +accord of a united people? To those who have heard it sung by +multitudinous voices to the accompaniment of golden harps and silver +trumpets it is a thing which can never be forgotten, this world-song +that is at once a hymn of union, a song of the deepest love of country, +a defiance and an intimation of resistance to the death. + +The Song of the ‘Iron Chancellor’ + +How potent Die Wacht am Rhein is to stir the hearts of the children of +the Fatherland is proven abundantly by an apposite story regarding the +great Bismarck, the ‘man of blood and iron.’ The scene is the German +Reichstag, and the time is that curious juncture in history when the +Germans, having realized that union is strength, were beginning to weld +together the petty kingdoms and duchies of which their mighty empire +was once composed. Gradually this task was becoming accomplished, and +meanwhile Germany grew eager to assert her power in Europe, wherefore +her rulers commenced to create a vast army. But Bismarck was not +satisfied, and in his eyes Germany’s safety was still unassured; so +he appealed to the Reichstag to augment largely their armaments. The +deputies looked at him askance, for a vast army meant ruinous taxation; +even von Moltke and von Roon shook their heads, well aware though they +were that a great European conflict might break out at any time; and, +in short, Bismarck’s proposal was met by a determined negative from +the whole House. “Ach, mein Gott!” he cried, holding out his hands in a +superb gesture of despair. “Ach, mein Gott! but these soldiers we must +have.” His hearers still demurred, reminding him that the people far and +near were groaning under the weight of taxation, and assuring him that +this could not possibly be increased, when he suddenly changed his +despairing gesture for a martial attitude, and with sublime eloquence +recited the lines: + + + “Es braust ein Ruf wie Donnerhall, + Wie Schwertgeklirr und Wogenprall; + Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutschen Rhein, + Wer will die Strömes Hüter sein? + Lieb Vaterland, magst ruhig sein, + Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein.” + +The effect was magical; the entire House resounded with cheers, and the +most unbounded enthusiasm prevailed. And ere the members dispersed +they had told Bismarck he might have, not ten thousand, but a hundred +thousand soldiers, such was the power of association awakened by this +famous hymn, such the spell it is capable of exercising on German +hearers. + +Topography of the Rhine + +Ere we set sail upon the dark sea of legend before us it is necessary +that, like prudent mariners, we should know whence and whither we are +faring. To this end it will be well that we should glance briefly at +the topography of the great river we are about to explore, and that we +should sketch rapidly the most salient occurrences in the strange +and varied pageant of its history, in order that we may the better +appreciate the wondrous tales of worldwide renown which have found birth +on its banks. + +Although the most German of rivers, the Rhine does not run its entire +course through German territory, but takes its rise in Switzerland and +finds the sea in Holland. For no less than 233 miles it flows through +Swiss country, rising in the mountains of the canton of Grisons, and +irrigates every canton of the Alpine republic save that of Geneva. +Indeed, it waters over 14,000 square miles of Swiss territory in the +flow of its two main branches, the Nearer Rhine and the Farther Rhine, +which unite at Reichenau, near Coire. The Nearer Rhine issues at the +height of over 7000 feet from the glaciers of the Rheinwaldhorn +group, and flows for some thirty-five miles, first in a north-easterly +direction through the Rheinwald Valley, then northward through the +Schams Valley, by way of the Via Mala gorge, and Tomleschg Valley, and +so to Reichenau, where it is joined by its sister stream, the Farther +Rhine. The latter, rising in the little Alpine lake of Toma near the +Pass of St. Gotthard, flows in a north-easterly direction to Reichenau. +The Nearer Rhine is generally considered to be the more important +branch, though the Farther Rhine is the longer by some seven miles. From +Reichenau the Rhine flows north-eastward to Coire, and thence northward +to the Lake of Constance, receiving on its way two tributaries, the +Landquart and the Ill, both on the right bank. Indeed, from source to +sea the Rhine receives a vast number of tributaries, amounting, with +their branches, to over 12,000. Leaving the Lake of Constance at the +town of that name, the river flows westward to Basel, having as +the principal towns on its banks Constance, Schaffhausen, Waldshut, +Laufenburg, Säckingen, Rheinfelden, and Basel. + +Not far from the town of Schaffhausen the river precipitates itself from +a height of 60 feet, in three leaps, forming the famous Falls of the +Rhine. At Coblentz a strange thing happens, for at this place the river +receives the waters of the Aar, swollen by the Reuss and the Limmat, and +of greater volume than the stream in which it loses itself. + +It is at Basel that the Rhine, taking a northward trend, enters +Germany. By this time it has made a descent of nearly 7000 feet, and has +traversed about a third of its course. Between Basel and Mainz it flows +between the mountains of the Black Forest and the Vosges, the distance +between which forms a shallow valley of some width. Here and there it is +islanded, and its expanse averages about 1200 feet. The Taunus Mountains +divert it at Mainz, where it widens, and it flows westward for about +twenty miles, but at Bingen it once more takes its course northward, and +enters a narrow valley where the enclosing hills look down sheer upon +the water. + +It is in this valley, probably one of the most romantic in the world, +that we find the legendary lore of the river packed in such richness +that every foot of its banks has its place in tradition. But that is not +to say that this portion of the Rhine is wanting in natural beauty. Here +are situated some of its sunniest vineyards, its most wildly romantic +heights, and its most picturesque ruins. This part of its course may be +said to end at the Siebengebirge, or ‘Seven Mountains,’ where the river +again widens and the banks become more bare and uninteresting. Passing +Bonn and Cologne, the bareness of the landscape is remarkable after the +variety of that from which we have just emerged, and henceforward the +river takes on what may be called a ‘Dutch’ appearance. After entering +Holland it divides into two branches, the Waal flowing to the west and +uniting with the Maas. The smaller branch to the right is still called +the Rhine, and throws off another branch, the Yssel, which flows into +the Zuider Zee. Once more the river bifurcates into insignificant +streams, one of which is called the Kromme Rijn, and beyond Utrecht, and +under the name of the Oude Rijn, or Old Rhine, it becomes so stagnant +that it requires the aid of a canal to drain it into the sea. Anciently +the Rhine at this part of its course was an abounding stream, but by the +ninth century the sands at Katwijk had silted it up, and it was only in +the beginning of last century that its way to the sea was made clear. + +The Sunken City + +More than six centuries ago Stavoren was one of the chief commercial +towns of Holland. Its merchants traded with all parts of the world, and +brought back their ships laden with rich cargoes, and the city became +ever more prosperous. + +The majority of the people of Stavoren were well-to-do, and as their +wealth increased they became luxurious and dissipated, each striving to +outdo the others in the magnificence of their homes and the extravagance +of their hospitality. + +Many of their houses, we are told, were like the palaces of princes, +built of white marble, furnished with the greatest sumptuousness, and +decorated with the costliest hangings and the rarest statuary. + +But, says the legend, of all the Stavoren folk there was none +wealthier than young Richberta. This maiden owned a fleet of the finest +merchant-vessels of the city, and loved to ornament her palace with the +rich merchandise which these brought from foreign ports. With all her +jewels and gold and silver treasures, however, Richberta was not happy. +She gave gorgeous banquets to the other merchant-princes of the place, +each more magnificent than the last, not because she received any +pleasure from thus dispensing hospitality, but because she desired to +create envy and astonishment in the breasts of her guests. + +On one occasion while such a feast was in progress Richberta was +informed that a stranger was waiting without who was desirous of +speaking with her. When she was told that the man had come all the way +from a distant land simply to admire her wonderful treasures, of which +he had heard so much, the maiden was highly flattered and gave orders +that he should be admitted without delay. An aged and decrepit man, clad +in a picturesque Eastern costume, was led into the room, and Richberta +bade him be seated at her side. He expected to receive from the young +lady the symbol of welcome—bread and salt. But no such common fare was +to be found on her table—all was rich and luxurious food. + +The stranger seated himself in silence. At length he began to talk. He +had travelled in many lands, and now he told of his changing fortunes in +these far-off countries, always drawing a moral from his adventures—that +all things earthly were evanescent as the dews of morning. The company +listened attentively to the discourse of the sage; all, that is, but +their hostess, who was angry and disappointed that he had said no word +of the wealth and magnificence displayed in her palace, the rich fare on +her table, and all the signs of luxury with which he was surrounded. At +length she could conceal her chagrin no longer, and asked the stranger +directly whether he had ever seen such splendour in his wanderings as +that he now beheld. + +“Tell me,” she said, “is there to be found in the courts of your Eastern +kings such rare treasures as these of mine?” + +“Nay,” replied the sage, “they have no pearls and rich embroideries to +match thine. Nevertheless, there is one thing missing from your board, +and that the best and most valuable of all earthly gifts.” + +In vain Richberta begged that he would tell her what that most precious +of treasures might be. He answered all her inquiries in an evasive +manner, and at last, when her question could no longer be evaded, he +rose abruptly and left the room. And, seek as she might, Richberta could +find no trace of her mysterious visitor. + +Richberta strove to discover the meaning of the old man’s words. She +was rich—she possessed greater treasures than any in Stavoren, at a time +when that city was among the wealthiest in Europe—and yet she lacked the +most precious of earth’s treasures. The memory of the words galled her +pride and excited her curiosity to an extraordinary pitch. In vain she +asked the wise men of her time—the priests and philosophers—to read her +the riddle of the mysterious traveller. None could name a treasure that +was not already hers. + +In her anxiety to obtain the precious thing, whatever it might be, +Richberta sent all her ships to sea, telling the captain of each not +to return until he had found some treasure that she did not already +possess. The vessels were victualled for seven years, so that the +mariners might have ample time in which to pursue their quest. So their +commander sent one division of the fleet to the east, another to the +west, while he left his own vessel to the hazard of the winds, letting +it drift wheresoever the fates decreed. His ship as well as the others +was laden heavily with provisions, and during the first storm they +encountered it was necessary to cast a considerable portion of the food +overboard, so that the ship might right itself. As it was, the remaining +provisions were so damaged by the sea-water that they rotted in a few +days and became unfit for food. A pestilence would surely follow the use +of such unwholesome stuff, and consequently the entire cargo of bread +had to be cast into the sea. + +The commander saw his crew ravaged by the dreaded scurvy, suffering from +the lack of bread. Then only did he begin to perceive the real meaning +of the sage’s words. The most valuable of all earthly treasures was not +the pearls from the depths of the sea, gold or silver from the heart of +the mountains, nor the rich spices of the Indies. The most common of all +earth’s, products, that which was to be found in every country, which +flourished in every clime, on which the lives of millions depended—this +was the greatest treasure, and its name was—bread. + +Having reached this conclusion, the commander of Richberta’s fleet set +sail for a Baltic port, where he took on board a cargo of corn, and +returned immediately to Stavoren. + +Richberta was astonished and delighted to see that he had achieved his +purpose so soon, and bade him tell her of what the treasure consisted +which he had brought with him. The commander thereupon recounted his +adventures—the storm, the throwing overboard of their store of bread, +and the consequent sufferings of the crew—and told how he at length +discovered what was the greatest treasure on earth, the priceless +possession which the stranger had looked for in vain at her rich board. +It was bread, he said simply, and the cargo he had brought home was +corn. + +Richberta was beside herself with passion. When she had recovered +herself sufficiently to speak she asked him: + +“At which side of the ship did you take in the cargo?” + +“At the right side,” he replied. + +“Then,” she exclaimed angrily, “I order you to cast it into the sea from +the left side.” + +It was a cruel decision. Stavoren, like every other city, had its quota +of poor families, and these were in much distress at the time, many of +them dying from sheer starvation. The cargo of corn would have provided +bread for them throughout the whole winter, and the commander urged +Richberta to reconsider her decision. As a last resort he sent the +barefooted children of the city to her, thinking that their mute misery +would move her to alleviate their distress and give them the shipload +of corn. But all was in vain. Richberta remained adamantine, and in full +view of the starving multitude she had the precious cargo cast into the +sea. + +But the curses of the despairing people had their effect. Far down in +the bed of the sea the grains of corn germinated, and a harvest of bare +stalks grew until it reached the surface of the water. The shifting +quicksands at the bottom of the sea were bound together by the +overspreading stalks into a mighty sand-bank which rose above the +surface in front of the town of Stavoren. + +No longer were the merchant-vessels able to enter the harbour, for +it was blocked by the impassable bank. Nay, instead of finding refuge +there, many a ship was dashed to pieces by the fury of the breakers, and +Stavoren became a place of ill-fame to the mariner. + +All the wealth and commerce of this proud city were at an end. Richberta +herself, whose wanton act had raised the sand-bank, had her ships +wrecked there one by one, and was reduced to begging for bread in the +city whose wealthiest inhabitant she had once been. Then, perhaps, she +could appreciate the words of the old traveller, that bread was the +greatest of earthly treasures. + +At last the ocean, dashing against the huge mound with ever-increasing +fury, burst through the dyke which Richberta had raised, overwhelmed the +town, and buried it for ever under the waves. + +And now the mariner, sailing on the Zuider Zee, passes above the +engulfed city and sees with wonderment the towers and spires of the +‘Sunken Land.’ + +Historical Sketch + +Like other world-rivers, the Rhine has attracted to its banks a +succession of races of widely divergent origin. Celt, Teuton, Slav, and +Roman have contested for the territories which it waters, and if the +most enduring of these races has finally achieved dominion over the +fairest river-province in Europe, who shall say that it has emerged from +the struggle as a homogeneous people, having absorbed none of the blood +of those with whom it strove for the lordship of this vine-clad valley? +He would indeed be a courageous ethnologist who would suggest a purely +Germanic origin for the Rhine race. As the historical period dawns upon +Middle Europe we find the Rhine basin in the possession of a people of +Celtic blood. As in Britain and France, this folk has left its indelible +mark upon the countryside in a wealth of place-names embodying its +characteristic titles for flood, village, and hill. In such prefixes and +terminations as magh, brig, dun, and etc we espy the influence of Celtic +occupants, and Maguntiacum, or Mainz, and Borbetomagus, or Worms, are +examples of that ‘Gallic’ idiom which has indelibly starred the map of +Western Europe. + +Prehistoric Miners + +The remains of this people which are unearthed from beneath the +superincumbent strata of their Teutonic successors in the country show +them to have been typical of their race. Like their kindred in Britain, +they had successfully exploited the mineral treasures of the country, +and their skill as miners is eloquently upheld by the mute witness of +age-old cinder-heaps by which are found the once busy bronze hammer and +the apparatus of the smelting-furnace, speaking of the slow but steady +smith-toil upon which the foundation of civilization arose. There was +scarcely a mineral beneath the loamy soil which masked the metalliferous +rock which they did not work. From Schönebeck to Dürkheim lies an +immense bed of salt, and this the Celtic population of the district dug +and condensed by aid of fires fed by huge logs cut from the giant trees +of the vast and mysterious forests which have from time immemorial +shadowed the whole existence of the German race. The salt, moulded or +cut into blocks, was transported to Gaul as an article of commerce. But +the Celts of the Rhine achieved distinction in other arts of life, for +their pottery, weapons, and jewellery will bear comparison with those of +prehistoric peoples in any part of Europe. + +As has been remarked, at the dawn of history we find the Rhine Celts +everywhere in full retreat before the rude and more virile Teutons. +They lingered latterly about the Moselle and in the district of Eifel, +offering a desperate resistance to the onrushing hordes of Germanic +warriors. In all likelihood they were outnumbered, if not outmatched +in skill and valour, and they melted away before the savage ferocity of +their foes, probably seeking asylum with their kindred in Gaul. + +Probably the Teutonic tribes had already commenced to apply pressure to +the Celtic inhabitants of Rhine-land in the fourth century before the +Christian era. As was their wont, they displaced the original possessors +of the soil as much by a process of infiltration as by direct conquest. +The waves of emigration seem to have come from Rhaetia and Pannonia, +broad-headed folk, who were in a somewhat lower condition of barbarism +than the race whose territory they usurped, restless, assertive, and +irritable. Says Beddoe:1 + +[Note 1: The Anthropological History of Europe, p. 100.] + +“The mass of tall, blond, vigorous barbarians multiplied, seethed, +and fretted behind the barrier thus imposed. Tacitus and several other +classic authors speak of the remarkable uniformity in their appearance; +how they were all tall and handsome, with fierce blue eyes and yellow +hair. Humboldt remarks the tendency we all have to see only the +single type in a strange foreign people, and to shut our eyes to the +differences among them. Thus some of us think sheep all alike, but the +shepherd knows better; and many think all Chinamen are alike, whereas +they differ, in reality, quite as much as we do, or rather more. But +with respect to the ancient Germans, there certainly was among them one +very prevalent form of head, and even the varieties of feature which +occur among the Marcomans—for example, on Marcus Aurelius’ column—all +seem to oscillate round one central type. + +The ‘Graverow’ Type + +“This is the Graverow type of Ecker, the Hohberg type of His and +Rutimeyer, the Swiss anatomists. In it the head is long, narrow (say +from 70 to 76 in. breadth-index), as high or higher than it is broad, +with the upper part of the occiput very prominent, the forehead rather +high than broad, often dome-shaped, often receding, with prominent +brows, the nose long, narrow, and prominent, the cheek-bones narrow and +not prominent, the chin well marked, the mouth apt to be prominent in +women. In Germany persons with these characters have almost always light +eyes and hair.... This Graverow type is almost exclusively what is +found in the burying-places of the fifth, sixth, and seventh centuries, +whether of the Alemanni, the Bavarians, the Franks, the Saxons, or the +Burgundians. Schetelig dug out a graveyard in Southern Spain which is +attributed to the Visigoths. Still the same harmonious elliptic form, +the same indices, breadth 73, height 74.” + +Early German Society + +Tacitus in his Germania gives a vivid if condensed picture of Teutonic +life in the latter part of the first century: + +“The face of the country, though in some parts varied, presents a +cheerless scene, covered with the gloom of forests, or deformed with +wide-extended marshes; toward the boundaries of Gaul, moist and swampy; +on the side of Noricum and Pannonia, more exposed to the fury of the +winds. Vegetation thrives with sufficient vigour. The soil produces +grain, but is unkind to fruit-trees; well stocked with cattle, but of an +under-size, and deprived by nature of the usual growth and ornament of +the head. The pride of a German consists in the number of his flocks +and herds; they are his only riches, and in these he places his chief +delight. Gold and silver are withheld from them: is it by the favour or +the wrath of Heaven? I do not, however, mean to assert that in Germany +there are no veins of precious ore; for who has been a miner in these +regions? Certain it is they do not enjoy the possession and use of those +metals with our sensibility. There are, indeed, silver vessels to be +seen among them, but they were presents to their chiefs or ambassadors; +the Germans regard them in no better light than common earthenware. +It is, however, observable that near the borders of the empire the +inhabitants set a value upon gold and silver, finding them subservient +to the purposes of commerce. The Roman coin is known in those parts, and +some of our specie is not only current, but in request. In places more +remote the simplicity of ancient manners still prevails: commutation of +property is their only traffic. Where money passes in the way of barter +our old coin is the most acceptable, particularly that which is indented +at the edge, or stamped with the impression of a chariot and two horses, +called the Serrati and Bigati. Silver is preferred to gold, not from +caprice or fancy, but because the inferior metal is of more expeditious +use in the purchase of low-priced commodities. + +Ancient German Weapons + +“Iron does not abound in Germany, if we may judge from the weapons in +general use. Swords and large lances are seldom seen. The soldier +grasps his javelin, or, as it is called in their language, his fram—an +instrument tipped with a short and narrow piece of iron, sharply +pointed, and so commodious that, as occasion requires, he can manage +it in close engagement or in distant combat. With this and a shield the +cavalry are completely armed. The infantry have an addition of missive +weapons. Each man carries a considerable number, and being naked, or, +at least, not encumbered by his light mantle, he throws his weapon to a +distance almost incredible. A German pays no attention to the ornament +of his person; his shield is the object of his care, and this he +decorates with the liveliest colours. Breastplates are uncommon. In a +whole army you will not see more than one or two helmets. Their horses +have neither swiftness nor elegance, nor are they trained to the various +evolutions of the Roman cavalry. To advance in a direct line, or wheel +suddenly to the right, is the whole of their skill, and this they +perform in so compact a body that not one is thrown out of his rank. +According to the best estimate, the infantry comprise the national +strength, and, for that reason, always fight intermixed with the +cavalry. The flower of their youth, able by their vigour and activity +to keep pace with the movements of the horse, are selected for this +purpose, and placed in the front of the lines. The number of these is +fixed and certain: each canton sends a hundred, from that circumstance +called Hundreders by the army. The name was at first numerical only: it +is now a title of honour. Their order of battle presents the form of a +wedge. To give ground in the heat of action, provided you return to the +charge, is military skill, not fear or cowardice. In the most fierce and +obstinate engagement, even when the fortune of the day is doubtful, they +make it a point to carry off their slain. To abandon their shield is a +flagitious crime. The person guilty of it is interdicted from religious +rites and excluded from the assembly of the state. Many who survived +their honour on the day of battle have closed a life of ignominy by a +halter.” + +Teutonic Customs + +The kings of this rude but warlike folk were elected by the suffrages of +the nobility, and their leaders in battle, as was inevitable with such +a people, were chosen by reason of their personal prowess. The legal +functions were exercised by the priesthood, and punishments were thus +held to be sanctioned by the gods. Among this barbaric people the female +sex was held as absolutely sacred, the functions of wife and mother +being accounted among the highest possible to humanity, and we observe +in ancient accounts of the race that typically Teutonic conception of +the woman as seer or prophetess which so strongly colours early Germanic +literature. Women, indeed, in later times, when Christianity had +nominally conquered Paganism, remained as the sole conservators of the +ancient Teutonic magico-religious lore, and in the curtained recesses of +dark-timbered halls whiled away the white hours of winter by the painful +spelling out of runic characters and the practice of arts which they +were destined to convey from the priests of Odin and Thor to the witches +of medieval days. + +Costume of the Early Teuton + +The personal appearance of these barbarians was as rude and simple as +were their manners. Says Tacitus: + +“The clothing in use is a loose mantle, made fast with a clasp, or, when +that cannot be had, with a thorn. Naked in other respects, they loiter +away whole days by the fireside. The rich wear a garment, not, indeed, +displayed and flowing, like the Parthians or the people of Sarmatia, +but drawn so tight that the form of the limbs is palpably expressed. The +skins of wild animals are also much in use. Near the frontier, on the +borders of the Rhine, the inhabitants wear them, but with an air of +neglect that shows them altogether indifferent about the choice, The +people who live more remote, near the northern seas, and have not +acquired by commerce a taste for new-fashioned apparel, are more curious +in the selection. They choose particular beasts and, having stripped +off the furs, clothe themselves with the spoil, decorated with +parti-coloured spots, or fragments taken from the skins of fish that +swim the ocean as yet unexplored by the Romans. In point of dress there +is no distinction between the sexes, except that the garment of the +women is frequently made of linen, adorned with purple stains, but +without sleeves, leaving the arms and part of the bosom uncovered.” + +The Germanic Tribes + +It is also from Tacitus that we glean what were the names and +descriptions of those tribes who occupied the territory adjacent to the +Rhine. The basin of the river between Strassburg and Mainz was inhabited +by the Tribacci, Nemetes, and Vangiones, further south by the Matiacci +near Wiesbaden, and the Ubii in the district of Cologne. Further north +lay the Sugambri, and the delta of the river in the Low Countries was +the seat of the brave Batavii, from whom came the bulk of the legions by +means of which Agricola obtained a footing in far Caledonia. Before the +Roman invasion of their territories these tribes were constantly engaged +in internecine warfare, a condition of affairs not to be marvelled at +when we learn that at their tribal councils the warrior regarded as +an inspired speaker was he who was most powerfully affected by the +potations in which all habitually indulged to an extent which seemed to +the cultured Roman as bestial in the last degree. The constant bearing +of arms, added to their frequent addiction to powerful liquors, also +seemed to render the Germanic warriors quarrelsome to excess, and to +provoke intertribal strife. + +The Romans in the Rhine Country + +Caesar is the first Roman writer to give us any historical data +concerning the peoples who inhabited the basin of the Rhine. He +conquered the tribes on the left bank, and was followed a generation or +so later by Augustus, who established numerous fortified posts on the +river. But the Romans never succeeded in obtaining a firm occupancy of +the right bank. Their chief object in colonizing the Rhine territory +was to form an effective barrier between themselves and the restless +barbarian tribes of the Teutonic North, the constant menace of whose +invasion lay as a canker at the heart of rich and fruitful Italy. With +the terror of a barbarian inroad ever before their eyes, the cohorts of +the Imperial City constructed a formidable vallum, or earthen wall, from +the vicinity of Linz to Regensburg, on the Danube, a distance of three +hundred and fifty miles, for the purpose of raising a barrier against +the advance of the warlike men of the North. They further planted a +colony of veterans in the Black Forest neighbourhood in order that +invasion might be resisted from that side. But as the Empire began to +exhibit signs of decadence the barbarians were quick to recognize the +symptoms of weakness in those who barred their advance to the wealthy +South, the objective of their dreams, hurled themselves against the +boundary, now rendered feeble by reason of the withdrawal of its most +experienced defenders, and, despite a stern resistance, flooded the rich +valleys of the Rhine, swamped the colonies on the left bank which had +imbibed Roman civilization, and made all wholly Teutonic. + +The Rebellion of the Barbarians + +This was, however, a process of years, and by no means a speedy +conquest. The closing years of Augustus’ reign were clouded by a general +rising of the Rhine peoples. Quintilius Varus, an officer who had been +entrusted with the government of the provinces beyond the Rhine, proved +totally unequal to curbing the bolder spirits among the Germans, who +under their chief, Arminius, boldly challenged the forces of this +short-sighted officer. Arminius belonged to the Cherusci. He had served +with the German horsemen in the Rhenish armies, and was conversant with +the Latin language. Observing that half, at least, of the Roman forces +were on leave, he incited the tribes of Lower Saxony to revolt. The weak +Varus, who had underestimated the influence of Arminius, attempted to +quell the rising, but without success, and the bank of the river was +the scene of a wholesale slaughter. Varus, completely losing his nerve, +attempted to separate the cavalry from the infantry and endeavoured to +escape with three squadrons of the former; but the Germans surrounded +them, and after a hand-to-hand struggle of three days the Roman army +was annihilated. The news of this disaster prompted the aged Emperor +to dispatch his son Tiberius to suppress what appeared to be a general +rising of the North. The Rhenish tribes, however, were too wary to meet +the powerful force now sent against them in the open field, and during +the remainder of the year Tiberius, left in peace, occupied himself in +strengthening the Rhine fortifications. + +He was soon after recalled to Rome to assume the purple on the death of +Augustus. Germanicus, who had taken command of the legions on the Rhine, +became conscious of discontent among the soldiers, who threatened to +carry him into Rome and thrust him into the seat of empire. But he +soothed the passions of his soldiers by gifts and promises. A road was +opened from the Rhine into the German hinterland, and Germanicus led his +army into the heart of a country of which he knew but little to avenge +the disasters of the Varian legions. The forest folk eluded the invading +host, which now sought to return to headquarters; but ere they had +completed the journey they were assailed and suffered a severe reverse. + +Numerous revolts occurred among the Gaulish legions in the service of +the Roman Empire in Germany. But the stubborn and trained resistance of +the Romans no less than the inexperience of the Gauls led to a cessation +of hostilities. The secret of Roman power in Rhenish territory lay in +the circumstance that the two great elements of German nationality, the +nobility and the priesthood, were becoming Romanized. But a rude culture +was beginning to blossom, and a desire arose among the barbarians for +unity. They wished to band themselves into a nation. + +The Franks and Goths + +The most dangerous enemies of Rome during the reigns of Valerian and +Gallienus were the Franks, the Alemanni, and the Goths, whose action +finally decided the conquest of the Rhenish provinces of Rome. The name +Frank, or Freedman, was given to a confederacy formed in A.D. 240 by the +old inhabitants of the Lower Rhine and the Weser. It consisted of the +Chauci, the Cherusci, and the Chatti, and of several other tribes of +greater or less renown. The Romans foresaw the power of this formidable +union and, by the presence of the Emperor himself and his son, +endeavoured to stem the invasion, which threatened their suzerainty. The +Franks, fond of liberty and imbued with a passion for conquest, crossed +the Rhine, in spite of its strong fortifications, and carried their +devastations to the foot of the Pyrenees. For twelve years Gallienus +attempted to stem the torrent thus freed. + +The Alemanni, who belonged to the Upper Rhine, between the Main and the +Danube, were composed of many tribes, the most important of which +was the celebrated Suevi. This people, who had now become a permanent +nation, threatened the Empire with an invasion which was checked with +difficulty after they had fought their way to the gates of Rome itself. +In A.D. 271 Aurelian completely subdued the Rhenish peoples, numbers of +whom were dragged in his triumph through the streets of Rome; but after +his brief reign the old condition of things reasserted itself, until +Probus, who assumed the purple in 276, restored peace and order by the +construction of a massive wall between the Rhine and the Danube over two +hundred miles in length. The barbarians were driven beyond the river, +which had hitherto served as a boundary-line, even past the Elbe and the +Neckar. Finally, however, the internecine strife in the Imperial City +forced the Romans to return thence, and Rhineland was abandoned to the +will of its semi-barbarian inhabitants. + +The early Christian centuries are full of the sound of conflict. In the +fourth century the principal tribes in Western Germany were the Franks +and the Alemanni, the former of whom maintained a constant strife with +the Saxons, who pressed heavily upon their rear. The Franks occupied the +lower portion of the river, near to its mouth, whilst the Alemanni dwelt +on the portion to the bounds of Helvetia and Switzerland. At this period +great racial upheavals appear to have been taking place further east. +By the beginning of the sixth century the Saxons seem to have penetrated +almost to the north-western Rhine, where the Franks were now supreme. + +The Merovingians + +In the middle of the fifth century arose the powerful dynasty of the +Merovingians, one of the most picturesque royal houses in the roll +of history. In their records we see the clash of barbarism with +advancement, the bizarre tints of a semi-civilization unequalled in rude +magnificence. Giant shadows of forgotten kings stalk across the canvas, +their royal purple intermingling with the shaggy fell of the bear +and wolf. One, Chilperic, a subtle grammarian and the inventor of new +alphabetic symbols, is yet the most implacable of his race, the murderer +of his wife, the heartless slayer of hundreds, to whom human life is as +that of cattle skilled in the administration of poison, a picturesque +cut-throat. Others are weaklings, fainéants; but one, the most dread +woman in Frankish history, Fredegonda, the queen of Chilperic, towers +above all in this masque of slaughter and treachery. + +Tradition makes claim that Andernach was the cradle of the Merovingian +dynasty. In proof of this are shown the extensive ruins of the palace +of these ancient Frankish kings. Merovig, from whom the race derived +its name, was said to be the son of Clodio, but legend relates far +otherwise. In name and origin he was literally a child of the Rhine, his +father being a water-monster who seized the wife of Clodio while bathing +in that river. In time she gave birth to a child, more monster than man, +the spine being covered with bristles, fingers and toes webbed, eyes +covered with a film, and thighs and legs horny with large shining +scales. Clodio, though aware of the real paternity of this creature, +adopted it as his own son, as did King Minos in the case of the +Minotaur, giving him the name Merovig from his piscatory origin. On +Clodio’s death the demi-monster succeeded to the throne, and from him +sprang a long line of sovereigns, worthless and imbecile for the most +part. + +Childeric, the son and successor of Merovig, enraged his people to such +a degree by his excesses that they drove him from throne and country. +One friend alone remained to him, Winomadus, who, having no female +relations to suffer by the king’s attentions, did not find the +friendship so irksome as others; indeed, had been a partner in his +licentious pleasures. He undertook to watch over the interests of +Childeric during his enforced absence in Thuringia at the court of +Basium, king of that country. The Franks had elected Aegidius, a Roman +general, to the sovereignty over them, but as he proved himself no +better than Childeric, whom they had deposed, they once more essayed +to choose another ruler. This was made known to Childeric through his +friend Winomadus. He rapidly returned to the shores of the Rhine and, +reinforcing his following as he proceeded on his march, appeared before +Andernach at the head of a formidable force, composed of many of his +former subjects, together with Thuringian auxiliaries. The people of +Andernach, unable to resist this overwhelming argument, again accepted +Childeric as their king. + +Basina the Sorceress + +While in Thuringia Childeric had seduced the affections of Basina, the +queen of his protector. When he regained his throne he induced her to +leave her husband, and made her his queen. Basina was a sorceress, +one who could divine the future and also bestow the gift upon others. +Through this she gained great influence over Childeric, who desired to +see and know what fate had in store for himself and his race. Basina +agreed to satisfy his curiosity, and one night, at the midnight hour, +they climbed together to the summit of the hill behind Andernach. There +she bade him stand and look out over the plain while she performed her +magical operations. After some lengthy incantations she bade him look +well and tell her what he saw. + +In a trance-like voice the king replied: + +“I see a great light upon the plain, although all around is blackest +night.” + +He paused; then, at her bidding, proceeded again: + +“I see an immense concourse of wild animals—the lion, the tiger, +the spotted pard, the elephant, the unicorn—ah! they are coming this +way—they will devour us!” and he turned to flee in great terror. + +Basina bade him stay in peremptory tones and again to look out over the +plain. In a voice of alarm he cried out: + +“I see bears and wolves, jackals and hyenas. Heaven help us, the others +are all gone!” + +Heedless of his terror, the queen bade him look again and, for the last +time, tell her what he saw. + +“I see now dogs and cats and little creatures of all kinds. But there is +one small animal—smaller than a mouse—who commands them all. Ah! he is +eating them up—swallowing them all—one after another.” + +As he looked the light, the plain, the animals all vanished, and +darkness fell. Basina then read to him the meaning of his vision. + +“The first vision you saw indicated the character of our immediate +successors. They will be as bold as lions, terrible as tigers, strong +as elephants, uncommon as unicorns, beautiful as the pard. These are the +men of an age; for a century shall they rule over the land.” + +At this Childeric was delighted and ejaculated a fervent “Praise be to +the gods!” + +“The second,” pursued Basina, “are the men of the following century—our +more remote descendants—rude as the bear, fell as the wolf, fawning as +the jackal, cruel as the hyena—the curse of their people and—themselves. +The last one—the following century—they will be weak, timid, +irresolute—the prey of every base and low thing, the victims of +violence, deceit, and cunning; vanquished and destroyed at last by the +smallest of their own subjects.” + +Such was Childeric’s vision and his queen’s interpretation. + +As she had predicted, the Merovingian dynasty lasted three hundred +years, when it was overturned by one Pepin of Heristal, the smallest man +of his day—at least, so tradition tells. + +At the death of Clovis his sons split up the kingdom, and from that +epoch a deadly war was waged between the rival kingdoms of Neustria and +Austrasia, the west and the east. + +The wars of Neustria and Austrasia (Ost Reich, the Eastern Kingdom, +which has, of course, no connexion with the modern Austria) are related +by Gregory of Tours in his Ecclesiastical History of the Franks, one of +the most brilliant pieces of historical and biographical writing to be +discovered among the literature of Europe in the Dark Ages. Metz was the +capital of this kingdom-province. Fredegonda, the queen of Chilperic of +Neustria, had a deadly blood-feud with her sister-in-law of Austrasia, +and in the event put her rival to death by having her torn asunder +by wild horses (A.D. 613). Later Austrasia became incorporated with +Franconia, which in 843 was included in the kingdom of Louis the German. + +The Great Race of Charlemagne + +The race of the Carolingians, whose greatest monarch was the famous +Charlemagne, or Karl der Grosse, sprang from a family of usurpers known +as the ‘Mayors of the Palace,’ who had snatched the crown from the rois +fainéants, the last weakly shoots of the mighty line of Merovig. He was +the elder son of Pepin the Short, and succeeded, on the death of his +father in A.D. 768, to a kingdom which extended from the Low Countries +to the borders of Spain. His whole life was one prolonged war undertaken +against the forces of paganism, the Moors of Spain who harassed his +borders to the south, and the restless Saxon tribes dwelling between +the Rhine, Weser, and Elbe. Innumerable are the legends and romances +concerning this great, wise, and politic monarch and statesman, +who, surrounding himself with warriors of prowess whom he called his +paladins, unquestionably kept the light of Christianity and civilization +burning in Western Europe. He was, however, quite as great a legislator +as a warrior, and founded schools and hospitals in every part of his +kingdom. He died at Aix-la-Chapelle in 814, and was buried there.1 + +[Note 1: For numerous critical articles upon Charlemagne and the epics +or chansons des gestes connected with him see the author’s Dictionary of +Medieval Romance.] + +The ‘Song of the Saxons’ + +One of the most stirring of the romances which tell of the wars of +Charlemagne in the Rhine country is the Song of the Saxons, fifth in +number of the Romans des Douze Pairs de France, and composed by Jean +Bodel, a poet of Artois, who flourished toward the middle of the +thirteenth century. Charles, sitting at table in Laon one Whitsuntide +with fourteen kings, receives news of an invasion of the Saxons, who +have taken Cologne, killed many Frankish nobles, and laid waste the +country. A racy epitome of the events which follow has been given +by Ludlow in his Popular Epics of the Middle Ages (1865) as follows: +“Charles invades Saxony, and reaches the banks of ‘Rune the Deep,’ +beyond which lies Guiteclin’s palace of ‘Tremoigne’ (supposed to be +Dortmund, in Westphalia). The river is too deep to be crossed by the +army, although the two young knights, Baldwin and Berard, succeed in +doing so in quest of adventure. The Saxons will not attack, trusting +that the French will be destroyed by delay and the seasons. And, indeed, +after two years and four months, the barons represent to the Emperor +the sad plight of the host, and urge him to call upon the men of Herupe +(North-west France) for performance of their warlike service. This +is done accordingly, and the Herupe barons make all haste to their +sovereign’s aid, and come up just after the Saxons have made an +unsuccessful attack. They send to ask where they are to lodge their +troops. The Emperor points them laughingly to the other side of the +Rune, where float the silken banners of the Saxons, but says that any +of his men shall give up their camping-place to them. The Herupe men, +however, determine to take him at his word and, whilst the Archbishop +of Sens blesses the water, boldly fling themselves in and cross it, and +end, after a tremendous struggle, in taking up the quarters assigned to +them; but when he sees their prowess the Emperor recalls them to his own +side of the river. + +“A bridge is built, the army passes over it, the Saxons are discomfited +in a great battle, and Guiteclin is killed in single combat by +Charlemagne himself. + +“By this time the slender vein of historic truth which runs through the +poem may be considered as quite exhausted. Yet the real epic interest +of the work centres in its wholly apocryphal conclusion, connected +essentially with its purely romantic side. + +“Sebile, the wife of Guiteclin, is a peerless beauty, wise withal and +courteous; ‘hair had she long and fair, more than the shining gold, a +brow polished and clear, eyes blue and laughing, a very well-made nose, +teeth small and white, a savourous mouth, more crimson than blood; +and in body and limbs so winning was she that God never made the man, +howsoever old and tottering, if he durst look at her, but was moved with +desire.’” + +Fair Helissend, the daughter of the murdered Milo of Cologne, is her +captive at once and her favourite, and when the French host takes up its +position before the Rune, names and points out young Baldwin to her. + +With her husband’s sanction, Sebile has her tent pitched on the bank, +and establishes herself there with her ladies to act as decoys to the +Franks; for “fair lady’s look makes men undertake folly.” She is taken, +however, in her own toils; falls in love with Baldwin one summer’s day +on seeing him ride forth with hawk on wrist, and makes Helissend invite +him over the river, under a very frank pledge that “she will be his, +for loss or gain.” Their first meeting apparently takes place in the +presence of Sebile’s ladies, and so little mystery is attached to their +love that, on Baldwin’s return to the Frank host after killing and +despoiling of his armour a Saxon chief, he not only tells his adventure +publicly to the Emperor, but the latter promises in a twelvemonth to +have him crowned king of the country and to give him Sebile for wife, +forbidding him, however, to cross the river any more—a command which +Baldwin hears without meaning to obey. Nay, when Baldwin has once broken +this injunction and escaped with great difficulty from the Saxons, the +Emperor imposes on him the brutal penance of entering Sebile’s tent to +kiss her in the sight of the Saxons, and bringing back her ring—which +Baldwin contrives to fulfil by putting on the armour of a Saxon knight +whom he kills. As in The Taking of Orange, it never seems to occur +to the poet that there can be any moral wrong in making love to a +“Saracen’s” wife, or in promising her hand in her husband’s lifetime; +and, strange to say, so benignant are these much-wronged paynim that +Guiteclin is not represented as offering or threatening the slightest +ill-treatment to his faithless queen, however wroth he may be against +her lover; nor, indeed, as having even the sense to make her pitch her +tent further from the bank. The drollest bit of sentimentality occurs, +however, after the victory of the Franks and Guiteclin’s death, when +Sebile is taken prisoner. After having been bestowed in marriage +on Baldwin by the Emperor, she asks one boon of both, which is that +Guiteclin’s body be sought for, lest the beasts should eat it—a request +the exceeding nobleness of which strikes the Emperor and the Frank +knights with astonishment. When the body is found and brought to Sebile, +“the water of her eyes falls down her chin. ‘Ha, Guiteclin,’ said she, +‘so gentle a man were you, liberal and free-spending, and of noble +witness! If in heaven and on earth Mahomet has no power, even to pray +Him who made Lazarus, I pray and request Him to have mercy on +thee.’” The dead man is then placed in a great marble tomb; Sebile +is christened, marries her lover, and is crowned with him as Queen of +Saxony, Helissend being in like manner given to Berard. + +“It is now that the truly tragical part of the poem commences. Charles +and his host depart, the Emperor warning his nephew to be courteous, +loyal, and generous, to keep true faith to his wife, yet not to spend +too much time in her arms, but to beware of the Saxons. The caution is +needed, for already the two sons of Guiteclin, with one hundred thousand +Russians and Bulgarians, and the giant Ferabras of Russia, a personage +twelve feet high, with light hair plaited together, reddish beard, and +flattened face, are within a day and a half’s journey of ‘Tremoigne,’ +burning to avenge Guiteclin. One Thursday morning their invasion is +announced to the young king, who has but fifteen thousand men to oppose +to them. Sebile embraces her husband’s knees, and entreats him to send +at once for help to his uncle; the barons whom he has called to counsel +favour her advice. ‘Barons,’ said Baldwin, ‘I should fear the dishonour +of it. It is too soon to seek and pray for succour. We have not yet +unhorsed knights, cut arms from bodies, made bowels trail; we are +fifteen thousand young men untried, who should buy our praise and our +honour, and seize and acquire strange lands, and kill and shame and +grieve our enemies, cleave the bright helmets, pierce the shields, break +and tear the hauberks of mail, shed blood and make brains to fly. To +me a pleasure it seems to put on hauberk, watch long nights, fast long +days. Let us go strike upon them without more delay, that we may be +able to govern this kingdom.’ The barons listen with an ill-will to this +speech; Baldwin himself, on viewing the paynim host, is staggered at +their numbers, and lets Sebile persuade him to send a messenger to his +uncle. However, with five thousand men he makes a vigorous attack on +the vanguard of the Saxons, consisting of twenty thousand, and ends +by putting them to flight. On the news of this repulse the two sons of +Guiteclin come out, apparently with the bulk of the army. The French +urge the young king to re-enter the city, but he refuses—Sebile would +hold him for a sleepy coward. He kills Ferabras, unhorses one of +Guiteclin’s sons. But the disparity of numbers is too great; the French +are obliged to retreat, and shut themselves up in the city. + +“Meanwhile the messenger had reached Charlemagne at Cologne with the +news of the renewal of the war. Whilst all his barons are summoned, +the Emperor starts in haste himself for Saxony with ten thousand men. +Baldwin was seated in his tower, looking out upon a league of hostile +tents, complaining to Sebile, who ‘comforts him as a worthy lady,’ +bidding him trust in his uncle’s succour. She is the first to descry +the French host and to point it out to her husband. ‘Ah, God!’ said +Charles’s nephew, ‘fair Father Creator, yet will I avenge me of the +pagan people.’ He goes down from his palace, and cries to his men, ‘Arm +ye, knights! Charles is returned.’ + +“The besieged prepare at once for a sally. Sebile places the helmet +on her husband’s head and kisses him, never to see him more alive. +The enemy are disarmed; three thousand of them are killed by the time +Baldwin cuts his way to his uncle, to whom, as his liege lord, he makes +complaint against the Saxons. The Emperor’s answer contains little but +philosophic comfort: ‘Fair nephew, so goes war; when your day comes, +know that you will die; your father died, you will not escape. Yonder +are your enemies, of whom you complain; I give you leave, go and strike +them.’ Uncle and nephew both perform wonders. But Berard is killed +by Feramor, one of Guiteclin’s sons, and the standard which he bore +disappears under him. Baldwin engages Feramor; each severely wounds the +other; the fight is so well contested that Baldwin offers to divide the +land with him if he will make peace. The Saxon spurns the offer, and is +killed. + +“But ‘Baldwin is wounded in the breast grievously; from thence to the +spur his body is bloody.’ Saxons, Lusatians, Hungarians perceive that +his blows lessen and fall slow. ‘Montjoie!’ he cries many a time, +but the French hear him not. ‘When Baldwin sees that he will have no +succour, as a boar he defends himself with his sword.... Who should have +seen the proud countenance of the king, how he bears and defends himself +against the paynim, great pity should surely take his heart.’ Struck +with fifteen wounds, his horse killed under him, he offers battle on +foot. They dare not approach, but they fling their swords at him, and +then go and hide beneath a rock. Baldwin, feeling death approaching, +‘from the fair eyes of his head begins to weep’ for sorrow and rage. He +now addresses an elaborate last prayer to God; but whilst he is on +his knees, looking toward the East, a Saxon comes to cut off his head. +Baldwin, furious, seizes his sword, which had fallen from his hand +on the green grass, and with a last blow cleaves the Saxon to the +shoulders, then dies. + +“The news is carried to the Emperor, who laments his ill fate. Rest +he has never had; the paynim folk have killed him the flower of his +friends, Roland at Roncevaux and now Baldwin. ‘Ha, God! send me death, +without making long delay!’ He draws his sword, and is about to kill +himself when Naymes of Bavaria restrains him and bids him avenge +his nephew’s death. The old man, however, exposes his life with such +recklessness, the struggle is so unequal, that Naymes himself has to +persuade him to leave the battle and enter the city until the Herupe +nobles come to his aid. ‘Dead is Count Roland and Count Oliver, and all +the twelve peers, who used to help in daunting that pride which makes us +bend so; no longer at your right hand is Baldwin the warrior; the paynim +have killed him and Berard the light; God has their souls.... If you are +killed ... in your death alone a hundred thousand will die.’ + +“They lead him away, unwilling, from the field. Baldwin’s corpse is +carried by him on his shield. Sebile comes to meet the Emperor and asks +of her husband. Charles bids her look at him. She faints to the ground. +There is true pathos (though somewhat wire-drawn) in her lament, when +she comes to herself: + +“’Sir King Baldwin, for God’s sake, speak! I am your love, mistake me +not. If I have offended you in aught, it shall be made amends for wholly +to your pleasure; but speak to me. For you was my body baptized and +lifted; my heart leans on you, and all my affections, and if you fail +me, it will be ill done. Too soon it seems to me, if already you repent. +Baldwin, is it a trick? Are you deceiving me? Speak to me, friend, if +you can.... I see your garments dyed and bloody, but I do not believe +that you are killed; there is no man so bold or so outrageous who ever +could kill you; he durst not do so. But I think by such a will you wish +to try me, how I should behave if you were departed. Speak to me, for +God’s sake who was born of virgin, and for that lady who kept chastity, +and for the holy cross whereon Jesus suffered! Try me no more, friend, +it is enough; I shall die now if you tarry longer,’ ‘Naymes,’ says the +king, ‘take this lady away; if I see her grief any more, I shall go +mad.’ + +“That night he ate no bread nor drank wine, but had the city watched, +and rode the rounds himself, with helmet closed, his great buckler +hanging to his neck, his sword in his fist. All the night it rained and +blew; the water ran through the joints of his hauberk, and wetted his +ermine pelisse beneath. His beard swayed, whiter than flax, his long +moustache quivered; until dawn he lamented his nephew, and the twelve +peers, and all his next-of-kin who were dead. From the gate at morn a +Saxon, King Dyalas, defies the old man, swearing that he will wear his +crown in Paris. The Emperor has the gate opened, and sallies forth +to meet him. They engage in single combat; the old Emperor kills the +Saxon’s horse, disarms him, and only spares his life on condition of his +embracing Christianity and yielding himself prisoner. + +“The rest of the poem has comparatively little interest. Old Naymes in +turn kills his man—a brother of Guiteclin—in single combat, Dyalas, the +Emperor’s new vassal, ‘armed in French fashion,’ performs wonders in +honour of his new allegiance. Finally the Herupese come up, and of +course overthrow the Saxons. An abbey is founded on the field of battle, +which Sebile enters; Dyalas, baptized as ‘Guiteclin the convert,’ +receives charge of the kingdom, and the Emperor returns, bearing with +him the bodies of Baldwin and Berard; after which ‘well was France in +peace many a year and many a day; the Emperor found not any who should +make him wroth.’” + +Fastrada: a Legend of Aix-la-Chapelle + +Fastrada, we are told, was the fourth wife of the Emperor Charlemagne +and the best beloved. Historians have judged that the lady was by no +means worthy of the extraordinary affection bestowed upon her by her +husband, some maintaining that she practised the arts of sorcery, +others crediting her with political intrigues, and still others roundly +asserting that she was not so virtuous as she should have been. + +History failing to account for Charlemagne’s devotion to his fourth +wife, the task has devolved upon tradition. Once upon a time (so runs +the tale), when Charlemagne dwelt at Zurich, he had a pillar erected +before his house, and on the top of the pillar a bell was placed, so +that any one desiring justice had but to ring it to be immediately +conducted before the Emperor, there to have his case considered. + +One day, just as Charlemagne was about to dine, the bell was rung +loudly. He at once dispatched his attendants to bring the importunate +claimant into his presence. A moment later they re-entered with the +assurance that no one waited outside. Even as they spoke the bell rang +again, and again the attendants withdrew at the bidding of their royal +master. Once more they returned with the information that none was to +be seen. When the bell rang for the third time the Emperor himself rose +from the table and went outside to satisfy himself as to the ringer’s +identity. This time the mystery was solved; for twining round the pillar +was a great snake, which, before the astonished eyes of the Emperor and +his suite, was lustily pulling the bell-rope. + +“Bring the snake before me,” said Charlemagne. “Whether to man or beast, +I may not refuse justice.” + +Accordingly the snake was conducted with much ceremony into the +Emperor’s presence, where it was distinctly observed to make a low +obeisance. The Kaiser addressed the animal courteously, as though it +were a human being, and inquired what it wanted. Whereupon the snake +made a sign which the company took to indicate that it desired the +Emperor to follow it. Charlemagne did not hesitate, but followed the +creature to the shores of the lake, attended by all his courtiers. +Straight to its nest went the snake, and there, among the eggs, was an +enormous toad, puffing out its bloated body and staring with glassy eyes +at the company. The reason for the snake’s appeal was at once apparent. + +“Take away that toad,” said the Emperor, as gravely as though he were +pronouncing judgment in an important human case; “take away that toad +and burn it. It has taken unlawful possession of the snake’s nest.” + +The court listened to the Emperor’s decree in respectful silence, and +immediately carried out the sentence. The company thereupon re-entered +the royal abode, and thought no more of the incident. + +On the following day, however, at about the same hour, the serpent +entered the chamber in which Charlemagne sat, and glided swiftly toward +the table. The attendants were somewhat astonished at the unexpected +appearance, but the Kaiser motioned to them to stand aside, for he was +very curious to see what the reptile would do. Raising itself till +its head was on a level with the table, it dropped into his plate a +magnificent diamond of the first water, gleaming with the purest light. +This done, the serpent bowed low, as on the previous occasion, and +quitted the room as silently as it had entered. + +The diamond, set in a gold ring of exquisite workmanship, Charlemagne +presented to his wife, the beautiful Fastrada. But besides being a thing +of beauty and of great value, the diamond was also a charm, for +whoever received it from another received with it a wealth of personal +affection. So was it with Charlemagne and Fastrada. On presenting the +ring to his wife the Emperor straightway conceived for her a passion far +more intense than he had hitherto experienced. From that time to the day +of her death he was her devoted slave, blind and deaf to all her faults. +Nay, even when she died, he refused to quit the room in which she lay, +or permit the interment of her body; refused to see the approach of +corruption, which spares not youth or loveliness; seemed, in short, to +have lost all count of the passage of time in his grief for the beloved +Fastrada. At length he was approached by Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, +who had learnt, by occult means, the reason for the Emperor’s strange +infatuation. Going up to the dead Empress, he withdrew from her mouth a +large diamond. At the same moment Charlemagne regained his senses, made +arrangements for the burial of his wife, and left for the Castle of +Frankenstein. + +The possessor of the ring was now the worthy archbishop, and to him the +magically inspired affections of Charlemagne were transferred, much to +the good man’s annoyance. To rid himself of the unwelcome attentions +and fulsome flatteries of his sovereign, he cast the ring into the lake +which surrounded the castle. Once more the Emperor’s affections changed +their object, and this time it was the town of Aix-la-Chapelle with +which he fell in love, and for which he retained a firm attachment all +through his life, finally directing that he should be buried there. And +so he was laid to rest in that wondrous old town in the church of St. +Mary. In the year 1000 his tomb was opened by the Emperor Otto III, but +the account that Otto found the body seated upon a throne with crown +on head and sceptre in hand is generally regarded as legendary. The +sarcophagus was once more opened by Frederick I in 1165, when the +remains were transferred from the princely marble where they had +hitherto rested and placed in a wooden coffin. Fifty years later, +however, Frederick II had them placed in a splendid shrine. The original +sarcophagus may still be seen at Aix, and the royal relics are exhibited +every six years. + +Louis, Charlemagne’s son, lived to see the division of his Empire, +brought about through his own weakness. His fair provinces were ravaged +by the Danes and the Normans. Teuton and Frank were now for ever +separated. Twice during Louis’ reign his own sons dethroned him, but on +his death in 840 the Empire became more firmly established. + +Lothair I (840-855) succeeded to the imperial title, while Germany fell +to the lot of his brother Louis. Charles the Bald ruled over France. +Lothair’s portion was limited to Lorraine, Burgundy, Switzerland, and +Italy. Civil strife broke out, but Louis retained the whole of Germany +with the provinces on the left bank of the Rhine. Louis II (856-875) +ascended the throne as Roman Emperor, but died without any male issue, +while Charles the Fat, who succeeded him, was removed from the throne by +order of the Church on account of his insanity. + +With Charles ended the Carolingian dynasty. From the death of the +illustrious Charlemagne the race had gradually but surely declined. +After the removal of Charles the Fat there came a lapse of seventy-four +years. Conrad I (911-919) founded the Gascon dynasty of Germany, and +was succeeded by Henry the Fowler (919-936). His son, Otto I, called the +Great (936-973), was crowned Roman Emperor in 962. In 936 his elevation +to the Germanic kingdom was a popular one. A portion of Gaul to the west +of the Rhine along the banks of the Meuse and the Moselle was ceded to +the Germans. Otto’s supremacy between the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Alps +was acquired and held for his successors. With the sword he propagated +Christianity, subdued Italy, and delivered the Pope from his enemies, +who, to show his appreciation, invested him with the imperial title, +which ever after belonged to the Germanic nation. The German Emperors, +however, still continued to exercise the right of electing the Pope, +thereby reducing the Roman Church to a level of servitude. + +Toward the close of the Carolingian dynasty France and Germany had +become irrevocably detached; both nations suffered from internecine +wars. The Slavonians penetrated into the Empire, even to the banks of +the Rhine. Feudal princes began to make war upon each other, and, within +their respective districts, were virtual sovereigns. + +At the partition of the domains of Charlemagne in A.D. 843 the +Rhine formed the boundary between Germany and the middle kingdom of +Lotharingia, but by 870 the latter had been absorbed by the larger +country. For a period verging upon eight hundred years it remained the +frontier of the German Empire. In the early Middle Ages the heritage of +the ancient Roman civilization rendered it the most cultured portion of +Germany. By the time of Otto I (died 973) both banks of the Rhine had +become German, and the Rhenish territory was divided between the duchies +of Upper and Lower Lorraine, the one on the Moselle and the other on the +Meuse. But, like other German states, on the weakening of the central +power they split up into numerous petty independent principalities, each +with its special history. + +The Palatinate + +Chief among these was the state known as the Palatinate, from the German +word Pfalz, a name given generally to any district ruled by a count +palatine. It was bounded by Prussia on the north, on the east by Baden, +and on the south by Alsace-Lorraine. We first hear of a royal official +known as the Count Palatine of the Rhine in the tenth century. Although +the office was not originally an hereditary one, it seems to have been +held by the descendants of the first count, until the continuity of the +race of Hermann was broken by the election of Conrad, stepbrother of +the German king Frederick I, as Count Palatine. From that time till much +later in German history the Palatinate of the Rhine appears to have +been gifted during their lifetime to the nephews or sons-in-law of +the reigning Emperor, and by virtue of his occupancy of the office the +holder became an Elector, or voter in the election of an Emperor. The +office was held by a large number of able and statesmanlike princes, as +Frederick I, Frederick III, the champion of Protestantism, and Frederick +V. In the seventeenth century the Palatinate was first devastated and +then claimed by France, and later was disturbed by still more harassing +religious strife. In 1777 it was united with Bavaria upon the reigning +Elector falling heir to the Electorate of that state. + +A Tale of the Palatine House + +Throughout the Middle Ages the nobles of Rhineland were mostly notorious +for their wild savagery and predatory habits, and thus the modern +traveller on the famous river, admiring the many picturesque castles +built on summits overlooking its banks, is prone to think of these +places as having been the homes of men who were little better than +freebooters. And in general this idea is just; yet Walter Pater’s +story, Duke Karl of Rosenwald—which tells how a medieval German baron +discovered in himself a keen love of art, and sought to gather artists +round him from France and Italy—may well have been culled from a +veracious historical source. For at least a few of the German petty +princes of the Middle Ages shared the aestheticism characterizing so +many of their contemporaries among the noblemen of the Latin races, and +it is interesting to find that among the old German courts where art +was loved in this isolated fashion was that of the Palatine house, which +ultimately became related by marriage to the Royal Stuarts, a dynasty as +eminently artistic as the Medicis themselves. + +This Palatine house was regnant for many generations at Heidelberg +Castle, and there, at a remote medieval date, reigned a prince named +Louis III, who esteemed literature and painting. A fond parent he was +besides, devoted to his two sons, the elder called Louis and the younger +Frederick; and from the outset he attended carefully to the education of +the pair, choosing as their tutor a noted scholar, one Kenmat, while +he allowed this tutor’s daughter Eugenia to be taught along with the +princely pupils, and he also admitted to the group an Italian boy, +Rafaello. These four children grew up together, and the Palatine prince +was pleased to mark that Frederick, though full of martial ardour, +showed intellectual tastes as well; yet the father did not live long to +watch the growth of the boy’s predilection therein, and there came a day +when the crown of Louis III was acquired by his heir, Louis IV. Still +quite young, the latter was already affianced to Margaret of Savoy; and +this engagement had incensed various nobles of the Rhine, especially +the Count of Luzenstein. He was eager that his own house should become +affiliated with the Palatinate, and while he knew that there was little +hope of frustrating Louis’ prospective wedding, this did not nullify his +ambitions. For was it not possible that the marriage might prove without +issue? And, as that would ultimately set Frederick on the Palatine +throne, Luzenstein determined that his daughter Leonora should wed the +younger of the two princes. She herself was equally eager for the union, +and though the affair was not definitely arranged in the meantime, it +was widely understood that at no very distant date Leonora’s betrothal +would be announced. + +At length there came a day when the noblesse of the Rhine assembled at +Heidelberg to celebrate the nuptials of Louis and Margaret. For a space +the rejoicings went forward merrily, but, as Louis scanned the faces of +his guests, he was surprised to find that Frederick was absent. Why was +this? he mused; and going in search he soon found his brother in one of +the smaller rooms of the castle, attended by Rafaello. Now the latter, +who was developing a rare gift for sculpture, had lately made a statue +to decorate this room; and on Louis entering Frederick was gazing with +passionate fondness at this new work of art. Louis was straightway +called upon to observe its loveliness, and even as Frederick was +descanting thus, a number of the guests who had remarked their host’s +temporary absence trooped into the room, among them being Leonora of +Luzenstein. She was in ill-temper, for Frederick had not so much as +troubled to salute her on her arrival; and now, finding him deep in +admiration of a statue, its subject a beautiful girl, her rancour +deepened apace. But who was the girl? she wondered; and as divers other +guests were also inquisitive on this head, it soon transpired that +Rafaello’s model had been Eugenia. Leonora knew that this girl had been +Frederick’s playmate in youth, so her wrath turned to fierce malice, for +she suspected that in Eugenia she had a rival who might wreck all hopes +of the Luzensteins becoming united to the Palatine house. + +But Frederick regarded Eugenia only as a sister. He knew that she and +the sculptor who had hewn her likeness loved one another, and he longed +to see their union brought about, his genuine affection for the young +Italian being the greater on account of Rafaello’s blossoming talents +as an artist. Leonora, however, knew nothing of the real situation; +she fancied she had been insulted, and demanding of her father that he +should cease all negotiations regarding Frederick’s suggested engagement +to her, she proceeded to take stronger measures. Readers of Sir Walter +Scott’s Anne of Geierstein will recall the Vehmgericht, that ‘Secret +Tribunal’ whose deeds were notorious in medieval Germany, and it chanced +that the Luzensteins were in touch with this body. Its minions were +called upon to wreak vengeance on the younger Palatine prince. On +several occasions his life was attempted, and once he would certainly +have been killed had not Rafaello succoured him in the hour of need. + +Meanwhile a son was born to Louis, and in celebration of the event a +tourney was held at Heidelberg, competitors coming from far and near, +all of them eager to win the golden sword which was promised to the man +who should prove champion. One after another they rode into the lists, +Frederick being among the number; and as each presented himself his name +was called aloud by the herald. At length there came one of whom this +functionary cried, “This is a nameless knight who bears a plain shield”; +and at these words a murmur of disapproval rose from the crowd, while +everyone looked up to where Louis sat, awaiting his verdict on the +matter. But he signified that the mysterious aspirant should be allowed +to show his prowess, and a minute later, all who were to take part +being now assembled, Frederick and another competitor were stationed at +opposite ends of the lists, and the signal given them to charge. Forward +thundered their steeds, a fierce combat ensued; but Frederick proved +victor, and so another warrior came forward to meet him. He, too, was +worsted, and soon it appeared as though the young Palatine prince +would surely win the coveted golden sword; for foeman after foeman +he vanquished, and eventually only two remained to confront him—the +nameless knight and another who had entered the lists under a strange, +though less suspicious, pseudonym. The latter expressed his desire to +fight last of all, and so the nameless one galloped toward Frederick, +and their lances clashed together. The Palatine prince bore his +adversary to the ground, apparently conquering him with complete ease; +and fearing he had wounded him mortally, Frederick dismounted with +intent to succour him. But the speedy fall had been a feint, and as +the victor bent down the mysterious knight suddenly drew a dagger, with +intent to plunge it into the prince’s heart. So stealthy a deed was +unknown in the history of the tourney. The crowd gazed as though +petrified, and Frederick’s life would doubtless have been lost—for he +was weak after his many joustings—had not he who had asked to fight last +of all galloped forward instantly on marking the drawn weapon and driven +his lance into the body of the would-be murderer! + +It was Rafaello who had rescued the Palatine prince once again, and it +was a member of the Luzenstein house who had sought to kill him thus. +A crafty device in truth, and thenceforth the name of Luzenstein became +abhorred throughout all Rhineland, while the brave Italian was honoured +by knighthood, and arrangements were made for his speedy union with +Eugenia. But, alas! the fates were untoward; for the ‘Secret Tribunal,’ +having been baulked again and again, began to direct their schemes +against the sculptor instead of his patron; and one evening, as Rafaello +was walking with his beloved one, a band of villains attacked and +murdered the pair. They were buried together at a place known for many +centuries after as ‘The Lovers’ Grave,’ and here Frederick used to +loiter often, musing fondly on the dear sister who had been snatched +from him in this ruthless fashion, and dreaming of the lofty artistic +career which he had planned in vain for his beloved Rafaello. + +Bishops, Barons, and Bourgeois + +To trace the fortunes, divisions, and junctions of the lesser Rhine +principalities would be a work requiring a world of patience on the part +of the reader as well as an amount of space which would speedily surpass +the limits even of such an ample volume as the present. The constant +changes of boundary of these tiny lordships, the hazy character of the +powers possessed by their rulers, the multiplicity of free townships +yielding obedience to none but their own civic rulers, the brief but +none the less tyrannous rule of scores of robber barons who exercised +a régime of blood and iron within a radius of five miles of their +castellated eyries, render the tracing of the history of the Rhine +during the Middle Ages a task of almost unequalled complexity, robbed +of all the romance of history by reason of the necessity for constant +attention to the details of dynastic and territorial changes and the +petty squabblings and dreary scufflings of savage barons with their +neighbours or with the scarcely less brutal ecclesiastical dignitaries, +who, joining with gusto in the general mêlée of land-snatching, served +to swell the tumult with their loud-voiced claims for land and lordship. +Three of the Electors of Franconia, within the boundaries of which the +Palatinate was included, were archbishops, and these were foremost in +all dynastic and territorial bickerings. + +The growth of German municipalities since the days of their founder, +Henry the Fowler, was not without effect upon the Empire. Distinctions +of class were modified. The freeman became empowered to reserve to +himself the right of going to war along with his lord. Imperial cities +began to spring up; these were governed by a lieutenant of the Emperor, +or by their own chief magistrate. They achieved confederation, thus +guarding themselves against imperial and feudal encroachments. The +‘League of the Rhine’ and that of the Hanse Towns emerged as the fruit +of this policy. The latter federation consisted of about four-score +cities of Germany which under their charter enjoyed a commercial +monopoly. This example succeeded so well that its promoter, Lübeck, had +the satisfaction of seeing all cities between the Rhine and the Vistula +thus connected. The clergy, jealous of this municipal power, besought +the Emperor to repress the magistrates who had been called into being +by the people, and who were closely allied to this commercial +confederation. But the monarch advised the prelates to return to their +churches lest their opulent friends became their enemies. + +The Rhine Hanse Towns + +The influence of the Hanseatic League of the Rhine district in the +fourteenth century extended over the whole commercial radius of Germany, +Prussia, Russia, the Netherlands, and Britain. It opened up new fields +of commerce, manufacture, and industry. It paved the way for culture, +it subdued the piracy which had existed in the Baltic, and it promoted +a universal peace. On the other hand, it created jealousy; it boycotted +the honest manufacturer and merchant who did not belong to the League, +and fostered luxury in the Rhenish cities, which did much to sap the +sturdy character of the people. The celebrity which many of these +municipalities attained through their magnificence can be gathered from +the historic buildings of Worms, Spires, Frankfort, Cologne, Augsburg, +and Nuremberg. The splendour of these edifices and the munificence of +their wealthy inhabitants could only be equalled in the maritime regions +of Italy. But in the fifteenth century the power of the League began to +decline. The Russian towns, under the leadership of Novgorod the Great, +commenced a crusade against the Hanse Towns’ monopoly in that country. +The general rising in England, which was one of the great warehouses, +under Henry VI and Edward IV reflected upon them. The Netherlands +followed England’s example. In the seventeenth century their existence +was confined to three German towns—Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen. These +no longer had the power to exercise their influence over the nation, and +soon the League dropped out of existence. + +The Thirty Years’ War + +The protracted struggle known as the Thirty Years’ War was most +prejudicial to the interests of the Rhine valley, which was overrun by +the troops of the several nationalities engaged. One phase of this most +disastrous struggle—the War of the Palatinate—carried the rapine and +slaughter to the banks of the Rhine, where, as has been said, they +were long remembered. During the reign of Ferdinand III (1637-1659) a +vigorous and protracted war broke out between France and Germany, the +former assisted by her ally Sweden. Germany, seeing that unless peace +were restored her ruin as a great power would be inevitable, entered +into negotiations with France, and in 1648 the claims of France +and Sweden were settled by the Peace of Westphalia. This treaty is +particularly notable in the present instance because it gave to the +former country the footing on the Rhine already mentioned as the +beginning of French encroachments. Germany was forced to give up Alsace, +on the left bank of the river. France, by the seizure of Strassburg, +confirmed by the Treaty of Ryswick in 1695, extended her boundaries +to the Rhine. At the beginning of the French Revolution Leopold II of +Germany and other German monarchs agreed to support the cause of French +royalty, a resolution which was disastrous to the Empire. In 1795 +Prussia, for political reasons, withdrew from the struggle, ceding to +France, in the terms of the Treaty of Basel, all her possessions on the +left bank of the Rhine. In 1799 war again broke out; but in 1801 the +Treaty of Lunéville gave to France the whole of the left bank of the +river. Thus the historic stream became the boundary between France and +Germany. In 1806 the humiliation of the latter country was complete, for +in that year a number of German princes joined the Confederation of +the Rhine, thus allying themselves with France and repudiating their +allegiance to the Empire. In 1815, at the Congress of Vienna, the whole +of the Lower Rhenish district was restored to Prussia, while Bavaria, +a separate state, was put in possession of the greater part of the +Palatinate on the left bank of the Rhine. + +From that time onward the German national spirit flourished, but the +future of the Empire was uncertain till its fate was decided by the +Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71. In the great hall of the Palace of +Versailles in 1871 William I, King of Prussia, proclaimed, in the hour +of victory, the restoration of the confederated German Empire. The +French forfeited their Rhenish provinces, and once more the Rhine was +restored to Germany. + +That the Thirty Years’ War did not fail to linger in the folk-memory is +evidenced by the following gruesome legend of Oppenheim: + +The Battle of Skeletons + +The smoke and terror of the great struggle had surged over Oppenheim. +A battle had been fought there, and the Swedes and Spaniards who had +contested the field and had been slain lay buried in the old churchyard +hard by the confines of the town. At least many had been granted the +right of sepulture there, but in a number of cases the hasty manner in +which their corpses had received burial was all too noticeable, and a +stranger visiting the churchyard confines years after the combat could +not fail to be struck by the many uncoffined human relics which met his +gaze. + +But an artist who had journeyed from far to see the summer’s sun upon +the Rhine water, and who came to Oppenheim in the golden dusk, was too +intent on the search for beauty to remember the grisly reputation of the +town. Moreover, on entering the place the first person by whom he had +been greeted was a beautiful young maiden, daughter of the innkeeper, +who modestly shrank back on hearing his confident tones and, curtsying +prettily, replied to his questions in something like a whisper. + +“Can you recommend me to a comfortable hostelry, my pretty maid, where +the wine is good and the company jovial?” + +“If the Herr can put up with a village inn, that of my father is as good +as any in the place,” replied the maid. + +“Good, my pretty,” cried the bold painter, sending the ready blood to +her face with a glance from his bright black eyes. “Lead the way, and I +will follow. Or, better still, walk with me.” + +By the time they had reached the inn they felt like old friends. The +girl had skilfully but simply discovered the reason for the young +artist’s sojourn in Oppenheim, and with glowing face and eyes that +had grown brighter with excitement, she clasped her hands together and +cried: “Oh, the Herr must paint my beloved Oppenheim. There is no such +place by moonlight, believe me, and you will be amply repaid by a visit +to the ruins of the old church to-night. See, a pale and splendid moon +has already risen, and will light your work as the sun never could.” + +“As you ask me so prettily, Fräulein, I shall paint your beloved abbey,” +he replied. “But why not in sunlight, with your own sweet face in the +foreground?” + +“No, no,” cried the girl hastily. “That would rob the scene of all its +romance.” + +“As you will,” said the artist. “But this, I take it, is your father’s +inn, and I am ready for supper. Afterward—well, we shall see!” + +Supper over, the painter sat for some time over his pipe and his wine, +and then, gathering together his sketching impedimenta, quitted the inn +and took his way toward the ruins of Oppenheim’s ancient abbey. It was +a calm, windless night, and the silver moon sailed high in the heavens. +Not a sound broke the silence as the young man entered the churchyard. +Seating himself upon a flat tombstone, he proceeded to arrange his +canvas and sketching materials; but as he was busied thus his foot +struck something hard. Bending down to remove the obstacle, which he +took for a large stone, he found, to his horror, that it was a human +skull. With an ejaculation he cast the horrid relic away from him, +and to divert his mind from the grisly incident commenced to work +feverishly. Speedily his buoyant mind cast off the gloomy train of +thought awakened by the dreadful find, and for nearly a couple of hours +he sat sketching steadily, until he was suddenly startled to hear the +clock in the tower above him strike the hour of midnight. + +He was gathering his things preparatory to departure, when a strange +rustling sound attracted his attention. Raising his eyes from his +task, he beheld a sight which made his flesh creep. The exposed and +half-buried bones of the dead warriors which littered the surface of the +churchyard drew together and formed skeletons. These reared themselves +from the graves and stood upright, and as they did so formed grisly +and dreadful battalions—Swedes formed with Swedes and Spaniards with +Spaniards. On a sudden hoarse words of command rang out on the midnight +air, and the two companies attacked one another. + +The luckless beholder of the dreadful scene felt the warm blood grow +chill within his veins. Hotter and hotter became the fray, and many +skeletons sank to the ground as though slain in battle. One of them, he +whose skull the artist had kicked, sank down at the young man’s feet. In +a hollow voice he commanded the youth to tell to the world how they were +forced to combat each other because they had been enemies in life, and +that they could obtain no rest until they had been buried. + +Directly the clock struck one the battle ceased, and the bones once more +lay about in disorder. The artist (who, it need hardly be said, gave no +more thought to his picture) hastened back to the inn and in faltering +accents related his experiences. When the Seven Years’ War broke out, +not long afterward, the people of Oppenheim declared that the apparition +of the skeletons had foretold the event. + +The Robbers of the Rhine + +For many hundreds of years the valley of the Rhine itself, and the +various valleys adjacent, were the haunt of numerous bodies of rapacious +and desperate banditti. The rugged, mountainous nature of the country +naturally made lawlessness the more easy there, and till so late as +the beginning of the nineteenth century these gangs of robbers were a +constant menace to the traveller in Rhineland. At the time of the French +Revolution, indeed, and for some decades thereafter, the district was +literally infested with thieves; for the unsettled state of Europe at +this date perforce tended to bring desperadoes from far and near, and +for a while the inhabitants of the different villages on the banks of +the Rhine endured a veritable reign of terror. + +But almost from the outset the brigands realized that they would soon be +undone if they grew too numerous. They knew that, in that event, strong +military measures would probably be taken against them; so they made +every effort to practise that union which is proverbially strength, +and to prevent the enlisting in their ranks of anyone likely to prove +cowardly or perfidious. In some cases, too, they actually had a well +and capably organized system whereby one of their number could escape +quickly, if need be, from the scene of his crime; for, like the +French prisoners described in Stevenson’s St. Ives, they had a line of +sanctuaries extending perhaps into Austria or Italy, the retreat in most +instances being an inn whose keeper was sworn to hide and protect +his robber guest at all costs. In short, there was honour among these +thieves, and even a certain spirit of freemasonry; while, more important +still, the captain of a band was very often in league with the few +police officials of the neighbourhood. + +The great highwaymen of Stuart and Georgian England—for example, that +gallant Beau Brocade of whom Mr. Austin Dobson writes—were mostly +content with waylaying a chance passer-by; while their contemporaries +in France usually worked on this principle also, as witness the deeds of +the band who figure in Théophile Gautier’s story Le Capitaine Fracasse. +But the robbers of the Rhine were of different mettle from these, and +often it was almost a predatory warfare rather than mere brigandage +which they carried on. Frequently they had an agent in each of the +villages on the river, this agent being usually a member of the +scattered remnant of Israel; and the business of this person was to +discover a house containing especial wealth, and then to inform the +robbers accordingly. Having gleaned the requisite information in this +wise, the gang would sally down from the mountains at dead of night; and +it was customary, as they drew near to their prey, for the captain +to call his henchmen to attention and see that each was ready for the +imminent fray. Then, having gagged the village watchman and muffled his +bell, they would proceed to surround the house they intended to rifle, +and, should resistance be offered, to batter in the door with a log or +other instrument. Sometimes it would transpire that the Jewish agent had +misinformed them, telling them of booty where booty there was little, +and woe betide him should this prove the state of affairs. Moreover, +unlike the brigands in Gil Blas, these scoundrels of the Rhine would not +be encumbered by prisoners, and they were wont to slay outright all who +were minded to show fight. + +Yet to their own brotherhood the robbers were invariably loyal, seldom +failing to carry away with them such of their confrères as were wounded +in the assault; for each was sworn to support his fellows under all +circumstances, and awful was the fate of the marauder who violated this +compact. It is told of a band commanded by one Picard, a cruel but brave +leader, that one of its members chanced to be captured, and with a view +to purchasing his freedom he gave information about the whereabouts of +his chief. The next night, as the captive lay in his dungeon, a masked +face suddenly appeared at the barred window, and in awestruck tones the +prisoner asked the new-comer to declare his identity. “I am Picard, your +captain,” came the answer. “As in duty bound, I have risked my life to +set you free,” and having spoken thus, he proceeded to file through one +of the bars, which being accomplished, the reprobate was drawn out of +his cell by the aid of a rope. He breathed freely now, finding himself +once more among some of his old comrades, but a moment later Picard +addressed him again. “Traitor,” he snarled, “do not think that your +perfidy has failed to reach our ears; you must pay the full penalty.” + +“Mercy,” cried the unfortunate one; “at least let me die in action. Lead +on against some foe, and let me fall at their hands.” + +“Cowards,” retorted Picard, “deserve no such gallant fate,” and with +these words he drove his sword deep into the heart of the traitor. + +In general it was a point of honour among these bandits that none should +reveal to a woman anything about the doings of his band, and one story +relates how a young brigand, on the eve of setting out on his first +predatory expedition, was rash enough to inform his sweetheart whither +he and his mates were bound. Their commander was a Captain Jikjak, +reputed something of a wit; and betimes, after the brigands had marched +forward silently for a while, this worthy called upon them to halt. They +imagined it was but the usual inspection of arms which was about to +take place, but Jikjak, speaking in stentorian tones, told them that +a traitor was in their midst, and pointing to the culprit, he bade him +step forth. The young man pled his youth as an excuse for his fault, and +he told the captain that, could he but get a chance to show his prowess +once, they would soon see that he was as gallant a robber as any of +them. But Jikjak laughed scornfully, saying he was anxious to find out +which was stronger, the young man’s legs or a pair of trees. The culprit +quailed on hearing the verdict, and implored a less ghastly fate; but +Jikjak was obdurate, and smiling blandly, he bade his followers bend a +couple of stout branches to the ground and tie their tops to the ankles +of the offender.... + +Such, then, were the robbers of the Rhine, and such the code of honour +which existed among them. A romantic institution they no doubt were, +yet it was a form of picturesqueness whose disappearance can scarcely be +regretted. + + + + + +CHAPTER II—THE RHINE IN FOLKLORE AND LITERATURE + +Affinities of the Rhine Legends + +A close perusal of the body of tradition known as the legends of the +Rhine displays one circumstance which is calculated to surprise +the collector of these narratives not a little. It is generally +represented—probably through ignorance of the real circumstances—that +these tales abound in the matter of folklore. This is, however, by no +means the case, and even a superficial examination of them will prove +most of them to be allied to the matter of romance in a much more +intimate way than they approach that of folklore. But this is not so +as regards all of them, and it will be interesting to look into the +character of those which present folklore affinities, whilst leaving +the consideration of their romantic aspect for a later portion of this +chapter. + +By right of precedence, among the legends of the Rhine which possess +folklore characteristics is the wonderful legend of the Lorelei, a word +derived from the old High German lur, to lurk, and lai, a rock. The +height from which the bewitching water-spirit sent her song floating +over the waves of the Rhine is situated near St. Goar, and possesses a +remarkable echo which may partly account for the legend. + +The Lorelei + +Many are the legends which cluster round the name of the Lorelei. In +some of the earlier traditions she is represented as an undine, combing +her hair on the Lorelei-berg and singing bewitching strains wherewith +to lure mariners to their death, and one such legend relates how an old +soldier named Diether undertook to capture her. + +Graf Ludwig, son of the Prince Palatine, had been caught in her toils, +his frail barque wrecked, and he himself caught in the whirlpool and +drowned. The prince, grievously stricken at the melancholy occurrence, +longed to avenge his son’s death on the evil enchantress who had wrought +such havoc. Among his retainers there was but one who would undertake +the venture—a captain of the guard named Diether—and the sole reward he +craved was permission to cast the Lorelei into the depths she haunted +should he succeed in capturing her. + +Diether and his little band of warriors ascended the Lorelei’s rock in +such a way as to cut off all retreat on the landward side. Just as they +reached the summit the moon sailed out from behind a cloud, and behold, +the spirit of the whirlpool was seen sitting on the very verge of the +precipice, binding her wet hair with a band of gleaming jewels. + +“What wouldst thou with me?” she cried, starting to her feet. + +“To cast thee into the Rhine, sorceress,” said Diether roughly, “where +thou hast drowned our prince.” + +“Nay,” returned the maid, “I drowned him not. ’Twas his own folly which +cost him his life.” + +As she stood on the brink of the precipice, her lips smiling, her eyes +gleaming softly, her wet dark hair streaming over her shoulders, some +strange, unearthly quality in her beauty, a potent spell fell upon the +little company, so that even Diether himself could neither move nor +speak. + +“And wouldst thou cast me in the Rhine, Diether?” she pursued, smiling +at the helpless warrior. “’Tis not I who go to the Rhine, but the Rhine +that will come to me.” + +Then loosening the jewelled band from her hair, she flung it on the +water and cried aloud: “Father, send me thy white steeds, that I may +cross the river in safety.” + +Instantly, as at her bidding, a wild storm arose, and the river, +overflowing its banks, foamed right up to the summit of the Lorelei +Rock. Three white-crested waves, resembling three white horses, mounted +the steep, and into the hollowed trough behind them the Lorelei stepped +as into a chariot, to be whirled out into the stream. Meanwhile Diether +and his companions were almost overwhelmed by the floods, yet they were +unable to stir hand or foot. In mid-stream the undine sank beneath the +waves: the spell was broken, the waters subsided, and the captain and +his men were free to return home. + +Nevermore, they vowed, would they seek to capture the Lorelei. + +The Forsaken Bride + +There is a later and more popular legend of the Lorelei than the +foregoing. + +According to this tale Lorelei was a maiden of surpassing beauty who +dwelt in the town of Bacharach in medieval times. So potent were her +attractions that every gallant on whom her eye rested fell hopelessly in +love with her, while her ever-widening fame drew suitors in plenty from +all parts of the country. The dismissed lovers wandered disconsolately +in the neighbouring forests, vowing to take their lives rather than +suffer the pangs of unrequited passion; while occasionally the threat +was fulfilled, and a brave knight would cast himself into the Rhine and +perish for love of the cold and cruel maid. Thus her fatal beauty played +havoc among the flower of German chivalry. But she, dowered with virtue +and goodness, as well as with more transient charms, trembled when +she saw the effect of her attractions on her many lovers, and secluded +herself as closely as possible. + +The truth was, she had given her heart into the keeping of a young +knight who, after plighting his troth with her, had ridden away to the +wars, his military ardour and desire for glory triumphing over his love. +Years had gone by, yet he did not return, and Lorelei thought that he +had perished on the field of battle, or had taken another bride and +forgotten her. But she remained true to him in spite of his long +silence, and spent her days in tears and prayers for his safety. + +Meanwhile she was besieged by an ever-increasing band of suitors, to +whom her retiring disposition and sorrowful mien but made her the more +desirable. Then it began to be rumoured abroad that she was a sorceress, +who won the hearts of men by magic art and with the aid of the Evil One. +The rumour was spread broadcast by jealous and disappointed women who +saw their menfolk succumb to the fatal charms of the Maid of Bacharach. +Mothers noticed their sons grow pale and woe-begone because of her; +maids their erstwhile lovers sighing out a hopeless passion for the +beautiful Lorelei; so they brought against her accusations of sorcery, +which in those days generally led to the death of the victim by burning. +So grievously did these malign whispers add to the already heavy burden +of the maid that she surrendered herself to be tried, hardly caring +whether or not she were found guilty. She was summoned before the +criminal court held at Rhens by the Archbishop of Cologne, and charged +with practising the black art in order to ensnare men’s affections. + +However, when she appeared before the court her beauty so impressed the +assembly, and even the old Archbishop himself, that none could believe +her guilty. Her lovely face bore the imprint of innocence, her grief +touched every heart, and on all sides she was treated with the greatest +respect and kindness. The old prelate assured her that she would not +be judged harshly, but begged to hear from her own lips that she was +innocent of the foul charge brought against her. This assurance she +gave with artless simplicity, and a murmur of approval went up from +the crowd. The sympathy of those present—for even her accusers were +melted—and the kindness of the aged Churchman who was her judge moved +her to confess her unhappy love-story. + +“I pray thee,” she concluded wearily, “I pray thee, my lord, let me die. +I know, alas! that many true knights have died for love of me, and now I +fain would die for the sake of one who hath forsaken me.” + +The prelate, moved almost to tears by the pathetic story, laid his hand +on the head of the weeping maid. + +“Thou shalt not die, fair maiden,” he said. “I will send thee to a +convent, where thou mayst live in peace.” And calling to his side three +trusty old knights, he bade them conduct Lorelei to the convent +across the river, and charge the abbess to treat her with the greatest +kindness. Having blessed the maid once more, he bade them go. On their +way to the convent they must needs pass the rock since known as the +Lorelei-berg, and the girl, who had maintained a pensive silence all the +way, now observed that she would fain ascend the rock and look for the +last time at the castle of her betrothed knight. + +Her escort would have courteously assisted her, but she, with the +agility of youth, easily outstripped them, and stood alone on the +summit, surveying the fair scene before her. A light barque was sailing +up the river, and as she gazed on it Lorelei uttered a loud cry, for +there in the bow stood her truant lover! The knight and his train heard +the shriek and beheld with horror the maiden standing with outstretched +arms on the very edge of the precipice. The steering of the boat was +forgotten for the moment, and the frail craft ran on the rocks. Lorelei +saw her lover’s peril and, calling his name, leapt into the tide. + +Nothing more was seen of the lovers; together they sleep the sleep of +death beneath the waters of the Rhine. + +A Blending of Legends + +In these legends we observe how the tradition of a mere water-nymph has +developed into a story concerning a hapless damsel. The first applies to +the Lorelei as a water-spirit pure and simple, but legends which refer +to beings originally water-spirits have a knack of becoming associated +in later times with stories of distressed ladies. Indeed, one such came +to the writer’s knowledge only a few months ago. The mansion of Caroline +Park, near Edinburgh, dating from the end of the seventeenth century, +has in its vicinity a well which is reputed to be inhabited by a ‘Green +Lady,’ who emerges from her watery dwelling at twilight and rings the +great bell of the old manor-house. On visiting the vicinity for the +purpose of verifying the legend information was gleaned respecting +another story of a captured lady who had been incarcerated in a room in +the mansion and had written some verses to her lover with her diamond +ring on a window-pane. The strange thing is that these stories, though +obviously of different origin, appear now to have become fused in the +popular imagination: the ‘Green Lady’ and the verse-writing damsel +become one and the same, thus affording a case in point of the fusion of +a mythological tale with a later and probably verifiable incident. The +Lorelei is of course a water-spirit of the siren type, one who lures +heedless mariners to their destruction. In Scotland and the north of +England we find her congener in the water-kelpie, who lurks in pools +lying in wait for victims. But the kelpie is usually represented in the +form of a horse and not in that of a beauteous maiden. + +The Nixie + +Another water-spirit not unlike the Lorelei is the nixie, which is both +male and female, the male appearing like any human being, but, as in the +case of the water-spirits of the Slavonic peoples and England, Scotland, +and Central America, being possessed of green teeth. The male is called +nix, the female nixie, the generic term for both being nicker, from a +root which perhaps means ‘to wash.’ There is perhaps some truth in the +statement which would derive the Satanic patronymic of ‘Old Nick’ from +these beings, as spirits extremely familiar to the Teutonic mind. On +fine sunny days the nixies may be seen sitting on the banks of rivers, +or on the branches of trees, combing their long golden locks. Previous +to a drowning accident the nixies can be seen dancing on the surface of +the water. Like all sea and river spirits, their subaqueous abode is of +a magnificence unparalleled upon earth, and to this they often convey +mortals, who, however, complain that the splendours of the nixies’ +palaces are altogether spoiled for them by the circumstance that their +banquets are served without salt. + + + Where on the marshes boometh the bittern, + Nicker the Soulless sits with his ghittern; + Sits inconsolable, friendless and foeless, + Bewailing his destiny, Nicker the Soulless. + +The Nixie of the Mummel-lake + +The legend of the nixie of Seebach is one of gloom and tragedy, albeit +as charming as most of the Rhine tales. + +It was the custom among the young people of Seebach to assemble of an +evening in the spinning-room, which on the occasion about to be dealt +with was in the house of the richest and most distinguished family in +the country. The girls spun and laughed and chatted, while the youths +hung about their chairs and cracked jokes with them. One evening while +they were thus employed there came among them a stranger, a young lady +beautifully clad and carrying an ivory spinning-wheel. With becoming +modesty she asked to be allowed to join the company, which permission +the simple youths and maidens readily accorded. None was more eager to +do honour to the new-comer than the son of their host. While the others +were still gaping in awestruck fashion, he quietly fetched her a +chair and performed various little services for her. She received his +attentions so graciously that a warmer feeling than courtesy sprang up +in his heart for the fair spinner. + +He was in truth a handsome lad, whose attentions any maid might have +been proud to receive. Well-built and slender, he bore himself with a +proud carriage, and the expression on his delicate features was grave +and thoughtful beyond his years. When at length the fair visitor +departed, he loitered disconsolate and restless, listening to the idle +surmises of the peasant youths concerning the identity of the lady, but +offering no opinion himself. On the following day at the same hour she +again appeared and, seeing her cavalier of the previous day, smiled +and bowed to him. The young man glowed with pleasure, and diffidently +renewed his attentions. Day after day the lady of the spinning-wheel +joined the company, and it was noted that the girls were brighter and +more diligent, and the young men more gentle and courteous, for her +coming. It was whispered among them that she was a nixie from the +Mummel-lake far under the mountains, for never mortal was so richly +endowed with beauty and grace. As time went on the son of the house grew +more and more melancholy as his love for the fair unknown became deeper. +Only during the brief hour of her visit would he show any cheerfulness. +All the rest of the day he would mope in silent wretchedness. His +friends saw with distress the change which had come over him, but they +were powerless to alter matters. The lady could not be persuaded to +remain beyond her usual hour, nor to give any hint of her identity. + +One day, thinking to prolong her visit, the young man put back the hands +of the clock. When the hour drew near for her to depart, he slipped out +of the house so that he might follow her and find out where she lived. +When the hour struck, the lady, who seemed to have feared that she was +late, walked hastily from the house in the direction of the lake. So +quickly did she walk that the youth following in her path could scarcely +keep pace with her. She did not pause when she reached the shore, but +plunged directly into the water. A low, moaning sound rose from the +waves, which boiled and bubbled furiously, and the young man, fearing +that some evil had befallen the maid, sprang in after her, but the cruel +currents dragged him down, and he sank out of sight. + +Next day his body was found floating on the lake by some woodcutters, +and the nixie of the Mummel-lake was seen no more. + +The Wild Huntsman + +One of the most interesting Rhine myths is that concerning the Wild +Huntsman, which is known all over Rhineland, and which is connected +with many of its localities. The tale goes that on windy nights the Wild +Huntsman, with his yelling pack of hounds, sweeps through the air, his +prey departing souls. The huntsman is, of course, Odin, who in some of +his aspects was a hunter-god. The English legend of Herne the Hunter, +who haunts Windsor Park, is allied to this, and there can be little +doubt that Herne is Odin. Indeed, it is here suggested that the name +Herne may in some way be connected with one of Odin’s titles, Hâri, +the High One. It was the legend of the Wild Huntsman that inspired Sir +Walter Scott to write one of his finest ballads of the mysterious. An +Edinburgh friend had perused a ballad by Burger, entitled Lenore, but +all he could remember of it were the following four lines: Tramp, tramp, +across the land they ride; Splash, splash, across the sea. Hurrah! the +dead can ride apace, Dost fear to ride with me? + +This verse fired Scott’s imagination. He liked this sort of thing, and +could do it very well himself. So on reaching home he sat down to +the composition of the following ballad, of which we give the most +outstanding verses: + + + THE WILD HUNTSMAN + + The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn: + To horse, to horse, haloo, haloo! + His fiery courser sniffs the morn, + And thronging serfs their lord pursue. + + The eager pack, from couples freed, + Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake + While answering hound, and horn, and steed, + The mountain echoes startling wake. + + The beams of God’s own hallowed day + Had painted yonder spire with gold, + And, calling sinful men to pray, + Loud, long, and deep the bell hath tolled. + + But still the Wildgrave onward rides; + Haloo, haloo, and hark again! + When, spurring from opposing sides, + Two stranger horsemen join the train. + + Who was each stranger, left and right? + Well may I guess, but dare not tell. + The right-hand steed was silver-white; + The left, the swarthy hue of hell. + + The right-hand horseman, young and fair, + His smile was like the morn of May; + The left, from eye of tawny glare, + Shot midnight lightning’s lurid ray. + + He waved his huntsman’s cap on high, + Cried, “Welcome, welcome, noble lord! + What sport can earth, or sea, or sky, + To match the princely chase, afford?” + + “Cease thy loud bugle’s clanging knell,” + Cried the fair youth with silver voice; + “And for devotion’s choral swell, + Exchange the rude, unhallowed noise. + + “To-day th’ ill-omened chase forbear; + Yon bell yet summons to the fane: + To-day the warning spirit hear, + To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.” + + The Wildgrave spurred his ardent steed + And, launching forward with a bound, + “Who for thy drowsy priestlike rede + Would leave the jovial horn and hound? + + “Hence, if our manly sport offend: + With pious fools go chant and pray. + Well hast thou spoke, my dark-brown friend, + Haloo, haloo, and hark away!” + + The Wildgrave spurred his courser light, + O’er moss and moor, o’er holt and hill, + And on the left and on the right + Each stranger horseman followed still. + + Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, + A stag more white than mountain snow; + And louder rung the Wildgrave’s horn— + “Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!” + + A heedless wretch has crossed the way— + He grasps the thundering hoofs below; + But, live who can, or die who may, + Still forward, forward! on they go. + + See where yon simple fences meet, + A field with autumn’s blessings crowned; + See, prostrate at the Wildgrave’s feet, + A husbandman with toil embrowned. + + “Oh, mercy! mercy! noble lord; + Spare the poor’s pittance,” was his cry; + “Earned by the sweat these brows have poured + In scorching hours of fierce July.” + + “Away, thou hound, so basely born, + Or dread the scourge’s echoing blow!” + Then loudly rung his bugle horn, + “Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!” + + So said, so done—a single bound + Clears the poor labourer’s humble pale: + Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, + Like dark December’s stormy gale. + + And man, and horse, and hound, and horn + Destructive sweep the field along, + While joying o’er the wasted corn + Fell famine marks the madd’ning throng. + + Full lowly did the herdsman fall: + “Oh, spare, thou noble baron, spare; + These herds, a widow’s little all; + These flocks, an orphan’s fleecy care.” + + “Unmannered dog! To stop my sport + Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, + Though human spirits of thy sort + Were tenants of these carrion kine!” + + Again he winds his bugle horn, + “Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!” + And through the herd in ruthless scorn + He cheers his furious hounds to go. + + In heaps the throttled victims fall; + Down sinks their mangled herdsman near; + The murd’rous cries the stag appal, + Again he starts, new-nerved by fear. + + With blood besmeared, and white with foam, + While big the tears of anguish pour, + He seeks, amid the forest’s gloom, + The humble hermit’s hallowed bow’r. + + All mild, amid the route profane, + The holy hermit poured his prayer: + “Forbear with blood God’s house to stain: + Revere His altar, and forbear! + + “The meanest brute has rights to plead, + Which, wronged by cruelty or pride, + Draw vengeance on the ruthless head; + Be warned at length, and turn aside.” + + Still the fair horseman anxious pleads; + The black, wild whooping, points the prey. + Alas! the Earl no warning heeds, + But frantic keeps the forward way. + + “Holy or not, or right or wrong, + Thy altar and its rights I spurn; + Not sainted martyrs’ sacred song, + Not God Himself shall make me turn.” + + He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, + “Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!” + But off, on whirlwind’s pinions borne, + The stag, the hut, the hermit, go. + + And horse and man, and horn and hound, + The clamour of the chase was gone; + For hoofs, and howls, and bugle sound, + A deadly silence reigned alone. + + Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around; + He strove in vain to wake his horn, + In vain to call; for not a sound + Could from his anxious lips be borne. + + High o’er the sinner’s humbled head + At length the solemn silence broke; + And from a cloud of swarthy red + The awful voice of thunder spoke: + + “Oppressor of creation fair! + Apostate spirits’ hardened tool! + Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor! + The measure of thy cup is full. + + “Be chased for ever through the wood, + For ever roam the affrighted wild; + And let thy fate instruct the proud, + God’s meanest creature is His child.” + + ’Twas hushed: one flash of sombre glare + With yellow tinged the forest’s brown; + Up rose the Wildgrave’s bristling hair, + And horror chilled each nerve and bone. + + Earth heard the call—her entrails rend; + From yawning rifts, with many a yell, + Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend + The misbegotten dogs of hell. + + What ghastly huntsman next arose, + Well may I guess, but dare not tell: + His eye like midnight lightning glows, + His steed the swarthy hue of hell. + + The Wildgrave flies o’er bush and thorn, + With many a shriek of hapless woe; + Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, + And hark away, and holla, ho! + + With wild despair’s reverted eye, + Close, close behind, he marks the throng; + With bloody fangs, and eager cry, + In frantic fear he scours along. + + Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, + Till time itself shall have an end; + By day, they scour earth’s caverned space; + At midnight’s witching hour, ascend. + + This is the horn, and hound, and horse, + That oft the ’lated peasant hears; + Appalled, he signs the frequent cross, + When the wild din invades his ears. + +Dwarfs and Gnomes + +Beings of the dwarf race swarmed on the banks of Rhine. First and +foremost among these are the gnomes, who guard the subterranean +treasures, but who on occasion reveal them to mortals. We meet with +these very frequently under different guises, as, for instance, in the +case of the ‘Cooper of Auerbach,’ and the Yellow Dwarf who appears in +the legend of Elfeld. The Heldenbuch, the ancient book in which are +collected the deeds of the German heroes of old, says that “God gave the +dwarfs being because the land on the mountains was altogether waste and +uncultivated, and there was much store of silver and gold and precious +stones and pearls still in the mountains. Wherefore God made the dwarfs +very artful and wise, that they might know good and evil right well, and +for what everything was good. Some stones give great strength, some make +those who carry them about them invisible. That is called a mist-cap, +and therefore did God give the dwarfs skill and wisdom. Therefore they +built handsome hollow-hills, and God gave them riches.” + +Keightley, in his celebrated Fairy Mythology, tells of a class of dwarfs +called Heinzelmännchen, who used to live and perform their exploits +in Cologne. These were obviously of the same class as the brownies of +Scotland, Teutonic house-spirits who attached themselves to the owners +of certain dwellings, and Keightley culled the following anecdote +regarding them from a Cologne publication issued in 1826: + +“In the time that the Heinzelmännchen were still there, there was in +Cologne many a baker who kept no man, for the little people used always +to make, overnight, as much black and white bread as the baker wanted +for his shop. In many houses they used to wash and do all their work for +the maids. + +“Now, about this time, there was an expert tailor to whom they appeared +to have taken a great fancy, for when he married he found in his house, +on the wedding-day, the finest victuals and the most beautiful utensils, +which the little folk had stolen elsewhere and brought to their +favourite. When, with time, his family increased, the little ones used +to give the tailor’s wife considerable aid in her household affairs; +they washed for her, and on holidays and festival times they scoured the +copper and tin, and the house from the garret to the cellar. If at any +time the tailor had a press of work, he was sure to find it all ready +done for him in the morning by the Heinzelmännchen. + +“But curiosity began now to torment the tailor’s wife, and she was dying +to get one sight of the Heinzelmännchen, but do what she would she could +never compass it. She one time strewed peas all down the stairs that +they might fall and hurt themselves, and that so she might see them +next morning. But this project missed, and since that time the +Heinzelmännchen have totally disappeared, as has been everywhere the +case, owing to the curiosity of people, which has at all times been the +destruction of so much of what was beautiful in the world. + +“The Heinzelmännchen, in consequence of this, went off all in a body out +of the town, with music playing, but people could only hear the music, +for no one could see the mannikins themselves, who forthwith got into a +ship and went away, whither no one knows. The good times, however, are +said to have disappeared from Cologne along with the Heinzelmännchen.” + +St. Ursula + +One of the most interesting figures in connexion with Rhenish mythology +is that of St. Ursula, whose legend is as follows: + +Just two centuries after the birth of Christ, Vionest was king of +Britain. Happy in his realm, his subjects were prosperous and contented, +but care was in the heart of the monarch, for he was childless. At +length his consort, Daria, bore him a daughter, who as she grew up in +years increased in holiness, until all men regarded her as a saint, +and she, devoting herself to a religious life, refused all offers of +marriage, to the great grief of her parents, who were again troubled by +the thought that their dynasty would fail for want of an heir. Charmed +with the rumour of her virtues, a German prince, Agrippus, asked her +as a wife for his son, but the suit was declined by the maiden until +an angel appeared to her in a dream and said that the nuptials ought to +take place. In obedience to this heavenly mentor, St. Ursula no longer +urged her former scruples, and her father hastened to make preparations +of suitable magnificence for her departure to the Rhine, on whose banks +her future home was to be. Eleven thousand virgins were selected from +the noblest families of Britain to accompany their princess, who, +marshalling them on the seashore, bade them sing a hymn to the Most +High and dismiss all fears of the ocean, for she had been gifted with a +divine knowledge of navigation and would guide them safely on their way. + +Accordingly St. Ursula dismissed all the seamen, and standing on the +deck of the principal vessel, she gave orders to her eleven thousand +maiden followers, who, under the influence of inspiration, flitted over +the ships dressed in virgin white, now tending the sails, now fixing the +ropes, now guiding the helm, until they reached the mouth of the Rhine, +up which they sailed in saintly procession to Cologne. Here they were +received with great honours by the Roman governor of the place; but soon +they left the city to ascend the stream to Basel on their way to Rome, +to which holy city St. Ursula had determined upon making a pilgrimage. +Wherever upon their journey they met the officers of state they were +received as befitted their heavenly mission, and from Basel were +accompanied by Pantulus, who was afterward canonized, and whose portrait +is to be seen in the church of St. Ursula. Once at Rome Pope Cyriacus +himself was so affected by their devoted piety that, after praying +with them at the tombs of the apostles, he determined on abdicating the +pontifical office to accompany them on their return down the Rhine to +Cologne. + +At Mayence they were joined by Prince Coman, the son of Agrippus, who +for love of his betrothed at once forsook the errors of his pagan +faith and was baptized. The eleven thousand virgins, with their sainted +leader, her husband, and Pope Cyriacus, passed rapidly to Cologne, +where, however, they were not long destined to live in peace. A horde +of barbarians from the North invaded the place, and having gained +possession of the city, they slew the virgin retinue of St. Ursula, +the venerable Pope, the saint herself, and her spouse Coman, after +inflicting the most horrible tortures upon them. Some were nailed living +to the cross; some were burned; others stoned; but the most refined +cruelties were reserved for the most distinguished victims. Look on +the walls of the church of St. Ursula and you will see depicted the +sufferings of the young martyr and of her youthful husband. Her chapel +yet contains her effigy with a dove at her feet—fit emblem of her purity +and faith and loving-kindness; while the devout may, in the same church, +behold the religiously preserved bones of the eleven thousand virgins. + +Saint or Goddess? + +The sainthood of St. Ursula is distinctly doubtful, and the number of +her retinue, eleven thousand, has been proved to be an error in monkish +calligraphy. St. Ursula is, indeed, the Teutonic goddess Ursa, or +Hörsel. In many parts of Germany a custom existed during the Middle Ages +of rolling about a ship on wheels, much to the scandal of the clergy, +and this undoubtedly points to moon-worship, the worship of Holda, or +Ursula, whom German poets of old regarded as sailing over the deep +blue of the heavens in her silver boat. A great company of maidens, +the stars, follow in her train. She is supposed, her nightly pilgrimage +over, to enter certain hills. + +Thus in the later guise of Venus she entered the Hörselberg in +Thuringia, in which she imprisoned the enchanted Tannhäuser, and there +is good reason to believe that she also presided over the Ercildoune, +or Hill of Ursula, in the south of Scotland, the modern Earlston, after +which Thomas the Rhymer took his territorial designation, and whose +story later became fused with her myth in the old Scottish ballad of +Thomas the Rhymer. Thus we observe how it is possible for a pagan myth +to become an incident in Christian hagiology. + +Satan in Rhine Story + +In the legends of the Rhine the picturesque figure of his Satanic +majesty is frequently presented, as in the legends of ‘The Sword-slipper +of Solingen,’ ‘The Architect of Cologne Cathedral,’ and several other +tales. The circumstances of his appearance are distinctly Teutonic +in character, and are such as to make one doubt that the Devil of the +German peoples has evolved from the classical satyr. May it not be that +the Teutonic folk possessed some nature-spirit from which they evolved +a Satanic figure of their own? Against this, of course, could be quoted +the fact that the medieval conception of the Devil was sophisticated by +the Church, which in turn was strongly influenced by classical types. + +Affinity of the Rhine Legends with Romance + +But on the whole the legends of the Rhine exhibit much more affinity +with medieval romance than with myth or folklore.1 A large number of +them are based upon plots which can be shown to be almost universal, +and which occur again and again in French and British story. One of the +commonest of these concerns the crusader who, rejected by his lady-love, +spends hopeless years in the East, or, having married before setting +out for the Orient, returns to find his bride the wife of another. The +crusader exercised a strong influence upon the literature of medieval +Europe, and that influence we find in a very marked degree in the +legends of the Rhine. Again, a number of these tales undoubtedly consist +of older materials not necessarily mythical in origin, over which a +later medieval colour has been cast. Unhappily many of these beautiful +old legends have been greatly marred by the absurd sentimentality of +the German writers of the early nineteenth century, and their dramatis +personae, instead of exhibiting the characteristics of sturdy medieval +German folk, possess the mincing and lackadaisical manners which +mark the Franco-German novel of a century ago. This contrasts most +ludicrously in many cases with the simple, almost childlike, honesty +which is typical of all early Teutonic literature. Had a Charles Lamb, +a Leigh Hunt, or an Edgar Allan Poe recast these tales, how different +would have been their treatment! Before the time of Schiller and Goethe +French models prevailed in German literature. These wizards of the pen +recovered the German spirit of mystery, and brought back to their haunts +gnomes, kobolds, and water-sprites. But the mischief had been done ere +they dawned upon the horizon, and there were other parts of Germany +which appeared to them more suitable for literary presentment than the +Rhine, save perhaps in drama. Moreover, the inherent sentimentality +of the German character, however fitted to bring out the mysterious +atmosphere which clings to these legends, has weakened them +considerably. + +[Note 1: See author’s Dictionary of Medieval Romance (London, 1913), +preface, and article ‘Romance, Rise and Origin of.’] + +The Poetry of the Rhine + +Robert Louis Stevenson, exiled in the South Pacific islands, used to +speak with passionate fondness of the rivers of his native Scotland, the +country he loved so dearly, but which the jealous fates forbade him to +visit during fully half his life. Garry and Tummel, Tweed and Tay—he +used to think of these as of something almost sacred; while even the +name of that insignificant stream, the Water of Leith, sounded on his +ear like sweet music, evoking a strangely tender and pathetic emotion. +And this emotion, crystallized so beautifully by Stevenson in one of +his essays in Memories and Portraits, must have been felt, too, by many +other exiles wandering in foreign parts; for surely an analogous feeling +has been experienced sometimes by every traveller of sensitive and +imaginative temperament, particularly the traveller exiled irrevocably +from his home and longing passionately to see it. Horatius, about to +plunge into the Tiber, addressed it as his father and god, charging it +to care well for his life and fortunes—fortunes in which those of all +Rome were involved for the time being. Ecce Tiber! was the glad cry of +the Romans on beholding the Tay—a cry which shows once again with what +ardent devotion they thought of the river which passed by their native +city; while Naaman the Syrian, told that his sickness would be cured +would he but lave his leprous limbs in the Jordan, exclaimed aghast +against a prescription which appeared to him nothing short of +sacrilegious and insulting, and declared that there were better and +nobler streams in his own land. Even the deadly complaint with which he +was smitten could not shake his fidelity to these, could not alter his +conviction that they were superior to alien streams; and the truth is +that nearly every great river—perhaps because its perpetual motion makes +it seem verily a living thing—has a way of establishing itself in the +hearts of those who dwell by its banks. + +The Rhine is no exception to this rule; on the contrary, it is a notable +illustration thereof. From time immemorial the name of the mighty stream +has been sacred to the Germans, while gradually a halo of romantic +glamour has wound itself about the river, a halo which appeals potently +even to many who have never seen the Vaterland. Am Rhein!—is there not +magic in the words? And how they call up dreams of robber barons, each +with his strange castle built on the edge of a precipice overlooking +the rushing stream; fiends of glade and dell, sprites of the river and +whirlpool, weird huntsmen, and all the dramatis personae of legend and +tradition. + +The Rhine has ever held a wide fame in the domain of literature. For +there is scarcely a place on the river’s banks but has its legend which +has been enshrined in song, and some of these songs are so old that the +names of their makers have long since been forgotten. Yes, we have to go +very far back indeed would we study the poetry of the Rhine adequately; +we have to penetrate deeply into the Middle Ages, dim and mysterious. +And looking back thus, and pondering on these legendary and anonymous +writings, a poem which soon drifts into recollection is one whose scene +is laid near the little town of Lorch, or Lordch. Hard by this town is a +mountain, known to geographers as Kedrich, but hailed popularly as ‘the +Devil’s Ladder.’ Nor is the name altogether misplaced or undeserved, +the mountain being exceeding precipitous, and its beetling, rocky sides +seeming well-nigh inaccessible. This steepness, however, did not daunt +the hero of the poem in question, a certain Sir Hilchen von Lorch. A +saddle, said to have belonged to him, is still preserved in the town; +but on what manner of steed he was wont to ride is not told explicitly, +and truly it must have been a veritable Bucephalus. For the nameless +poet relates that Sir Hilchen, being enamoured of a lady whom angry +gnomes had carried to the top of Kedrich and imprisoned there, rode at +full gallop right up the side of the mountain, and rescued the fair one! + + + “Though my lady-love to a tower be ta’en, + Whose top the eagle might fail to gain, + Nor portal of iron nor battlement’s height + Shall bar me out from her presence bright: + Why has Love wings but that he may fly + Over the walls, be they never so high?” + +So the tale begins, while at the end the knight is represented exulting +in his doughty action: + + + “Hurrah, hurrah! ’Tis gallantly done! + The spell is broken, the bride is won! + From the magic hold of the mountain-sprite + Down she comes with her dauntless knight! + Holy St. Bernard, shield us all + From the wrath of the elves of the Whisper-Thal.” + +Andernach + +There are several different versions of this legend, each of them just +as extraordinary as the foregoing. It is evident, moreover, that matter +of this sort appealed very keenly to the medieval dwellers by the Rhine, +much of the further legendary lore encircling the river being concerned +with deeds no less amazing than this of Sir Hilchen’s; and among things +which recount such events a notable instance is a poem consecrated to +the castle of Andernach. Here, once upon a time, dwelt a count bearing +the now famous name of Siegfried, and being of a religious disposition, +he threw in his lot with a band of crusaders. For a long while, in +consequence, he was absent from his ancestral domain; and at length, +returning thither, he was told by various lying tongues that his +beautiful wife, Genofeva, had been unfaithful to him in his absence, +the chief bearer of the fell news being one Golo. This slanderer induced +Siegfried to banish Genofeva straightway, and so the lady fled from the +castle to the neighbouring forest of Laach, where a little later she +gave birth to a boy. Thenceforth mother and son lived together in the +wilds, and though these were infested by wild robbers, and full of +wolves and other ravening beasts, the pair of exiles contrived to go +unscathed year after year, while, more wonderful still, they managed +to find daily sustenance. And now romance reached a happy moment; for +behold, Count Siegfried went hunting one day in the remoter parts of +the forest, and fortuitously he passed by the very place where the two +wanderers were living—his wife and the child whom he had never seen. + + + ’Tis in the woody vales of Laach the hunter’s horn is wound, + And fairly flies the falcon, and deeply bays the hound; + But little recks Count Siegfried for hawk or quarry now: + A weight is on his noble heart, a gloom is on his brow. + Oh! he hath driven from his home—he cannot from his mind— + A lady, ah! the loveliest of all her lovely kind; + His wife, his Genofeva!—and at the word of one, + The blackest traitor ever looked upon the blessed sun. + He hath let the hunters hurry by, and turned his steed aside, + And ridden where the blue lake spreads its waters calm and wide, + And lo! beneath a linden-tree, there sits a lady fair, + But like some savage maiden clad in sylvan pageant rare. + Her kirtle’s of the dappled skin of the rapid mountain roe; + A quiver at her back she bears, beside her lies a bow; + Her feet are bare, her golden hair adown her shoulders streams, + And in her lap a rosy child is smiling in its dreams. + +The count had never thought to see his wife again. He imagined that she +had long since starved to death or been devoured; and now, finding her +alive, his pulses quicken. He knows well that only a miracle could have +preserved her during all this period of estrangement, and reflects that +on behalf of the virtuous alone are miracles worked. Seeing herein ample +proof of Genofeva’s innocence, he welcomes her back to his arms and with +beating heart bears her to the castle: + + + Oh! there was joy in Andernach upon that happy night: + The palace rang with revelry, the city blazed with light: + And when the moon her paler beams upon the turrets shed, + Above the Roman gate was seen the traitor Golo’s head. + +The Brothers + +Doubtless it was the thaumaturgic element in this pretty romance +which chiefly made it popular among its pristine audiences, yet it was +probably the pathos with which it is coloured that granted it longevity, +causing it to be handed down from generation to generation long before +the advent of the printing-press. + +Pathos, of course, figures largely in all folk-literature, and the story +of Count Siegfried is by no means the only tale of a touching nature +embodied in the early poetry of the Rhine, another similar work which +belongs to this category being a poem associated with Liebenstein and +Sterrenberg, two castles not far from each other. These places, so goes +the tale, once belonged to a nobleman who chanced to have as his ward +a young lady of singular loveliness. He had also two sons, of whom the +elder was heir to Liebenstein, while the younger was destined to inherit +Sterrenberg. These brothers were fast friends, and this partitioning of +the paternal estates never begot so much as an angry word between +them; but, alas! in an evil day they both fell in love with the same +woman—their father’s ward. Such events have happened often, and usually +they have ended in bitter strife; but the elder of the young men was +of magnanimous temperament, and, convinced that the lady favoured the +other’s advances more than his, he left him to woo and win her, and so +in due course it was announced that the younger brother and she were +affianced. Anon the date fixed for their nuptials drew near, but it +happened that, in the interim, the young knight of Sterrenberg had +become infected with a desire to join a crusade; and now, despite +the entreaties of his fiancée and his father, he mustered a troop of +men-at-arms, led them to join the Emperor Conrad at Frankfort, and set +off for the Holy Land. Year after year went by; still the warrior was +absent, and betimes his friends and relations began to lose all hope of +ever seeing him again, imagining that he must have fallen at the hands +of the infidel. Yet this suspicion was never actually confirmed, and the +elder brother, far from taking the advantage which the strange situation +offered, continued to eschew paying any addresses to his brother’s +intended bride, and invariably treated her simply as a beloved sister. +Sometimes, no doubt, it occurred to him that he might win her yet; +but of a sudden his horizon was changed totally, and changed in a most +unexpected fashion. The rover came back! And lo! it was not merely +a tale of war that he brought with him, for it transpired that while +abroad he had proved false to his vows and taken to himself a wife, a +damsel of Grecian birth who was even now in his train. The knight of +Liebenstein was bitterly incensed on hearing the news, and sent his +brother a fierce challenge to meet him in single combat; but scarcely +had they met and drawn swords ere the injured lady intervened. She +reminded the young men of their sacred bond of fraternity; she implored +them to desist from the crime of bloodshed. Then, having averted this, +she experienced a great longing to renounce all earthly things, and +took the veil in a neighbouring convent, thus shattering for ever the +rekindled hopes of her elder suitor. But he, the hero of the drama, was +not the only sufferer, for his brother was not to go unpunished for his +perfidy. A strange tale went forth, a scandalous tale to the effect that +the Grecian damsel was unfaithful to her spouse. Sterrenberg began to +rue his ill-timed marriage, and ultimately was forced to banish his wife +altogether. And so, each in his wind-swept castle—for their father was +now dead—the two knights lived on, brooding often on the curious events +of which their lives had been composed. The elder never married, and the +younger had no inclination to take that step a second time. + + + They never entered court or town, + Nor looked on woman’s face; + But childless to the grave went down, + The last of all their race. + And still upon the mountain fair + Are seen two castles grey, + That, like their lords, together there + Sink slowly to decay. + + The gust that shakes the tottering stone + On one burg’s battlement, + Upon the other’s rampart lone + Hath equal fury spent. + And when through Sternberg’s shattered wall + The misty moonbeams shine, + Upon the crumbling walls they fall + Of dreary Liebenstein. + +This legend is recounted here to illustrate the poetry of the Rhine. A +variant of it is given on p. 171. + +Argenfels + +But the warriors who flit across the lore of Rhineland were not all so +unfortunate, and one who fared better was Sir Dietrich of Schwarzenbeck. +Marching by the Rhine on his way to join a band of crusaders, this +Dietrich chanced to pass a few days at the castle of Argenfels, whose +owner was the father of two daughters. The younger of the pair, Bertha +by name, soon fell in love with the guest, while he, too, was deeply +impressed by her charm; but silken dalliance was not for him +at present—for was he not under a vow to try to redeem the Holy +Sepulchre?—and so he resumed his journey to Palestine. Here an arduous +campaign awaited him. In the course of a fierce battle he was wounded +sorely, and while trying to escape from the field he was taken prisoner. +This was a terrible fate, a far worse fate than death, for the Saracens +usually sold their captives as slaves; and Sir Dietrich as he languished +in captivity, wondering whether he was destined to spend the rest of +his days serving the infidel in some menial capacity, vowed that if he +should ever regain his native Germany he would build there a chapel to +St. Peter. Nor did his piety go unrewarded, for shortly afterward a body +of his compatriots came to his aid, worsted his foes, and set him free. +A joyful day was this for the crusader, but it was not his pious vow +that he thought of first; he made for Argenfels, eager to see again the +bright eyes of the lady who had enchanted him. Day and night he rode, +and as he drew nearer to the castle his passion grew stronger within +him; but, alas! on reaching his destination his hopes were suddenly +dashed to the ground. War had meantime been waged in the neighbourhood +of Bertha’s home; her father had been involved, his castle burnt to the +ground, and the two daughters had disappeared. Peradventure they had +perished, surmised the knight; but he swore he would leave nothing +undone which might lead to the restoration of his beloved. Making +inquiries far and near throughout the country, he heard at last from +an old shepherd that two ladies of gentle birth were sequestering +themselves in a disused hermitage near the summit of a mountain called +Stromberg. “Is it indeed they?” thought Sir Dietrich. He clambered up +the rocky steep leading to the hermitage and a wistful sound greeted +his ears, the sound of maidens’ voices offering up vespers. “Ave Maria, +stella maris,” they sang, and in the coolness of the evening the notes +vibrated with a new, strange loveliness, for the lover knew that he had +not climbed the Stromberg in vain. He returned, bringing Bertha with +him, and in due course she became his bride. Yet the fairest rose has +its thorns, and the happiness of the pair was not to be wholly undimmed +by clouds. For Bertha’s sister, showing a curious perversity, expressed +a desire to remain in the abode which had sheltered her of late, and +nothing could induce her to alter this decision. Sir Dietrich pleaded +with her again and again, and of a sudden, while thus engaged, he +thought of the vow he had made while a captive—the vow he had not kept. +Here, possibly—here in this shadow darkening the joy of his bridal—was +a message from on high! So straightway he built his chapel, choosing as +situation therefor a spot hard by the windswept hermitage, and in this +shrine to St. Peter dwelt Bertha’s sister to the end of her days. Was +it, mayhap, jealousy and a dart from Cupid’s bow which kept her there; +and was she, too, enamoured of Sir Dietrich? Well, the poet who tells +the story certainly thought so! + +Drinking Songs of the Rhine + +It were a lengthy matter to recount the many other poems of Rhineland +akin to those mustered above, and enough has been said to indicate +their general characteristics; while an ancient Rhine classic of yet a +different kind, The Mouse Tower, given elsewhere, is so familiar owing +to Southey’s English version that it were superfluous to offer any +synopsis or criticism of it here. Then a class of poems of which the +great river’s early literature is naturally replete are those concerned +with the growing of the vine and the making of Rhenish, prominent among +these being one consecrated to Bacharach, a town which was a famous +centre of the wine industry in the Middle Ages. Near Bacharach there +is a huge stone in the Rhine which, known as ‘the Altar of Bacchus,’ +is visible only on rare occasions, when the river chances to be +particularly low; and in olden times, whenever this stone was seen, +the event was hailed by the townsfolk as an omen that their next grape +harvest would be an exceptionally successful one. It is with this ‘Altar +of Bacchus’ that the poem in question deals. But coming to modern times, +many of the Rhine drinking songs are also concerned to some extent with +patriotism—an element which seems to go hand in hand with the bacchanal +the world over!—and a typical item in this category is the Rheinweinlied +of Georg Hervegh, a poet of the first half of the nineteenth century. +A better patriotic song of Rhine-land, however, is one by a slightly +earlier poet, Wolfgang Müller, a native of Königswinter, near Bonn, who +sings with passionate devotion of the great river, dwelling lovingly on +its natural beauties, and exalting it above all other streams. His song +appears to have been composed when the writer was undergoing a temporary +period of exile from the Vaterland, for a somewhat pathetic and +plaintive air pervades each verse, and the poet refers to the Rhine as +a memory rather than as something actually before his eyes. But very +different is another fine patriotic song of which it behoves to speak, +the work of August Kopisch, a contemporary of Müller. This latter song +treats of an incident in the Napoleonic wars, and Blücher and his forces +are represented as encamped on the Rhine and as debating whether to +march forward against their French foes. Nor is it necessary to add, +perhaps, that they decide to do so, for otherwise no German singer would +have handled the theme! + +But what, asks someone, is really the brightest gem of Rhineland poetry? +while someone else adds that the majority of the writers cited above are +but little known, and inquires whether none of the great German authors +were ever inspired to song by their beloved river. The name of Heinrich +Heine naturally comes to mind in this relation—comes to mind instantly +on account of what is surely his masterpiece, Die Lorelei—a poem already +dealt with. + +But Heine’s version far transcends all others, and pondering on its +beauty, we think first of its gentle, andante music, a music which +steals through the senses like a subtle perfume: + + + Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten, + Dass ich so traurig bin; + Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten, + Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn. + +There, surely, is a sound as lovely as the fateful maiden herself ever +sang; and here, again, is a verse which is a tour de force in the craft +of landscape-painting; for not only are the externals of the scene +summoned vividly before the reader’s eyes, but some of the mystery and +strangely wistful appeal of nature are likewise found in the lines: + + + Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt + Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein; + Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt + Im Abendsonneaschein. + + + + +CHAPTER III—CLEVES TO THE LÖWENBURG + +Lohengrin + +The tale or myth of the Knight of the Swan who came to the succour +of the youthful Duchess of Brabant is based upon motives more or less +common in folklore—the enchantment of human beings into swans, and the +taboo whereby, as in the case of Cupid and Psyche, the husband forbids +the wife to question him as to his identity or to look upon him. The +myth has been treated by both French and German romancers, but the +latter attached it loosely to the Grail legend, thus turning it to +mystical use. + +As a purely German story it is found at the conclusion of Wolfram von +Eschenbach’s Parzival,1 from which the following version is drawn. The +name of the hero as written by Wolfram (Loherangrîn) may possibly be +traced to Garin le Loherin or Garin of Lorraine. Wagner’s version is +taken from the same source, but the mighty master of melody altered many +of the details for dramatic and other reasons. + +[Note 1: See my Dictionary of Medieval Romance, articles ‘Grail,’ +‘Parzival,’ ‘Perceval,’ and ‘Garin.’] + +The principal French versions of the romance are Le Chevalier au Cygne +and Helyas, and there are medieval English forms of these.2 + +[Note 2: Op. cit.] + +The Knight of the Swan + +In a dungeon in the castle of Cleves lay Elsa of Brabant, languishing +in captivity. Her father, the Duke of Brabant, had ere he died appointed +his most powerful vassal, one Frederick of Telramund, to be her +guardian; but he, seeking only the advancement of his own ends, +shamefully abused the confidence of his lord. Using his authority as +Elsa’s guardian, he sought to compel her to become his wife, and threw +her into prison to await the wedding-day, knowing well that none would +dare to dispute his action. + +An appeal was made on Elsa’s behalf to the Emperor, Henry I, who decreed +that she should choose a champion, so that the matter might be settled +by combat. But, alas! there was not a knight who would venture to match +his skill against that of Frederick, who was a giant in stature and an +expert in sword-play. In accordance with the Emperor’s decree Telramund +sent out a herald at stated times to proclaim his readiness to do battle +with any who would champion the cause of Elsa. + +Time passed, yet the challenge was not accepted, and at length the +day was fixed for the bridal. Behind her prison bars the lady wept +ceaselessly, and called upon the Virgin to save her from the threatened +fate. In her despair she beat her breast with her chaplet, whereon was +hung a tiny silver bell. Now this little bell was possessed of magic +properties, for when it was rung the sound, small at first as the +tinkling of a fairy lure, grew in volume the further it travelled till +it resembled the swelling of a mighty chorus. Rarely was its tone heard, +and never save when its owner was in dire straits, as on the present +occasion. When Elsa beat her breast with it, therefore, its magical +qualities responded to her distress, and its faint, sweet tinkle fell on +her ear. + +Far away over hill and dale went the sound of the bell, growing ever +richer and louder, till at length it reached the temple where Parsifal +and his knights guarded the Holy Grail. To them it seemed that the +swelling notes contained an appeal for help directed to the Holy Vessel +over which they kept vigil. While they debated thereon a loud and +mysterious voice was heard bidding Parsifal send his son Lohengrin +to the rescue of Elsa of Brabant, whom he must take for his wife, yet +without revealing to her his identity. + +The awed knights recognized the voice as that of the Holy Grail, and +Lohengrin at once set out, bound he knew not whither. When he reached +the shores of the Rhine he found awaiting him a boat drawn by a stately +swan. Taking it as a sign from Heaven, he stepped into the little boat +and was carried up the Rhine, to the sound of the most exquisite music. + +It was the day on which Elsa was to be wedded to her tyrant. She had +spent the night in tears and bitter lamentations, and now, weary and +distraught, too hopeless even for tears, she looked out from the bars of +her prison with dull, despairing eyes. Suddenly she heard the melodious +strains and a moment later saw the approach of a swan-drawn boat, +wherein lay a sleeping knight. Hope leapt within her, for she remembered +the prophecy of an old nun, long since dead, that a sleeping knight +would rescue her from grave peril. Directly he stepped ashore the youth +made his way to the place of her confinement and, espying her face at +the heavily barred window, knelt before her and begged that she would +take him for her champion. + +At that moment the blast of a trumpet was heard, followed by the voice +of the herald as, for the last time, he challenged any knight to take +up arms on behalf of Elsa of Brabant. Lohengrin boldly accepted the +challenge, and Telramund, when the news reached him of the unexpected +opposition, on the very day he had appointed for his wedding, was +surprised and enraged beyond measure, yet he dared not refuse to do +battle with the stranger knight, because of the Emperor’s decree. So it +was arranged that the combat should take place immediately. News of it +reached the people of Cleves, and a great concourse gathered to witness +the spectacle, all of them secretly in sympathy with the persecuted +maiden, though these feelings were carefully concealed from the ruthless +Telramund. + +Fierce indeed was the combat, for Lohengrin, though less powerfully +built than his gigantic opponent, was nevertheless tall and strong, and +well versed in the arts of war. At length he laid his enemy in the dust +with a well-aimed sword-stroke, and the crowd broke into cheers. The +combat was over, and Elsa was free! + +Heeding not the acclamations of the people, Lohengrin strode toward +Elsa and again knelt at her feet. The blushing maiden bade him name his +reward, whereupon the knight begged her hand in marriage, confessing, +however, that he might only remain with her so long as she did not +question him with regard to his identity. It seemed a small condition +to Elsa, who willingly promised to restrain any curiosity she might feel +concerning his name and place of abode. The cheers of the populace were +redoubled when they learned that Elsa was to bestow her hand on the Swan +Knight. + +In a few weeks the couple were married, and henceforth for a good many +years they lived together very happily. Three sons were born to them, +who grew in time to be handsome and chivalrous lads, of noble bearing +and knightly disposition. Then it was that Elsa, who had hitherto +faithfully kept her promise to her husband, began to fancy that she and +her sons had a grievance in that the latter were not permitted to bear +their father’s name. + +For a time she brooded in silence over her grievance, but at length it +was fanned into open rebellion by a breath of outside suspicion. Some of +the people looked askance at the knight whose name no one knew. So Elsa +openly reproached her husband with his secrecy, and begged that for the +benefit of their sons he would reveal his name and station. Even the +children of humble parents, the children of the peasants, of their own +retainers, had a right to their father’s name, and why not her sons +also? + +Lohengrin paled at her foolish words, for to him they were the sign that +he must leave his wife and family and betake himself once more to the +temple of the Holy Grail. + +“Oh, Elsa,” he said sorrowfully, “thou knowest not what thou hast done. +Thy promise is broken, and to-day I must leave thee for ever.” And with +that he blew a blast on his silver horn. + +Elsa had already repented her rash words, and right earnestly she +besought him to remain by her side. But, alas! her tears and pleadings +were in vain, for, even as her entreaties were uttered, she heard +the exquisite strains of music which had first heralded her lover’s +approach, while from the window of the castle she espied the swan-boat +rapidly drawing toward the shore. + +With grave tenderness Lohengrin bade farewell to his wife and family, +first, however, revealing to them his identity, and commending them to +the care of some of his trusty followers. + +Tradition tells that Elsa did not long survive the loss of her beloved +husband, but her sons became brave knights, well worthy of the proud +name they bore. + +A Legend of Liége + +A legend of Liége! and is not Liége itself now almost legendary? Its +venerable church, its world-famous library replete with the priceless +treasures of the past, “with records stored of deeds long since forgot,” +where are they?—but crumbling clusters of ruins fired by the barbarian +torch whose glow, we were told, was to enlighten an ignorant and +uncultured Europe! But one gem remains: the wonderful Hôtel de Ville, +type of the Renaissance spirit in Flanders. Liége may be laid in ruins, +but the memory of what it was can never die: + + + Athens in death is nobler far + Than breathing cities of the West; + +and the same may be said of those splendours in stone, those wonders +of medieval architecture, even the blackened walls of which possess a +dignity and beauty which will ever assist the imagination to re-create +the picture of what has been. + +Liége is a city of the Middle Ages. Time was when the place boasted but +a single forge; and though bucklers were heaped beside the anvil, and +swords and spears lay waiting for repair, the blacksmith leant against +his door-post, gazing idly up the hill-side. Gradually he was aware of +a figure, which seemed to have grown into shape from a furze-bush, or +to have risen from behind a stone; and as it descended the slope he eyed +curiously the grimy face, long beard, and squat form of what he was +half unwilling to recognize as a human being. Hobbling awkwardly, and +shrugging his shoulders as though cold, the man came in time to the +smithy door. + +“What! Jacques Perron—idle when work is to be done? Idle smith! idle +smith! The horse lacks the bit, and the rider the spur. + + + ‘Ill fares the hide when the buckler wants mending; + Ill fares the plough when the coulter wants tending.’ + +Idle smith! idle smith!” + +“Idle enough,” quoth Jacques. “I’m as idle as you are ugly; but I can’t +get charcoal any more than you can get beauty, so I must stand still, +and you be content with your face, though I’d fain earn a loaf and a cup +full enough for both of us this winter morning.” + +Though the strange man must have known he was horribly ugly—that is, if +he ever bent to drink of the clear bright waters of the lovely Meuse, +which reflected in those days every lily-bell and every grass-blade +which grew upon its banks, and gave a faithful portraiture in its cool +waters of every creature that leant over them—though he was certainly +the most frightful creature that had ever met the blacksmith’s sight, it +was evident enough that he did not like being called Ugly-face. But when +the honest, good-natured smith spoke of earning a draught for his new +acquaintance as well as himself, he smacked his ugly lips and twisted +out a sort of smile which made him still more hideous. + +“Ah, ah!” said he, “wine’s good in winter weather, wine’s good in winter +weather. Listen, listen! Jacques Perron! listen, listen! Go you up the +hill-side—yonder, yonder!” and he pointed with a yellow finger, which +seemed to stretch out longer and longer as the smith strained his +eyes up the slope, until the digit looked quite as long as the tallest +chimney that smoked over Liége. “Listen, listen!” and he sang in a voice +like the breath of a huge bellows: + + + “‘Wine’s good in winter weather; + Up the hill-side near the heather + Go and gather the black earth, + It shall give your fire birth. + Ill fares the hide when the buckler wants mending; + Ill fares the plough when the coulter wants tending: + Go! Go!’ + +“Mind my cup of wine—mind my cup of wine!” As he ended this rude chant +Jacques saw the long finger run back into the shrivelled hand, as a +telescope slips back into its case, and then the hand was wrapped up in +the dingy garment, and with a dreadful shiver, and a chattering of teeth +as loud as the noise of the anvils now heard on the same spot, the ugly +man was wafted away round the corner of the building like a thick gust +of smoke from a newly fed furnace. + +“Mind my cup of wine—mind my cup of wine!” rang again in the ears of +the startled Jacques, and after running several times round his house in +vain pursuit of the voice, he sat down on the cold anvil to scratch his +head and think. It was quite certain he had work to do, and it was as +certain as half a score searches could make it that he had not a single +coin in his pouch to buy charcoal to do it with. He was reflecting that +the old man was a very strange creature—he was more than half afraid to +think who he might be—when in the midst of his cogitation he heard +his three children calling out for their morning meal. Not a loaf +had Jacques in store, and twisting his hide apron round his loins, he +muttered, “Demon or no demon, I’ll go,” and strode out of the smithy and +up the hill-side as fast as though he feared that if he went slowly his +courage would not carry him as far up as the heather-bush which the long +yellow finger had pointed out. + +When the young wife of Jacques came to look for her husband, she saw +him returning with his apron full of black morsels of shining stone. She +smiled at him; but when he threw them on the furnace and went to get a +brand to set them alight, she looked solemn enough, for she thought he +had left his wits on the hill-top. Great was her surprise when she saw +the stones burn! But her joy was greater than her surprise when she +heard her husband’s hammer ring merrily, and found the wage of the +smith all spared for home use, instead of being set aside for the +charcoal-burner. That night Jacques had two full wine-cups and, setting +them on the anvil, had scarcely said to himself, “I wonder whether +He’ll come!” when in walked the Old Man and, nodding familiarly, seated +himself on the head of the big hammer. Jacques was a bold and grateful +as well as a good-natured fellow, and in a few minutes he and his +visitor were on excellent terms. No more shivering or chattering of +teeth was seen or heard in the smithy that night. The black stones +burned away merrily on the hearth, and the bright flames shone on the +honest face of the smith as he hobnobbed with his companion, and looked +as though he really thought the stranger as handsome as he certainly had +been useful. He sang his best songs and told his best stories, and when +the wine had melted his soul he told his new friend how dearly he loved +his wife and what charming, dear creatures his children were. “Demon +or no demon,” he swore the stranger was a good fellow, and though the +visitor spoke but little, he seemed to enjoy his company very much. +He laughed at the jokes, smiled at the songs, and once rather startled +Jacques by letting out again his long telescope arm to pat him on his +shoulder when, with a mouth full of praises of his wife, a tear sparkled +in his eye as he told over again how dearly he loved his little ones. + +Day broke before the wine was exhausted or their hearts flagged, and +when the voice of the early cock woke the swan that tended her callow +brood amongst the sedges of the Meuse the Old Man departed. Jacques +never saw him again, although he often looked in all directions when he +went to the hill for a supply of fuel; but from that day Liége grew up +in industry, riches, and power. Jacques had found coal, and thus became +the benefactor of his native country, and the hero of this favourite +Legend of the Liégeois. + +The Sword-slipper of Solingen + +In Solingen, where the forges rang to the making of sword-blades, many +smiths had essayed to imitate the falchions of Damascus, their trenchant +keenness and their wondrous golden inlaying. But numerous as were the +attempts made to recapture the ancient secret of the East, they all +signally failed, and brought about the ruin of many masters of the +sword-slipper’s art. + +Among these was old Ruthard, a smith grown grey in the practice of his +trade. He had laid aside sufficient savings to permit himself a year’s +experiment in the manufacture of Damascus blades, but to no purpose. As +the months wore on he saw his hard-earned gold melting steadily away. +The wrinkles deepened on his brow, and his only daughter, Martha, +watched the change coming over him in sorrowful silence. + +One evening—the evening of all evenings, the holy Christmas eve—Martha +entered the forge and saw the old man still hard at work. She gently +remonstrated with him, asking him why he toiled on such an occasion. + +“You work, my father, as if you feared that to-morrow we might not +have bread,” she said. “Why toil on this holy evening? Have you not +sufficient for the future? You must have laid by enough for your old +age. Then why fatigue yourself when others are spending the time by +their own hearths in cheerful converse?” + +The old smith’s only reply was to shake his head in a melancholy manner, +take some pieces of broken food in his hands, and leave the house. At +that moment Wilhelm, the smith’s head apprentice, entered the room. +He seemed pale and disturbed, and related to Martha, to whom he was +betrothed, that he had asked Ruthard for her hand. The old man had +firmly told him that he could not consent to their union until he +had discovered the secret of making Damascus blades. This he felt was +hopeless to expect, and he had come to say “good-bye” ere he set out on +a quest from which he might never return. At the news Martha was greatly +perturbed. She rose and clung to the young man, her wild grief venting +itself in heartrending sobs. She begged him not to depart. But his mind +was fully made up, and, notwithstanding her tears and caresses, he tore +himself away and quitted the house and the town. + +For nearly a fortnight the youth tramped over hill and valley with +little in his pouch and without much hope that the slender means of +which he was possessed would bring him to the land of the Saracens, +where alone he could hope to learn the great art of tempering the blades +of Damascus. One evening he entered the solitary mountain country of +Spessart and, unacquainted with the labyrinths of the road, lost himself +in an adjoining forest. By this time night had fallen, and he cast about +for a place in which to lay his head. But the inhospitable forest showed +no sign of human habitation. After wandering on, however, stumbling and +falling in the darkness, he at length saw a light burning brightly at a +distance. Quickly he made for it and found that it came from the window +of a cottage, at the door of which he knocked loudly. He had not long to +wait for an answer, for an old woman speedily opened and inquired what +he wanted at so late an hour. He told her that he desired food and +lodging, for which he could pay, and he was at once admitted. She told +him, however, that she expected another visitor. Whilst she cooked his +supper Wilhelm detailed to her the circumstances of his journey. After +he had eaten he retired to rest, but, tired as he was, he could not +sleep. Later a dreadful storm arose, through the din of which he heard +a loud noise, as if someone had entered the house by way of the chimney. +Peering through the keyhole into the next room, he perceived a man +seated at the table opposite his hostess whose appearance filled him +with misgiving. He had not much leisure for a detailed examination of +this person, however, for the witch—for such she was—came to the door +of his room, entered, and bade him come and be introduced to a stranger +from the East who could tell him the secret of forging Damascus blades. +Wilhelm followed the old woman into the other room and beheld there a +swarthy man seated, wrapped in a flame-coloured mantle. For a long time +the stranger regarded him steadily, then demanded what he wanted from +him. Wilhelm told him the circumstances of his quest, and when he +had finished the story the man laughed and, drawing from his pocket a +document, requested the youth to sign it. Wilhelm perceived that it was +of the nature of a pact with Satan, by which he was to surrender +his soul in return for the coveted secret. Nevertheless, he set his +signature to the manuscript and returned to his couch—but not to sleep. +The consequences of his terrible act haunted him, and when morning +came he set off on his homeward journey with a fearful heart, carefully +guarding a well-sealed letter which the mysterious stranger had put into +his hand. + +Without further adventure he reached Solingen, and having acquainted +Ruthard with what had transpired, he handed him the letter. But the good +old man refused to unseal it. + +“You must keep this until your own son and my grandson can open it,” he +said to Wilhelm, “for over his infant soul the enemy can have no power.” + +And so it happened. Wilhelm married Martha, and in the course of a few +years a little son was born to them, who in due time found the letter, +opened it, and mastered the Satanic secret, and from that time the +blades of Solingen have had a world-wide renown. + +The Architect of Cologne Cathedral + +Travellers on the Rhine usually make a halt at Cologne to see the +cathedral, and many inquire the name of its creator. Was the plan the +work of a single architect? they ask; or did the cathedral, like many +another in Europe, acquire its present form by slow degrees, being +augmented and duly embellished in divers successive ages? These +questions are perfectly reasonable and natural, yet, strange to relate, +are invariably answered in evasive fashion, the truth being that the +name of the artist in stone who planned Cologne Cathedral is unknown. +The legend concerning him, however, is of world-wide celebrity, for the +tale associated with the founding of the famous edifice is replete with +that grisly element which has always delighted the Germans, and figures +largely in their medieval literature, and more especially in the works +of their early painters—for example, Dürer, Lucas Cranach, and Albrecht +Altdörfer. + +It was about the time of the last-named master that a Bishop of Cologne, +Conrad von Hochsteden, formed the resolve of increasing the pecuniary +value of his diocese. He was already rich, but other neighbouring +bishops were richer, each of them being blest with just what Conrad +lacked—a shrine sufficiently famous to attract large numbers of wealthy +pilgrims able to make generous offerings. The result of his jealous +musing was that the crafty bishop vowed he would build a cathedral whose +like had not been seen in all Germany. By this means, he thought, +he would surely contrive to bring rich men to his diocese. His first +thought was to summon an architect from Italy, in those days the country +where beautiful building was chiefly carried on; but he found that this +would cost a far larger sum than he was capable of raising; so, hearing +that a gifted young German architect had lately taken up his abode at +Cologne itself, Conrad sent for him and offered him a rich reward should +he accomplish the work satisfactorily. The young man was overjoyed, for +as yet he had received no commissions of great importance, and he set +to work at once. He made drawing after drawing, but, being in a state of +feverish excitement, found that his hand had lost its cunning. None +of his designs pleased him in the least; the bishop, he felt, would be +equally disappointed; and thinking that a walk in the fresh air might +clear his brain, he threw his drawing-board aside and repaired to the +banks of the Rhine. Yet even here peace did not come to him; he was +tormented by endless visions of groined arches, pediments, pilasters, +and the like, and having a stick in his hand, he made an effort to trace +some on the sand. But this new effort pleased him no better than any +of its predecessors. Fame and fortune were within his reach, yet he was +incapable of grasping them; and he groaned aloud, cursing the day he was +born. + +As the young man uttered his fierce malediction he was surprised to +hear a loud “Amen” pronounced; he looked round, wondering from whom +this insolence came, and beheld an individual whose approach he had not +noticed. He, too, was engaged in drawing on the sand, and deeming that +the person, whoever he was, intended to mock his attempts at a plan for +the projected cathedral, the architect strode up to him with an angry +expression on his face. He stopped short, however, on nearing the rival +draughtsman; for he was repelled by his sinister aspect, while at the +same time he was thunderstruck by the excellence of his drawing. It was +indeed a thaumaturgic design, just such a one as the architect himself +had dreamt of, but had been unable to execute; and while he gazed at it +eagerly the stranger hailed him in an ugly, rasping voice. “A cunning +device, this of mine,” he said sharply; and the architect was bound to +agree, despite the jealousy he felt. Surely, he thought, only the Evil +One could draw in this wise. Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind +ere his suspicion was confirmed, for now he marked the stranger’s tail, +artfully concealed hitherto. Yet he was incapable of withholding his +gaze from the plan drawn so wondrously on the sand, and the foul fiend, +seeing that the moment for his triumph was come, declared his identity +without shame, and added that, would the architect but agree to renounce +all hopes of salvation in the next world, the peerless design would be +his to do with as he pleased. + +The young man shuddered on receiving the momentous offer, but continued +to gaze fixedly at the cunning workmanship, and again the Evil One +addressed him, bidding him repair that very night to a certain place on +a blasted heath, where, if he would sign a document consigning his soul +to everlasting damnation, he would be presented with the plan duly +drawn on parchment. The architect still wavered, now eager to accept the +offer, and now vowing that the stipulated price was too frightful. In +the end he was given time wherein to come to a decision, and he hurried +from the place at hot speed as the tempter vanished from his sight. + +On reaching his dwelling the architect flung himself upon his bed and +burst into a paroxysm of weeping. The good woman who tended him observed +this with great surprise, for he was not given to showing his emotions +thus; and wondering what terrible sorrow had come to him, she proceeded +to make kindly inquiries. At first these were met with silence, but, +feeling a need for sympathy, the architect eventually confessed the +truth; and the good dame, horrified at what she heard, hurried off to +impart the story to her father-confessor. He, too, was shocked, but he +was as anxious as Bishop Conrad that the proposed cathedral should be +duly built, and he came quickly to the architect’s presence. “Here,” he +told him, “is a piece of our Lord’s cross. This will preserve you. Go, +therefore, as the fiend directed you, take the drawing from him, and +brandish the sacred relic in his accursed face the moment you have +received it.” + +When evening drew near the architect hurried to the rendezvous, where +he found the Devil waiting impatiently. But a leer soon spread over his +visage, and he was evidently overjoyed at the prospect of wrecking a +soul. He quickly produced a weird document, commanding his victim +to affix his signature at a certain place. “But the beautiful plan,” +whispered the young man; “I must see it first; I must be assured that +the drawing on the sand has been faithfully copied.” “Fear nothing.” +The Devil handed over the precious piece of vellum; and glancing at it +swiftly, and finding it in order, the architect whipped it under his +doublet. “Aha! you cannot outwit me,” shrieked the fiend; but as he was +laying hands upon the architect the young man brought forth the talisman +he carried. “A priest has told you of this, for no one else would have +thought of it,” cried the Devil, breathing flame from his nostrils. But +his wrath availed him naught; he was forced to retreat before the sacred +relic, yet as he stepped backward he uttered a deadly curse. “You have +deceived me,” he hissed; “but know that fame will never come to you; +your name will be forgotten for evermore.” + +And behold, the fiend’s prophecy was fulfilled. The cathedral was +scarcely completed ere the young architect’s name became irrevocably +forgotten, and now this grisly tale is all that is known concerning his +identity. + +Cologne Cathedral: Its Erection + +There are several other tales to account for the belief prevalent at +one time that Cologne Cathedral would never be completed. The following +legend attributes the unfinished state of the edifice to the curse of +a jealous architect. At the time the building was commenced a rival +architect was engaged in planning an aqueduct to convey to the city a +supply of water purer than that of the Rhine. He was in this difficulty, +however: he had been unable to discover the exact position of the spring +from which the water was to be drawn. Tidings of the proposed structure +reached the ears of the builder of the cathedral, a man of strong +passions and jealous disposition, and in time the other architect asked +his opinion of the plans for the aqueduct. + +Now it so happened that the architect of the cathedral alone had known +the situation of the spring, and he had communicated it to his wife, but +to no other living creature; so he replied boastfully: + +“Speak not to me of your aqueduct. My cathedral, mighty as it will be, +shall be completed before your little aqueduct.” And he clinched his +vainglorious assertion with an oath. + +Indeed, it seemed as though his boast would be justified, for the +building of the sacred edifice proceeded apace, while the aqueduct was +not even begun, because of the difficulty of finding the spring. The +second architect was in despair, for of a certainty his professional +reputation was destroyed, his hopes of fame for ever dashed, were he +unable to finish the task he had undertaken. + +His faithful wife strove to lighten his despondency, and at last, +setting her woman’s wit to work, hit on a plan whereby the threatened +calamity might be averted. She set out to visit the wife of the +rival architect, with whom she was intimate. The hostess greeted her +effusively, and the ladies had a long chat over bygone times. More and +more confidential did they become under the influence of old memories +and cherry wine. Skilfully the guest led the conversation round to the +subject of the hidden spring, and her friend, after exacting a promise +of the strictest secrecy, told her its exact situation. It lay under the +great tower of the cathedral, covered by the massive stone known as the +‘Devil’s Stone.’ + +“Let me have your assurance again,” said the anxious lady, “that you +will never tell anyone, not even your husband. For I do not know what +would become of me if my husband learnt that I had told it to you.” The +other renewed her promises of secrecy and took her leave. On her return +home she promptly told her husband all that had passed, and he as +promptly set to work, sunk a well at the spot indicated, and found the +spring. The foundations of the aqueduct were laid and the structure +itself soon sprang up. The architect of the cathedral saw with dismay +that his secret was discovered. As the building of the aqueduct +progressed he lost all interest in his own work; envy and anger filled +his thoughts and at last overcame him. It is said that he died of a +broken heart, cursing with his latest breath the cathedral which he had +planned. + +The Wager + +An alternative story is that of the Devil’s wager with the architect of +the cathedral. The Evil One was much irritated at the good progress +made in the erection of the building and resolved, by means of a cunning +artifice, to stop that progress. To this end he paid a visit to the +architect, travelling incognito to avoid unpleasant attentions. + +The architect was a man of wit and good sense, as courteous as he was +clever; but he had one outstanding failing—a love of wagering. Satan, +who ever loves to find the joints in an opponent’s armour, chose this +one weak spot as a point of attack. His host offered him meat and drink, +which the Devil declined as not being sufficiently high-seasoned for his +taste. + +“I have come on a matter of business,” said he briskly. “I have heard of +you as a sporting fellow, a man who loves his wager. Is that correct?” + +The architect indicated that it was, and was all eagerness and attention +in a moment. + +“Well,” said the other, “I have come, in a word, to make a bet with you +concerning the cathedral.” + +“And what is your wager?” + +“Why, I’ll wager that I bring a stream from Treves to Cologne before you +finish the cathedral, and I’ll work single-handed, too.” + +“Done!” said the delighted architect. “But what’s the wager?” + +“If I win, your soul passes into my possession; if you win, you may have +anything you choose.” And with that he was gone. + +Next day the architect procured the services of all the builders that +were to be had on such short notice, and set them to work in real +earnest. Very soon the whole town was in a state of excitement because +of the unusual bustle. The architect took to dreaming of the wealth, or +the fame, or the honour he should ask as his due when the stakes were +won. Employing his imagination thus, he one day climbed to the top of +the highest tower, which by this time was completed, and as he feasted +his eyes on the beautiful landscape spread before him he happened to +turn toward the town of Treves, and lo! a shining stream was threading +its way to Cologne. In a very short time it would reach the latter city. + +The Devil had won! + +With a laugh of defiance the architect cast himself from the high tower +and was instantly killed. Satan, in the form of a black hound, sprang +upon him, but was too late to find him alive. + +But his death stopped for many years the progress of the cathedral; +it long stood at the same stage of completion as when the brook first +flowed from Treves to Cologne. + +The Fire-bell of Cologne + +In one of the grand towers of Cologne Cathedral hangs a massive bell, +some 25,000 lb. in weight. No mellow call to prayer issues from its +brazen throat, no joyous chimes peal forth on gala-days; only in times +of disaster, of storm and stress and fire, it flings out a warning in +tones so loud and clamorous, so full of dire threatenings, that the +stoutest hearts quail beneath the sound. Because its awful note is only +to be heard in time of terror it is known as the Fire-bell, and a weird +tradition relates the story of its founding and the reason for its +unearthly sound. + +Long ago, when bell-founding was looked upon as an art of the highest +importance, and especially so among the Germans, the civic authorities +of Cologne made it known that the cathedral was in need of a new bell. +There was no lack of aspirants for the honour of casting the bell, and +more than one exponent of the art imagined his handiwork swinging in the +grand tower of the cathedral, a lasting and melodious monument to its +creator’s skill. + +Among those whose ambitious souls were stirred by the statement of the +city fathers was one, a bell-founder named Wolf, a man of evil passions +and overbearing disposition, whose heart was firmly set on achieving +success. In those days, let it be said, the casting of a bell was +a solemn, and even a religious, performance, attended by elaborate +ceremonies and benedictions. On the day which Wolf had appointed for +the operation it seemed as though the entire populace had turned out to +witness the spectacle. Wolf, having prepared the mould, made ready to +pour into it the molten metal. The silence was almost oppressive, and +on it fell distinctly the solemn words of the bell-founder, as in God’s +name he released the metal. The bright stream gushed into the mould, +and a cheer broke from the waiting crowd, who, indeed, could scarce be +restrained till the bell had cooled, such was their curiosity to see the +result. At last the earthy mould was removed, they surged round eagerly, +and lo! from crown to rim of the mighty bell stretched a gaping crack! + +Expressions of disappointment burst from the lips of the people, and to +Wolf himself the failure was indeed galling. But his ambitious +spirit was not yet completely crushed. “I am not beaten yet,” he said +boastfully. “I shall make another, and success shall yet be mine.” + +Another mould was made, once more the people came forth to see the +casting of the bell, once more the solemn invocation of God’s name +fell on awed ears. The glowing metal filled the mould, cooled, and was +withdrawn from its earthy prison. Once more cries of disappointment were +heard from the crowd; again the massive bell was completely riven! + +Wolf was beside himself. His eyes glowed with fury, and he thrust aside +the consolations of his friends. “If God will not aid me,” he said +fiercely, “then the Devil will!” + +The crowd shrank back from the impious words; nevertheless on the third +occasion they attended in even greater numbers than before. + +Again was all made ready for the casting of the huge bell. The mould +was fashioned as carefully as on the previous occasions, the metal was +heated in the great furnace, and Wolf, pale and sullen, stood ready to +release it. But when he spoke a murmur of astonishment, of horror, ran +through the crowd. For the familiar words “In the name of God!” he had +substituted “In the name of the Devil!” With fascinated eyes the people +watched the bright, rushing metal, and, later, the removal of the mould. + +And behold! the bell was flawless, perfect in shape and form, and +beautiful to look upon! + +Wolf, having achieved the summit of his ambition, cared little for the +means by which he had ascended. From among a host of competitors he was +chosen as the most successful. His bell was to hang in the belfry +of Cologne Cathedral, for the envy of other bell-founders and the +admiration of future generations. + +The bell was borne in triumph through the streets and fixed high in the +tower. Wolf requested that he might be the first to try its tone, and +his request was granted. He ascended into the tower and took the rope in +his hands; the mighty bell swung forth, but ah! what a sound was that! +The people pressed their hands over their ears and shuddered; those in +the streets hurried to their homes; all were filled with deadly fear as +the diabolical bell flung its awful tones over the startled city. This, +then, was the result of Wolf’s invocation of the Devil. + +Wolf himself, high in the cathedral tower, was overcome with the brazen +horror of the sound, and, driven mad with remorse and terror, flung +himself from the tower and fell, a crushed and shapeless mass, on the +ground below. + +Henceforth the bell was used only to convey warning in times of danger, +to carry a message of terror far and wide across the city, and to remind +the wicked at all times of the danger of trafficking with the Evil One. + +The Archbishop’s Lion + +In 957 Cologne was constituted an imperial free city, having as its +nominal prince the archbishop of the see, but possessing the right to +govern its own affairs. The good bishop of that time acquiesced in the +arrangement, but his successors were not content to be princes in name +only, and strove hard to obtain a real influence over the citizens. +Being for the most part men of unscrupulous disposition, they did not +hesitate to rouse commonalty and aristocracy against each other, hoping +to step in and reap the benefits of such internecine warfare as might +ensue. And, indeed, the continual strife was not conducive to the +prosperity of the burghers, but rather tended to sap their independence, +and one by one their civil liberties were surrendered. Thus the scheming +archbishops increased their power and influence in the city of Cologne. +There came a time, however, in the civic history when the limit was +overstepped. In the thirteenth century Archbishop Engelbert, more daring +and ambitious than any of his predecessors, demanded that the municipal +treasure should be given up to him. Not content with taking away the +privileges of the burghers, he wished to lay his hands on the public +purse as well. This was indeed the last straw, and the sluggish blood of +the burghers was at length roused to revolt. + +At this time the Burgomaster of Cologne, Hermann Grein by name, was an +honest, far-seeing, and diplomatic citizen, who had seen with dismay the +ancient liberties of his beloved city destroyed by the cunning of the +Archbishop. The latter’s bold attempt at further encroachments gave him +the opportunity he sought, and with the skill of a born leader Hermann +Grein united nobles and commons in the determination to resist their +mutual enemy. Feuds were for the time being forgotten, and with a +gallant effort the galling yoke of the Archbishop-prince was thrown off, +and the people of Cologne were once more free. + +Grein performed his civic duties so firmly, albeit so smoothly and +gently, that he won the love and respect of all sections of the +populace. Old and young hailed him in their hearts as the deliverer of +their city from ecclesiastical tyranny. Only Engelbert hated him with +a deadly hatred, and swore to be revenged; nor was his resolve weakened +when a later attempt to subdue the city was frustrated by the foresight +of Grein. It became obvious to the Archbishop that force was unavailing, +for the majority of all classes were on the side of liberty, and were +likely to remain so while Hermann Grein was at their head. So he made +up his mind to accomplish by means of strategy the death of the good old +man. + +Now there were in the monastery close by Cologne two canons who shared +Engelbert’s hatred of Grein, and who were only too willing to share in +his revenge. And the plan was indeed a cunning one. Belonging to a small +collection of animals attached to the monastery was a fierce lion, which +had more than once proved a convenient mode of removing the Church’s +enemies. So it was arranged that the Burgomaster should be asked to +meet the Archbishop there. The latter sent a suave message to his enemy +saying that he desired to treat with him on matters connected with the +civic privileges, which he was disposed to restore to the city, with a +few small exceptions. This being the case, would the Burgomaster consent +to dine with him at the monastery on a certain date? + +The Burgomaster consented heartily, for he was a man to whom treachery +was entirely foreign, and therefore not prone to suspect that vice in +others; nevertheless he took the simple precautions of arming himself +and making his destination known to his friends before he set out. +When he arrived at the monastery resplendent in the rich garments +countenanced by the fashion of the time, he was told that the Archbishop +was in the garden. + +“Will you walk in our humble garden with his Highness?” the canons asked +the Burgomaster, and he, a lover of nature, bade them lead the way. + +The garden was truly a lovely spot, gay with all manner of flowers and +fruit; but Grein looked in vain for his host. “His Highness,” said the +wily canons, “is in the private garden, where only the heads of the +Church and their most honoured guests are admitted. Ah, here we are! +Enter, noble Burgomaster; we may go no farther.” + +With that they stopped before a strong iron-bound door, opened it, and +thrust the old man inside. In a moment the heavy door had swung to with +a crash, and Grein found himself in a narrow, paved court, with high, +unscalable walls on every side. And from a dark corner there bounded +forth to meet him a huge lion! With a pious prayer for help the +Burgomaster drew his sword, wrapped his rich Spanish mantle round his +left arm, and prepared to defend himself against his adversary. With a +roar the lion was upon him, but with wonderful agility the old man leapt +to one side. Again the great beast sprang, endeavouring to get the man’s +head between its jaws. Again and again Grein thrust valiantly, and in +one of these efforts his weapon reached the lion’s heart and it rolled +over, dead. Weak and exhausted from loss of blood, the Burgomaster lost +consciousness. + +Ere long he was roused from his swoon by the awe-inspiring tones of the +alarm-bell and the sound of a multitude of voices. A moment later he +recalled his terrible struggle with the lion, and uttered a devout +thanksgiving for his escape from death. + +Meanwhile the people, growing anxious at his prolonged absence, and +fearing that some ill had befallen him, had hastened to the monastery. +The two canons, seeing the approaching crowd, ran out to meet them, +wringing their hands and exclaiming that the Burgomaster had strayed +into the lion’s den and there met his death. The angry crowd, in nowise +deceived by their pretences, demanded to be shown the lion’s den. +Arrived there, they broke down the door and, to their great joy, found +Grein alive, though wounded and much shaken. They bore him triumphantly +through the town, first crowning his hastily improvised litter with +flowers and laurels. + +As for the monks, their priestly garb could not protect their persons +from the wrath of the mob, and they were hanged at the gate of the +monastery, which thereafter became known as the ‘Priests’ Gate.’ + +The White Horses + +The year 1440 was a memorable one throughout Germany, for the great +plague raged with fearful violence, leaving blanks in many families +hitherto unvisited by death. Among the victims was Richmodis, the +beloved wife of Sir Aducht of Cologne, who deeply mourned her loss. The +lady was buried with a valuable ring—her husband’s gift—upon her finger; +this excited the cupidity of the sextons, who, resolved to obtain +possession of it, opened the tomb in the night and wrenched off the +coffin-lid. Their difficulties, however, were not at an end, for when +they tried to possess themselves of the ring it resolutely adhered to +the finger of the corpse. + +Suddenly, to their horror, the dead body gently raised itself, with +a deep sigh, as though the soul of Richmodis regarded this symbol of +wifely duty as sacred, and would resist the efforts of the thieves to +take it from her. + +The dark and hollow eyes opened and met those of the desecrators, and +a threatening light seemed to come from them. At this ghastly sight the +terrified sextons fled in abject panic. + +Richmodis recovered by degrees, and gradually realizing where she was, +she concluded that she must have been buried while alive. In her terror +she cried aloud for help. But nobody could hear her; it was the lone +hour of midnight, when all nature reposes. + +Summoning strength, she resolved to make an effort to go to the husband +who had placed the ring upon her finger, and getting out of the coffin, +she made her way shivering toward their home. + +The wind moaned dismally through the trees, and their foliage cast dark, +spectral shadows that swayed fitfully to and fro in the weird light of +the waning moon as Richmodis staggered along feebly, absorbed in the +melancholy thoughts which her terrible experience suggested. + +Not a sound, save the soughing of the wind, was heard within God’s +peaceful acre, for over the wrecks of Time Silence lay motionless in the +arms of Death. + +The moon’s pale rays illumined the buildings when Richmodis arrived +at her house in the New Market. She knocked repeatedly, but at first +received no response to her summons. After a time Sir Aducht opened the +window and looked out, annoyed at the disturbance at such an hour. + +He was about to speak angrily when the apparition looked up at him with +a tender regard of love and asked him to descend quickly and open the +door to receive his wife, nearly exhausted by cold and terror. The +bereaved husband refused to believe that the wife whom he had just +buried had come back to him, and he declared that he would as soon +expect his horses to climb upstairs as believe that his dead wife could +return to him alive. + +He had hardly uttered the words when the trampling of his two horses on +the staircase was distinctly heard. A moment or two later he looked from +the casement and saw the steeds at an upper window, and he could doubt +no longer. Rushing to the door, he received his shivering wife into his +arms. The ring she still wore would have removed all doubts had there +been room for such. + +Husband and wife spent many years together in domestic happiness, and in +memory of that remarkable night Sir Aducht fixed wooden effigies of two +horses’ heads to the outside of the window, where they still remain for +all to see. + +The Magic Banquet + +Another interesting tale of Cologne deals with the famous magician and +alchemist, Albertus Magnus, who at one time dwelt in the convent of the +Dominicans, not far from that city. It is recorded that on one occasion, +in the depth of winter, Albertus invited William of Holland to a feast +which was to be held in the convent garden. The recipients of the +curious invitation, William and his courtiers, were naturally much +amazed at the terms thereof, but decided not to lose the opportunity of +attending such a novel banquet. + +In due course they arrived at the monastery, where all was in readiness +for the feast, the tables being laid amid the snow. The guests had +fortified themselves against the severe weather by wearing their warmest +clothing and furs. No sooner had they taken their seats, however, than +Albertus, exercising the magic powers he possessed, turned the wintry +garden into a scene of summer bloom and loveliness. The heavy furs were +laid aside, and the guests were glad to seek the shade of the spreading +foliage. Iced drinks were brought to allay their thirst, and a sumptuous +banquet was provided by their hosts; thus the hours passed unheeded, +till the Ave Maria was rung by the convent-bell. Immediately the +spell was broken, and once more snow and ice dominated the scene. The +courtiers, who had rid themselves of as much of their clothing as court +etiquette would permit, shivered in the bitter blast, and looked the +very picture of blank amazement—so much so that William forgot his own +suffering and laughed heartily at the discomfiture of his train. + +This story has a quaint sequel. To show his approval of the magic feat +William granted to the convent a piece of land of considerable extent in +the neighbourhood of Cologne, and sent some of his courtiers to present +the deed of gift. The hospitable prior, anxious that the members of the +deputation should be suitably entertained, drew from the well-furnished +cellars of the monastery some choice Rhenish, which so pleased the +palates of the courtiers that they drank and drank and did not seem +to know when to stop. At length the prior, beholding with dismay the +disappearance of his finest vintage, privately begged the magician +to put a stop to this drain on the resources of his cellar. Albertus +consented, and once more the wine-cups were replenished. Imagine the +horror of the courtiers when each beheld ghastly flames issuing from his +cup! In their dismay they seized hold of one another and would not let +go. + +Only when the phenomenon had disappeared did they discover that each +held his neighbour by the nose! and such was their chagrin at being seen +in this unconventional pose that they quitted the monastery without a +word, and never entered it again. + +Truenfels + +At a place called Truenfels, near the Oelberg, and not very far from +Cologne, there lived at one time in the Middle Ages a knight named Sir +Balther. His schloss was known as The Mount, and there dwelt with him +here his only daughter, Liba, whose great beauty had won for her a vast +entourage of suitors. Each was equally importunate, but only one was in +any way favoured, Sir Sibert Ulenthal, and at the time the story opens +this Sir Sibert had lately become affianced to Sir Balther’s daughter. + +Now Sir Balther felt an ardent aversion to one of his neighbours, the +Bishop of Cologne, and his hatred of this prelate was shared abundantly +by various other knights and nobles of the district. One evening it +chanced a body of these were gathered together at The Mount; and after +Rhenish had circulated freely among them and loosened their tongues, +one and all began to vent wrath on the ill-starred Churchman, talking +volubly of his avarice and misdeeds in general. But why, cried one of +them, should they be content with so tame a thing as scurrilous speech? +Were not men of the sword more doughty than men of the robe? he added; +and thereupon a wild shout was raised by the revellers, and they swore +that they would sally forth instantly and slay him whom they all loathed +so passionately. + +It happened that, even as they set out, the bishop was returning from +a visit to a remote part of his diocese; and being wholly unprepared +to cope with a gang of desperadoes like these, he fell an easy prey to +their attack. But the Church in medieval days did not take acts of this +sort passively, and the matter being investigated, and it transpiring +that The Mount had been the rallying ground of the murderers, a band of +troops was sent to raze Sir Balther’s castle and slay its inmates. The +news, meanwhile, reached the fair Liba’s fiancé, Sir Sibert, and knowing +well that, in the event of The Mount being stormed by the avenging +party, death or an equally terrible fate might befall his betrothed, +the lover felt sad indeed. He hastened to the King and implored his +intervention; on this being refused, he proposed that he himself should +join the besiegers, at the same time carrying with him a royal pardon +for Liba, for what concern had she with her father’s crimes? His Majesty +was persuaded to give the requisite document to Sir Sibert, who then +hied him at full speed to The Mount, there to find the siege going +forward. The walls of the castle were strong, and as yet the inmates +were showing a good fight; but as day after day went past their strength +and resources began to wane, and anon it seemed as though they could +not possibly hold out longer. Accordingly the soldiers redoubled their +efforts to effect a breach, which being compassed ultimately, they +rushed upon the little garrison; and now picture the consternation of +Liba when she found that her own lover was among the assailants of her +home! Amid the din of battle he called to her loudly, once and again, +telling her that he carried a royal pardon for her, and that all she had +to do was to forsake her father and follow her betrothed instead. But in +the din of battle she did not hear, or mistook the tenor of his words; +and ere he could make himself understood the garrison of the castle +began to yield, and a moment later the building was in flames. Many of +the besieged were burnt to death, but Liba and her father hastened to +a little chamber at the base of the schloss, and thence they won to a +subterranean passage which was known only to themselves, and which led +to a distant place in the surrounding wilds. + +Gazing at the blackened ruins, Sir Sibert felt as though henceforth the +world held for him no joy whatsoever. He refused to be comforted, so +convinced was he that Liba had perished in the terrible fray; but +one stormy evening, wandering in the neighbourhood of the castle, +he perceived two figures who seemed to him familiar. True, both were +haggard and tattered, but as he drew near to them the knight’s pulses +quickened of a sudden, for he knew that his beloved stood before him. +Would she listen to him now? he wondered; or would she still imagine him +perfidious, and scorn the aid which he offered? While he was debating +with himself the storm increased, and the great peals of thunder +sounding overhead made the lover’s heart beat faster. He drew the +all-important document from within his doublet and approached the pair. +“Heart of my heart” ... the words faltered to Sir Sibert’s lips, but he +got no further; a great flash of lightning descended from on high, and +lo! Sir Balther and Liba lay stricken in death. + +The broken-hearted lover built a chapel on the spot where his betrothed +had fallen, and here he dwelt till the end of his days. It would seem, +nevertheless, that those pious exercises wherewith hermits chiefly +occupy themselves were not his only occupation; for long after the +chapel itself had become a ruin its sight was marked by a great stone +which bore an inscription in rude characters—the single word “Liba.” +Doubtless Sir Sibert had hewn this epitaph with his own hands. + +Rolandseck and Nonnenwerth + +The castle of Rolandseck stands opposite Drachenfels. Below them, on an +island in the Rhine, is the convent of Nonnenwerth. + +Roland, Charlemagne’s nephew, whose fame had spread throughout the +world, while riding one day on the banks of the Rhine, sought the +hospitality of the Lord of Drachenfels. Honoured at receiving such a +distinguished guest, the lord of the castle hastened to welcome him. + +The ladies gave the brave knight as cordial a reception as their +lord, whose charming daughter seemed deeply impressed by the visitor’s +knightly deportment. Roland’s admiring glances lingered lovingly on the +fair maid, who blushed in sweet confusion, and whose tender looks alone +betrayed the presence of Cupid, who but waited for an opportunity to +manifest his power. + +At his host’s bidding Roland put off his armour, but even in his own +room a vision of maidenly beauty haunted him, thereby showing how subtly +the young girl’s charms had wound themselves around the knight’s heart. + +Roland remained for some time with the Lord of Drachenfels, fascinated +more and more by the grace and beauty of his winsome daughter. Besides +being beautiful, she was a clever needlewoman, and he admired the +dexterity with which she embroidered ornamental designs on damask. + +Only when asked by her to relate some deeds of daring, or describe the +wondrous countries through which he had travelled, would Roland become +eloquent. Then he grew enthusiastic, his cheeks glowed, his eyes +sparkled, and the enamoured maid would regard her hero with admiration. +She evinced a lively interest in his exploits, their eyes would meet, +then with a throbbing breast she would resume her work by his side. From +this blissful dream Roland was summoned to the wars again. + +The brave soldier prepared to depart, but he realized the joys he must +renounce. Once more he visited the favourite haunts where they had spent +such happy moments. The sound of someone weeping aroused him from +his reverie, and he beheld his lady-love seated in an arbour, sobbing +bitterly. Each knew the grief which separation must bring. Roland +consoled the maiden by promising to return soon, nevermore to part. Only +her tears betrayed how deeply the arrow of the winged god had sunk into +her heart. + +A few days later they were betrothed, after which Roland departed in +quest of glory. Many victories were gained by him, and soon the enemy +was vanquished. Rejoicings were held to celebrate the event. + +But at Drachenfels Castle sad faces and tearful eyes told a tale of +sorrow, for it had been announced that Roland was dead. The maid’s rosy +cheeks grew pale with grief; nothing could console her; for was not her +hero departed from her for ever? + +In the intensity of her anguish she sought relief in prayer and found a +refuge in religion. She entered the convent at Nonnenwerth, resolved to +dedicate her life to Heaven, since the joys of earth had fled. + +Her afflicted parents reluctantly acquiesced in this proposal. Daily +they beheld their daughter waving her hand to them as she entered the +chapel. + +Suddenly there appeared before the gates of Drachenfels a troop of +cavaliers, whose armour shone brilliantly in the sun. Roland had +returned home from the wars, crowned with glory, to claim his bride. But +when he heard that she had taken the veil his buoyant spirits sank. The +Lord of Drachenfels told him that they had believed the report of his +death to be true. + +A cry of despair broke from the hero of a hundred fights. He crossed +the Rhine to the castle of Rolandseck, where he remained for many weeks, +abandoned to grief. + +Frequently he looked toward the convent which held his beloved. One +evening he heard the bells tolling and saw a funeral procession of nuns +carrying a coffin to the chapel. His page told him that his love was +dead, but Roland had already divined that she who had mourned his +supposed death had died through grief for him who was still alive to +mourn her death. + +Time rolled on and Roland went again to the wars and achieved greater +conquests, but at length he fell fighting against the Moors at +Roncevaux, dying on the battlefield as he had wished. His valorous +deeds and his glorious death were sung by minstrels throughout all +Christendom, and his fame will never die. + + + + + +LEGENDS OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE + +Aix-la-Chapelle was the ancient seat of the Empire of Charlemagne, +and many legends cluster around it, several of which have already been +noticed in connexion with its great founder. The following legends, +however, deal with the town itself, and not with any circumstance +connected with the mighty Karl. + +The Hunchbacked Musician + +In Aix-la-Chapelle dwelt two hunchbacked musicians. Friedel was a lively +fellow with a pleasant face and an engaging manner. Heinz had red hair, +green eyes, and a malevolent expression. Friedel was a better player +than Heinz; that, combined with his agreeable looks, made him a general +favourite. + +Friedel loved Agathe, the daughter of a rich wine-merchant. The lovers’ +prospects were not encouraging, for Agathe’s father sought a son-in-law +from higher circles. The poor musician’s plight was rendered desperate +by the wine-merchant compelling his daughter to accept a rich but +dissipated young man. When the hunchback approached the merchant to +declare his feelings toward the maiden, he was met with derision and +insult. Full of bitterness, he wandered about, till midnight found him +in the fish-market, where the Witches’ Sabbath was about to take place. +A weird light was cast over everything, and a crowd of female figures +quickly gathered. A lady who seemed to be at the head of the party +offered the hunchback refreshment, and others handed him a violin, +desiring him to play for them. Friedel played, and the witches danced; +faster and faster, for the violin was bewitched. At last the violinist +fell exhausted, and the dancing ceased. The lady now commanded him to +kneel and receive the thanks of the company for his beautiful playing. +Then she muttered strange words over the kneeling hunchback. + +When Friedel arose his hump was gone. + +Just then the clock struck one, everything vanished, and the musician +found himself alone in the market-place. Next morning his looking-glass +showed him that he had not been dreaming, and in his pocket he found a +large sum of money, which made him the equal of the richest in the town. +Overjoyed at the transformation, he lost no time in seeking Agathe’s +house. The sight of his gold turned the scale in his favour, and the +wine-merchant consented to his suit. + +Now Heinz was inflamed with jealousy, and tried to calumniate his +companion by spreading evil stories. Friedel’s strange adventure leaked +abroad, and Heinz determined to try his fortune likewise. So at the +next witch-meeting he hastened to the fish-market, where at the outset +everything happened in exactly the same manner. Heinz was requested to +play, but his avaricious gaze was fixed on the golden vessels on +the table, and his thoughts were with the large reward he would ask. +Consequently his playing became so discordant that the indignant dancers +made him cease. + +Kneeling down to receive his reward, he demanded the valuable +drinking-cups, whereupon with scornful and mocking words the lady who +was the leader of the band fixed on his breast the hump she had taken +from Friedel. Immediately the clock struck one, and all disappeared. The +poor man’s rage was boundless, for he found himself now saddled with +two humps. He became an object of ridicule to the townsfolk, but Friedel +pitied him, and maintained him ever after. + +The Legend of the Cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle + +In former times the zealous and devout inhabitants of Aix-la-Chapelle +determined to build a cathedral. For six months the clang of the hammer +and axe resounded with wonderful activity, but, alas! the money +which had been supplied by pious Christians for this holy work became +exhausted, the wages of the masons were perforce suspended, and with +them their desire to hew and hammer, for, after all, men must have money +wherewith to feed their families. + +Thus the cathedral stood, half finished, resembling a falling ruin. +Moss, grass, and wild parsley flourished in the cracks of the walls, +screech-owls already discovered convenient places for their nests, and +amorous sparrows hopped lovingly about where holy priests should have +been teaching lessons of chastity. + +The builders were confounded. They endeavoured to borrow here and there, +but no rich man could be induced to advance the large sum required. The +collections from house to house produced little, so that instead of the +much-wished-for golden coins nothing was found in the boxes but copper. +When the magistracy received this report they were out of humour, and +looked with desponding countenances toward the cathedral walls, as +fathers look upon the remains of favourite children. + +At this moment a stranger of commanding figure and something of pride +in his voice and bearing entered the council chamber and exclaimed: “Bon +Dieu! it is said that you are out of spirits. Hem! if nothing but money +is wanting, you may console yourselves, gentlemen. I possess mines of +gold and silver, and both can and will most willingly supply you with a +ton of them.” + +The astounded magistrates sat like a row of pillars, measuring the +stranger from head to foot. The Burgomaster first found his tongue. “Who +are you, noble lord,” said he, ”that thus, entirely unknown, speak of +tons of gold as though they were sacks of beans? Tell us your name, your +rank in this world, and whether you are sent from the regions above to +assist us.” + +“I have not the honour to reside there,” replied the stranger, “and, +between ourselves, I beg most particularly to be no longer troubled with +questions concerning who and what I am. Suffice it to say I have gold +plentiful as summer hay!” Then, drawing forth a leathern pouch, he +proceeded: “This little purse contains the tenth of what I’ll give. The +rest shall soon be forthcoming. Now listen, my masters,” continued he, +clinking the coin; “all this trumpery is and shall remain yours if you +promise to give me the first little soul that enters the door of the new +temple when it is consecrated.” + +The astonished magistrates sprang from their seats as if they had been +shot up by an earthquake and rushed pell-mell into the farthest corner +of the room, where they rolled and clung to each other like lambs +frightened at flashes of lightning. Only one of the party had not +entirely lost his wits, and he collected his remaining senses and, +drawing his head out of the heap, uttered boldly: “Avaunt, thou wicked +spirit!” + +But the stranger, who was no less a person than Master Urian, laughed at +them. “What’s all this outcry about?” said he at length. “Is my offence +so heinous that you are all become like children? It is I that may +suffer from this business, not you. With my hundreds and thousands I +have not far to run to buy a score of souls. Of you I ask but one in +exchange for all my money. What are you picking at straws for? One +may plainly see you are a mere set of humbugs! For the good of the +commonwealth (which high-sounding name is often borrowed for all sorts +of purposes) many a prince would instantly conduct a whole army to be +butchered, and you refuse one single man for that purpose! Fie! I am +ashamed, O overwise counsellors, to hear you reason thus absurdly and +citizen-like. What, do you think to deprive yourselves of the kernel of +your people by granting my wish? Oh, no; there your wisdom is quite +at fault, for, depend on it, hypocrites are always the earliest church +birds.” + +By degrees, as the cunning fiend thus spoke, the magistrates took +courage and whispered in each other’s ears: “What is the use of our +resisting? The grim lion will only show his teeth once. If we don’t +assent, we shall infallibly be packed off ourselves. It is better, +therefore, to quiet him directly.” + +Scarcely had they given effect to this new disposition and concluded +the bargain when a swarm of purses flew into the room through doors and +windows. Urian now took leave, but he stopped at the door and called out +with a grim leer: “Count it over again for fear I may have cheated you.” + +The hellish gold was piously expended in finishing the cathedral, but +nevertheless, when the building was completed, splendid though it was, +the whole town was filled with fear and alarm at the sight of it. The +fact was that, although the magistrates had promised by bond and oath +not to trust the secret to anybody, one had prated to his wife, and she +had made it a market-place tale, so that one and all declared they would +never set foot within the walls. The terrified council now consulted the +clergy, but the good priests hung their heads. At last a monk cried +out: “A thought strikes me. The wolf which has so long ravaged the +neighbourhood of our town was this morning caught alive. This will be a +well-merited punishment for the destroyer of our flocks; let him be cast +to the devil in the fiery gulf. ’Tis possible the arch hell-hound may +not relish this breakfast, yet, nolens volens, he must swallow it. You +promised him certainly a soul, but whose was not decidedly specified.” + +The monk’s plan was plausible, and the magistrates determined to put the +cunning trick into execution. The day of consecration arrived. Orders +were given to bring the wolf to the principal entrance of the cathedral, +and just as the bells began to ring, the trap-door of the cage was +opened and the savage beast darted out into the nave of the +empty church. Master Urian from his lurking-place beheld this +consecration-offering with the utmost fury; burning with choler at +being thus deceived, he raged like a tempest, and finally rushed forth, +slamming the brass gate so violently after him that the ring cracked in +twain. + +This fissure commemorates the priest’s victory over the devices of the +Devil, and is still exhibited to travellers who visit the cathedral. + +A Legend of Bonn + +The city of Bonn is one of the most beautiful of all those situated on +the banks of the Rhine, and being the birthplace of no less celebrated +a composer than Beethoven, it naturally attracts a goodly number of +pilgrims every year, these coming from many distant lands to do homage +at the shrine of genius. But Bonn and its neighbourhood have older +associations than this—associations which carry the mind of the +traveller far into the Middle Ages—for hard by the town is Rolandseck; +while a feature of the district is the Siebengebirge (Seven Mountains), +a fine serried range of peaks which present a very imposing appearance +when viewed from any of the heights overlooking Bonn itself, and which +recall a justly famous legend. + +This story tells that in the thirteenth century there lived at a castle +in the heart of these mountains a nobleman called Wolfram Herzog von +Bergendorf; and being no freebooter like most of the other German barons +of the time, but a man of very pious disposition, he was moved during +the prime of his life to forsake his home and join a body of crusaders. +Reaching Palestine after a protracted journey, these remained there for +a long time, Wolfram fighting gallantly in every fray and making his +name a terror to the Saracens. But the brave crusader was wounded +eventually, and now he set out for Germany, thirsting all the way for +a sight of his beloved Siebengebirge, and dreaming of the wind-swept +schloss which was his home. As he drew nearer to it he pictured the +welcome which his fond Herzogin would give him, but scarcely had the +drawbridge been lowered to admit him to his castle ere a fell piece of +news was imparted to him. In short, it transpired that his wife Elise +had been unfaithful to him during his absence and, on hearing that +he was returning, had fled precipitately with her infant son. It was +rumoured that she had found refuge in a convent, but Wolfram was quite +unable to ascertain his wife’s whereabouts, the doors of all nunneries +being impassable to men; while even the joy of revenge was denied him, +for, try as he might, he could not find out the name of the person who +had wronged him. So the Herzog was broken-hearted, and he vowed that +henceforth he would live a solitary life within his castle, spending his +time in prayer and seeing only his own retainers. + +For many years this vow was piously observed, and Wolfram never stirred +abroad. In course of time, however, he began to chafe at the restraint, +feeling it the more acutely because he was an old soldier and had known +the excitement of warfare; and so it came about that he revoked his +decision and began to travel about the country as of old. It seemed +also, to some of his henchmen, that he was gradually becoming more like +his former self, and they sometimes said among themselves that he would +marry again and had quite forgotten his wrongs. But the very reverse was +the truth, and if Wolfram was growing more cheerful, it was because new +hopes of retribution were springing up in his heart. The chance would +come, he often told himself; surely the fates would one day confront him +with his wife’s lover! And one day, as he rode through the village of +Gudesburg, these revengeful thoughts were uppermost in his mind. They +engrossed him wholly, and he took little heed of the passers-by; but an +unexpected stumble on the part of his horse caused him to look up, and +of a sudden his eyes blazed like live coals. Here, walking only a few +yards away from him, was a youth who bore an unmistakable resemblance to +the unfaithful Elise; and dismounting instantly, the Herzog strode up +to the stranger, hailed him loudly, and proceeded to question him +concerning his identity. The youth was surprised at the anger expressed +on the elder man’s countenance; and being overawed, he answered all +questions without hesitation, unfolding the little he knew about his +parentage. Nor had Wolfram’s instincts deceived him; the tale he heard +confirmed his suspicions, and drawing his sword, he slew the youth in +cold blood, denying him even a moment in which to repeat a paternoster. + +A rude iron cross, still standing by the road at Gudesburg, is said to +mark the place where the ill-starred and unoffending young man met his +doom. Possibly this cross was erected by Wolfram himself because he +experienced remorse, and felt that he had been unduly hasty in taking +life; but be that as it may, the story concludes by asserting that +the Herzog once more vowed that he would spend the rest of his days in +solitude and prayer, and that henceforth to the end his vow remained +unbroken. + +The Treasure-seeker + +This is a picturesque tale of the consequences of wealth attained by +the aid of the supernatural which hangs about the ancient village of +Endenich, near Bonn, where at the end of the seventeenth century there +dwelt a certain sheriff and his son, Konrad, who was a locksmith by +trade. They were poor and had lost everything in the recent wars, which +had also ruined Heribert, another sheriff, who with his daughter, the +beautiful Gretchen, eked out a frugal but peaceful existence in the same +neighbourhood. The two young people fell in love with each other, but +Gretchen’s father, becoming suddenly and mysteriously very rich and +arrogant withal, desired a wealthy or highly placed official as his +son-in-law and not a poor lad with no expectations such as Konrad, the +locksmith. The lovers were therefore compelled to meet in secret, and it +was on one of these occasions that Heribert, surprising them together, +attacked Konrad and felled him to the ground in his rage that he should +dare to approach his daughter. + +Spurred by his love and knowing that he could never hope to win Gretchen +without wealth, the unhappy youth decided to barter for gold the only +possession left to him—his soul. + +Now there lived in the churchyard a Lapp wizard who made such bargains; +so in the dead of night Konrad took his way to this dreadful and +unfrequented spot and exhorted the sorcerer to come forth. At the third +cry a terrible apparition appeared and demanded to know his wishes, +to which the terrified Konrad could only reply: “Gold.” Thereupon the +sorcerer led the way deep into a forest and, pointing mysteriously to +a certain spot, disappeared. At this spot Konrad found a chest full +of gold and silver coins, and returning to Bonn, he bought a house +the splendour of which surpassed that of Heribert, who could no longer +refuse his daughter to so wealthy a suitor. + +The young wife tried all her arts to solve the mystery of her husband’s +wealth, and he was at length about to reveal it to her when he was +suddenly arrested and thrown into prison. Here he was put to torture +by the authorities, who suspected him of robbery, and at length he +confessed that he had found a treasure, while to his wife he confided +the gruesome details, all of which were overheard by his jailers. + +He was released, but almost immediately re-arrested on the suspicion +that he had killed a Jew named Abraham, who had amassed great sums +during the wars as a spy. Tortured again, in his extremity he confessed +to the murder and named Heribert as his accomplice, whereupon both men +were sentenced to be hanged. Just as this doom was about to be carried +out a Jew who had arrived from a far country hurriedly forced his way +through the crowd. It was Abraham, who had returned in time to save the +innocent. + +But his sin did not pass unpunished, for Konrad died childless; he +bequeathed his wealth to the Church and charities, in expiation of his +sin of having attained wealth by the aid of an evil spirit. + +The Miller’s Maid of Udorf + +Udorf is a little village on the left bank of the Rhine, not far from +the town of Bonn, and at no great distance from it stands a lonely +mill, to which attaches the following story of a woman’s courage and +resourcefulness. + +Hännchen was the miller’s servant-maid, a buxom young woman who had been +in his service for a number of years, and of whose faithfulness both he +and his wife were assured. + +One Sunday morning the miller and his wife had gone with their elder +children to attend mass at the neighbouring village of Hersel, leaving +Hännchen at the mill in charge of the youngest child, a boy of about +five years of age. + +On the departure of the family for church Hännchen busied herself in +preparing dinner, but had scarcely commenced her task ere a visitor +entered the kitchen. This was no other than her sweetheart, Heinrich, +whom she had not seen for some time. Indeed, he had earned so bad a +reputation as a loafer and an idle good-for-nothing that the miller, as +much on Hännchen’s account as on his own, had forbidden him the house. +Hännchen, however, received her lover with undisguised pleasure, +straightway set food before him, and sat down beside him for a chat, +judging that the miller’s dinner was of small consequence compared with +her ill-used Heinrich! The latter ate heartily, and toward the end of +the meal dropped his knife, as though by accident. + +“Pick that up, my girl,” said he. + +Hännchen protested good-humouredly, but obeyed none the less. As she +stooped to the floor Heinrich seized her by the neck and held another +knife to her throat. “Now, girl, show me where your master keeps his +money,” he growled hoarsely. “If you value your life, make haste.” + +“Let me go and I’ll tell you,” gasped Hännchen; and when he had loosened +his grip on her throat she looked at him calmly. + +“Don’t make such a fuss about it, Heinrich,” she said pleasantly. “If +you take my master’s money, you must take me too, for this will be no +place for me. Will you take me with you, Heinrich?” + +The hulking fellow was taken completely off his guard by her apparent +acquiescence, and touched by her desire to accompany him, which +he attributed, with the conceit of his kind, to his own personal +attractions. + +“If I find the money, you shall come with me, Hännchen,” he conceded +graciously. “But if you play me false—” The sentence ended with an +expressive motion of his knife. + +“Very well, then,” said the maid. “The money is in master’s room. Come +and I will show you where it is concealed.” + +She led him to the miller’s room, showed him the massive coffer in which +lay her master’s wealth, and gave him a piece of iron wherewith to prise +it open. + +“I will go to my own room,” she said, “and get my little savings, and +then we shall be ready to go.” + +So she slipped away, and her erstwhile sweetheart set to work on the +miller’s coffer. + +“The villain!” said Hännchen to herself when she was outside the room. +“Now I know that master was right when he said that Heinrich was no fit +suitor to come courting me.” + +With that she slammed the door to and turned the key, shutting the thief +in a room as secure as any prison-cell. He threatened and implored her, +but Hännchen was deaf to oaths and entreaties alike. Outside she found +the miller’s son playing happily, and called him to her. “Go to father +as quickly as you can,” she said, putting him on the road to Hersel. +“You will meet him down there. Tell him there is a thief in the mill.” + +The child ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, but ere he had +gone many yards a shrill whistle sounded from the barred window behind +which Heinrich was imprisoned. + +“Diether,” shouted the robber to an accomplice in hiding, “catch the +child and come and stop this wench’s mouth.” Hännchen looked around +for the person thus addressed, but no one was in sight. A moment later, +however, Diether sprang up from a ditch, seized the frightened boy, +and ran back toward the mill. The girl had but little time in which to +decide on a course of action. If she barricaded herself in the mill, +might not the ruffian slay the child? On the other hand, if she waited +to meet him, she had no assurance that he would not kill them both. So +she retired to the mill, locked the door, and awaited what fate had in +store for her. In vain the robber threatened to kill the child and burn +the mill over her head if she would not open to him at once. Seeing that +his threats had no effect, he cast about for some means of entering the +mill. His quick eye noted one unprotected point, an opening in the wall +connected with the big mill-wheel, a by no means easy mode of ingress. +But, finding no other way, he threw the frightened child on the grass +and slipped through the aperture. + +Meanwhile Hännchen, who from the position of her upper window could not +see what was going on, was pondering how she could attract the attention +of the miller or any of their neighbours. At last she hit upon a plan. + +It was Sunday and the mill was at rest. If she were to set the machinery +in motion, the unusual sight of a mill at work on the day of rest would +surely point to some untoward happening. Hardly had the idea entered her +head ere the huge sails were revolving. At that very moment Diether +had reached the interior of the great drum-wheel, and his surprise and +horror were unbounded when it commenced to rotate. It was useless to +attempt to stop the machinery; useless, also, to appeal to Hännchen. +Round and round he went, till at last he fell unconscious on the +bottom of the engine, and still he went on rotating. As Hännchen had +anticipated, the miller and his family were vastly astonished to see the +mill in motion, and hastened home from church to learn the reason for +this departure from custom. Some of their neighbours accompanied them. +In a few words Hännchen told them all that had occurred; then her +courage forsook her and she fainted in the arms of the miller’s eldest +son, who had long been in love with her, and whom she afterward married. + +The robbers were taken in chains to Bonn, where for their many crimes +they suffered the extreme penalty of the law. + +Rosebach and its Legend + +The quiet and peaceful valley of Hammerstein is one of the most +beautiful in all Rhineland, yet, like many another lovely stretch of +country, this valley harbours some gruesome tales, and among such +there is one, its scene the village of Rosebach, which is of particular +interest, as it is typical of the Middle Ages, and casts a light on +the manner of life and thought common in those days. For many centuries +there stood at this village of Rosebach a monastery, which no longer +exists, and it was probably one of its early abbots who first wrote down +the legend, for it is concerned primarily with the strange events which +led to the founding and endowment of this religious house, and its whole +tenor suggests the pen of a medieval cleric. + +In a remote and shadowy time there lived at Schloss Rosebach a certain +Otto, Count of Reuss-Marlinberg of Hammerstein; and this Count’s evil +deeds had made him notorious far and near, while equally ill-famed was +his favourite henchman, Riguenbach by name, a man who had borne arms in +the Crusades and had long since renounced all belief in religion. This +ruffian was constantly in attendance on his master, Otto; and one day, +when the pair were riding along the high-road together, they chanced +to espy a bewitching maiden who was making her way from a neighbouring +village to the convent of Walsdorf, being minded to enter the novitiate +there and eventually take the veil. The Count doffed his hat to the +prospective nun, less because he wished to be courteous than because it +was his habit to salute every wayfarer he encountered on his domain; and +Riguenbach, much amused by Otto’s civility to one of low degree, burst +into a loud laugh of derision and called after the maiden, telling her +to come back. She obeyed his behest, and thereupon the two horsemen +drew rein and asked the damsel whither she was bound. “To Walsdorf,” she +replied; and though Otto himself would have let her go forward as +she pleased, the crafty Riguenbach was not so minded. “There are many +dangers in the way,” he said to the girl; “if you push on now that +evening is drawing near you may fall a prey to robbers or wolves, so +you had better come to the castle with us, spend the night there, and +continue your journey on the morrow.” Pleased by the apparently friendly +offer, and never dreaming of the fate in store for her, the girl +willingly accepted the invitation. That night the people around Schloss +Rosebach heard piercing screams and wondered what new villainy was on +foot. But the massive stone walls kept their secret, and the luckless +maiden never again emerged from the castle. + +For a time the Count’s crime went unpunished, and about a year later he +commenced paying his addresses to Eldegarda, a lady of noble birth. +In due course the nuptials of the pair were celebrated. The bride had +little idea what manner of man she had espoused, but she was destined +to learn this shortly; for on the very night of their marriage an +apparition rose between the two. + +“Otto,” cried the ghost in weird, sepulchral tones, “I alone am thy +lawful spouse; through thee I lost all hopes of Heaven, and now I am +come to reward thee for thy evil deeds.” The Count turned livid with +fear, and the blush on Eldegarda’s cheek faded to an ashen hue; but the +spectre remained with them throughout the night. And night after night +she came to them thus, till at last Otto grew desperate and summoned to +his aid a Churchman who happened to be in the neighbourhood, the Abbot +Bernard of Clairvaux. + +Now this Bernard enjoyed no small fame as a worker of miracles, but when +Otto unfolded his case to him the Abbot declared straightway that no +miracle would be justifiable in the present instance, and that only by +repentance and by complete renunciation of the world might the Count +be released from his nightly menace. Otto hung his head on hearing this +verdict, and as he stood hesitating, pondering whether it were possible +for him to forgo all earthly joys, his old henchman, Riguenbach, chanced +to enter, and learning his master’s quandary, he laughed loudly +and advised the Count to eject Bernard forcibly. The Abbot met the +retainer’s mirth with a look of great severity, and on Riguenbach +showing that he was still bent on insolence, the Churchman cried to +him: “Get thee behind me, Satan”; whereupon a flame of lightning darted +suddenly across the chamber, and the man who had long aided and abetted +the Count’s wickedness was consumed to ashes. + +For a moment Otto stood aghast at the awful fate of his retainer; and +now, beholding how terrible a thing is divine vengeance, he began at +last to feel truly repentant. He consented to have his marriage annulled +without delay, and even declared that he himself would become a monk. At +the same time he counselled his wife to take the veil, and they parted, +thinking never to see each other again. But one night, ere either of +them had taken the irrevocable vows, the Virgin Mary appeared to Abbot +Bernard and told him he had acted unwisely in parting the bride and +bridegroom in this wise, for was not Eldegarda wholly innocent? The +Churchman instantly returned to Otto’s presence, and on the following +day the Count and his wife were duly remarried. The newly found piety +of the penitent found expression in the building and endowment of a +religious edifice upon his domains. + +So it was, then, that the Abbey of Rosebach was founded, and though +the ruthless hand of time has levelled its walls, the strange events to +which they owed their being long ago are still remembered and recited in +the lovely vale of Hammerstein; for, though all human things must needs +perish, a good story long outlives them all. + +The Dancers of Ramersdorf + +At Ramersdorf every Sunday afternoon the lads and lasses of the hamlet +gathered on the village green and danced gaily through the sunny hours. +But wild prophecies of the coming end of the world, when the year 1000 +should break, were spreading throughout the countryside, and the spirit +of fear haunted the people, so that music died away from their hearts +and there was no more dancing on the village green. Instead they spent +the hours praying in the church for divine mercy, and the Abbot of +Löwenburg was well pleased. + +The dreaded year came and went, yet the world had not ceased; the sun +still rose and set, life went on just the same. So fear passed from the +hearts of the people, and because they were happy again the young folk +once more assembled to dance the Sundays away on the village green. But +the abbot was wroth at this. When the music began he appeared among +the villagers, commanding them to cease from their revels and bethink +themselves of the House of God. But the lads and lasses laughed, and the +music went on as they footed it gaily. Then the abbot was angered; he +raised his hands to heaven and cursed the thoughtless crowd, condemning +the villagers to dance there unceasingly for a year and a day. + +As they heard the dreadful words the young folk tried to stop, but their +feet must needs go on to the endless music. Faster and faster in giddy +round they went, day and night, rain and shine, throughout the changing +seasons, until the last hours of the extra day, when they fell in a +senseless heap in the hollow worn by their unresting feet. When they +awoke to consciousness all reason had passed from them. To the day of +their death they remained helpless idiots. Henceforth the village green +was deserted; no more were seen the lads and lasses dancing there on the +Sabbath day. + +The Löwenburg + +Tradition asserts that on the summit of this mountain once stood a +castle, of which, however, not the slightest trace can be found at the +present day. There is also a story of the lord who dwelt there, Hermann +von Heinsberg, with whom, for his sins, the direct line of the family +became extinct. + +Graf Hermann was possessed by one overmastering passion, that of the +chase. The greater part of his life was spent in the dense forests which +clothed the valleys and mountains about his castle. Every other interest +must, perforce, stand aside. The cornfields, vineyards, and gardens of +his vassals were oftentimes devastated in his sport, to the utter ruin +of many. If any dared complain he laughed at or reviled them; but if he +were in angry mood he set his hounds on them and hunted his vassals as +quarry, either killing them outright or leaving them terribly injured. +Needless to say, he was well hated by these people, also by his own +class, for his character was too fierce and overbearing even for their +tolerance. To crown his unpopularity, he was under the ban of the +all-powerful Church, for saints’ days and Lord’s Day alike he hunted +to his heart’s content, and once, on receiving a remonstrance, had +threatened to hunt the Abbot of Heisterbach himself. So he lived, +isolated, except for his troop of jägers, from the rest of mankind. The +forest was his world, his only friends the hounds. + +Once, on the eve of a holy festival, Hermann set out to hunt in the +ancient forest about the base of the Löwenburg. In the excitement of +the chase he outstripped his followers, his quarry disappeared, and, +overtaken by night, his surroundings, in the dim light, took on such an +unfamiliar aspect that he completely lost all sense of direction. Up and +down he paced in unrestrained yet impotent anger, feeling that he was +under some evil spell. Maddened by this idea, he endeavoured to hack +his way through the thick undergrowth, but the matted boughs and dense +foliage were as effectual as prison bars. He was trapped, he told +himself, in some enchanted forest, for the place seemed more and more +unfamiliar. He strove to bring back some recollection of the spot, +which surely he must have passed a thousand times. But no—he could not +distinguish any feature that seemed familiar. His spirits sank lower and +lower, his strength seemed on the point of failing, his brain seemed to +be on fire. Round and round he went like some trapped animal; then he +threw himself madly upon a mass of tangled underwood and succeeded in +breaking through to a more open space. This also seemed unfamiliar, +and in the dim light of the stars the tall trees shut him in as if with +towers of impenetrable shadow; silence seemed to lay everything under a +spell of terror, ominous of coming evil. + +Wearied in body and mind, Hermann flung himself down on the sward and +quickly fell asleep. But suddenly a plunging in the brushwood aroused +him, and with the instinct of the huntsman he sprang up instantly, +seizing his spear and whistling to his dogs, which, however, crouched +nearer to the earth, their hair bristling and eyes red with fear. +Again their master called, but they refused to stir, whining, with eyes +strained and fixed on the undergrowth. Then Graf Hermann went forward +alone to the spot whence proceeded the ominous sound, his spear poised, +ready to strike. + +He was about to penetrate into the brushwood when suddenly there emerged +from it a majestic-looking man, who seemed as if hotly pursued. He was +dressed in ancient garb, carrying a large crossbow in his right hand. A +curved hunting-horn hung at his side, and an old-fashioned hunting-knife +was stuck in his girdle. + +With a stately motion of the hand he waved Hermann aside, then he raised +the horn to his lips and blew upon it a terrible blast so unearthly in +sound that the forest and mountains sent back echoes like the cry of +the lost, to which the hounds gave tongue with a howl of fear. As if +in answer to the echoes, there suddenly appeared hundreds of skeleton +stags, of enormous size, each bestridden by a skeleton hunter. With one +accord the ghostly riders spurred on their steeds, which with lowered +antlers advanced upon the stranger, who, with a scream for mercy, sought +frenziedly for some means of evading his grisly pursuers. + +For the space of an hour the dreadful chase went on, Graf Hermann rooted +to the spot with horror, overcome by a sense of helplessness. There in +the centre he stood, the pivot round which circled the infernal hunt, +unable to stay the relentless riders as with bony hands rattling against +their skeleton steeds they encouraged them to charge, gore, and trample +the hapless stranger, whose cries of agony were drowned by shrieks of +fiendish glee and the incessant cracking of whips. Overcome at last by +terror, the count fell senseless, his eyes dazed by the still whirling +spectres and their flying quarry. When at last he slowly awaked from his +swoon he looked around, fearing to see again the hideous spectacle. All +but the stranger, however, had vanished. Graf Hermann shuddered as he +looked upon him, and only with difficulty could he summon sufficient +courage to address him. Indeed, it was only after the unwonted action of +crossing himself that he could speak. + +“Who and what are you?” he asked in a hushed tone. But the stranger made +no reply, except to sigh mournfully. Again the count asked the question, +and again received but a sigh for answer. + +“Then in the name of the Most High God I conjure you, speak!” he said +the third time. + +The stranger turned to him, as if suddenly released from bonds. + +“By the power of God’s holy name the spell is broken at last. Listen now +to me!” + +He beckoned Hermann to his side and in strange, stern tones he related +the following: + +“I am your ancestor. Like you, I loved the chase beyond everything +in life—beyond our holy faith or the welfare of any human being, man, +woman, or child. To all that stood in my path I showed no mercy. There +came a time when famine visited the land. The harvest was destroyed by +blight and the people starved. In their extremity they broke into my +forests; famished with hunger, they destroyed and carried off the game. +Beside myself with rage, I swore that they should suffer for it—that for +every head of game destroyed I would exact a human life. I kept my oath. +Arming my retainers, servants, and huntsmen, I seized my presumptuous +vassals in the dead of night, and dragging them to the castle, I +flung them into the deepest dungeons. There for three days I let them +starve—for three days also I kept my hounds without food. Meantime my +huntsmen had caught a great number of the largest and strongest deer +in the forests. At the end of three days the unfortunate wretches were +brought out, diminished now by a full hundred. My ready retainers bound +them naked to the stags. My best steeds were saddled. Then the kennels +were thrown open and the famished hounds rushed forth like a host of +demons. Off went the deer like the wind, each with his human burden, +the dogs following, and then the horsemen, shouting with glee at the new +sport. By nightfall not a stag or his rider was left alive. The hounds +in their fury worried and tore at both man and beast, and the last +unfortunate wretch met a hideous death on this spot where we now stand.” + +He paused as if overcome by the memory of his crime. + +“God avenged that dreadful deed. That night I died, and I am now +suffering the tortures of the damned. Every night I am hunted by my +victims, as you have seen. I am now the quarry, hunted from the castle +court, on through the forest, to this hidden and haunted spot. Thousands +and thousands of times I have suffered this: I endure all the agonies +I made them suffer. I am doomed to undergo this to the last day, when I +shall be hunted over the wastes of hell by legions of demons.” + +Again he paused, his eyes terrible with the anguish of a lost soul. He +resumed in a sterner tone: + +“Take warning by my fate. Providence, kinder to you than to me, has +guided you hither to-night that you might learn of my punishment. While +you still have time repent of your crimes and endeavour to make amends +for the suffering you have inflicted. Remember—the wages of sin is +death. Remember me—and my fate!” + +The next moment the phantom had faded from view. + +Only the hounds were crouching near the count, panting fearfully. All +else was silent gloom and night. After a terrible vigil the morning +came, and Graf Hermann, now a changed man, returned to his castle in +silence, and henceforth endeavoured to profit by the warning and follow +the advice of his unhappy ancestor. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV—DRACHENFELS TO RHEINSTEIN + +The Dragon’s Rock + +Among the many legends invented by the early Christian monks to advance +their faith, there are few more beautiful than that attached to the +Drachenfels, the Dragon’s Rock, a rugged and picturesque mass of +volcanic porphyry rising above the Rhine on its right bank. Half-way up +one of its pointed crags is a dark cavern known as the ‘Dragon’s Cave,’ +which was at one time, in that misty past to which all legends belong, +the habitation of a hideous monster, half-beast and half-reptile. The +peasants of the surrounding district held the creature in superstitious +awe, worshipped him, and offered up sacrifices of human beings at the +instigation of their pagan priests. Foremost among the worshippers of +the dragon were two warrior princes, Rinbod and Horsrik, who frequently +made an onslaught on the Christian people dwelling on the opposite bank +of the Rhine, carrying off many captives to be offered as sacrifices to +the dragon. + +On one such occasion, while, according to their custom, they were +dividing their prisoners, the pagan princes quarrelled over one of their +captives, a Christian maiden, whose beauty and helpless innocence won +the hearts of her fierce captors, so that each desired to possess her, +and neither was inclined to renounce his claim. The quarrel became so +bitter at length that the princes seized their weapons and were about to +fight for the fair spoil. But at this juncture their priests intervened. +“It is not meet,” said they, “that two noble princes should come to +blows over a mere Christian maid. Tomorrow she shall be offered to the +dragon, in thanksgiving for your victory.” And they felt that they had +done well, for had they not averted the impending quarrel, and at the +same time gained a victim for their cruel rites? But the heart of Rinbod +was heavy indeed, for he truly loved the young Christian maid, and would +have given his life to save her from the horrible fate that awaited her. +However, the decree of the priests was irrevocable, and no pleadings of +his could avail. The girl was informed of the cruel destiny that was to +befall her on the morrow, and with a calm mind she sought consolation +from Heaven to enable her to meet her fate with courage befitting a +Christian. + +Early on the following morning she was led with much ceremony to a +spot before the Dragon’s Cave and there bound to an oak, to await the +approach of the monster, whose custom it was to sally forth at sunrise +in search of prey. The procession of priests, warriors, and peasants +who had followed the victim to the place of sacrifice now climbed to +the summit of the crag and watched eagerly for the coming of the +dragon. Rinbod watched also, but it was with eyes full of anguish and +apprehension. The Christian maid seemed to him more like a spirit than a +human being, so calmly, so steadfastly did she bear herself. + +Suddenly a stifled cry broke from the lips of the watchers—the hideous +monster was seen dragging its heavy coils from the cavern, fire issuing +from its mouth and nostrils. At its mighty roar even the bravest +trembled. But the Christian maid alone showed no sign of fear; she +awaited the oncoming of the dreadful creature with a hymn of praise +on her lips. Nearer and nearer came the dragon, and at length, with a +horrible roar, it sprang at its prey. But even as it did so the maiden +held out her crucifix before her, and the dragon was checked in its +onrush. A moment later it turned aside and plunged into the Rhine. The +people on the crag were filled with awe at the miraculous power of the +strange symbol which had overcome their idol and, descending, +hastened to free the young girl from her bonds. When they learned the +significance of the cross they begged that she would send them teachers +that they might learn about the new religion. In vain their priests +endeavoured to dissuade them. They had seen the power of the crucifix, +and their renunciation of their pagan creed was complete. + +Among the first to adopt the Christian religion was Rinbod; he married +the beautiful captive and built a castle for her on the Drachenfels, +whose ruins remain to this day. + +It seems a pity that such a beautiful legend should have doubts cast +upon its authenticity, but it has been conjectured that the word +Drachenfels has a geological rather than a romantic significance—being, +in fact, derived from Trachyt-fels, meaning ‘Trachyte-rock.’ This view +is supported by the fact that there is another Drachenfels near Mannheim +of a similar geological construction, but without the legend. However, +it is unlikely that the people of antiquity would bestow a geological +name upon any locality. + +Okkenfels: A Rash Oath + +On a rugged crag overlooking the Rhine above the town of Linz stands +the ruined stronghold of Okkenfels. History tells us little or nothing +concerning this ancient fortress, but legend covers the deficiency with +the tale of the Baron’s Rash Oath. + +Rheinhard von Renneberg, according to the story, flourished about the +beginning of the eleventh century, when the Schloss Okkenfels was a +favourite rendezvous with the rude nobility of the surrounding district. +Though they were none of them distinguished for their manners, by far +the most rugged and uncouth was the Baron von Renneberg himself. Rough +in appearance, abrupt in conversation, and inclined to harshness in all +his dealings, he inspired in the breast of his only daughter a feeling +more akin to awe than affection. + +The gentle Etelina grew up to be a maiden of singular beauty, of +delicate form and feature, and under the careful tutelage of the castle +chaplain she became as good as she was beautiful. Lovers she had in +plenty, for the charms of Etelina and the wealth of her noble father, +whose sole heiress she was, formed a combination quite irresistible in +the eyes of the young gallants who frequented the castle. But none loved +her more sincerely than one of the baron’s retainers, a young knight of +Linz, Rudolph by name. + +On one occasion Rheinhard was obliged to set out with his troop to join +the wars in Italy, and ere he departed he confided his daughter to the +care of the venerable chaplain, while his castle and lands he left in +charge of Sir Rudolph. As may be supposed, the knight and the maiden +frequently met, and ere long it became evident that Rudolph’s passion +was returned. The worthy chaplain, who loved the youth as a son, did not +seek to interfere with the course of his wooing, and so in due time the +lovers were betrothed. + +At the end of a year the alarming news reached them that the baron was +returning from the wars, bringing in his train a noble bridegroom for +Etelina. In despair the lovers sought the old chaplain and begged +his advice. They knew only too well that the baron would not brook +resistance to his will; for he had ever dealt ruthlessly with +opposition. Yet both were determined that nothing should part them. + +“I would rather die with Rudolph than marry another,” cried the +grief-stricken maiden. And indeed it seemed that one or other of these +alternatives would soon fall to her lot. + +But the wise old priest was planning a way of escape. + +“Ye were meant for one another, my children,” he said philosophically; +“therefore it is not for man to separate you. I will marry you at once, +and I know a place where you may safely hide for a season.” + +It was nearing midnight on the eve of the day fixed for Rheinhard’s +return, so there was no time to be lost. The three repaired to the +chapel, where the marriage was at once solemnized. Taking a basket of +bread, meat, and wine, a lamp, and some other necessaries, the old man +conducted the newly married pair through a subterranean passage to +a cavern in the rock whereon the castle stood, a place known only to +himself. Then, having blessed them, he withdrew. + +Early on the following morning came the baron and his train, with the +noble knight chosen as a husband for Etelina. + +Rheinhard looked in vain for his daughter among the crowd of retainers +who waited to welcome him. “Where is my little maid?” he asked. + +The chaplain answered evasively. The damsel was ill abed, he replied. +When the noble lord had refreshed himself he should see her. + +Directly the repast was over he hastened to his daughter’s apartment, +only to find her flown! Dismayed and angry, he rushed to the chaplain +and demanded an explanation. The good old man, after a vain attempt to +soothe his irate patron, revealed all—all, that is, save the place where +the fugitives were concealed, and that he firmly refused to divulge. The +priest was committed to the lowest dungeon, a vile den to which access +could only be got by means of a trap-door and a rope. + +With his own hands the baron swung to the massive trap, swearing a deep +oath. + +“If I forgive my daughter, or any of her accomplices, may I die suddenly +where I now stand, and may my soul perish for ever!” + +The disappointed bridegroom soon returned to his own land, and the +baron, whose increasing moroseness made him cordially hated by his +attendants, was left to the bitterness of his thoughts. + +Meanwhile Rudolph and his bride had escaped unseen from the castle rock +and now dwelt in the forests skirting the Seven Mountains. While the +summer lasted all went well with them; they, and the little son who was +born to them, were content with the sustenance the forest afforded. But +in the winter all was changed. Starvation stared them in the face. More +and more pitiful became their condition, till at length Rudolph resolved +to seek the baron, and give his life, if need be, to save his wife and +child. + +That very day Rheinhard was out hunting in the forest. Imagine his +surprise when a gaunt figure, clad in a bearskin, stepped from the +undergrowth and bade him follow, if he wished to see his daughter alive. +The startled old man obeyed the summons, and arrived at length before +a spacious cavern, which his guide motioned him to enter. Within, on +a pile of damp leaves, lay Etelina and her child, both half-dead with +starvation. Rheinhard’s anger speedily melted at the pathetic sight, and +he freely forgave his daughter and Rudolph, his hitherto unrecognized +guide, and bade them return with him to Okkenfels. + +Etelina’s first request was for a pardon for the old chaplain, and +Rheinhard himself went to raise the heavy trap-door. While peering +into the gloom, however, he stumbled and fell headlong into the dungeon +below. “A judgment!” he shrieked as he fell, then all was silence. + +The bruised remains of the proud baron were interred in the parish +church of Linz, and henceforth Etelina and her husband lived happily +at Okkenfels. But both they and the old chaplain offered many a pious +prayer for the soul of the unhappy Baron Rheinhard. + +Oberwörth + +In the middle of the Rhine, a little above Coblentz, lies the island +of Oberwörth, where at one time stood a famous nunnery. Included in the +traditional lore of the neighbourhood is a tragic tale of the beautiful +Ida, daughter of the Freiherr von Metternich, who died within its walls +in the fourteenth century. + +Von Metternich, who dwelt at Coblentz, was a wealthy and powerful noble, +exceedingly proud of his fair daughter, and firmly convinced that none +but the highest in the land was fit mate for her. But Ida had other +views, and had already bestowed her heart on a young squire in her +father’s train. It is true that Gerbert was a high-born youth, of +stainless life, pleasing appearance, and gentle manners, and, moreover, +one who was likely at no distant date to win his spurs. Nevertheless +the lovers instinctively concealed their mutual affection from von +Metternich, and plighted their troth in secret. + +But so ardent an affection could not long remain hidden. + +The time came when the nobleman discovered how matters stood between +his daughter and Gerbert, and with angry frowns and muttered oaths he +resolved to exercise his paternal authority. “My daughter shall go to +a nunnery,” he said to himself. “And as for that jackanapes, he must be +got rid of at once.” He pondered how he might conveniently rid himself +of the audacious squire. + +That night he dispatched Gerbert on a mission to the grand prior of +the Knights-Templars, who had his abode at the neighbouring castle of +Lahneck. The unsuspecting squire took the sealed missive and set out, +thinking as he rode along how rich he was in possessing so sweet a love +as Ida, and dreaming of the time when his valour and prowess should +have made their marriage possible. But his dreams would have been rudely +disturbed had he seen what was passing at Coblentz. For his betrothed, +in spite of her tears and pleadings, was being secretly conveyed to the +nunnery of Oberwörth, there to remain until she should have forgotten +her lover—as though the stone walls of a convent could shut out the +imaginings of a maid! However, Gerbert knew nothing of this, and he +rode along in leisurely fashion, until at length he came to the Schloss +Lahneck, where he was at once conducted into the presence of the grand +prior of the Knights-Templars. + +The grand prior was a man of middle age, with an expression of settled +melancholy on his swarthy features. Gerbert approached him with becoming +reverence, bent his knee, and presented the missive. + +The prior turned his gaze so earnestly on the young man’s face that +Gerbert dropped his eyes in confusion. A moment later the prior broke +the seal and hastily scanned the letter. + +“Who mayest thou be, youth?” he asked abruptly. + +“Gerbert von Isenburg, sir.” + +“And thy mother?” + +“Guba von Isenburg,” was the astonished Gerbert’s reply. + +The prior seemed to be struggling with deep emotion. + +“Knowest thou the purport of this missive?” he said at last. + +“It concerns me not,” answered Gerbert simply. + +“Nay, my son,” said the prior, “it doth concern thee, and deeply, too. +Know that it is thy death-warrant, boy! The Freiherr has requested me to +send thee to the wars in Palestine, and so to place thee that death will +be a certainty. This he asks in the name of our ancient friendship +and for the sake of our order, to which he has ever shown himself well +disposed.” + +Seeing the dismay and incredulity which were depicted in his listener’s +face, the prior hastened to read aloud a passage describing von +Metternich’s discovery of his daughter’s love for the humble squire, and +Gerbert could no longer doubt that his fate was sealed. + +The prior looked at him kindly. + +“Gerbert,” he said, “I am not going to put the cruel order into +execution. Though I lose friendship, the honour of our order, life +itself, the son of Guba von Isenburg shall not suffer at my hands. +I sympathize with thy passion for the fair Ida. I myself loved thy +mother.” The impetuous Gerbert started to his feet, hand on sword, at +the mention of his mother, whose good name he set before all else; but +with a dignified gesture the prior motioned him to his seat. + +Then in terse, passionate phrases the elder man told how he had loved +the gentle Guba for years, always hesitating to declare his passion lest +the lady should scorn him. At length he could bear it no longer, and +made up his mind to reveal his love to her. With this intent he rode +toward her home, only to learn from a passing page that Guba, his +mistress, was to be married that very day to von Isenburg. He gave to +the page a ring, bidding him carry it to his mistress with the message +that it was from one who loved her greatly, and who for her sake +renounced the world. “The ring,” he concluded, “is on thy finger, and in +thy face and voice are thy mother’s likeness. Canst thou wonder that I +would spare thy life?” + +Gerbert listened in respectful silence. His love for Ida enabled him +to sympathize with the pathetic tale unfolded by the prior. Tears fell +unchecked from the eyes of both. “And now,” said the prior at last, “we +must look to thy safety.” + +“I would not bring misfortune on thee,” said Gerbert. “May I not go to +Palestine and win my way through with my sword?” + +“It is impossible,” said the elder man. “Von Metternich would see to it +that thou wert slain. Thou must go to Swabia, where a prior of our order +will look after thy safety in the meantime.” + +The same day Gerbert was conveyed to Swabia, where, for a time at least, +he was safe from persecution. + +The Dance of Death + +In the nunnery of Oberwörth, on a pallet in a humble cell, Ida lay +dying. A year had gone past since she had been separated from her lover, +and every day had seen her grow weaker and more despondent. Forget +Gerbert? That would she never while life remained to her. Wearily +she tossed on her pallet, her only companion a sister of the convent. +Willingly now would the Freiherr give his dearest possessions to save +his daughter, but already she was beyond assistance, her only hope the +peace of the grave. + +“I am dying, sister,” she said to her attendant. “Nevermore shall I see +my dear Gerbert—ah! nevermore.” + +“Hush,” murmured the nun gently, “stranger things have happened. All may +yet be well.” And to divert the dying maid’s attention from her +grief she recited tales of lovers who had been reunited after many +difficulties. + +But Ida refused to be pacified. + +“Alas!” she said, “I am betrothed, yet I must die unwed.” + +“Heaven forbid!” cried the pious nun in alarm. “For then must thou join +in the dance of death.” + +It was a popular belief in that district that a betrothed maiden who +died before her wedding was celebrated must, after her death, dance on a +spot in the centre of the island whereon no grass or herb ever grew—that +is, unless in the interval she took the veil. Every night at twelve +o’clock a band of such hapless maidens may be seen dancing in the +moonlight, doomed to continue their nocturnal revels till they meet with +a lover. And woe betide the knight who ventures within their reach! They +dance round and round him and with him till he falls dead, whereupon the +youngest maid claims him for her lover. Henceforth she rests quietly in +her grave and joins no more in the ghostly frolic. + +This weird tradition Ida now heard from the lips of the nun, who herself +claimed to have witnessed the scenes she described. + +“I beseech thee,” said the sister, “do but join our convent, and all +will yet be well.” + +“I die,” murmured Ida, heeding not the words of her companion. +“Gerbert—we shall meet again!” + +Gerbert, her lover, heard the sad news in his dwelling-place on the +shores of Lake Constance, and returned to Oberwörth with all speed. A +week had elapsed ere he arrived, and Ida’s body was already interred in +the vaults of the convent. + +It was a night of storm and darkness. No boatman would venture on the +Rhine, but Gerbert, anxious to pay the last respects to the body of his +beloved, was not to be deterred. With his own hands he unmoored a vessel +and sailed across to Oberwörth. Having landed at that part of the island +furthest from the convent, he was obliged to pass the haunted spot on +his way thither. The circular patch of barren earth was said to be a +spot accursed, by reason of sacrilege and suicide committed there. But +such things were far from the thoughts of the distraught knight. + +Suddenly he heard a strange sound, like the whisper of a familiar +voice—a sound which, despite its quietness, seemed to make itself heard +above the fury of the storm. Looking up, he beheld a band of white-robed +maidens dancing in the charmed circle. One of them, a little apart from +the others, seemed to him to be his lost Ida. The familiar figure, the +grace of mien, the very gesture with which she beckoned him, were hers, +and he rushed forward to clasp her to his heart. Adroitly she eluded his +grasp and mingled with the throng. Gerbert followed with bursting heart, +seized her in his arms, and found that the other phantoms had surrounded +them. Something in the unearthly music fascinated him; he felt impelled +to dance round and round, till his head reeled. And still he danced +with his phantom bride, and still the maidens whirled about them. On the +stroke of one the dancers vanished and the knight sank to the ground, +all but dead with fatigue. In the morning he was found by the kindly +nuns, who tended him carefully. But all their skill and attention were +in vain; for Gerbert lived only long enough to tell of his adventure +to the sisterhood. This done, he expired with the name of his beloved +spirit-bride upon his lips. + +Stolzenfels: The Alchemist + +Alchemy was a common pursuit in the Middle Ages. The poor followed it +eagerly in the vain desire for gold; the rich spent their wealth in +useless experiments, or showered it on worthless charlatans. + +Thus it came about that Archbishop Werner of Falkenstein, owner of the +grim fortress of Stolzenfels and a wealthy and powerful Churchman, was +an amateur of the hermetic art, while his Treasurer, who was by no means +rich, was also by way of being an alchemist. To indulge his passion for +the bizarre science the latter had extracted many a golden piece from +the coffers of his reverend master, always meaning, of course, to pay +them back when the weary experiments should have crystallized into the +coveted philosopher’s stone. He had in his daughter Elizabeth a treasure +which might well have outweighed the whole of the Archbishop’s coffers, +but the lust for gold had blinded the covetous Treasurer to all else. + +One night—a wild, stormy night, when the wind tore shrieking round the +battlements of Stolzenfels—there came to the gate a pilgrim, sombre of +feature as of garb, with wicked, glinting eyes. The Archbishop was not +at that time resident in the castle, but his Treasurer, hearing that the +new-comer was learned in alchemical mysteries, bade him enter without +delay. A room was made ready in one of the highest towers, and there the +Treasurer and his pilgrim friend spent many days and nights. Elizabeth +saw with dismay that a change was coming over her father. He was no +longer gentle and kind, but morose and reserved, and he passed less time +in her company than he was wont. + +At length a courier arrived with tidings of the approach of the +Archbishop, who was bringing some noble guests to the castle. To the +dismay of his daughter, the Treasurer suddenly turned pale and, +brushing aside her solicitous inquiries, fled to the mysterious chamber. +Elizabeth followed, convinced that something had occurred to upset her +father seriously. She was too late—the door was locked ere she reached +it; but she could hear angry voices within, the voices of her father +and the pilgrim. The Treasurer seemed to be uttering bitter reproaches, +while ever and anon the deep, level voice of his companion could be +heard. + +“Bring hither a virgin,” he said. “The heart’s blood of a virgin is +necessary to our schemes, as I have told thee many times. How can I give +thee gold, and thou wilt not obey my instructions?” + +“Villain!” cried the Treasurer, beside himself. “Thou hast taken my +gold, thou hast made me take the gold of my master also for thy schemes. +Wouldst thou have me shed innocent blood?” + +“I tell thee again, without it our experiments are vain.” + +At that moment the door was flung open and the Treasurer emerged, too +immersed in his anxious thoughts to perceive the shrinking form of +Elizabeth. She, when he had gone from sight, entered the chamber where +stood the pilgrim. + +“I have heard thy conversation,” she said, “and I am ready to give my +life for my father’s welfare. Tell me what I must do and I will slay me +with mine own hand.” + +With covetous glance the pilgrim advanced and strove to take her hand, +but she shrank back in loathing. + +“Touch me not,” she said, shuddering. + +A look of malice overspread the pilgrim’s averted face. + +“Come hither at midnight, and at sunrise thy father will be rich and +honoured,” he said. + +“Wilt thou swear it on the cross?” + +“I swear it,” he returned, drawing a little crucifix from his bosom, and +speaking in solemn tones. + +“Very well, I promise.” And with that she withdrew. + +When she had gone the alchemist pressed a spring in the crucifix, when a +dagger fell out. + +“Thou hast served me well,” he said, chuckling. Then, replacing the +crucifix in his breast, he entered the adjoining room, prised up a stone +from the floor, and drew forth a leathern bag full of gold. This, then, +was the crucible into which the Archbishop’s pieces had gone. “I have +found the secret of making gold,” pursued the pilgrim. “To-morrow my +wealth and I will be far away in safety. The fools, to seek gold in a +crucible!” + +Meanwhile preparations were afoot for the reception of the Archbishop. +Elizabeth, full of grief and determination, supervised the work of the +serving-maids, while her father anxiously wondered how he should account +to his master for the stolen pieces of gold. + +The Archbishop was loudly hailed on his arrival. He greeted his +Treasurer kindly and asked after the pretty Elizabeth. When her father +presented her he in turn introduced her to his guests, and many a glance +of admiration was directed at the gentle maid. One young knight, in +particular, was so smitten with her charms that he was dumb the whole +evening. + +When Elizabeth retired to her chamber her father bade her good-night. +Hope had again arisen in his breast. + +“To-morrow,” he said, “my troubles will be over.” Elizabeth sighed. + +At length the hour of midnight arrived. Taking a lamp, the girl crossed +the courtyard to where the alchemist awaited her coming. She was not +unseen, however; the young knight had been watching her window, and he +observed her pass through the courtyard with surprise. Fearing he knew +not what harm to the maid he loved, he followed her to the pilgrim’s +apartment, and there watched her through a crack in the door. + +The alchemist was bending over a crucible when Elizabeth entered. + +“Ah, thou hast come,” he said. “I hope thou art prepared to do as I bid +thee? If that is so, I will restore the gold to thy father—his own gold +and his master’s. If thou art willing to sacrifice thine honour, thy +father’s honour shall be restored; if thy life, he shall have the money +he needs.” + +“Away, wretch!” cried Elizabeth indignantly. “I will give my life for my +father, but I will not suffer insult.” With a shrug of his shoulders the +alchemist turned to his crucible. + +“As thou wilt,” he said. “Prepare for the sacrifice.” + +Suddenly the kneeling maid caught up the alchemist’s dagger and would +have plunged it into her heart; but ere she could carry out her purpose +the knight burst open the door, rushed into the room, and seized the +weapon. Elizabeth, overcome with the relief which his opportune arrival +afforded her, fainted in his arms. + +While the young man frantically sought means to restore her the pilgrim +seized the opportunity to escape, and when the maid came to herself it +was to find the wretch gone and herself supported by a handsome young +knight, who was pouring impassioned speeches into her ear. His love and +tenderness awakened an answering emotion in her heart, and that very +night they were betrothed. + +When the maiden’s father was apprised of her recent peril he, too, +was grateful to her deliverer, and yet more grateful when his future +son-in-law pressed him to make use of his ample fortune. + +The pilgrim was found drowned in the Rhine, and the bag of gold, which +he had carried away in his belt, was handed over to the Archbishop, to +whom the Treasurer confessed all. + +And the good Archbishop, by way of confirming his forgiveness, gave a +handsome present to Elizabeth on her marriage with the knight. + +The Legend of Boppard + +Maidens had curious ways of revenging themselves on unfaithful lovers in +medieval times, as the following legend of Boppard would show. + +Toward the end of the twelfth century there dwelt in Boppard a knight +named Sir Conrad Bayer, brave, generous, and a good comrade, but not +without his faults, as will be seen hereafter. + +At that time many brave knights and nobles were fighting in the Third +Crusade under Frederick the First and Richard Coeur-de-Lion; but Sir +Conrad still remained at Boppard. He gave out that the reason for his +remaining at home was to protect his stronghold against a horde of +robbers who infested the neighbourhood. But there were those who +ascribed his reluctance to depart to another cause. + +In a neighbouring fortress there lived a beautiful maiden, Maria +by name, who received a great deal of attention from Sir Conrad. So +frequent were his visits to her home that rumour had it that the fair +lady had won his heart. This indeed was the case, and she in return had +given her love unreservedly into his keeping. But as her passion grew +stronger his seemed to cool, and at length he began to make preparations +to join the wars in Palestine, leaving the lady to lament his changed +demeanour. In vain she pleaded, in vain she sent letters to him. At last +he intimated plainly that he loved her no longer. He did not intend +to marry, he said, adding cruelly that if he did she should not be the +bride of his choice. The lady was completely crushed by the blow. Her +affection for Sir Conrad perished, and in its place arose a desire to +be revenged on the unfaithful knight. The fickle lover had completed his +arrangements for his journey to the Holy Land, and all was ready for +his departure. As he rode gaily down from his castle to where his +men-at-arms waited on the shores of the Rhine, he was suddenly +confronted by an armed knight, who reined in his steed and bade Sir +Conrad halt. + +“Hold, Sir Conrad Bayer,” he cried. “Thou goest not hence till thou hast +answered for thy misdeeds—thou false knight—thou traitor!” + +Sir Conrad listened in astonishment. A moment later his attendants had +surrounded the bold youth, and would have slain him had not Sir Conrad +interfered. + +“Back!” he said. “Let me face this braggart myself. Who art thou?” he +added, addressing the young knight who had thus boldly challenged him. + +“One who would have thy life!” was the fierce reply. + +“Why should I slay thee, bold youth?” said Conrad, amused. + +“I am the brother of Maria, whom thou hast betrayed,” was the response. +“I have come hither from Palestine to seek thy life. Have at thee, +traitor!” + +Conrad, somewhat sobered, and unwilling to do battle with such a boy, +asked for further proof of his identity. The young knight thereupon +displayed, blazoned on his shield, the arms of his house—a golden lion +on an azure field. + +Sir Conrad had no longer excuse for refusing to do battle with the +youth, so with a muttered “Thy blood be upon thy head!” he laid his +lance in rest and drew back a few paces. The stranger did likewise; then +they rushed toward each other, and such was the force of their +impact that both were unhorsed. Drawing their swords—for neither was +injured—the knights resumed the conflict on foot. Conrad felt disgraced +at having been unhorsed by a mere youth, and he was now further incensed +by receiving a deep wound in his arm. Henceforth he fought in good +earnest, showering blows on his antagonist, who fell at last, mortally +wounded. + +In obedience to the rules of chivalry, Sir Conrad hastened to assist his +vanquished foe. What was his surprise, his horror, when, on raising the +head and unlacing the helm of the knight, he found that his adversary +was none other than Maria! + +“Conrad,” she said in failing tones, “I also am to blame. Without thy +love life was nothing to me, and I resolved to die by thy hand. Forget +my folly, remember only that I loved thee. Farewell!” And with these +words she expired. Conrad flung himself down by her side, convulsed with +grief and remorse. From that hour a change came over him. Ere he set +out to the Holy Land he caused the body of Maria to be interred on the +summit of the Kreuzberg, and bestowed the greater part of his estates +on a pious brotherhood, enjoining them to raise a nunnery over the tomb. +Thus was the convent of Marienberg founded, and in time it came to be +one of the richest and most celebrated on the Rhine. + +Arrived in Palestine, Conrad became a Knight-Templar, fighting bravely +and utterly oblivious to all danger. It was not until Acre had been +won, however, that death met him. An arrow dispatched by an unknown hand +found its quarry as he was walking the ramparts at night meditating on +the lady he had slain and whose death had restored her to a place in his +affections. + +Liebenstein and Sterrenberg + +Near the famous monastery of Bornhofen, and not far from the town of +Camp, supposed to be an ancient Roman site, are the celebrated castles +of Liebenstein and Sterrenberg, called ‘the Brothers,’ perhaps because +of their contiguity to each other rather than through the legend +connected with the name. History is practically silent concerning these +towers, which occupy two steep crags united by a small isthmus which +has partially been cut through. Sterrenberg lies nearest the north, +Liebenstein to the south. A wooden bridge leads from one to the other, +but a high wall called the Schildmauer was in the old days reared +between them, obviously with the intention of cutting off communication. +The legend has undoubtedly become sophisticated by literary influences, +and was so altered by one Joseph Kugelgen as to change its purport +entirely. It is the modern version of the legend we give here, in +contradistinction to that given in the chapter on the Folklore and +Literature of the Rhine (see pp. 84 et seq.). + +The Brothers + +Heinrich and Conrad were the sons of Kurt, a brave knight who +had retired from the wars, and now dwelt in his ancestral castle +Liebenstein. The brothers were alike in all matters pertaining to arms +and chivalry. But otherwise they differed, for Heinrich, the elder, was +quiet and more given to the arts of peace; whereas Conrad was gay, and +inclined to like fighting for fighting’s sake. + +Brought up along with them was Hildegarde, a relative and an orphan, +whom the brothers believed to be their sister. On reaching manhood, +however, their father told them the truth concerning her, expressing the +wish that one of them should marry the maiden. + +Nothing loath, both brothers wooed Hildegarde, but Conrad’s ardent, +impulsive nature triumphed over Heinrich’s reserved and more steadfast +affection. In due course preparations were made for the marriage +festival, and a new castle, Sterrenberg, was raised for the young couple +adjacent to Liebenstein. Heinrich found it hard to be a constant witness +of his brother’s happiness, so he set out for the Holy Land. Soon after +his departure the old knight became ill, and died on the day that the +new castle was completed. This delayed the marriage for a year, and as +the months passed Conrad became associated with loose companions, and +his love for Hildegarde weakened. + +Meantime news came that Heinrich had performed marvellous deeds in the +Holy Land, and the tidings inflamed Conrad’s zeal. He, too, determined +to join the Crusades, and was soon on the way to Palestine. + +However, he did not, like his brother, gain renown—for he had not the +same incentive to reckless bravery—and he soon returned. He was again +to prove himself more successful in love than in war, for at +Constantinople, having fallen passionately in love with a beautiful +Greek lady, he married her. + +One day Hildegarde was sitting sorrowful in her chamber, when she beheld +travellers with baggage moving into the empty Sterrenberg. Greatly +astonished, she sent her waiting-maid to make inquiries, and learned to +her sorrow that it was the returning Conrad, who came bringing with him +a Greek wife. Conrad avoided Liebenstein, and Sterrenberg became gay +with feasting and music. + +Late one evening a knight demanded lodging at Liebenstein and was +admitted. The stranger was Heinrich, who, hearing about his brother’s +shameful marriage, had returned to the grief-stricken Hildegarde. + +After he had rested Heinrich sent a message to his brother reproaching +him with unknightly behaviour, and challenging him to mortal combat. The +challenge was accepted and the combatants met on the passage separating +the two castles. But as they faced each other, sword in hand, a veiled +female figure stepped between them and bade them desist. + +It was Hildegarde, who had recognized Heinrich and learned his +intention. In impassioned tones she urged the young men not to be +guilty of the folly of shedding each other’s blood in such a cause, and +declared that it was her firm intention to spend her remaining days in a +convent. The brothers submitted themselves to her persuasion and became +reconciled. Some time afterward Conrad’s wife proved her unworthiness +by eloping with a young knight, thus killing her husband’s love for her, +and at the same time opening his eyes to his own base conduct. Bitterly +now did he reproach himself for his unfaithfulness to Hildegarde, who, +alas! was now lost to him for ever. Hildegarde remained faithful to +her vows, and Heinrich and Conrad lived together till at last death +separated them. + +St. Goar + +Near the town of St. Goar, at the foot of the Rheinfels, there stands +a little cell, once the habitation of a pious hermit known as St. Goar, +and many are the local traditions which tell of the miracles wrought by +this good man, and the marvellous virtues retained by his shrine after +his death. He settled on Rhenish shores, we are told, about the middle +of the sixth century, and thenceforward devoted his life to the service +of the rude people among whom his lot was cast. His first care was to +instruct them in the Christian faith, but he was also mindful of their +welfare in temporal matters, and gave his services freely to the sick +and sorrowful, so that ere long he came to be regarded as a saint. When +he was not employed in prayer and ministrations he watched the currents +of the Rhine, and was ever willing to lend his aid to distressed +mariners who had been caught by the Sand Gewirr, a dangerous eddy which +was too often the death of unwary boatmen in these parts. + +Thus he spent an active and cheerful life, far from the envy and strife +of the world, for which he had no taste whatever. Nevertheless the fame +of his good deeds had reached the high places of the earth. Sigebert, +who at that time held his court at Andernach, heard of the piety and +noble life of the hermit, and invited him to his palace. St. Goar +accepted the invitation—or, rather, obeyed the command—and made his +way to Andernach. He was well received by the monarch, whom his genuine +holiness and single-mindedness greatly impressed. But pure as he was, +the worthy Goar was not destined to escape calumny. There were at the +court of Sigebert other ecclesiastics of a less exalted type, and these +were filled with envy and indignation when they beheld the favours +bestowed upon the erstwhile recluse. Foremost among his persecutors +was the Archbishop of Treves, and with him Sigebert dealt in summary +fashion, depriving him of his archbishopric and offering the see to +St. Goar. The latter, however, was sick of the perpetual intrigues and +squabblings of the court, and longed to return to the shelter of his +mossy cell and the sincere friendship of the poor fishermen among whom +his mission lay. So he refused the proffered dignity and informed the +monarch of his desire to return home. As he stood in the hall of the +palace preparing to take his leave, he threw his cloak over a sunbeam, +and, strange to say, the garment was suspended as though the shaft of +light were solid. This, we are told, was not a mere piece of bravado, +but was done to show that the saint’s action in refusing the see was +prompted by divine inspiration. + +When St. Goar died Sigebert caused a chapel to be erected over his +grave, choosing from among his disciples two worthy monks to officiate. +Other hermits took up their abode near the spot, and all were +subsequently gathered together in a monastery. The grave of the +solitary became a favourite shrine, to which pilgrims travelled from all +quarters, and St. Goar became the patron saint of hospitality, not so +much personally as through the monastery of which he was the patron, and +one of whose rules was that no stranger should be denied hospitality for +a certain period. + +A goodly number of stories are told of his somewhat drastic treatment +of those who passed by his shrine without bringing an offering—stories +which may be traced to the monks who dwelt there, and who reaped the +benefit of these offerings. + +Charlemagne at the Shrine of St. Goar + +Here is one of those tales concerning the great Karl. On one occasion +while he was travelling from Ingelheim to Aix-la-Chapelle, by way of +Coblentz, he passed the shrine of St. Goar without so much as a +single thought. Nor did those who accompanied him give the saint more +attention. It was the height of summer, everything was bright and +beautiful, and as the Emperor’s flotilla drifted lazily down the Rhine +the sound of laughter and light jesting could be heard. + +No sooner had the Emperor and his courtiers passed St. Goar, however, +than the smiling sky became overcast, heavy clouds gathered, and the +distant sound of thunder was heard. A moment more and they were in +the midst of a raging storm; water surged and boiled all around, and +darkness fell so thickly that scarce could one see another’s face. Panic +reigned supreme where all had been gaiety and merriment. + +In vain the sailors strove to reach the shore; in vain the ladies +shrieked and the Emperor and his nobles lent their aid to the seamen. +All the exertions of the sailors would not suffice to move the vessels +one foot nearer the shore. At length an old boatman who had spent the +greater part of a lifetime on the Rhine approached the Emperor and +addressed him thus: + +“Sire, our labours are useless. We have offended God and St. Goar.” + +The words were repeated by the Emperor’s panic-stricken train, who now +saw that the storm was of miraculous origin. “Let us go ashore,” said +Charlemagne in an awed voice. “In the name of God and St. Goar, let us +go ashore. We will pray at the shrine of the saint that he may help us +make peace with Heaven.” + +Scarcely had he uttered the words ere the sky began to clear, the +boiling water subsided to its former glassy smoothness, and the storm +was over. The illustrious company landed and sought the shrine of the +holy man, where they spent the rest of the day in prayer. + +Ere they departed on the following morning Charlemagne and his court +presented rich offerings at the shrine, and the Emperor afterward +endowed the monastery with lands of great extent, by which means it is +to be hoped that he succeeded in propitiating the jealous saint. + +The Reconciliation + +One more tale of St. Goar may be added, dealing this time with +Charlemagne’s sons, Pepin and Karloman. These two, brave knights both, +had had a serious quarrel over the sovereignty of their father’s vast +Empire. Gradually the breach widened to a deadly feud, and the brothers, +once the best of friends, became the bitterest enemies. + +In 806 Charlemagne held an Imperial Diet at Thionville, and thither +he summoned his three sons, Karloman, Pepin, and Ludwig, intending to +divide the Empire, by testament, among them. Karloman was at that time +in Germany, and Pepin in Italy, where, with the aid of his sword, he +had won for himself broad lands. In order to reach Thionville both were +obliged to take the same path—that is, the Rhine, the broad waterway of +their father’s dominions. Pepin was the first to come, and as he sailed +up the river with his train he caught sight of the shrine of St. Goar, +and bethought him that there he and his brother had last met as friends. +As he pondered on the strange fate that had made enemies of them, once +so full of kindness toward each other, he felt curiously moved, and +decided to put ashore and kneel by the shrine of the saint. + +Ere long Karloman and his train moved up the Rhine, and this prince +also, when he beheld the shrine of St. Goar, was touched with a feeling +of tenderness for his absent brother. Recollections of the time when +Pepin and he had been inseparable surged over him, and he too stepped +ashore and made his way through the wood to the sacred spot. + +Meanwhile Pepin still knelt before the shrine, and great indeed was +Karloman’s astonishment when he beheld his brother. But when he heard +Pepin pray aloud that they might be reconciled his joy and surprise knew +no bounds. All armed as he was, he strode up to his kneeling brother +and embraced him with tears, entreating his forgiveness for past +harshnesses. When Pepin raised the prince’s visor and beheld the beloved +features of Karloman, his happiness was complete. Together the brothers +made for their ships; not, however, till they had left valuable gifts +at the shrine of the saint whose good offices had brought about their +reconciliation. Together they proceeded to the court of Charlemagne, who +partitioned his Empire between his three sons, making each a regent of +his portion during his father’s lifetime. + +From that time onward the brothers were fast friends. Karloman and +Pepin, however, had not long to live, for the former died in 810 and the +latter in the following year. + +Gutenfels, a Romance + +A very charming story, and one entirely lacking in the element of gloom +and tragedy which is so marked a feature of most Rhenish tales, is that +which tradition assigns to the castle of Gutenfels. Its ancient name +of Caub, or Chaube, still clings to the town above which it towers +majestically. + +In the thirteenth century Caub was the habitation of Sir Philip of +Falkenstein and his sister Guta, the latter justly acclaimed as the +most beautiful woman in Germany. She was reputed as proud as she was +beautiful, and of the many suitors who flocked to Caub to seek her hand +in marriage none could win from her a word of encouragement or even a +tender glance. + +On one occasion she and her brother were present at a great tourney held +at Cologne, where the flower of knightly chivalry and maidenly beauty +were gathered in a brilliant assembly. Many an ardent glance was +directed to the fair maid of Caub, but she, accustomed to such homage, +was not moved thereby from her wonted composure. + +At length a commotion passed through the assembly. A knight had entered +the lists whose name was not announced by the herald. It was whispered +that his identity was known only to the Archbishop, whose guest he +was. Of fine stature and handsome features, clad in splendid armour +and mounted on a richly caparisoned steed, he attracted not a little +attention, especially from the feminine portion of the assemblage. But +for none of the high-born ladies had he eyes, save for Guta, to whom his +glance was ever and anon directed, as though he looked to her to +bring him victory. The blushing looks of Guta showed that she was not +indifferent to the gallantry of the noble stranger, and, truly, in her +heart she wished him well. With clasped hands she watched the combatants +couch their lances and charge. Ah! victory had fallen to the unknown +knight. Soon it became evident that the mysterious stranger was to carry +off the prize of the tourney, for there was none to match him in skill +and prowess. As he rode past the place where Guta sat he lowered his +lance, and she, in her pleasure and confusion at this mark of especial +courtesy, dropped her glove, which the knight instantly picked up, +desiring to be allowed to keep it as a guerdon. + +At the grand ball which followed the tourney the victor remained all +the evening at Guta’s side, and would dance with no other maiden. +Young Falkenstein, pleased with the homage paid to his sister by the +distinguished stranger, invited him to visit them at Caub, an invitation +which the gentle Guta seconded, and which the mysterious knight accepted +with alacrity. + +True to his promise, ere a week had elapsed he arrived at Caub, +accompanied by two attendants. His visit covered three days, during +which time his host and hostess did all in their power to make his stay +a pleasant one. Ere he took his departure he sought out Guta and made +known his love. The lady acknowledged that his affection was returned. + +“Dearest Guta,” said the knight, “I may not yet reveal to thee my name, +but if thou wilt await my coming, in three months I shall return to +claim my bride, and thou shalt know all.” + +“I will be true to thee,” exclaimed Guta passionately. “Though a king +should woo me, I will be true to thee.” And with that assurance from his +betrothed the knight rode away. + +Three months came and went, and still Guta heard nothing of her absent +lover. She grew paler and sadder as time advanced, not because she +doubted the honour of her knight, but because she feared he had been +slain in battle. It was indeed a time of wars and dissensions. On the +death of Conrad IV several claimants to the imperial throne of Germany +made their appearance, of whom the principal were Adolph, Duke of +Holland, Richard, Earl of Cornwall, brother to the English king Henry +III, and Alfonso X, King of Castile. Of these three the most popular +was Richard of Cornwall, who was finally chosen by the Electors, more on +account of his knightly qualities than because of his fabulous wealth. +Among his most ardent followers was Philip of Falkenstein, who was +naturally much elated at his master’s success. Now, however, the +conflict was over, and Philip had returned to Caub. + +One morning, about six months after the departure of Guta’s lover, a gay +cavalcade appeared at the gates of Caub, and a herald demanded admission +for Richard, Emperor of Germany. Philip himself, scarcely concealing his +joy and pride at the honour done him by his sovereign, ran out to greet +him, and the castle was full of stir and bustle. The Emperor praised +Philip heartily for his part in the recent wars, yet he seemed absent +and uneasy. + +“Sir Philip,” he said at length, “I have come hither to beg the hand of +thy fair sister; why is she not with us?” Falkenstein was filled with +amazement. + +“Sire,” he stammered, “I fear me thou wilt find my sister an unwilling +bride. She has refused many nobles of high estate, and I doubt whether +even a crown will tempt her. However, I will plead with her for thy +sake.” + +He left the room to seek Guta’s bower, but soon returned with dejected +mien. “It is as I thought, sire,” he said. “She will not be moved. +Methinks some heedless knight hath stolen her heart, for she hath grown +pale and drooping as a gathered blossom.” + +Richard raised his visor. + +“Knowest thou me, sir knight?” he said. + +“Thou art—the knight of the tourney,” cried Philip in amaze. + +“The same,” answered Richard, smiling. “And I am the knight who has +won thy fair sister’s heart. We plighted our troth after the tourney of +Cologne. State affairs of the gravest import have kept me from her +side, where I would fain have been these six months past. Take this +token”—drawing from his breast the glove Guta had given him—“and tell +her that a poor knight in Richard’s train sends her this.” + +In a little while Philip returned with his sister. The maiden looked +pale and agitated, but when she beheld Richard she rushed to him and was +clasped in his arms. + +“My own Guta,” he whispered fondly. “And wouldst thou refuse an emperor +to marry me?” + +“Yea, truly,” answered the maid, “a hundred emperors. I feared thou +hadst forsaken me altogether,” she added naively. + +Richard laughed. + +“Would I be a worthy Emperor an I did not keep my troth with such as +thou?” he asked. + +“The Emperor—thou?” cried Guta, starting back. + +“Yea, the Emperor, and none other,” said her brother reverently. And +once more Guta hid her face on Richard’s breast. + +Within a week they were married, and Guta accompanied her husband to the +court as Empress of Germany. + +To the castle where his bride had passed her maidenhood Richard gave the +name of Gutenfels—’Rock of Guta’—which name it has retained to this day. + +The Story of Schönburg + +The castle of Schönburg, not far from the town of Bacharach, is now in +ruins, but was once a place of extraordinary fame, for here dwelt at +one time seven sisters of transcendent beauty, who were courted the more +assiduously because their father, the Graf von Schönburg, was reputed a +man of great wealth. This wealth was no myth, but an actuality, and in +truth it had been mainly acquired in predatory forays; but the nobles of +Rhineland recked little of this, and scores of them flitted around and +pressed their suit on the young ladies. None of these, however, felt +inclined toward marriage just yet, each vowing its yoke too galling; and +so the gallants came in vain to the castle, their respective addresses +being invariably dallied with and then dismissed. Suitor after suitor +retired in despair, pondering on the strange ways of womankind; but +one evening a large party of noblemen chanced to be assembled at the +schloss, and putting their heads together, they decided to press matters +to a conclusion. They agreed that all of them, in gorgeous raiment, +should gather in the banqueting-hall of the castle; the seven sisters +should be summoned and called upon in peremptory fashion to have done +with silken dalliance and to end matters by selecting seven husbands +from among them. The young ladies received the summons with some +amusement, all of them being blessed with the saving grace of humour, +and they bade the knight who had brought the message return to his +fellows and tell them that the suggested interview would be held. “Only +give us time,” said the sisters, “for the donning of our most becoming +dresses.” + +So now the band of suitors mustered, and a brave display they made, each +of them thinking himself more handsome and gorgeous than his neighbours +and boasting that he would be among the chosen seven. But as time sped +on and the ladies still tarried, the young men began to grow anxious; +many of them spoke aloud of female vanity, and made derisive comments +on the coiffing and the like, which they imagined was the cause of +the delay; eventually one of their number, tired of strutting before +a mirror, happened to go to look out of the window toward the Rhine. +Suddenly he uttered a loud imprecation, and his companions, thronging to +the window, were all fiercely incensed at the sight which greeted their +eyes. For the famous seven sisters were perpetrating something of +a practical joke; they were leaving the castle in a boat, and on +perceiving the men’s faces at the windows they gave vent to a loud laugh +of disdain. Hardly had the angry suitors realized that they were the +butt of the ladies’ ridicule when they were seized with consternation. +For one of the sisters, in the attempt to shake her fist at the men +she affected to despise, tried to stand up on one of the thwarts of the +boat, which, being a light craft, was upset at once. The girls’ taunts +were now changed to loud cries for help, none being able to swim; but +ere another boat could be launched the Rhine had claimed its prey, and +the perfidious damsels were drowned in the swift tide. + +But their memory was not destined to be erased from the traditions of +the locality. Near the place where the tragedy occurred there are seven +rocks, visible only on rare occasions when the river is very low, and +till lately it was a popular superstition that these rocks were placed +there by Providence, anxious to impart a moral to young women addicted +to coquetry and practical jests. To this day many boatmen on the Rhine +regard these rocks with awe, and it is told that now and then seven +wraiths are to be seen there; it is even asserted that sometimes these +apparitions sing in strains as delectable as those of the Lorelei +herself. + +The Legend of Pfalz + +Musing on the legendary lore of the Rhine, we cannot but be struck by +the sadness pervading these stories, and we are inclined to believe that +every one of them culminates in tragedy. But there are a few exceptions +to this rule, and among them is a tale associated with the island of +Pfalz, near Bacharach, which concludes in fairly happy fashion, if in +the main concerned with suffering. + +This island of Pfalz still contains the ruins of a castle, known as +Pfalzgrafenstein. It belonged in medieval days to the Palatine Princes, +and at the time our story opens one of these, named Hermann, having +suspected his wife, the Princess Guba, of infidelity, had lately caused +her to be incarcerated within it. Its governor, Count von Roth, was +charged to watch the prisoner’s movements carefully; but, being sure she +was innocent, his measures with her were generally lenient, while his +countess soon formed a deep friendship for the Princess. Thus it seemed +to Guba that her captivity was not destined to be so terrible as she had +anticipated, but she was soon disillusioned, as will appear presently. +It should be explained that as yet the Princess had borne no children +to her husband, whose heir-apparent was consequently his brother Ludwig; +and this person naturally tried to prevent a reconciliation between the +Palatine Prince and his wife, for should they be united again, Ludwig’s +hope to succeed his brother might be frustrated. So he was a frequent +visitor to the Pfalzgrafenstein, constantly telling von Roth that he +allowed the Princess too much liberty. Worse still, Ludwig sometimes +remained at the island castle for a long time, and at these periods +the prisoner underwent constant ill-treatment, which the Governor was +powerless to alleviate. + +The people of the neighbourhood felt kindly toward Guba, but their +sympathy was of little avail; and at length during one of Ludwig’s +visits to Pfalzgrafenstein it seemed as though he was about to triumph +and effect a final separation between the Princess and Hermann. For it +transpired one evening that Guba was not within the castle. A hue and +cry was instantly raised, and the island was searched by Ludwig and von +Roth. “I wager,” said Ludwig, “that at this very moment Guba is with +her paramour. Let my brother the Prince hear of this, and your life will +answer for it. Often have I urged you to be stricter; you see now the +result of your leniency.” + +Von Roth protested that the Princess was taking the air alone; but while +they argued the pair espied Guba, and it was as Ludwig had said—she was +attended by a man. + +“The bird is snared,” shouted Ludwig; and as he and von Roth ran toward +the offending couple they separated instantly, the man making for a boat +moored hard by. But ere he could reach it he was caught by his pursuers, +and recognized for a certain young gallant of the district. He was +dragged to the castle, where after a brief trial he was condemned to +be hanged. He blanched on hearing the sentence, but faced his fate +manfully, and when the rope was about his neck he declared loudly that +Guba had always discouraged his addresses and was innocent of the sin +wherewith she was charged. + +Guba’s movements thenceforth were watched more strictly for a while, yet +she seemed to grow more cheerful, while one day she even asserted that +she would soon be reconciled to her husband, from whom she had now been +estranged for six months. In short, she announced that she was soon to +be a mother; while she was confident that the child would resemble the +Palatine Prince, and that the latter’s delight on finding himself a +father would result in the ending of all her troubles. The Governor +and his lady were both doubtful as to the parentage of the child, +remembering the recent circumstances which had seemed to cast some +shadow upon the Princess herself; yet they held their peace, awaiting +until in due course the Princess was delivered of a boy. But, alack! +the child bore no resemblance to Hermann; and so von Roth and his wife, +meaning to be kind, enjoined silence and sent the child away—all of +which was the more easily accomplished as the spiteful Ludwig chanced to +be far distant at the time. At first the mother was broken-hearted, but +the Governor and his wife comforted her by saying that the child was no +farther off than a castle on the opposite banks of the Rhine. Here, +they assured her, he would be well nurtured; moreover, they had arranged +that, so long as her son was alive and thriving, the fact was to be +signified to her by the display of a small white flag on the battlements +of his lodging. And so, day after day, the anxious mother paced her +island prison, looking constantly toward the signal which meant so much +to her. + +Many years went by in this fashion, and in course of time Hermann was +gathered to his fathers, and Ludwig ascended the Palatine throne. But +scarcely was his rule begun ere it was noised abroad that he was a +usurper, for a young man appeared who claimed to be the son of Hermann, +and therefore the rightful heir. Now, most of the people detested +Ludwig, and when they marked the claimant’s resemblance to the deceased +Prince a number of them banded themselves together to set him upon the +throne. + +A fierce civil war ensued, many of the nobles forsaking Ludwig for his +rival, who, like the late Prince, bore the name of Hermann; and though +at first it seemed doubtful which party was to triumph, eventually +Ludwig was worsted, and was hanged for his perfidy. The tidings spread +throughout the Rhineland, and one day a body of men-at-arms came to +Pfalzgrafenstein and informed von Roth that his prisoner was to be freed +at once and was to repair to the Palatine court, there to take up her +rightful position as Queen-Dowager. Guba was amazed on hearing this +news, for she had long since ceased to hope that her present mode of +life would be altered, and asking to be presented to the chief messenger +that she might question him, she suddenly experienced a yet greater +surprise.... Yes! her son had come in person to liberate her; and von +Roth and his wife, as they witnessed the glad union, were convinced at +last of Guba’s innocence, for the young man who clasped her to his +bosom had changed wondrously since his childhood, and was now indeed the +living image of his father. For some minutes the mother wept with joy, +but when her son bade her make ready for instant departure she +replied that she had lost all desire for the stately life of a court. +Pfalzgrafenstein, she declared, had become truly a part of her life, so +here she would end her days. She had not long to live, she added, and +what greater pleasure could she have than the knowledge that her son was +alive and well, and was ruling his people wisely? + +And so Guba remained at the island, a prison no longer; and daily she +paced by the swirling stream, often gazing toward the castle where her +son had been nurtured, and meditating on the time when she was wont to +look there for the white flag which meant so much to her anxious heart. + +A Legend of Fürstenberg + +High above the Rhine tower the ruins of Fürstenberg, and more than one +legend clings to the ancient pile, linking it with stirring medieval +times. Perhaps the most popular of these traditions is that which tells +of the Phantom Mother of Fürstenberg, a tale full of pathos and tragedy. + +In the thirteenth century there dwelt in the castle a nobleman, Franz +von Fürst by name, who, after a wild and licentious youth, settled +down to a more sober and serious manhood. His friends, surprised at the +change which had taken place in him, and anxious that this new mode of +life should be maintained, urged him to take a virtuous maiden to +wife. Such a bride as they desired for him was found in Kunigunda von +Flörsheim, a maiden who was as beautiful as she was high-born. + +For a time after their marriage all went well, and Franz and his young +wife seemed quite happy. Moreover, in time a son was born to them, of +whom his father seemed to be very proud. The Baron’s reformation, said +his friends, was complete. + +One evening there came to Kunigunda a young lady friend. The girl, +whose name was Amina, was the daughter of a robber-baron who dwelt in +a neighbouring castle. But his predatory acts had at last forced him to +flee for his life, and no one knew whither he had gone. His household +was broken up, and Amina, finding herself without a home, had now +repaired to Fürstenberg to seek refuge. Kunigunda, ever willing to aid +those in distress, extended a hearty welcome to the damsel, and Amina +was henceforth an inmate of the schloss. + +Now, though Amina was fully as lovely in face and form as her young +hostess, she yet lacked the moral beauty of Kunigunda. Of a subtle and +crafty disposition, she showed the gratitude of the serpent by stinging +the hand extended to help her; in a word, she set herself to win the +unlawful affections of the Lord of Fürstenberg. He, weak creature as +he was, allowed the latent baseness of his nature to be stirred by her +youth and beauty. He listened when she whispered that Kunigunda had +grown cold toward him; at her suggestion he interpreted his wife’s +modest demeanour as indifference, and already he began to feel the yoke +of matrimony heavy upon him. + +Poor Kunigunda was in despair when she realized that her husband had +transferred his affections; but what was worse, she learned that the +pair were plotting against her life. At length their cruel scheming +succeeded, and one morning Kunigunda was found dead in her bed. Franz +made it known that she had been stifled by a fit of coughing, and her +remains were hastily conveyed to the family vault. Within a week the +false Amina was the bride of the Baron von Fürstenberg. + +Little Hugo, the son of Kunigunda, was to suffer much at the hands +of his stepmother and her dependents. The new mistress of the Schloss +Fürstenberg hated the child as she had hated his mother, and Hugo was +given into the charge of an ill-natured old nurse, who frequently beat +him in the night because he awakened her with his cries. + +One night the old hag was roused from her sleep by a strange sound, the +sound of a cradle being rocked. She imagined herself dreaming. Who would +come to this distant tower to rock the little Hugo? Not Amina, of that +she was sure! Again the sound was heard, unmistakably the creaking of +the cradle. Drawing aside her bed-curtains, the crone beheld a strange +sight. Over the cradle a woman was bending, clad in long, white +garments, and singing a low lullaby, and as she raised her pale face, +behold! it was that of the dead Kunigunda. The nurse could neither +shriek nor faint; as though fascinated, she watched the wraith nursing +her child, until at cockcrow Kunigunda vanished. + +In trembling tones the nurse related what she had seen to Franz and +Amina. The Baron was scornful, and ridiculed the whole affair as a +dream. But the cunning Amina, though she did not believe that a ghost +had visited the child, thought that perhaps her rival was not really +dead, and her old hatred and jealousy were reawakened. So she told her +husband that she intended to see for herself whether there was any truth +in the fantastic story, and would sleep that night in the nurse’s bed. +She did not mention her suspicions, nor the fact that she carried a +sharp dagger. She was roused in the night, as the old woman had been, by +the sound of a cradle being rocked. Stealthily drawing the curtains, she +saw the white-robed form of the dead, the black mould clinging to her +hair, the hue of death in her face. With a wild cry Amina flung herself +upon Kunigunda, only to find that she was stabbing at a thing of air, an +impalpable apparition which vanished at a touch. Overcome with rage and +fear, she sank to the ground. The wraith moved to the door, turning +with a warning gesture ere she vanished from sight, and Amina lost +consciousness. + +In the morning the Baron sought his wife in vain. He found instead a +missive telling of her ghastly experience, intimating her intention of +retiring to a nunnery, and closing with an earnest appeal to her husband +to repent of his crimes. + +The Baron, moved with remorse and terror, followed Amina’s example; he +sought in the mountain solitudes a hermitage where he might end his days +in peace, and having found such a cell, he confided his little son to +the care of the pastor of Wedenschied, and retired from the world in +which he had played so sorry a part. + +The Blind Archer + +Another legend connected with the ruined stronghold of Fürstenberg is +the following. Long ago, in the days when bitter feuds and rivalries +existed between the owners of neighbouring fortresses, there dwelt in +Fürstenberg a good old knight, Sir Oswald by name, well versed in the +arts of war, and particularly proficient in archery. He had one son, +Edwin, a handsome young man who bade fair to equal his father in skill +and renown. + +Sir Oswald had a sworn foe in a neighbouring baron, Wilm von Sooneck, +a rich, unscrupulous nobleman who sought by every possible means to +get the knight into his power. At length his cunning schemes met with +success; an ambush was laid for the unsuspecting Oswald as he rode past +Sooneck Castle, attended only by a groom, and both he and his servant +were flung into a tower, there to await the pleasure of their captor. + +And what that nobleman’s pleasure was soon became evident. Ere many days +had elapsed Oswald was informed that his eyes were to be put out, and +soon the cruel decree was carried into execution. + +Meanwhile Edwin awaited the coming of his father; and when he came not +it was at first concluded that he had been captured or slain by robbers. +But there were no evidences forthcoming to show that Sir Oswald had +met with such a fate, and his son began to suspect that his father had +fallen into the hands of Baron Wilm, for he knew of the bitter hatred +which he bore toward the knight of Fürstenberg and of his cunning and +malice. He therefore cast about for a means of verifying his suspicions, +and eventually disguised himself as a wandering minstrel, took his +harp—for he had great skill as a musician—and set off in the direction +of Sooneck. There he seated himself under a tree and played and sang +sweetly, directing his gaze the while toward a strong tower which seemed +to him a likely place for the incarceration of prisoners. The plaintive +charm of the melody attracted the attention of a passing peasant, who +drew near to listen; when the last note of the song had died away, he +seated himself beside the minstrel and entered into conversation with +him. + +“Methinks thou hast an interest in yonder tower,” he said. + +“In truth it interests me,” responded Edwin, nevertheless veiling his +concern as much as possible by a seeming indifference. “Is it a prison, +think you?” + +“Ay, that it is,” replied the peasant with a laugh. “’Tis the cage where +my lord of Sooneck keeps the birds whose feathers he has plucked.” + +Edwin, still with a show of indifference, questioned him further, +and elicited the fact that the peasant had witnessed the capture and +incarceration in the tower of a knight and his servant on the very day +when Sir Oswald and his groom had disappeared. Nothing more could +Edwin glean, save that a few days hence Baron Wilm was to give a grand +banquet, when many nobles and knights were to be present. + +The young man, his suspicions thus fully confirmed, felt that his next +move must be to gain entrance to the castle, and he decided to take +advantage of the excitement and bustle attendant on the banquet to +achieve this end. Accordingly, on the day fixed for the feast he again +donned his minstrel’s garb, and repaired to the Schloss Sooneck. Here, +as he had anticipated, all was excitement and gaiety. Wine flowed +freely, tongues were loosened, and the minstrel was welcomed +uproariously and bidden to sing his best songs in return for a beaker +of Rhenish. Soon the greater part of the company were tipsy, and Edwin +moved among them, noting their conversation, coming at length to the +seat of the host. + +“It is said,” remarked a knight, “that you have captured Sir Oswald of +Fürstenberg.” + +Wilm, to whom the remark was addressed, smiled knowingly and did not +deny the charge. + +“I have even heard,” pursued his companion, “that you have had his eyes +put out.” + +The Baron laughed outright, as at an excellent jest. + +“Then you have heard truly,” he said. + +At this point another knight broke into the conversation. “It is +a pity,” said he. “There are but few archers to match Oswald of +Fürstenberg.” + +“I wager he can still hit a mark if it be set up,” said he who had first +spoken. + +“Done!” cried Sooneck, and when the terms of the wager had been fixed +the Baron directed that Oswald should be brought from the tower. + +Edwin had overheard the conversation with a breaking heart, and grief +and shame almost overwhelmed him when he saw his father, pitifully quiet +and dignified, led into the banquet-hall to provide sport for a company +of drunken revellers. Oswald was informed of the wager, and bow and +arrows were placed in his hands. + +“Baron von Sooneck,” he cried, “where is the mark?” + +“This cup I place upon the table,” came the reply. + +The arrow was fitted to the bow, released, and lo! it was not the cup +which was hit, but the Lord of Sooneck, who fell forward heavily, struck +to the heart and mortally wounded. + +In a moment a loud outcry was raised, but ere action could be taken the +minstrel had sprung in front of Oswald, and boldly faced the assembly. + +“This knight,” he cried, “shamefully maltreated by yonder villain, is my +father. Whoso thinks he has acted wrongly in forfeiting the life of +his torturer shall answer to me. With my sword I shall teach him better +judgment.” + +The astonished knights, completely sobered by the tragic occurrence, +could not but admire the courage of the lad who thus boldly championed +his father, and with one voice they declared that Sir Oswald was a true +knight and had done justly. + +So the blind knight, once more free, returned to his castle of +Fürstenberg, compensated in part for the loss of his sight by the loving +devotion of his son. + +Rheinstein and Reichenstein + +Centuries ago the castles of Rheinstein and Reichenstein frowned at each +other from neighbouring eminences. But far from being hostile, they were +the residences of two lovers. Kuno of Reichenstein loved the fair Gerda +of Rheinstein with a consuming passion, and, as is so common with lovers +in all ages, doubted whether his love were returned. In his devotion +for the maiden he showered on her many gifts, and although his purse +was light and he was master of only a single tower, he did not spare +his gold if only he could make her happy and gain from her one look of +approval. + +On one occasion he presented to her a beauteous horse of the Limousin +strain, bred under the shadow of his own castle. Deep-chested, with +arched neck and eye of fire, the noble steed aroused the liveliest +interest in the breast of Gerda, and she was eloquent in her thanks to +the giver until, observing his ardent glances, her cheeks suffused with +blushes. Taking her soft hand between his sunburnt palms, Kuno poured +into her ear the story of his love. + +“Gerda,” he whispered, “I am a poor man. I have nothing but my sword, my +ruined tower yonder, and honour. But they are yours. Will you take them +with my heart?” + +She lifted her blue eyes to his, full of truth and trust. “I will be +yours,” she murmured; “yours and none other’s till death.” + +Young Kuno left Rheinstein that afternoon, his heart beating high with +hope and happiness. The blood coursing through his veins at a gallop +made him spur his charger to a like pace. But though he rode fast his +brain was as busy as his hand and his heart. He must, in conformity with +Rhenish custom, send as an embassy to Gerda’s father one of his most +distinguished relations. To whom was he to turn? There was no one but +old Kurt, his wealthy uncle, whom he could send as an emissary, and +although the old man had an unsavoury reputation, he decided to confide +the mission to him. Kurt undertook the task in no kindly spirit, for he +disliked Kuno because of his virtuous life and the circumstance that he +was his heir, whom he felt was waiting to step into his shoes. However, +he waited next day upon Gerda’s father, the Lord of Rheinstein, and was +received with all the dignity suitable to his rank and age. But when his +glance rested upon the fair and innocent Gerda, such a fierce desire to +make her his arose in his withered breast that when she had withdrawn he +demanded her hand for himself. To her father he drew an alluring picture +of his rank, his possessions, his castles, his gold, until the old man, +with whom avarice was a passion, gave a hearty consent to his suit, +and dismissed him with the assurance that Gerda would be his within the +week. + +The clatter of hoofs had hardly died away when the Lord of Rheinstein +sought his daughter’s bower, where she sat dreaming of Kuno. In honeyed +words the old man described the enviable position she would occupy as +the spouse of a wealthy man, and then conveyed to her the information +that Kurt had asked him for her hand. Gerda, insulted at the mere +thought of becoming the bride of such a man, refused to listen to the +proposal, even from the lips of her father, and she acquainted him with +her love for Kuno, whom, she declared, she had fully resolved to marry. +At this avowal her father worked himself into a furious passion, and +assured her that she should never be the bride of such a penniless +adventurer. After further insulting the absent Kuno, and alluding in +a most offensive manner to his daughter’s lack of discernment and good +taste, he quitted her bower, assuring her as he went that she should +become the bride of Kurt on the morrow. + +Gerda spent a miserable night sitting by the dying fire in her chamber, +planning how she might escape from the detested Kurt, until at last her +wearied brain refused to work and she fell into a troubled slumber. In +the morning she was awakened by her handmaiden, who, greatly concerned +for her mistress, had spent the night in prayer. But Gerda’s tears had +fled with the morning, and she resolved, come what might, to refuse +to the last to wed with the hateful Kurt. She learned that Kuno had +attempted to assault the castle during the night with the object of +carrying her off, but that he had been repulsed with some loss to his +small force. This made her only the more determined to persist in her +resistance to his uncle. + +Meantime the vassals and retainers of the house of Rheinstein had been +summoned to the castle to attend the approaching ceremony, and their +gay apparel now shone and glittered in the sunshine. The sound of pipe, +tabour, and psaltery in melodious combination arose from the valley, and +all hearts, save one, were happy. The gates were thrown open, and the +bridal procession formed up to proceed to the ancient church where the +unhappy Gerda was to be sacrificed to Kurt. First came a crowd of serfs, +men, women, and children, all shouting in joyful anticipation of the +wedding feast. Then followed the vassals and retainers of the Lord of +Rheinstein, according to their several degrees, and, last, the principal +actors in the shameful ceremony, Kurt, surrounded by his retainers, and +the Lord of Rheinstein with the luckless Gerda. The mellow tones of the +bell of St. Clement mingled sweetly with the sound of the flute and the +pipe and the merry voices of the wedding throng. Gerda, mounted upon her +spirited Limousin steed, the gift of Kuno, shuddered as she felt Kurt’s +eyes resting upon her, and she cast a despairing glance at the tower of +Kuno’s castle, where, disconsolate and heavy of heart, he watched the +bridal procession from the highest turret. + +The procession halted at the portal of the church, and all dismounted +save Gerda. She was approached by the bridegroom, who with an air of +leering gallantry offered her his assistance in alighting. At this +moment swarms of gadflies rested on the flanks of the Limousin steed, +and the spirited beast, stung to madness by the flies, reared, plunged, +and broke away in a gallop, scattering the spectators to right and left, +and flying like the wind along the river-bank. + +“To horse, to horse!” cried Kurt and the Lord of Rheinstein, and +speedily as many mounted, the bridegroom, for all his age, was first +in the saddle. With the clattering of a hundred hoofs the wedding party +galloped madly along Rhineside, Kurt leading on a fleet and powerful +charger. + +“Halt!” he cried. “Draw rein—draw rein!” But notwithstanding their +shouts, cries, and entreaties, Gerda spurred on the already maddened +Limousin, which thundered along the familiar road to Kuno’s castle of +Reichenstein. The noble steed’s direction was quickly espied by Kuno, +who hastened to the principal entrance of his stronghold. + +“Throw open the gates,” he shouted. “Down with the drawbridge. Bravo, +gallant steed!” + +But Kurt was close behind. Gerda could feel the breath of his charger +on the hands which held her rein. Close he rode by her, but might never +snatch her from the saddle. Like the wind they sped. Now she was a pace +in front, now they careered onward neck and neck. + +Suddenly he leaned over to seize her rein, but at that instant his horse +stumbled, fell, and threw the ancient gallant heavily. Down he came on a +great boulder and lay motionless. + +Another moment, and the hoof-beat of the breathless steed sounded on the +drawbridge of Reichenstein. The vassals of Kuno hastened to the gate to +resist the expected attack, but there was none. For the wretched Kurt +lay dead, killed by the fall, and his vassals were now eager to acclaim +Kuno as their lord, while the Lord of Rheinstein, shrewdly observing the +direction of affairs, took advantage of the tumultuous moment to +make his peace with Kuno. The lovers were wedded next day amid the +acclamations of their friends and retainers, and Kuno and Gerda dwelt in +Rheinstein for many a year, loving and beloved. + + + + + +CHAPTER V—FALKENBURG TO AUERBACH + +The Legend of Falkenburg + +In the imperial fortress of Falkenburg dwelt the beautiful Liba, the +most charming and accomplished of maidens, with her widowed mother. Many +were the suitors who climbed the hill to Falkenburg to seek the hand +of Liba, for besides being beautiful she was gentle and virtuous, and +withal possessed of a modest fortune left her by her father. But to all +their pleadings she turned a deaf ear, for she was already betrothed +to a young knight named Guntram whom she had known since childhood, and +they only waited until Guntram should have received his fief from the +Palsgrave to marry and settle down. + +One May morning, while Liba was seated at a window of the castle +watching the ships pass to and fro on the glassy bosom of the Rhine, +she beheld Guntram riding up the approach to Falkenburg, and hastened to +meet him. The gallant knight informed his betrothed that he was on his +way to the Palsgrave to receive his fief, and had but turned aside in +his journey in order to greet his beloved. She led him into the castle, +where her mother received him graciously enough, well pleased at her +daughter’s choice. + +“And now, farewell,” said Guntram. “I must hasten. When I return we two +shall wed; see to it that all is in readiness.” + +With that he mounted his horse and rode out of the courtyard, turning +to wave a gay farewell to Liba. The maiden watched him disappear round a +turn in the winding path, then slowly re-entered the castle. + +Meanwhile Guntram went on his way, and was at length invested with his +fief. The Palsgrave, pleased with the manners and appearance of the +young knight, appointed him to be his ambassador in Burgundy, which +honour Guntram, though with much reluctance, felt it necessary to +accept. He dispatched a messenger to his faithful Liba, informing her +of his appointment, which admitted of no delay, and regretting the +consequent postponement of their marriage. She, indeed, was ill-pleased +with the tidings and felt instinctively that some calamity was about to +befall. After a time her foreboding affected her health and spirits, her +former pursuits and pleasures were neglected, and day after day she sat +listlessly at her casement, awaiting the return of her lover. + +Guntram, having successfully achieved his mission, set out on the +homeward journey. On the way he had to pass through a forest, and, +having taken a wrong path, lost his way. He wandered on without meeting +a living creature, and came at last to an old dilapidated castle, into +the courtyard of which he entered, thankful to have reached a human +habitation. He gave his horse to a staring boy, who looked at him as +though he were a ghost. + +“Where is your master?” queried Guntram. + +The boy indicated an ivy-grown tower, to which the knight made his way. +The whole place struck him as strangely sombre and weird, a castle of +shadows and vague horror. He was shown into a gloomy chamber by an aged +attendant, and there awaited the coming of the lord. Opposite him was +hung a veiled picture, and half hoping that he might solve the mystery +which pervaded the place, he drew aside the curtain. From the canvas +there looked out at him a lady of surpassing beauty, and the young +knight started back in awe and admiration. + +In a short time the attendant returned with a thin, tall old man, the +lord of the castle, who welcomed the guest with grave courtesy, and +offered the hospitality of his castle. Guntram gratefully accepted his +host’s invitation, and when he had supped he conversed with the old man, +whom he found well-informed and cultured. + +“You appear to be fond of music,” said the knight, indicating a harp +which lay in a corner of the room. + +He had observed, however, that the strings of the harp were broken, and +that the instrument seemed to have been long out of use, and thought +that it possibly had some connexion with the original of the veiled +portrait. Whatever recollections his remark aroused must have been +painful indeed, for the host sighed heavily. + +“It has long been silent,” he said. “My happiness has fled with its +music. Good night, and sleep well.” And ere the astonished guest could +utter a word the old man abruptly withdrew from the room. + +Shortly afterward the old attendant entered, bearing profuse apologies +from his master, and begging that the knight would continue to accept +his hospitality. Guntram followed the old man to his chamber. As they +passed through the adjoining apartment he stopped before the veiled +portrait. + +“Tell me,” he said, “why is so lovely a picture hidden?” + +“Then you have seen it?” asked the old keeper. “That is my master’s +daughter. When she was alive she was even more beautiful than her +portrait, but she was a very capricious maid, and demanded that her +lovers should perform well-nigh impossible feats. At last only one of +these lovers remained, and of him she asked that he should descend into +the family vault and bring her a golden crown from the head of one of +her ancestors. He did as he was bidden, but his profanation was punished +with death. A stone fell from the roof and killed him. The young man’s +mother died soon after, cursing the foolish maid, who herself died in +the following year. But ere she was buried she disappeared from her +coffin and was seen no more.” + +When the story was ended they had arrived at the door of the knight’s +chamber, and in bidding him good night the attendant counselled him to +say his paternoster should anything untoward happen. + +Guntram wondered at his words, but at length fell asleep. Some hours +later he was awakened suddenly by the rustling of a woman’s gown and the +soft strains of a harp, which seemed to come from the adjoining room. +The knight rose quietly and looked through a chink in the door, when +he beheld a lady dressed in white and bending over a harp of gold. He +recognized in her the original of the veiled portrait, and saw that even +the lovely picture had done her less than justice. For a moment he stood +with hands clasped in silent admiration. Then with a low sound, half +cry, half sob, she cast the harp from her and sank down in an attitude +of utter despondency. The knight could bear it no longer and (quite +forgetting his paternoster) he flung open the door and knelt at her +feet, raising her hand to his lips. Gradually she became composed. “Do +you love me, knight?” she said. Guntram swore that he did, with many +passionate avowals, and the lady slipped a ring on his finger. Even as +he embraced her the cry of a screech-owl rang through the night air, +and the maiden became a corpse in his arms. Overcome with terror, +he staggered through the darkness to his room, where he sank down +unconscious. + +On coming to himself again, he thought for a moment that the experience +must have been a dream, but the ring on his hand assured him that the +vision was a ghastly reality. He attempted to remove the gruesome token, +but he found to his horror that it seemed to have grown to his finger. + +In the morning he related his experience to the attendant. “Alas, alas!” +said the old man, “in three times nine days you must die.” + +Guntram was quite overcome by the horror of his situation, and seemed +for a time bereft of his senses. Then he had his horse saddled, +and galloped as hard as he was able to Falkenburg. Liba greeted him +solicitously. She could see that he was sorely troubled, but forbore to +question him, preferring to wait until he should confide in her of his +own accord. He was anxious that their wedding should be hastened, for he +thought that his union with the virtuous Liba might break the dreadful +spell. + +When at length the wedding day arrived everything seemed propitious, +and there was nothing to indicate the misfortune which threatened the +bridegroom. The couple approached the altar and the priest joined their +hands. Suddenly Guntram fell to the ground, foaming and gasping, and was +carried thence to his home. The faithful Liba stayed by his side, and +when he had partially recovered the knight told her the story of the +spectre, and added that when the priest had joined their hands he had +imagined that the ghost had put her cold hand in his. Liba attempted +to soothe her repentant lover, and sent for a priest to finish the +interrupted wedding ceremony. This concluded, Guntram embraced his wife, +received absolution, and expired. + +Liba entered a convent, and a few years later she herself passed away, +and was buried by the side of her husband. + +The Mouse Tower + +Bishop Hatto is a figure equally well known to history and tradition, +though, curiously enough, receiving a much rougher handling from the +latter than the former. History relates that Hatto was Archbishop of +Mainz in the tenth century, being the second of his name to occupy that +see. As a ruler he was firm, zealous, and upright, if somewhat ambitious +and high-handed, and his term of office was marked by a civic peace not +always experienced in those times. So much for history. According to +tradition, Hatto was a stony-hearted oppressor of the poor, permitting +nothing to stand in the way of the attainment of his own selfish ends, +and several wild legends exhibit him in a peculiarly unfavourable light. + +By far the most popular of these traditions is that which deals with +the Mäuseturm, or ‘Mouse Tower,’ situated on a small island in the +Rhine near Bingen. It has never been quite decided whether the name was +bestowed because of the legend, or whether the legend arose on account +of the name, and it seems at least probable that the tale is of +considerably later date than the tenth century. Some authorities regard +the word Mäuseturm as a corruption of Mauth-turm, a ‘toll-tower,’ a +probable but prosaic interpretation. Much more interesting is the name +‘Mouse Tower,’ which gives point to the tragic tale of Bishop Hatto’s +fate. The story cannot be better told than in the words of Southey, who +has immortalized it in the following ballad: + + + THE TRADITION OF BISHOP HATTO + + The summer and autumn had been so wet, + That in winter the corn was growing yet; + ’Twas a piteous sight to see all around + The grain lie rotting on the ground. + + Every day the starving poor + Crowded around Bishop Hatto’s door, + For he had a plentiful last-year’s store, + And all the neighbourhood could tell + His granaries were furnished well. + + At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day + To quiet the poor without delay; + He bade them to his great barn repair, + And they should have food for the winter there. + + Rejoiced such tidings good to hear, + The poor folk flocked from far and near; + The great barn was full as it could hold + Of women and children, and young and old. + + Then when he saw it could hold no more, + Bishop Hatto he made fast the door; + And while for mercy on Christ they call, + He set fire to the barn and burnt them all. + + “I’ faith, ’tis an excellent bonfire!” quoth he, + “And the country is greatly obliged to me + For ridding it in these times forlorn + Of rats that only consume the corn.” + + So then to his palace returnèd he, + And he sat down to supper merrily; + And he slept that night like an innocent man, + But Bishop Hatto never slept again. + + In the morning as he enter’d the hall + Where his picture hung against the wall, + A sweat like death all over him came, + For the rats had eaten it out of the frame. + + As he looked there came a man from his farm, + He had a countenance white with alarm; + “My lord, I opened your granaries this morn, + And the rats had eaten all your corn.” + + Another came running presently, + And he was pale as pale could be; + “Fly, my Lord Bishop, fly!” quoth he, + “Ten thousand rats are coming this way— + The Lord forgive you for yesterday!” + + “I’ll go to my tower on the Rhine,” replied he, + “’Tis the safest place in Germany; + The walls are high and the shores are steep, + And the stream is strong and the water deep.” + + Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away, + And he crossed the Rhine without delay, + And reached his tower, and barred with care + All windows, doors, and loop-holes there. + + He laid him down and closed his eyes;— + But soon a scream made him arise, + He started and saw two eyes of flame + On his pillow from whence the screaming came. + + He listened and looked—it was only the cat; + But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that, + For she sat screaming, mad with fear, + At the army of rats that were drawing near. + + For they have swum over the river so deep, + And they have climbed the shores so steep, + And up the tower their way is bent, + To do the work for which they were sent. + + They are not to be told by the dozen or score, + By thousands they come, and by myriads and more, + Such numbers had never been heard of before, + Such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore. + + Down on his knees the Bishop fell, + And faster and faster his beads did he tell, + As louder and louder, drawing near, + The gnawing of their teeth he could hear. + + And in at the windows and in at the door, + And through the walls helter-skelter they pour, + And down through the ceiling, and up through the floor, + From the right and the left, from behind and before, + From within and without, from above and below, + And all at once to the Bishop they go. + + They have whetted their teeth against the stones, + And now they pick the Bishop’s bones; + They gnawed the flesh from every limb, + For they were sent to do judgment on him. + +A Legend of Ehrenfels + +Many other tales are told to illustrate Hatto’s cruelty and treachery. +Facing the Mouse Tower, on the opposite bank of the Rhine, stands the +castle of Ehrenfels, the scene of another of his ignoble deeds. + +Conrad, brother of the Emperor Ludwig, had, it is said, been seized and +imprisoned in Ehrenfels by the Franconian lord of that tower, Adalbert +by name. It was the fortune of war, and Ludwig in turn gathered a small +force and hastened to his brother’s assistance. His attempts to storm +the castle, however, were vain; the stronghold and its garrison stood +firm. Ludwig was minded to give up the struggle for the time being, and +would have done so, indeed, but for the intervention of his friend and +adviser, Bishop Hatto. + +“Leave him to me,” said the crafty Churchman. “I know how to deal with +him.” + +Ludwig was curious to know how his adviser proposed to get the better of +Adalbert, whom he knew of old to be a man of courage and resource, but +ill-disposed toward the reigning monarch. So the Bishop unfolded +his scheme, to which Ludwig, with whom honour was not an outstanding +feature, gave his entire approval. + +In pursuance of his design Hatto sallied forth unattended, and made his +way to the beleaguered fortress. Adalbert, himself a stranger to cunning +and trickery, hastened to admit the messenger, whose garb showed him to +be a priest, thinking him bound on an errand of peace. Hatto professed +the deepest sorrow at the quarrel between Ludwig and Adalbert. + +“My son,” said he solemnly, “it is not meet that you and the Emperor, +who once were friends, should treat each other as enemies. Our sire is +ready to forgive you for the sake of old friendship; will you not give +him the opportunity and come with me?” + +Adalbert was entirely deceived by the seeming sincerity of the Bishop, +and so touched by the clemency of the sovereign that he promised to go +in person and make submission if Hatto would but guarantee his safety. + +The conversation was held in the Count’s oratory, and the Churchman +knelt before the crucifix and swore in the most solemn manner that he +would bring Adalbert safely back to his castle. + +In a very short time they were riding together on the road to Mainz, +where Ludwig held court. When they were a mile or two from Ehrenfels +Hatto burst into a loud laugh, and in answer to the Count’s questioning +glance he said merrily: + +“What a perfect host you are! You let your guest depart without even +asking him whether he has breakfasted. And I am famishing, I assure +you!” + +The courteous Adalbert was stricken with remorse, and murmured profuse +apologies to his guest. “You must think but poorly of my hospitality,” +said he; “in my loyalty I forgot my duty as a host.” + +“It is no matter,” said Hatto, still laughing. “But since we have come +but a little way, would it not be better to return to Ehrenfels and +breakfast? You are young and strong, but I—” + +“With pleasure,” replied the Count, and soon they were again within the +castle enjoying a hearty meal. With her own hands the young Countess +presented a beaker of wine to the guest, and he, ere quaffing it, cried +gaily to Adalbert: + +“Your health! May you have the reward I wish for you!” Once again they +set out on their journey, and reached Mainz about nightfall. That very +night Adalbert was seized ignominiously and dragged before the Emperor. +By Ludwig’s side stood the false Bishop. + +“What means this outrage?” cried the Count, looking from one to the +other. + +“Thou art a traitor,” said Ludwig, “and must suffer the death of a +traitor.” + +Adalbert addressed himself to the Bishop. + +“And thou,” he said, “thou gavest me thine oath that thou wouldst bring +me in safety to Ehrenfels.” + +“And did I not do so, fool?” replied Hatto contemptuously. “Was it my +fault if thou didst not exact a pledge ere we set out for the second +time?” + +Adalbert saw now the trap into which he had fallen, and his fettered +limbs trembled with anger against the crafty priest. But he was +impotent. + +“Away with him to the block!” said the Emperor. + +“Amen,” sneered Hatto, still chuckling over the success of his strategy. + +And so Adalbert went forth to his doom, the victim of the cruel +Churchman’s treachery. + +Rheingrafenstein + +Rheingrafenstein, perched upon its sable foundations of porphyry, is +the scene of a legend which tells of a terrible bargain with Satan—that +theme so frequent in German folk-tale. + +A certain nobleman, regarding the site as impregnable and therefore +highly desirable, resolved to raise a castle upon the lofty eminence, +But the more he considered the plan the more numerous appeared the +difficulties in the way of its consummation. + +Every pro and con was carefully argued, but to no avail. At last in +desperation the nobleman implored assistance from the Enemy of Mankind, +who, hearing his name invoked, and scenting the possibility of gaining +a recruit to the hosts of Tartarus, speedily manifested his presence, +promising to build the castle in one night if the nobleman would grant +him the first living creature who should look from its windows. To +this the nobleman agreed, and upon the following day found the castle +awaiting his possession. He did not dare to enter it, however. But he +had communicated his secret to his wife, who decided to circumvent the +Evil One by the exercise of her woman’s wit. Mounting her donkey, she +rode into the castle, bidding all her men follow her. Satan waited on +the alert. But the Countess amid great laughter pinned a kerchief upon +the ass’s head, covered it with a cap, and, leading it to the window, +made it thrust its head outside. + +Satan immediately pounced upon what he believed to be his lawful prey, +and with joy in his heart seized upon and carried off the struggling +beast of burden. But the donkey emitted such a bray that, recognizing +the nature of his prize, the Fiend in sheer disgust dropped it and +vanished in a sulphurous cloud, to the accompaniment of inextinguishable +laughter from Rheingrafenstein. + +Rüdesheim and its Legends + +The town of Rüdesheim is a place famous in song and story, and some +of the legends connected with it date from almost prehistoric times. +Passing by in the steamer, the traveller who cares for architecture will +doubtless be surprised to mark an old church which would seem to be +at least partly of Norman origin; but this is not the only French +association which Rüdesheim boasts, for Charlemagne, it is said, loved +the place and frequently resided there, while tradition even asserts +that he it was who instituted the vine-growing industry on the adjacent +hills. He perceived that whenever snow fell there it melted with amazing +rapidity; and, judging from this that the soil was eminently suitable +for bringing forth a specially fine quality of grape, he sent to France +for a few young vine plants. Soon these were thriving in a manner +which fully justified expectations. The wines of Rüdesheim became +exceptionally famous; and, till comparatively recent times, one of the +finest blends was always known as Wein von Orleans, for it was thence +that the pristine cuttings had been imported. + +But it need scarcely be said, perhaps, that most of the legends current +at Rüdesheim are not concerned with so essentially pacific an affair as +the production of Rhenish. Another story of the place relates how one of +its medieval noblemen, Hans, Graf von Brauser, having gone to Palestine +with a band of Crusaders, was taken prisoner by the Saracens; and during +the period of his captivity he vowed that, should he ever regain his +liberty, he would signify his pious gratitude by causing his only +daughter, Minna, to take the veil. Rather a selfish kind of piety this +appears! Yet mayhap Hans was really devoted to his daughter, and his +resolution to part with her possibly entailed a heart-rending sacrifice; +while, be that as it may, he had the reward he sought, for now his +prison was stormed and he himself released, whereupon he hastened back +to his home at Rüdesheim with intent to fulfil his promise to God. On +reaching his schloss, however, Graf Hans was confronted by a state of +affairs which had not entered into his calculations, the fact being +that in the interim his daughter had conceived an affection for a young +nobleman called Walther, and had promised to marry him at an early date. +Here, then, was a complication indeed, and Hans was sorely puzzled to +know how to act, while the unfortunate Minna was equally perplexed, and +for many weeks she endured literal torment, her heart being racked by a +constant storm of emotions. She was deeply attached to Walther, and she +felt that she would never be able to forgive herself if she broke her +promise to him and failed to bring him the happiness which both were +confident their marriage would produce; but, on the other hand, being of +a religious disposition, she perforce respected the vow her father had +made, and thought that if it were broken he and all his household would +be doomed to eternal damnation, while even Walther might be involved in +their ruin. “Shall I make him happy in this world only that he may lose +his soul in the next?” she argued; while again and again her father +reminded her that a promise to God was of more moment than a promise +to man, and he implored her to hasten to the nearest convent and retire +behind its walls. Still she wavered, however, and still her father +pleaded with her, sometimes actually threatening to exert his parental +authority. One evening, driven to despair, Minna sought to cool her +throbbing pulses by a walk on the wind-swept heights overlooking the +Rhine at Rüdesheim. Possibly she would be able to come to a decision +there, she thought; but no! she could not bring herself to renounce her +lover, and with a cry of despair she flung herself over the steep rocks +into the swirling stream. + +A hideous death it was. The maiden was immolated on the altar of +superstition, and the people of Rüdesheim were awestruck as they thought +of the pathetic form drifting down the river. Nor did posterity fail +to remember the story, and down to recent times the boatmen of the +neighbourhood, when seeing the Rhine wax stormy at the place where Minna +was drowned, were wont to whisper that her soul was walking abroad, and +that the maiden was once again wrestling with the conflicting emotions +which had broken her heart long ago. + +Gisela + +Knight Brömser of Rüdesheim was one of those who renounced comfort and +home ties to throw in his lot with the Crusaders. He was a widower, and +possessed a beautiful daughter, Gisela. In the holy wars in Palestine +Brömser soon became distinguished for his bravery, and enterprises +requiring wit and prowess often were entrusted to him. + +Now it befell that the Christian camp was thrown into consternation +by the appearance of a huge dragon which took up its abode in the +mountainous country, the only locality whence water could be procured, +and the increasing scarcity of the supply necessitated the extirpation +of the monster. The Crusaders were powerless through fear; many of them +regarded the dragon as a punishment sent from Heaven because of the +discord and rivalry which divided them. + +At last the brave Brömser offered to attempt the dragon’s destruction, +and after a valiant struggle he succeeded in slaying it. On his way back +to the camp he was surprised by a party of Saracens, and after various +hardships was cast into a dungeon. Here he remained in misery for a long +while, and during his solitary confinement he made a vow that if he ever +returned to his native land he would found a convent and dedicate his +daughter as its first nun. + +Some time later the Saracens’ stronghold was attacked by Christians and +the knight set free. In due course he returned to Rüdesheim, where he +was welcomed by Gisela, and the day after his arrival a young knight +named Kurt of Falkenstein begged him for her hand. Gisela avowed her +love for Kurt, and Brömser sadly replied that he would willingly +accede to the young people’s wishes, for Falkenstein’s father was his +companion-in-arms, were he not bound by a solemn vow to dedicate his +daughter to the Church. When Falkenstein at last understood that the +knight’s decision was irrevocable he galloped off as if crazed. The +knight’s vow, however, was not to be fulfilled; Gisela’s reason became +unhinged, she wandered aimlessly through the corridors of the castle, +and one dark and stormy night cast herself into the Rhine and was +drowned. Brömser built the convent, but in vain did he strive to free +his conscience from remorse. Many were his benefactions, and he built +a church on the spot where one of his servants found a wooden figure of +the Crucified, which was credited with miraculous powers of healing. +But all to no purpose. Haunted by the accusing spirit of his unfortunate +daughter, he gradually languished and at last died in the same year that +the church was completed. + +Further up the river is Oestrich, adjacent to which stood the famous +convent of Gottesthal, not a vestige of which remains to mark its former +site. Its memory is preserved, however, in the following appalling +legend, the noble referred to being the head of one of the ancient +families of the neighbourhood. + +The Nun of Oestrich + +Among the inmates of Gottesthal was a nun of surpassing loveliness, +whose beauty had aroused the wild passion of a certain noble. Undeterred +by the fact of the lady being a cloistered nun, he found a way of +communicating his passion to her, and at last met her face to face, +despite bars and bolts. Eloquently he pleaded his love, swearing to free +her from her bonds, to devote his life to her if only she would listen +to his entreaties. He ended his asseverations by kneeling before the +statue of the Virgin, vowing in her name and that of the Holy Babe to be +true, and renouncing his hopes of Heaven if he should fail in the +least of his promises. The nun listened and in the end, overcome by his +fervour, consented to his wishes. + +So one night, under cover of the darkness, she stole from the sheltering +convent, forgetting her vows in the arms of her lover. Then for a while +she knew a guilty happiness, but even this was of short duration, for +the knight soon tired and grew cold toward her. At length she was left +alone, scorned and sorrowful, a prey to misery, while her betrayer rode +off in search of other loves and gaieties, spreading abroad as he went +the story of his conquest and his desertion. + +When the injured woman learned the true character of her lover her love +changed to a frenzied hate. Her whole being became absorbed in a +desire for revenge, her thoughts by day being occupied by schemes for +compassing his death, her dreams by night being reddened by his blood. +At last she plotted with a band of ruffians, promising them great +rewards if they would assassinate her enemy. They agreed and, waylaying +the noble, stabbed him fatally in the name of the woman he had wronged +and slighted, then, carrying the hacked body into the village church, +they flung it at the foot of the altar. + +That night the nun, in a passion of insensate fury, stole into the holy +place. Down the length of the church she dragged her lover’s corpse, +and out into the graveyard, tearing open his body and plucking his heart +therefrom with a fell purpose that never wavered. With a shriek she +flung it on the ground and trampled upon it in a ruthlessness of hate +terrible to contemplate. + +And the legend goes on to tell that after her death she still pursued +her lover with unquenchable hatred. It is said that when the midnight +bell is tolling she may yet be seen seeking his tomb, from which she +lifts a bloody heart. She gazes on it with eyes aflame, then, laughing +with hellish glee, flings it three times toward the skies, only to let +it fall to earth, where she treads it beneath her feet, while from +her thick white veil runnels of blood pour down and all around dreary +death-lights burn and shed a ghastly glow upon the awful spectre. + +Ingelheim: Charlemagne the Robber + +Among the multitude of legends which surround the name of Charlemagne +there can hardly be found a quainter or more interesting one than that +which has for a background the old town of Ingelheim (Angel’s Home), +where at one time the Emperor held his court. + +It is said that one night when Charlemagne had retired to rest he was +disturbed by a curious dream. In his vision he saw an angel descend on +broad white pinions to his bedside, and the heavenly visitant bade +him in the name of the Lord go forth and steal some of his neighbour’s +goods. The angel warned him ere he departed that the speedy forfeiture +of throne and life would be the penalty for disregarding the divine +injunction. + +The astonished Emperor pondered the strange message, but finally +decided that it was but a dream, and he turned on his side to finish his +interrupted slumbers. Scarcely had he closed his eyelids, however, +ere the divine messenger was again at his side, exhorting him in +still stronger terms to go forth and steal ere the night passed, and +threatening him this time with the loss of his soul if he failed to +obey. + +When the angel again disappeared the trembling monarch raised himself +in bed, sorely troubled at the difficulty of his situation. That he, so +rich, so powerful that he wanted for nothing, should be asked to go out +in the dead of night and steal his neighbour’s goods, like any of the +common robbers whom he was wont to punish so severely! No! the thing was +preposterous. Some fiend had appeared in angelic form to tempt him. And +again his weary head sank in his pillow. Rest, however, was denied him. +For a third time the majestic being appeared, and in tones still more +stern demanded his obedience. + +“If thou be not a thief,” said he, “ere yonder moon sinks in the west, +then art thou lost, body and soul, for ever.” + +The Emperor could no longer disbelieve the divine nature of the message, +and he arose sadly, dressed himself in full armour, and took up his +sword and shield, his spear and hunting-knife. Stealthily he quitted +his chamber, fearing every moment to be discovered. He imagined himself +being detected by his own court in the act of privily leaving his own +palace, as though he were a robber, and the thought was intolerable. But +his fears were unfounded; all—warders, porters, pages, grooms, yea, the +very dogs and horses—were wrapped in a profound slumber. Confirmed +in his determination by this miracle—for it could be nothing less—the +Emperor saddled his favourite horse, which alone remained awake, and set +out on his quest. + +It was a beautiful night in late autumn. The moon hung like a silver +shield in the deep blue arch of the sky, casting weird shadows on the +slopes and lighting the gloom of the ancient forests. But Charlemagne +had no eye for scenery at the moment. He was filled with grief and shame +when he thought of his mission, yet he dared not turn aside from it. To +add to his misery, he was unacquainted with the technicalities of the +profession thus thrust upon him, and did not quite know how to set about +it. + +For the first time in his life, too, he began to sympathize with the +robbers he had outlawed and persecuted, and to understand the risks and +perils of their life. Nevermore, he vowed, would he hang a man for a +trifling inroad upon his neighbour’s property. + +As he thus pursued his reflections a knight, clad from head to foot in +coal-black armour and mounted on a black steed, issued silently from a +clump of trees and rode unseen beside him. + +Charlemagne continued to meditate upon the dangers and misfortunes of a +robber’s life. + +“There is Elbegast,” said he to himself; “for a small offence I have +deprived him of land and fee, and have hunted him like an animal. He and +his knights risk their lives for every meal. He respects not the cloth +of the Church, it is true, yet methinks he is a noble fellow, for he +robs not the poor or the pilgrim, but rather enriches them with part of +his plunder. Would he were with me now!” + +His reflections were suddenly stopped, for he now observed the black +knight riding by his side. + +“It may be the Fiend,” said Charlemagne to himself, spurring his steed. + +But though he rode faster and faster, his strange companion kept pace +with him. At length the Emperor reined in his steed, and demanded to +know who the stranger might be. The black knight refused to answer his +questions, and the two thereupon engaged in furious combat. Again and +again the onslaught was renewed, till at last Charlemagne succeeded in +cleaving his opponent’s blade. + +“My life is yours,” said the black knight. + +“Nay,” replied the monarch, “what would I with your life? Tell me who +you are, for you have fought gallantly this night.” + +The stranger drew himself up and replied with simple dignity, “I am +Elbegast.” + +Charlemagne was delighted at thus having his wish fulfilled. He refused +to divulge his name, but intimated that he, too, was a robber, and +proposed that they should join forces for the night. + +“I have it,” said he. “We will rob the Emperor’s treasury. I think I +could show you the way.” + +The black knight paused. “Never yet,” he said, “have I wronged the +Emperor, and I shall not do so now. But at no great distance stands the +castle of Eggerich von Eggermond, brother-in-law to the Emperor. He has +persecuted the poor and betrayed the innocent to death. If he could, he +would take the life of the Emperor himself, to whom he owes all. Let us +repair thither.” + +Near their destination they tied their horses to a tree and strode +across the fields. On the way Charlemagne wrenched off the iron share +from a plough, remarking that it would be an excellent tool wherewith +to bore a hole in the castle wall—a remark which his comrade received +in silence, though not without surprise. When they arrived at the castle +Elbegast seemed anxious to see the ploughshare at work, for he begged +Charlemagne to begin operations. + +“I know not how to find entrance,” said the latter. + +“Let us make a hole in the wall,” the robber-knight suggested, producing +a boring instrument of great strength. The Emperor gallantly set to +work with his ploughshare, though, as the wall was ten feet thick, it +is hardly surprising that he was not successful. The robber, laughing +at his comrade’s inexperience, showed him a wide chasm which his boring +instrument had made, and bade him remain there while he fetched the +spoil. In a very short time he returned with as much plunder as he could +carry. + +“Let us get away,” said the Emperor. “We can carry no more.” + +“Nay,” said Elbegast, “but I would return, with your permission. In +the chamber occupied by Eggerich and his wife there is a wonderful +caparison, made of gold and covered with little bells. I want to prove +my skill by carrying it off.” + +“As you will,” was Charlemagne’s laughing response. + +Without a sound Elbegast reached the bedchamber of his victim, and was +about to raise the caparison when he suddenly stumbled and all the bells +rang out clearly. + +“My sword, my sword!” cried Eggerich, springing up, while Elbegast sank +back into the shadows. + +“Nay,” said the lady, trying to calm her husband. “You did but hear the +wind, or perhaps it was an evil dream. Thou hast had many evil dreams +of late, Eggerich; methinks there is something lies heavily on thy mind. +Wilt thou not tell thy wife?” + +Elbegast listened intently while with soft words and caresses the lady +strove to win her husband’s secret. + +“Well,” said Eggerich at last in sullen tones, “we have laid a plot, my +comrades and I. To-morrow we go to Ingelheim, and ere noon Charlemagne +shall be slain and his lands divided among us.” + +“What!” shrieked the lady. “Murder my brother! That will you never +while I have strength to warn him.” But the villain, with a brutal oath, +struck her so fiercely in the face that the blood gushed out, and she +sank back unconscious. + +The robber was not in a position to avenge the cruel act, but he crawled +nearer the couch and caught some of the blood in his gauntlet, for a +sign to the Emperor. When he was once more outside the castle he told +his companion all that had passed and made as though to return. + +“I will strike off his head,” said he. “The Emperor is no friend of +mine, but I love him still.” + +“What is the Emperor to us?” cried Charlemagne. “Are you mad that +you risk our lives for the Emperor?” The black knight looked at him +solemnly. + +“An we had not sworn friendship,” said he, “your life should pay for +these words. Long live the Emperor!” Charlemagne, secretly delighted +with the loyalty of the outlawed knight, recommended him to seek the +Emperor on the morrow and warn him of his danger. But Elbegast, fearing +the gallows, would not consent to this; so his companion promised to +do it in his stead and meet him afterward in the forest. With that they +parted, the Emperor returning to his palace, where he found all as he +had left it. + +In the morning he hastily summoned his council, told them of his +dream and subsequent adventures, and of the plot against his life. The +paladins were filled with horror and indignation, and Charlemagne’s +secretary suggested that it was time preparations were being made for +the reception of the assassins. Each band of traitors as they arrived +was seized and cast into a dungeon. Though apparently clad as peaceful +citizens, they were all found to be armed. The last band to arrive was +led by Eggerich himself. Great was his dismay when he saw his followers +led off in chains, and angrily he demanded to know the reason for such +treatment. + +Charlemagne thereupon charged him with treason, and Eggerich flung +down the gauntlet in defiance. It was finally arranged that the Emperor +should provide a champion to do battle with the traitor, the combat to +take place at sunrise on the following morning. + +A messenger rode to summon Elbegast, but he had much difficulty in +convincing the black knight that it was not a plot to secure his +undoing. + +“And what would the Emperor with me?” he demanded of the messenger, as +at length they rode toward Ingelheim. + +“To do battle to the death with a deadly foe of our lord the +Emperor—Eggerich von Eggermond.” + +“God bless the Emperor!” exclaimed Elbegast fervently, raising his +helmet. “My life is at his service.” Charlemagne greeted the knight +affectionately and asked what he had to tell concerning the conspiracy, +whereupon Sir Elbegast fearlessly denounced the villainous Eggerich, +and said he, “I am ready to prove my assertions upon his body.” The +challenge was accepted, and at daybreak the following morning a fierce +combat took place. The issue, however, was never in doubt: Sir Elbegast +was victorious, the false Eggerich was slain, and his body hanged on a +gibbet fifty feet high. The emperor now revealed himself to the black +knight both as his companion-robber and as the messenger who had brought +him the summons to attend his Emperor. + +Charlemagne’s sister, the widow of Eggerich, he gave to Sir Elbegast +in marriage, and with her the broad lands which had belonged to the +vanquished traitor. Thenceforward the erstwhile robber and his sovereign +were fast friends. + +The place where these strange happenings befell was called Ingelheim, in +memory of the celestial visitor, and Ingelheim it remains to this day. + +The Knight and the Yellow Dwarf + +Elfeld is the principal town of the Rheingau, and in ancient times was a +Roman station called Alta Villa. In the fourteenth century it was +raised to the rank of a town by Ludwig of Bavaria, and placed under the +stewardship of the Counts of Elz. + +These Counts of Elz dwelt in the castle by the river’s edge, and of +one of them, Ferdinand, the following tale is told. This knight loved +pleasure and wild living, and would indulge his whims and passions +without regard to cost. Before long he found that as a result of his +extravagance his possessions had dwindled away almost to nothing. +He knew himself a poor man, yet his desire for pleasure was still +unsatisfied. Mortified and angry, he hid himself in the castle of Elz +and spent his time lamenting his poverty and cursing his fate. While in +this frame of mind the news reached him of a tournament that the Emperor +purposed holding in celebration of his wedding. To this were summoned +the chivalry and beauty of Germany from far and near, and soon knights +and ladies were journeying to take their part in the tourney, the +feasting and dancing. + +Ferdinand realized that he was precluded from joining his brother nobles +and was inconsolable. He became the prey of rage and shame, and at last +resolved to end a life condemned to ignominy. So one day he sought +a height from which to hurl himself, but ere he could carry out his +purpose there appeared before him a dwarf, clad in yellow from top to +toe. With a leer and a laugh he looked up at the frantic knight, +and asked why the richest noble in the land should be seeking death. +Something in the dwarf’s tone caused Ferdinand to listen and suddenly to +hope for he knew not what miracle. His eyes gleamed as the dwarf went on +to speak of sacks of gold, and when the little creature asked for but +a single hair in return he laughed aloud and offered him a hundred. +But the dwarf smiled and shook his head. The noble bowed with a polite +gesture, and as he bent his head the little man reached up and plucked +out but one hair, and, lo! a sack of gold straightway appeared. At this +Ferdinand thought that he must be dreaming, but the sack and gold pieces +were real enough to the touch, albeit the dwarf had vanished. Then, in +great haste, Ferdinand bought rich and costly clothing and armour, also +a snow-white steed caparisoned with steel and purple trappings, spending +on these more than twenty sacks of gold, for the dwarf returned to the +noble many times and on each occasion gave a sack of gold in exchange +for one hair. At last Ferdinand set out for the tournament, where, +besides carrying off the richest prizes and winning the heart of many +a fair lady, he attracted the notice of the Emperor, who invited him to +stay at his court. + +And there the knight resumed his former passions and pleasures, living +the wildest of lives and thinking no price too high for careless +enjoyment. And each night, ere the hour of twelve finished striking, the +yellow dwarf appeared with a sack of gold, taking his usual payment of +only one hair. This wild life now began to tell upon Ferdinand. He fell +an easy prey to disease, which the doctors could not cure, and to the +pricks of a late-roused conscience, which no priests could soothe. +All his wasted past rose before him. Day and night his manifold sins +appeared before him like avenging furies, until at last, frenzied by +this double torture of mind and body, he called upon the Devil to aid +him in putting an end to his miserable existence, for so helpless was +he, he could neither reach nor use a weapon. Then at his side appeared +once more the dwarf, smiling and obliging as usual. He proffered, not a +sack of gold this time, but a rope of woven hair, the hair which he +had taken from Ferdinand in exchange for his gold. In the morning the +miserable noble was found hanging by that rope. + +Mainz + +Mainz, the old Maguntiacum, was the principal fortress on the Upper +Rhine in Roman times. It was here that Crescentius, one of the first +preachers of the Christian faith on the Rhine, regarded by local +tradition as the pupil of St. Peter and first Archbishop of Mainz, +suffered martyrdom in the reign of Trajan in A.D. 103. He was a +centurion in the Twenty-second Legion, which had been engaged under +Titus in the destruction of Jerusalem, and it is supposed that +he preached the Gospel in Mainz for thirty-three years before his +execution. Here also it was that the famous vision of Constantine, the +cross in the sky, was vouchsafed to the Christian conqueror as he went +forth to meet the forces of Maxentius. The field of the Holy Cross +in the vicinity of Mainz is still pointed out as the spot where this +miracle took place. The city flourished under the Carlovingians, and was +in a high state of prosperity at the time of Bishop Hatto, whose name, +as we have seen, has been held up to obloquy in many legends. + +During the fourteenth century Mainz shared the power and glory of the +other cities of the Rhenish Confederation, then in the full flush of its +heyday. Its cathedral witnesses to its aforetime civic splendour. This +magnificent building took upward of four hundred years to complete, and +its wondrous brazen doors and sumptuous chapels are among the finest +ecclesiastical treasures of Germany. + +The Fiddler + +In the cathedral of Mainz was an image of the Virgin, on whose feet +were golden slippers, the gift of some wealthy votary. Of this image the +following legend is told: + +A poor ragged fiddler had spent the whole of one bitter winter morning +playing through the dreary streets without any taking pity upon his +plight. As he came to the cathedral he felt an overmastering desire +to enter and pour out his distress in the presence of his Maker. So he +crept in, a tattered and forlorn figure. He prayed aloud, chanting his +woes in the same tones which he used in the street to touch the hearts +of the passers-by. + +As he prayed a sense of solitude came upon him, and he realized that the +shadowy aisles were empty. A sudden whim seized him. He would play +to the golden-shod Virgin and sing her one of his sweetest songs. And +drawing nearer he lifted his old fiddle to his shoulder, and into +his playing he put all his longing and pain; his quavering voice grew +stronger beneath the stress of his fervour. It was as if the springtime +had come about him; life was before him, gay and joyful, sorrow and pain +were unknown. He sank to his knees before the image, and as he knelt, +suddenly the Virgin lifted her foot and, loosening her golden slipper, +cast it into the old man’s ragged bosom, as if giving alms for his +music. + +The poor old man, astounded at the miracle, told himself that the +Blessed Virgin knew how to pay a poor devil who amused her. Overcome by +gratitude, he thanked the giver with all his heart. + +He would fain have kept the treasure, but he was starving, and it seemed +to have been given him to relieve his distress. He hurried out to the +market and went into a goldsmith’s shop to offer his prize. But the +man recognized it at once. Then was the poor old fiddler worse off than +before, for now he was charged with the dreadful crime of sacrilege. The +old man told the story of the miracle over and over again, but he was +laughed at for an impudent liar. He must not hope, they told him, for +anything but death, and in the short space of one hour he was tried and +condemned and on his way to execution. + +The place of death was just opposite the great bronze doors of the +cathedral which sheltered the Virgin. “If I must die,” said the fiddler, +“I would sing one song to my old fiddle at the feet of the Virgin and +pray one prayer before her. I ask this in her blessed name, and you +cannot refuse me.” + +They could not deny the prisoner a dying prayer, and, closely guarded, +the tattered figure once more entered the cathedral which had been +so disastrous to him. He approached the altar of the Virgin, his eyes +filling with tears as again he held his old fiddle in his hands. Then +he played and sang as before, and again a breath as of springtime stole +into the shadowy cathedral and life seemed glad and beautiful. When the +music ceased, again the Virgin lifted a foot and softly she flung her +other slipper into the fiddler’s bosom, before the astonished gaze of +the guards. Everyone there saw the miracle and could not but testify to +the truth of the old man’s former statement; he was at once freed from +his bonds and carried before the city fathers, who ordered his release. + +And it is said that, in memory of the miracle of the Virgin, the priests +provided for the old fiddler for the rest of his days. In return for +this the old man surrendered the golden slippers, which, it is also +said, the reverend fathers carefully locked away in the treasure-chest, +lest the Virgin should again be tempted to such extravagant almsgiving. + +The Maiden’s Leap + +Once in the Hardt mountains there dwelt a giant whose fortress commanded +a wide view of the surrounding country. Near by, a lovely lady, +as daring in the hunt as she was skilful at spinning, inhabited an +abandoned castle. One day the twain chanced to meet, and the giant +thereupon resolved to possess the beauteous damsel. + +So he sent his servant to win her with jewels, but the deceitful fellow +intended to hide the treasures in a forest. + +There he met a young man musing in a disconsolate attitude, who confided +that poverty alone kept him from avowing how passionately he adored his +sweetheart. The shrewd messenger realized that this rustic’s charmer was +the same fair lady who had beguiled his master’s soul. He solicited the +youth’s aid in burying the treasures promising him a share in the spoil +sufficient to enable him to wed his beloved. + +In a solitary spot they dug a deep hole, when suddenly the robber +assailed his companion, who thrust him aside with great violence. In +his rage the youth was about to stab the wretch, when he craved pardon, +promising to reveal a secret of more value than the jewels he had +intended to conceal. + +The youth stayed his hand, and the servant related how his master, for +love of the pretty mistress of the castle, had sent him to gain her +favour. + +Conscious of his worth, the ardent youth scornfully declared that he +feared no rival, then, seizing half of the treasure, he left the wretch +to his own devices. + +Meanwhile the giant impatiently awaited his servant’s return. At length, +tired of waiting, he decided to visit the lady and declare in person his +passion for her. Upon his arrival at the castle the maid announced him, +and it was with a secret feeling of dread that the lady went to meet her +unwelcome visitor. More than ever captivated by her charms, the giant +asked the fair maid to become his wife. On being refused, he threatened +to kill her and demolish the castle. + +The poor lady was terrified and she tearfully implored the giant’s +mercy, promising to bestow all her treasure upon him. Her maids, too, +begged him to spare their mistress’s life, but he only laughed as they +knelt before him. Ultimately the hapless maiden consented to marry her +inexorable wooer, but she attached a novel condition: she would ride a +race with her relentless suitor, and should he overtake her she would +accompany him to his castle. But the resolute maiden had secretly vowed +to die rather than submit to such degradation. Choosing her fleetest +steed, she vaulted nimbly into the saddle and galloped away. Her +persecutor pursued close behind, straining every nerve to come up with +her. Shuddering at the very thought of becoming his bride, she chose +death as the only alternative. So she spurred her horse onward to the +edge of a deep chasm. + +The noble animal neighed loudly as though conscious of impending danger. +The pursuer laughed grimly as he thought to seize his prize, but his +laughter was turned to rage when the horse with its fair burden bounded +lightly across the chasm, landing safely on the other side. + +The enraged tyrant now beheld his intended victim kneeling in prayer and +her steed calmly grazing among the green verdure by her side. He strode +furiously hither and thither, searching for a crossing, and suddenly +a shout of joy told the affrighted maid that he had discovered some +passage. + +His satisfaction, however, was short-lived, for just then a strange +knight with drawn sword rushed upon the giant. The maid watched the +contest with breathless fear, and many times she thought that the tyrant +would slay her protector. At last in one such moment the giant stooped +to clutch a huge boulder with which he meant to overwhelm his adversary, +when, overreaching himself, he slipped and fell headlong down the steep +rocks. + +Then the maid hastened to thank her rescuer, and great was her surprise +to discover in the gallant knight the youth whose former poverty had +kept him from wooing her. They returned to the castle together, and it +was not long ere they celebrated their wedding. + +Both lived long and happily, and their union was blessed with many +children. The rock is still known as “The Maiden’s Leap.” + +The Wonderful Road + +Near Homburg, on the pinnacle of a lofty mountain, are the ruins of +Falkenstein Castle, access to which is gained by a steep, winding path. + +Within the castle walls there once dwelt a maiden of surpassing beauty. +Many suitors climbed the stern acclivity to woo this charming damsel, +but her stern father repelled one and all. Only Kuno of Sayn was firm +enough to persevere in his suit against the rebuffs of the stubborn Lord +of Falkenstein, and in the end he was rewarded with the smiles and kind +looks of the fair maid. + +One evening, as they watched the sun set, Kuno pointed out to the maiden +where his own castle was situated. The beauty of the landscape beneath +them made its appeal to their souls, their hands touched and clasped, +and their hearts throbbed with the passion felt by both. A few days +later Kuno climbed the steep path, resolved to declare his love to the +damsel’s father. Fatigued with the ascent, he rested for a brief space +at the entrance to the castle ere mounting to the tower. + +The Lord of Falkenstein and his daughter had beheld Kuno’s journey up +the rugged path from the windows of the tower, and the father demanded +for what purpose he had come thither. With a passionate glance at the +blushing maid, the knight of Sayn declared that he had come to ask the +noble lord for his daughter’s hand in marriage. After meditating on the +knight’s proposal for some time, the Lord of Falkenstein pretended to +be willing to give his consent—but he attached a condition. “I desire +a carriage-drive to be made from the lowland beneath to the gate of my +castle, and if you can accomplish this my daughter’s hand is yours—but +the feat must be achieved by to-morrow morning!” + +The knight protested that such a task was utterly impossible for anyone +to perform, even in a month, but all to no purpose. He then resolved to +seek some way whereby he could outwit the stubborn lord, for he would +not willingly resign his lady-love. He left the tower, vowing to do his +utmost to perform the seemingly impossible task, and as he descended the +rocky declivity his beloved waved her handkerchief to encourage him. + +Now Kuno of Sayn possessed both copper and silver mines, and arriving at +his castle he summoned his overseer. The knight explained the nature of +the task which he desired to be undertaken, but the overseer declared +that all his miners, working day and night, could not make the roadway +within many months. + +Dismayed, Kuno left his castle and wandered into a dense forest, driven +thither by his perturbed condition. Night cast dusky shadows over +the foliage, and the perplexed lover cursed the obstinate Lord of +Falkenstein as he forced his way through the undergrowth. + +Suddenly an old man of strange and wild appearance stood in his path. +Kuno at once knew him for an earth-spirit, one of those mysterious +guardians of the treasures of the soil who are jealous of the incursion +of mankind into their domain. + +“Kuno of Sayn,” he said, “do you desire to outwit the Lord of +Falkenstein and win his beauteous daughter?” + +Although startled and taken aback by the strange apparition, Kuno +hearkened eagerly to its words as showing an avenue of escape from the +dilemma in which he found himself. + +“Assuredly I do,” he replied, “but how do you propose I should +accomplish it?” + +“Cease to persecute me and my brethren, Kuno, and we shall help you to +realize your wishes,” was the reply. + +“Persecute you!” exclaimed Kuno. “In what manner do I trouble you at +all, strange being?” + +“You have opened up a silver mine in our domain,” said the earth-spirit, +“and as you work it both morning and afternoon we have but little +opportunity for repose. How, I ask you, can we slumber when your men +keep knocking on the partitions of our house with their picks?” + +“What, then, would you have, my worthy friend?” asked Kuno, scarcely +able to suppress a smile at the wistful way in which the gnome made his +complaint. “Tell me, I pray you, how I can oblige you.” + +“By instructing your miners to work in the mine during the hours of +morning only,” replied the gnome. “By so doing I and my brothers will +obtain the rest we so much require.” + +“It shall be as you say,” said Kuno; “you have my word for it, good +friend.” + +“In that case,” said the earth-spirit, “we shall assist you in turn. Go +to the castle of Falkenstein after dawn to-morrow morning, and you shall +witness the result of our friendship and gratitude.” + +Next morning the sun had scarcely risen when Kuno saddled his steed and +hied him to the heights of Falkenstein. The gnome had kept his word. +There, above and in front of him, he beheld a wide and lofty roadway +leading to the castle-gate from the thoroughfare below. With joy in +his heart he set spurs to his horse and dashed up the steep but smooth +acclivity. At the gate he encountered the old Lord of Falkenstein and +his daughter, who had been apprised of the miracle that had happened +and had come out to view the new roadway. The knight of Sayn related his +adventure with the earth-spirit, upon which the Lord of Falkenstein told +him how a terrible thunderstorm mingled with unearthly noises had raged +throughout the night. Terrified, he and his daughter had spent the +hours of darkness in prayer, until with the approach of dawn some of the +servitors had plucked up courage and ventured forth, when the wonderful +avenue up the side of the mountain met their startled gaze. + +Kuno and his lady-love were duly united. Indeed, so terrified was the +old lord by the supernatural manifestations of the dreadful night he had +just passed through that he was incapable of further resistance to the +wishes of the young people. The wonderful road is still to be seen, and +is marvelled at by all who pass that way. + +Osric the Lion + +Other tales besides the foregoing have their scene laid in the castle +of Falkenstein, notable among them being the legend of Osric the Lion, +embodied in the following weird ballad from the pen of Monk Lewis: + + + Swift roll the Rhine’s billows, and water the plains, + Where Falkenstein Castle’s majestic remains + Their moss-covered turrets still rear: + Oft loves the gaunt wolf ’midst the ruins to prowl, + What time from the battlements pours the lone owl + Her plaints in the passenger’s ear. + + No longer resound through the vaults of yon hall + The song of the minstrel, and mirth of the ball; + Those pleasures for ever are fled: + There now dwells the bat with her light-shunning brood, + There ravens and vultures now clamour for food, + And all is dark, silent, and dread! + + Ha! dost thou not see, by the moon’s trembling light + Directing his steps, where advances a knight, + His eye big with vengeance and fate? + ’Tis Osric the Lion his nephew who leads, + And swift up the crackling old staircase proceeds, + Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate. + + Now round him young Carloman, casting his eyes, + Surveys the sad scene with dismay and surprise, + And fear steals the rose from his cheeks. + His spirits forsake him, his courage is flown; + The hand of Sir Osric he clasps in his own, + And while his voice falters he speaks. + + “Dear uncle,” he murmurs, “why linger we here? + ’Tis late, and these chambers are damp and are drear, + Keen blows through the ruins the blast! + Oh! let us away and our journey pursue: + Fair Blumenberg’s Castle will rise on our view, + Soon as Falkenstein forest be passed. + + “Why roll thus your eyeballs? why glare they so wild? + Oh! chide not my weakness, nor frown, that a child + Should view these apartments with dread; + For know that full oft have I heard from my nurse, + There still on this castle has rested a curse, + Since innocent blood here was shed. + + “She said, too, bad spirits, and ghosts all in white, + Here used to resort at the dead time of night, + Nor vanish till breaking of day; + And still at their coming is heard the deep tone + Of a bell loud and awful—hark! hark! ’twas a groan! + Good uncle, oh! let us away!” + + “Peace, serpent!” thus Osric the Lion replies, + While rage and malignity gleam in his eyes; + “Thy journey and life here must close: + Thy castle’s proud turrets no more shalt thou see; + No more betwixt Blumenberg’s lordship and me + Shalt thou stand, and my greatness oppose. + + “My brother lies breathless on Palestine’s plains, + And thou once removed, to his noble domains + My right can no rival deny: + Then, stripling, prepare on my dagger to bleed; + No succour is near, and thy fate is decreed, + Commend thee to Jesus and die!” + + Thus saying, he seizes the boy by the arm, + Whose grief rends the vaulted hall’s roof, while alarm + His heart of all fortitude robs; + His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears, + He falls at his uncle’s feet, bathes them with tears, + And “Spare me! oh, spare me!” he sobs. + + But vainly the miscreant he tries to appease; + And vainly he clings in despair round his knees, + And sues in soft accents for life; + Unmoved by his sorrow, unmoved by his prayer, + Fierce Osric has twisted his hand in his hair, + And aims at his bosom a knife. + + But ere the steel blushes with blood, strange to tell! + Self-struck, does the tongue of the hollow-toned bell + The presence of midnight declare: + And while with amazement his hair bristles high, + Hears Osric a voice, loud and terrible, cry, + In sounds heart-appalling, “Forbear!” + + Straight curses and shrieks through the chamber resound, + Shrieks mingled with laughter; the walls shake around; + The groaning roof threatens to fall; + Loud bellows the thunder, blue lightnings still flash; + The casements they clatter; chains rattle; doors clash, + And flames spread their waves through the hall. + + The clamour increases, the portals expand! + O’er the pavement’s black marble now rushes a band + Of demons, all dropping with gore, + In visage so grim, and so monstrous in height, + That Carloman screams, as they burst on his sight, + And sinks without sense on the floor. + + Not so his fell uncle:—he sees that the throng + Impels, wildly shrieking, a female along, + And well the sad spectre he knows! + The demons with curses her steps onwards urge; + Her shoulders, with whips formed of serpents, they scourge, + And fast from her wounds the blood flows. + + “Oh! welcome!” she cried, and her voice spoke despair; + “Oh! welcome, Sir Osric, the torments to share, + Of which thou hast made me the prey. + Twelve years have I languished thy coming to see; + Ulrilda, who perished dishonoured by thee + Now calls thee to anguish away! + + “Thy passion once sated, thy love became hate; + Thy hand gave the draught which consigned me to fate, + Nor thought I death lurked in the bowl: + Unfit for the grave, stained with lust, swelled with pride, + Unblessed, unabsolved, unrepenting, I died, + And demons straight seized on my soul. + + “Thou com’st, and with transport I feel my breast swell: + Full long have I suffered the torments of hell, + And now shall its pleasures be mine! + See, see, how the fiends are athirst for thy blood! + Twelve years has my panting heart furnished their food. + Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine!” + + She said, and the demons their prey flocked around; + They dashed him, with horrible yell, on the ground, + And blood down his limbs trickled fast; + His eyes from their sockets with fury they tore; + They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore, + And his heart was Ulrilda’s repast. + + But now the grey cock told the coming of day! + The fiends with their victim straight vanished away, + And Carloman’s heart throbbed again; + With terror recalling the deeds of the night, + He rose, and from Falkenstein speeding his flight, + Soon reached his paternal domain. + + Since then, all with horror the ruins behold; + No shepherd, though strayed be a lamb from his fold, + No mother, though lost be her child, + The fugitive dares in these chambers to seek, + Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek + In accents most fearful and wild! + + Oh! shun them, ye pilgrims! though late be the hour, + Though loud howl the tempest, and fast fall the shower; + From Falkenstein Castle begone! + There still their sad banquet hell’s denizens share; + There Osric the Lion still raves in despair: + Breathe a prayer for his soul, and pass on! + +The Conference of the Dead + +A legend of later date than most of the Rhineland tales, but still +of sufficient interest to merit inclusion among these, is that which +attaches to the palace of Biberich. Biberich lies on the right bank +of the river, not very far from Mainz, and its palace was built at the +beginning of the eighteenth century by George Augustus, Duke of Nassau. + +The legend states that not long after the erection of the palace a +Duchess of Nassau died there, and lay in state as befitted her rank in a +room hung with black velvet and lighted with the glimmer of many tapers. + +Outside in the great hall a captain and forty-nine men of the Duke’s +bodyguard kept watch over the chamber of death. + +It was midnight. The captain of the guard, weary with his vigil, had +gone to the door of the palace for a breath of air. Just as the last +stroke of the hour died away he beheld the approach of a chariot, drawn +by six magnificent coal-black horses, which, to his amazement, drew up +before the palace. A lady, veiled and clad in white, alighted and made +as though she would enter the building. But the captain barred the way +and challenged the bold intruder. + +“Who are you,” he said sternly, “who seek to enter the palace at this +hour? My orders are to let none pass.” + +“I was first lady of the bedchamber to our late Duchess,” replied +the lady in cold, imperious tones; “therefore I demand the right of +entrance.” + +As she spoke she flung aside her veil, and the captain, instantly +recognizing her, permitted her to enter the palace without further +hindrance. + +“What can she want here at this time of night?” he said to his +lieutenant, when the lady had passed into the death-chamber. + +“Who can say?” replied the lieutenant. “Unless, perchance,” he mused, +“we were to look.” + +The captain took the hint, crept softly to the keyhole, and applied his +eye thereto. “Ha!” he said, shrinking back in amazement and terror, and +beckoning to his lieutenant. “In Satan’s name what have we here?” + +The lieutenant hastened to the chamber door, full of alarm and +curiosity. Putting his eye to the keyhole, he also ejaculated, turned +pale, and trembled. One by one the soldiers of the guard followed their +officers’ example, like them to retreat with exclamations of horror. And +little wonder; for they perceived the dead Duchess sitting up in bed, +moving her pale lips as though in conversation, while by her side stood +the lady of the bedchamber, pale as she, and clad in grave-clothes. For +a time the ghastly conversation continued, no words being audible to +the terror-stricken guard; but from time to time a hollow sound reached +them, like the murmur of distant thunder. At length the visitor emerged +from the chamber, and returned to her waiting coach. Duty, rather than +inclination, obliged the gallant captain to hand her into her carriage, +and this task he performed with praiseworthy politeness, though his +heart sank within him at the touch of her icy fingers, and his tongue +refused to return the adieu her pale lips uttered. With a flourish of +whips the chariot set off. Sparks flew from the hoofs of the horses, +smoke and flame burst from their nostrils, and such was their speed that +in a moment they were lost to sight. The captain, sorely puzzled by the +events of the night, returned to his men, who were huddled together at +the end of the hall furthest from the death-chamber. + +On the morrow, ere the guard had had time to inform the Duke of these +strange happenings, news reached the palace that the first lady of the +bedchamber had died on the previous night at twelve o’clock. It was +supposed that sorrow for her mistress had caused her death. + +Eppstein + +Of the castle of Eppstein, whose ruins still remain in a valley of the +Taunus Mountains, north of Biberich, the following curious story is +told. + +Sir Eppo, a brave and chivalrous knight—and a wealthy one to boot, as +were his successors of Eppstein for many generations—was one day hunting +in the forest, when he became separated from his attendants and lost his +way. In the heat of the chase his sense of direction had failed him, and +though he sounded his bugle loud and long there was no reply. + +Tired out at length with wandering hither and thither, he rested himself +in a pleasant glade, and was surprised and charmed to hear a woman’s +voice singing a mournful melody in soft, clear tones. It was a sheer +delight to Sir Eppo to listen to a voice of such exquisite purity, yet +admiration was not the only feeling it roused in his breast. There was +a note of sadness and appeal in the song, and what were knighthood worth +if it heeded not the voice of fair lady in distress? Sir Eppo sprang to +his feet, forgetting his own plight in the ardour of chivalry, and set +off in the direction from which the voice seemed to come. The way was +difficult, and he had to cut a passage with his sword through the dense +thicket that separated him from the singer. At length, guided by the +melancholy notes, he arrived before a grotto, in which he beheld a +maiden of surpassing beauty, but of sorrowful mien. When she saw the +handsome knight gazing at her with mingled surprise and admiration +she ceased her song and implored his aid. A cruel giant, she said, had +seized her and brought her thither. At the moment he was asleep, but he +had tied her to a rock so that she might not escape. + +Her beauty and grace, her childlike innocence, her piteous plight, moved +Sir Eppo strangely. First pity, then a stronger emotion dawned in his +breast. He severed her bonds with a stroke of his keen falchion. + +“What can I do to aid thee, gentle maiden?” he said. “You have but to +command me; henceforth I am thy knight, to do battle for thee.” + +The damsel blushed at the courteous words, but she lifted her eyes +bravely to the champion who had so unexpectedly appeared to protect her. + +“Return to my castle,” she said, “and there thou wilt find a consecrated +net. Bring it hither. If I lay it upon the giant he will become as weak +as a babe and will be easily overcome.” + +Eagerly the young knight obeyed the command, and having found the net +according to the damsel’s directions, he made all haste to return. At +the grotto he paused and hid himself, for the strident voice of the +giant could be heard within. Presently the monster emerged, and +departed in search of reeds wherewith to make a pipe. No sooner had he +disappeared than the maiden issued from the grotto, and Sir Eppo came +out of his concealment and gave her the consecrated net. She spoke a few +words of heartfelt gratitude, and then hurried with her treasure to the +top of the mountain, where she knew the giant had intended to go. + +Arrived at her destination, she laid down the net and covered it with +moss, leaves, and sweet-smelling herbs. While engaged in her task the +giant came up, and the damsel smilingly told him that she was preparing +a couch whereon he might take some rest. Gratified at her solicitude, he +stretched himself unsuspectingly on the fragrant pile. In a moment the +damsel, uttering the name of the Trinity, threw a portion of the net +over him, so that he was completely enveloped. Immediately there arose +such loud oaths and lamentations that the damsel ran in terror to the +knight, who had now come upon the scene. + +“Let us fly,” she said, “lest he should escape and pursue us.” + +But Sir Eppo strode to the place where the howling monster lay entangled +in the net, and with a mighty effort rolled him over a steep precipice, +where he was instantly killed. + +The story ends happily, for Sir Eppo and the maiden he had rescued were +married soon after; and on the spot where they had first met was raised +the castle of Eppstein. It is said that the bones of the giant may still +be seen there. + +Flörsheim: The Shepherd Knight + +In the now ruined castle of Wilenstein, overlooking the wooded heights +of the Westrich, dwelt Sir Bodo of Flörsheim and his fair daughter +Adeline. The maiden’s beauty, no less than her father’s wealth, +attracted suitors in plenty from the neighbouring strongholds, but the +spirit of love had not yet awakened in her bosom and each and all were +repulsed with disconcerting coldness and indifference, and they left the +schloss vowing that the lovely Adeline was utterly heartless. + +One day there came to Sir Bodo a youth of pleasing manners and +appearance, picturesquely clad in rustic garb, who begged that he might +enter the knight’s service in the capacity of shepherd. Though he hinted +that he was of noble birth, prevented by circumstances from revealing +his identity, yet he based his request solely on his merits as a tender +of flocks and herds, and as Sir Bodo found that he knew his work well +and that his intelligence was beyond question, he gave him the desired +post. As time went on Sir Bodo saw no reason to regret his action, for +his flocks and herds prospered as they had never done before, and none +but good reports reached him concerning his servant. + +Meantime Adeline heard constant references to Otto (as the shepherd was +called) both from her father and her waiting-women. The former praised +his industry and abilities, while the latter spoke of his handsome looks +and melancholy air, his distinction and good breeding, and the mystery +which surrounded his identity. All this excited the maiden’s curiosity, +and her pity was aroused as well, for it seemed that the stranger had +a secret grief, which sometimes found vent in tears when he thought +himself unobserved. + +Adeline saw him for the first time one afternoon while she was walking +in the castle grounds. At sight of her he paused as though spell-bound, +and the maiden blushed under his earnest scrutiny. A moment later, +however, he recovered himself, and courteously asked her pardon for his +seeming rudeness. + +“Forgive me, fair lady,” said he; “it seemed that I saw a ghost in your +sweet face.” + +Adeline, who had recognized him from the descriptions she had received, +now made herself known to him, and graciously granted him permission to +walk with her to the castle. His offence was readily pardoned when he +declared that the cause of it was a fancied resemblance between Adeline +and a dear sister whom death had lately robbed him of. Ere they parted +the young people were already deeply in love with one another, and had +promised to meet again on the following day. The spot where they had +first encountered each other became a trysting-place which was daily +hallowed by fresh vows and declarations. + +On one such occasion Otto told his beloved the story of his early life +and revealed to her his identity. It was indeed a harrowing tale, and +one which drew a full meed of sympathy from the maiden. + +Otto and his sister—she whose likeness in Adeline’s face had first +arrested his attention—had been brought up by a cruel stepfather, who +had treated them so brutally that Otto was at length forced to flee +to the castle of an uncle, who received him kindly and gave him an +education befitting his knightly station. A few years later he had +returned home, to find his sister dead—slain by the ill-treatment of her +stepfather, who, it was even said, had hastened her death with poison. +Otto, overcome with grief, confronted her murderer, heaped abuse on +his head, and demanded his share of the property. The only answer was +a sneer, and the youth, maddened with grief and indignation, drew his +sword and plunged it in his tormentor’s heart. A moment later he saw +the probable consequences of his hasty action, concealed himself in +the woods, and thenceforth became a fugitive, renounced even by his own +uncle, and obliged to remain in hiding in order to escape certain death +at the hands of the murdered man’s kindred. In a fortunate moment he had +chanced to reach Flörsheim, where, in his shepherd’s guise, he judged +himself secure. + +Adeline, deeply moved by the tale, sought to put her sympathy in the +practical form of advice. + +“Dear Otto,” she said, “let us go to my father and tell him all. We must +dispatch an embassy to your uncle in Thuringen, to see whether he +may not consent to a division of the property. Take courage, and your +rightful position may yet be assured.” + +So it was arranged that on the following day the lovers should seek Sir +Bodo and ask his advice in the matter. But alas! ere their plans could +be carried out Bodo himself sent for his daughter and informed her that +he had chosen a husband for her, Sir Siegebert, a wealthy and noble +knight, just returned from Palestine. + +In vain Adeline wept and implored. Her father remained adamant, and +at last lost his temper and confined her within strict bounds till she +should consent to the marriage. Sir Siegebert was but ill pleased +with her pale cheeks and haggard eyes and her obvious distaste for his +society; and seeing this, Bodo was more than ever wroth, and swore to +send her to a nunnery if she did not greet her lover with a better face. + +Day after day Otto waited at the trysting-place, yet his mistress did +not appear, nor did she send him any message. He was filled with anguish +at the thought that her ardent vows were forgotten, and wandered through +the woods like one distraught, seeking solace and finding none. At +length news reached him that on the morrow his beloved was to wed with +the knight Siegebert, and his last shred of hope vanished. He made his +way to a bridge where he had often watched for Adeline’s coming, and +with a prayer flung himself into the turbid stream beneath. + +Meanwhile the unceasing cruelty to which Adeline had been subjected had +reduced her to a state of terrified submission, so that, scarce knowing +what she did, she consented to wed Siegebert. At length all was in +readiness for the ceremony; the bells were ringing gaily, the feast was +spread, and the bride arrayed in her wedding dress. Unseen she slipped +out by a little postern gate and made her way quickly to the hut of her +shepherd. Alas! it stood empty. In despair she ran hither and thither, +calling his name in anguished accents. Suddenly she espied some +shepherds endeavouring to draw something out of the water. A strange +instinct told her the truth, and she crept closer to the little group. +One glance sufficed to show her that it was her lover’s corpse which was +being taken ashore. No need to ask how he had perished, or why! With a +wild cry she flung herself into the stream where Otto had met his death, +and was speedily overwhelmed. + +The bridal party sought high and low for the bride, but she was nowhere +to be seen. Bodo loudly vented his indignation at his daughter’s +rebelliousness, but his anger was changed to mourning when the body +of the drowned maiden was washed ashore a few days later. Too late he +repented him of his rash folly. All his lamentations could not restore +poor Adeline to life. He caused the lovers to be buried together, and +spent the remainder of his days in prayer and penitence. + +Frankfort + +Frankfort, the castle of the Franks, was, it is said, founded by +Charlemagne at the time of the overthrow of the pagan Saxons, which has +already been recorded in the Song of the Saxons. Here Charlemagne +was led across the Rhine by deer, escaping with his army from certain +slaughter at the hands of the savage horde who sought to ambush him. +Other picturesque stories cluster round the city, the best of which are +the following. + +The Poacher of Frankfort + +In the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main stands a five-pointed tower, and in +the midst of one of these points is a vane containing nine round holes, +forming the figure 9. The origin of this figure is as follows: + +A notorious poacher lay in the tower condemned to death for numerous +offences against the stringent game-laws of the country. He awaited his +end in silence, and sat moodily unobservant of the bright rays of the +sun which poured into his cell through the grated window. Others, he +pondered, were basking in the joyous light outside yonder in the verdant +summer fields, whilst he, who even now felt the noose tighten round +his neck, was plunged in semi-darkness. Well, as darkness was to be +his element, he might as well make present use of it for its special +purpose—to aid sleep; especially as sleep would remove him for the time +being from gloomy contemplation upon his approaching end. + +As he slept a pleasant smile took the place of the sombre expression +natural to his waking moments. But on a sudden he started in his +slumber, grating his teeth, his face transformed with violent rage. + +“Ha, villain, that was a trap,” he muttered, but almost immediately his +countenance resumed the sad expression which had lately become habitual +to it. In the course of a few moments, however, this gave way to a look +of resolution and conscious strength, and even in sleep he appeared to +have made up his mind unalterably upon some matter of importance. + +At this juncture the turnkey entered the cell, accompanied by two +officials, one of whom read to him a missive from those in authority +which stated that a petition for mercy which he had made could not be +entertained, and that he must suffer the extreme penalty of the law. + +“I protest against such a sentence,” cried the poacher, “for, after +all, I have only killed those animals which were given us by God for our +common use. Would you forfeit the life of a man because he has slain the +beasts of chase?” + +“That is not the only charge against you,” retorted one of the officials +harshly. “Your comrades, as well as the honourable Company of Foresters, +accuse you of being in league with the enemy of mankind, and of +procuring from him charmed bullets.” + +The poacher laughed. “It is false,” he cried, “They are jealous because +I am such a good shot. Provide me with a gun and with powder and shot +blessed by a priest, and I will undertake to place through the vane of +this tower nine shots which shall form the figure 9.” + +“Such an opportunity shall be afforded you,” said one of the officials, +who had not as yet spoken. “It would be an injustice not to give you +such a chance, especially as, if you are successful, you will remove the +most odious portion of the charge against you.” + +The news of the poacher’s challenge spread quickly through Frankfort, +and even the foresters who had given evidence against him were so +impressed that they forced their way into the council and insisted that, +should he be successful, a free pardon should be granted to him. To this +the council agreed, and an intimation of the decision was conveyed to +the poacher. But he was assured that if one bullet missed its mark he +would certainly die. To this he agreed, and the succeeding day was fixed +for the trial of skill. At an early hour the square in which the tower +was situated was thronged by an immense crowd. The walls of the city, of +which the tower was a part, were thronged by members of the Foresters’ +Guild. Soon the prisoner was led forth, and was publicly admonished by a +monk not to tempt God if his skill had its origin in diabolic agencies. +But to all such exhortations the poacher replied: “Fear not, I will +write my answer upon yonder tower.” + +The master of the Foresters’ Guild loaded the gun and handed it to him. +Amidst a deep silence he aimed at the vane and fired. The shot found its +mark. Once more he fired. Again the vane swung round, and another hole +appeared therein. The crowd vented its feelings by loud huzzahs. Nine +times did he fire, and nine times did the bullet hit its mark. And +as the last bullet sang through the weather-cock the figure 9 showed +clearly therein, and the poacher, sinking to his knees, bared his head +and gave thanks for his life to God. All there, also, bared their heads +and accompanied him in his thanksgiving. + +That night, loaded with gifts, he quitted Frankfort, nevermore to +return. But the vane on the tower remains there to this day as a witness +of his prowess with the long rifle. + +The Knave of Bergen + +The city of Frankfort was once the scene of a great coronation festival, +during the course of which a bal masqué was given by the King and Queen +to a brilliant assembly of high-born ladies and nobles. The knights and +princes in their fancy costumes were hardly less resplendent than the +ladies in their jewels and brocaded silks, and the masks they all wore +added to the excitement and gaiety of the scene. In all the gathering +there was but one sombre note—a knight in coal-black armour, visored, +of great stature and stately in motion. His graceful mien won the +admiration of the ladies and the envy of the gallants, and the question +of his identity excited much speculation. + +With courtly air the Black Knight approached the Queen, knelt before +her, and begged that she would deign to be his partner in the dance. +The charm of his voice and the modest yet dignified manner in which he +proffered his request so touched the Queen that she stepped down from +the dais and joined in the waltz. Never had she known a dancer with a +lighter step or a more delightful gift of conversation. When that dance +was over she granted him another and yet another, till the company +became very curious to know who the gallant knight might be on whom the +Queen bestowed her favours with such a lavish hand. At last the time +came for the guests to unmask, and the dancers made themselves known to +each other—with one exception, that is, for the Black Knight refused +to lift his visor. The King and Queen, however, shared to the full the +curiosity of their guests as to the identity of their strange guest, and +they commanded him to uncover his face, whereupon the knight raised his +visor, though with some reluctance. Neither the royal hosts nor any of +the noble guests recognized him, but a moment later two officials of the +Court advanced and to the astonishment and indignation of the company +declared that the stranger was no other than the executioner of Bergen! +The King’s wrath knew no bounds. He commanded that the knave should be +seized and put to death immediately. To think that he had allowed the +Queen to dance with a common executioner! The bare idea was intolerable! + +The knave fell humbly on his knees before his irate sovereign. + +“I acknowledge my crime, sire,” he said, “but your Majesty must be aware +that even my death would not be sufficient to wipe out my disgrace, and +the disgrace of her Majesty, who has danced with an executioner. There +is one other way to efface my guilt and to wipe out the humiliation of +your Majesty’s gracious consort. You must make a knight of me, sire, +and I will challenge to mortal combat any who dares to speak ill of my +King!” + +The King was astounded by this bold proposition, but the very audacity +of it caught his fancy. He struck the executioner gently with his sword. + +“Rise, Sir Knight,” he said, adding, as the Black Knight rose to his +feet: “You have acted like a knave this night. Henceforth you shall be +called the Knave of Bergen.” + +Darmstadt: The Proxy + +In the days of chivalry there dwelt in Birbach a knight named Walther, +no less renowned for his piety than for his skill in arms, and the +Virgin, according to the following legend, was not unmindful of her +humble worshipper. A great tournament—so runs the tale—was to take place +in Darmstadt, and Sir Walther, who was about to enter the lists for +the first time, was not feeling confident as to the issue. He knew +that there were to be present many knights whose strength and skill far +exceeded his own, and, brave though he was, he could not but recognize +that his chances of victory were small. Yet he felt that he dared +not suffer defeat; he must not be disgraced before the spectators. In +particular, there was a certain fair lady whose colours he wore; he must +not be shamed before her. His mind, as he rode on his way to Darmstadt, +was filled with conflicting emotions, love, hope, fear, shame, in turn +dominating his thoughts. Suddenly he came to a wayside altar, upon which +was set an image of the Virgin, and he decided to carry his troubles +to her as he was wont to do. So he descended from his horse, which he +secured to a tree, and made his way to the altar. + +So deep were his emotions and so ardent his prayer that he passed into a +sort of trance and fell at the foot of the altar like one dead. While +he lay thus unconscious the Virgin descended from the altar, unlaced his +armour, and donned it herself. Then taking sword and shield and lance, +she mounted his steed and rode into Darmstadt. She was absent for some +time, but when she returned the knight still lay in the death-like state +in which she had left him. She tied his horse once more to the tree, +replaced his armour, and then took her accustomed place on the altar. + +Shortly after Walther recovered consciousness and rose hastily, then, +after another prayer to the Virgin, he rode as quickly as he might into +the town. Here, to his intense surprise, he was greeted with joyful +shouts and congratulations. His friends hailed him as a mighty champion, +and she who had won his affections bestowed upon him the reward of +knightly valour—her promise of marriage. The bewildered Walther scarce +knew whether he was awake or asleep, but at length it was borne in upon +him that someone had won great triumphs in his name. Who could have so +successfully personated him as to deceive even his dearest friends? Who, +indeed, save she to whom he had turned in his distress, the Holy Virgin +herself? + +Soon he was wedded to the lady of his choice; and to show his gratitude +for the intervention of Mary he built her a magnificent chapel on +the spot where the miracle had taken place. Nor did he grow any less +diligent in her service, but continued to live a noble and pious life, +in which he was ever encouraged and assisted by his wife. + +The Cooper of Auerbach + +It is said that from the ruined castle of Auerbach a fragrant perfume of +wine sometimes steals upon the air, and then the country folk whisper, +“The cooper is tasting his wine.” And if asked for the reason of this +saying they tell the following story. + +Once when the sun shone golden on the vine-clad hills, deepening the +heavy clusters of grapes to a darker purple, a peasant, passing by +the ruins, thought longingly upon the wine that, in the past, had been +stored in those dark, cool cellars, wondering if perhaps some might not +yet be found there, or if all had been wasted and lost. And while he +yet pondered a rubicund little man, with leathern apron dark with +wine-stains girded about his portly waist, stood at his side looking up +at him with twinkling eyes. + +“So, my friend, you think upon the wine, eh? Come and spend an hour with +me and you shall taste it.” As he spoke a warm, sweet wine-scent rose +like incense about him, making the peasant’s brain reel with delight. He +could not but follow the little man, tripping under the vines, thrusting +his way through thorn-hedges and over crumbling walls, till he came to a +flight of ancient steps, streaked grey and green with moss, leading down +to a weather-stained cellar-door. The door opened into dusky vaults +and from a niche in the wall the little cooper took a candle and a huge +bowl. Then on he went over the moist floor until there rose before them +in the candlelight, darker than the gloom about it, a gigantic tun. In +a crooning murmur the cooper began to tell of his possessions. He called +the vaults his realm, the tuns his dearly loved subjects—for, as the +peasant gazed, he saw a long procession of tuns stretching away into the +darkness. He shouted with mad delight at the sight, he clapped his hands +and smacked his lips in anticipation, he declared the tuns glittered +like pure gold. At this the cooper laughed and pointed out that the wine +had fashioned its own casks, gleaming crusts, from which the ancient +wood had fallen away long ago. + +And next he filled the huge bowl with deep glowing wine and drank to the +peasant, whose hands ached to hold the bowl and lift it to his lips. At +last, with a courtly bow, the cooper put it into his hands, and then +the rustic emptied the bowl in one draught and drew a deep sigh of +satisfaction. + +In rapture he sang the praises of the wine, but the cooper assured him +that there was better to come. Again he tasted, and again the little +man led on from cask to cask. Then, mad with delight, the peasant sang +aloud, but the song broke into wild howling; he danced about the +tuns, then fell to embracing them, stroking and kissing them, babbling +love-words to the dusky fragrant wine. And still the cooper led on to +the next cask, still he filled the bowl, and still the peasant drank, +till at last in very joy tears ran down his face, and before his eyes +the tuns danced round him in a giddy whirl; then slumber fell upon him +and he sank down to sleep in the gloom. + +When he awoke next morning his body lay stretched in a muddy ditch, his +lips pressed to clammy moss. Stumbling to his feet, he looked around for +the door of the wine vault, for the flight of steps leading down to that +realm of delight, but though he searched long and carefully, yet never +again could he find it, nor did his eyes see the little cooper with his +wine-stained leathern apron and his rubicund face. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI—WORMS AND THE NIBELUNGENLIED + +Worms is celebrated as the locality of the Nibelungenlied and the +epic of Walthar of Aquitaine. But it has other claims to fame. Before +entering on the consideration of Germany’s greatest epic we will recount +several of the lesser legends of the locality. + +The Rose Garden: A Tale of Dietrich of Bern + +Dietrich of Bern is the King Arthur of German story. Like his prototype +of Britain, he has become the central figure of innumerable medieval +tales and epics, a model of chivalry and martial prowess, distinguished +everywhere by high deeds and mighty feats of arms, and in not a few +cases displacing the rightful hero of still older myths, which thus +became grafted on to the Dietrich legends. Originally he was a bona-fide +historical personage, Theodoric the Ostrogoth, and as such gained +a widespread popularity among his people. His historical character, +however, was soon lost in the maze of legendary lore which surrounded +his name, and which, as time went on, ascribed to him feats ever more +wildly heroic. Among the various traditions there is one relating to the +Rhenish town of Worms which calls for inclusion here as much on account +of its intrinsic merit as because of its undoubted popularity. The +legend of the Rose Garden of Worms is a quaint and fanciful tale, +and even the circumstance that it ends with the death of several good +knights and true does not rob it of a certain humorous quality it +possesses. + +By the time Dietrich had reached the prime of his adventurous life—so +runs the story—he had gathered a considerable company of doughty +paladins at his court—he formed, in fact, a kind of Round Table—and the +knights who composed it were as eager as their lord to seek fresh fields +wherein to display their prowess, and were second only to him in skill +and valour. Among them were numbered such illustrious warriors as +Herbrand, his son Hildebrand, Eckehart, Wolfhart, and Amelung. + +On one occasion, as Dietrich was seated at table with his followers, he +vowed that no court in Christendom could boast of such warriors as he +could muster. The assembled knights greeted the assertion with hearty +acclamations—all, that is, save the old warrior Herbrand, and he was +silent. Dietrich looked at him in surprise. + +“Hast thou nothing to say, Herbrand?” he asked. + +“Thinkest thou to find better knights than these?”—indicating his +followers with a wave of his hand. + +Herbrand seemed somewhat reluctant to uphold his tacit objection to +Dietrich’s claim. “Ay,” he said at length, “there are such warriors to +be found.” + +“And where may we seek such paragons?” inquired the king, none too well +pleased. + +“In the town of Worms,” replied the old knight, “there lies a wondrous +rose garden, of great extent, where the queen and her ladies take their +pleasure. None save these may enter its precincts unless the queen give +him leave, and that the sacred boundaries may not be overstepped twelve +warriors are set to guard the garth. Such is their strength and courage +that none has ever succeeded in passing them, whatever his skill and +renown.” + +“But wherefore should one seek to pass the guard?” asked a young knight. +“Is there a prize to be won, then?” + +“Truly,” sighed old Herbrand, “I would not give a hair of my head for +the prize. ’Tis but a crown of roses and a kiss from one of the queen’s +ladies; though it is said, indeed, that they are as lovely as women may +be.” + +“Are there no fair maids in Bern?” cried the warriors indignantly. “Must +we go to the Rhine for them?” + +“For myself,” said Dietrich, “I care little for the reward; yet methinks +that for the honour and glory I would e’en meet these doughty warriors, +and peradventure overcome them. Who will follow me to Burgundy?” + +As with one voice his knights responded to his appeal, and he chose +eight from among them to accompany him on his quest. As there were still +but nine, including Dietrich himself, to meet the twelve guardians of +the Rose Garden, the king decided to send for three knights who were +absent from the court. At the suggestion of Hildebrand he selected +Rüdiger of Bechlarn, Dietleib of Styria, and Ilsan, who was brother +to Hildebrand and at that time a monk in the monastery of Munchenzell. +Rüdiger was margrave to King Etzel, and had to obtain his lord’s +permission to venture forth on the romantic undertaking; Dietleib’s +father strongly recommended that the quest be abandoned, though the +youth himself was as eager as any to accompany Dietrich; while as for +Ilsan, he found it especially difficult to obtain leave of absence, for, +naturally, his abbot deemed the enterprise a strange one for a monk who +had fled all earthly delights. However, all difficulties were eventually +overcome, and when the party was ready for departure Rüdiger was sent +on an embassy to King Gibich at Worms, to prepare him for their coming. +Gibich gave his ready consent to the proposed trial of strength, +whereupon the warriors set out for the Rhine to see whether they might +not win a kiss and a garland from some fair lady. + +An imposing array did the knights of the Rose Garden make as they +awaited the approach of the strangers, but no less imposing were +Dietrich and his warriors. Each chose an opponent and immediately +engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle, which was to end disastrously +for more than one brave knight. The first to dispatch his antagonist +was Wolfhart, who submitted to being crowned with a rose-wreath, but +disdained to accept the rest of the reward. The monk, who was the next +victor, took the roses and kissed the maiden heartily. But alas! a +bristly beard covered his chin, and the maid was left ruefully +rubbing her pouting lips. One by one Dietrich’s knights overcame their +adversaries, some of whom were slain and some wounded. Toward nightfall +a truce was called, and Dietrich and his company set out to return to +Bern, well satisfied with having disproved the assertion of Herbrand +that there were better warriors in the world than Dietrich and his noble +company. + +The Devil’s Vineyard + +There is a curious legend told to account for the excellent quality +of the wine of Worms. An old nobleman who at one time lived in that +neighbourhood was in the habit of drinking more of the Rhenish wine than +was good for him. In every other respect he was a most worthy man, kind, +generous, and pious. + +His piety, in an age when such qualities were rare, roused the ire of +the Devil, who determined to bring about his fall, and as the old man’s +love of wine was his only serious weakness, it was through this that the +Fiend set himself to compass the nobleman’s destruction. + +The Devil therefore disguised himself as a strolling musician and made +the acquaintance of the old man. The latter set before him some of the +wine of the country, extolling meanwhile its rare qualities. The guest +seemed not at all impressed by the recital, but spoke of a wine which he +had tasted in the South and which far surpassed any other vintage. The +nobleman was all curiosity. The stranger talked of the wonderful wine +with feigned reluctance, and at length his host promised to give him +anything he should ask if only he would fetch him some of the wine. +Satan promised to plant a vineyard in Worms, asking in exchange the soul +of his host, to be forfeited at the end of a fixed period. + +To this the old man consented, and the strolling musician planted a +vineyard which sprang up as though by magic. When the first vintage +was produced it was found to be delicious beyond the dreams of the +old nobleman, who was indeed a connoisseur in wines. In his delight he +christened the wine Liebfrauenmilch, signifying ‘Milk of our Blessed +Lady.’ The Devil was furious at this reference to the Holy Virgin, but +he consoled himself with the thought that in due course the man’s soul +would be his. But the Virgin herself was pleased with the christening +of the vineyard, and rather sorry for the foolish old nobleman who +had bartered his soul for the Devil’s wine. When, therefore, the time +arrived for the Evil One to claim his fee, she sent her angels to drive +him away, and thus he was robbed of his prey. + +The old man, having learned the danger of treating with the Devil, now +built a chapel to the Virgin in his vineyard. He lived for a long time +to enjoy the luscious wine, under the protection of the saints, and +never again did he make a compact with Satan. + +Now, if anyone requires a proof of this marvellous story, is there not +the Liebfrauenmilch, most delicious of wines to convince him of its +truth? + +The Maiden’s Caprice + +In the town of Worms there stands an old manor, built in the style of +the Renaissance and known as the Wampolder Hof. At one time it belonged +to the lord of Wampold, a wealthy noble of Mainz, who had appointed as +castellan a kinsman of his, himself a nobleman, though landless and +poor and no longer able to uphold his former dignities. In his youth the +keeper had lived a gay and careless life, but now he was old and infirm +and cared no longer for worldly vanities. His sole pride was his young +daughter, a bewitching maiden who had more lovers than one could readily +count, and who smiled upon them all impartially. With so many lovelorn +youths at her beck and call it is hardly surprising that she should grow +exacting and capricious, but this, as usually happens, only made them +love her the more. + +There was one among her suitors, however, for whom she cherished a real +affection. Handsome, cultured, and, like herself, of noble birth, he +was, notwithstanding his poverty, by far the most eligible of the +youths who sought her in marriage, and the castellan readily granted his +consent to their betrothal. So for a time everything seemed to indicate +happiness in store for the young couple. + +Yet the maiden remained as capricious as ever. On Walpurgis-night, when +a party of lads and lasses were gathered in the Wampolder Hof, and tales +of witches and witchcraft were being told in hushed tones, she conceived +a wild scheme to test her lover’s affection: she bade him go to the +cross-roads at midnight, watch the procession of witches, and return to +tell her what he saw. The awed company protested vigorously against the +proposed test, but the girl persisted, and at last her lover, seeing +that she was already piqued at his refusal, laughingly set out for the +bewitched spot, convinced that no harm would befall him. + +Meantime the company in the manor anxiously awaited his return. One +o’clock came, then two—three; still there was no sign of him. Glances of +horror and pity were cast at the castellan’s daughter, who now wrung her +hands in futile grief. At length a few braver spirits volunteered to +go in search of their comrade, but no trace of him could they find. His +widowed mother, of whom he had been the only son, cursed the maid +who was the cause of his ghastly fate, and not long afterward the +castellan’s daughter lost her reason and died. On Walpurgis-nights she +may still be heard in Worms calling for her lost lover, whom she is +destined never to find. + +The fate of the youth remains uncertain. The most popular account +is that he was torn limb from limb by the infuriated witches and his +remains scattered to the winds. But some, less superstitious than +their neighbours, declared that he had been murdered by his rivals, the +disappointed suitors, and that his body had been cast into the Rhine—for +not long afterward a corpse, which might have been that of the missing +youth, was drawn from the river by fishermen. + +The Nibelungenlied + +The greatest Rhine story of all is that wondrous German Iliad, the +Nibelungenlied, for it is on the banks of the Rhine in the ancient city +of Worms that its action for the most part takes place. The earliest +actual form of the epic is referred to the first part of the thirteenth +century, but it is probable that a Latin original founded on ballads +or folk-songs was in use about the middle or latter end of the tenth +century. The work, despite many medieval interpolations and the +manifest liberties of generations of bards and minnesingers, bears the +unmistakable stamp of a great antiquity. A whole literature has grown +up around this mighty epic of old Germanic life, and men of vast +scholarship and literary acumen have made it a veritable battle-ground +of conflicting theories, one contending for its mythical genesis, +another proving to his satisfaction that it is founded upon historic +fact, whilst others dispute hotly as to its Germanic or Scandinavian +origin. + +So numerous are the conflicting opinions concerning the origin of the +Nibelungenlied that it is extremely difficult to present to the reader +a reasoned examination of the whole without entering rather deeply into +philological and mythical considerations of considerable complexity. +We shall therefore confine ourselves to the main points of these +controversies and refrain from entering upon the more puzzling bypaths +which are only to be trodden by the ‘Senior Wranglers’ of the study, as +they have been called. + +Its Original Form + +In the beginning of the nineteenth century Karl Lachmann, a philologist +of some repute, put forward the theory that the poem was made up of a +number of distinct ballads or lays, and he eliminated from it all parts +which appeared to him to be interpolations. This reduced the whole to +twenty lays, which he considered the work of twenty separate minstrels; +but if certain ballads relating to episodes in the Nibelungenlied once +existed in Germany it is the spirit of these more than the matter +which is incorporated into the great epic. In medieval times, when +the Nibelungenlied story was popular, minnesingers and harpers, in an +attempt to please their audiences, would cast about for fresh incidents +to introduce into the story. Popular as was the tale, even a medieval +audience could tire of the oft-repeated exploits of its dramatis +personae, and the minstrel, dependent upon their goodwill for bed and +board, would be quick to note when the tale fell flat. Accordingly +he would attempt to infuse into it some new incident or series of +incidents, culled from other stories more often than not self-created. +Such an interpolation is probably to be noted in the presence of +Dietrich of Bern, otherwise Theodoric the Ostrogoth, at the court of +Etzel or Attila. To say nothing of the probability of anachronism, +geographical conditions are not a little outraged in the adoption of +this incident, but the question arose who was to worst the mighty Hagen, +whose sombre figure dominates in its gloomy grandeur the latter part of +the saga. It would not do for any Hunnish champion to vie successfully +with the Burgundian hero, but it would be no disgrace for him to be +beaten by Dietrich, the greatest champion of antiquity, who, in fact, +is more than once dragged into the pages of romance for the purpose of +administering an honourable defeat to a hitherto unconquered champion. +We can thus see how novel and subsidiary passages might attach +themselves to the epic. + +But a day came when the minnesingers of Germany felt that it behoved +them to fix once and for all time the shape of the Lay of the Nibelungs. +Indeed, not one, but several poets laboured at this task. That they +worked with materials immediately to their hand is seen from the +circumstance that we have proof of a Low German account, and a Rhenish +version which was evidently moulded into its present shape by an +Austrian or Tyrolese craftsman—a singer well versed in court poetry and +courtly etiquette. The date when the Nibelungenlied received its latest +form was probably about the end of the twelfth century, and this last +version was the immediate source of our present manuscripts. The date +of the earliest known manuscript of the Nibelungenlied is comparatively +late. We possess in all twenty-eight more or less complete manuscripts +preserved in thirty-one fragments, fifteen of which date from the +thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. + +Its Fragmentary Nature + +Even a surface examination is sufficient to testify to the fragmentary +nature of the Nibelungenlied. We can discern through the apparent unity +of texture of the work as we now possess it the patchwork where scribe +or minstrel has interpolated this incident or joined together these +passages to secure the necessary unity of narrative. Moreover, in none +of the several versions of the Siegfried epic do we get the ‘whole +story.’ One supplements another. And while we shall follow the +Nibelungenlied itself as closely as possible we shall in part supplement +it from other kindred sources, taking care to indicate these where we +find it necessary to introduce them. + +Kriemhild’s Dream + +In the stately town of Worms, in Burgundy, dwelt the noble and beauteous +maiden Kriemhild, under the care of her mother Ute, and her brothers +Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher. Great was the splendour and state which +they maintained, and many and brave were the warriors who drank wine at +their board. Given to martial exercises were those men of might, and day +by day the courts of the palace rang to the clangor of sword-play +and manly sport. The wealth of the chiefs was boundless, and no such +magnificence as theirs was known in any German land, or in any land +beyond the German frontiers. + +But with all this stateliness and splendour Kriemhild, the beautiful, +was unhappy. One night she had had an ominous dream. She dreamed that +she had tamed a falcon strong and fierce, a beauteous bird of great +might, but that while she gazed on it with pride and affection two great +eagles swooped from the sky and tore it to pieces before her very eyes. +Affected by this to an extent that seemed inexplicable, she related her +dream to her mother, Ute, a dame of great wisdom, who interpreted it as +foretelling for her a noble husband, “whom God protect, lest thou lose +him too early.” Kriemhild, in dread of the omen, desired to avert it by +remaining unwed, a course from which her mother attempted to dissuade +her, telling her that if ever she were destined to know heartfelt joy it +would be from a husband’s love. + +Siegfried + +Siegfried, of the Netherlands, son of Siegmund and Sieglind, a warrior +bold as he was young and comely, having heard of the great beauty +of Kriemhild, desired to visit Worms that he might see the far-famed +princess for himself. Until this time he had been wandering through +the world doing great deeds: he had won the sword and treasure of the +Nibelungs, had overcome their monarchs, had conquered a dwarf Alberich, +gaining possession of his cloak of darkness. Hagen, a mighty Burgundian +paladin (in a passage which is obviously adapted from another version +for the purpose of recounting Siegfried’s previous adventures), tells +how “he had slain a dragon and made himself invulnerable by bathing +in its blood. We must receive him graciously, and avoid making him our +enemy.” Siegfried sojourned at Worms for over a year, distinguishing +himself in all the martial exercises of the Burgundians and rendering +them splendid service in their wars against the Saxons and Danes. A year +passed without his having been allowed to meet Kriemhild, who in secret +cherished the utmost admiration for him. Chagrined at the treatment +meted out to him, he finally made up his mind to depart. But his hosts +did not desire to lose such a valuable ally, and brought about a meeting +between him and the lady of his dreams. The passage describing their +first sight of one another is full of the essence of romance. + +We are told that Kriemhild appeared before his eyes as does the rosy +flush of dawn breaking from sombre clouds. As he beheld her his heart +was soothed and all his trouble vanished, for there stood she who had +cost him many a love-pang, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, brighter +than the rich jewels which covered her raiment, her cheeks suffused with +the blushes of maidenhood. No one had, he thought, ever seen so much +beauty before. As the silver moon obscures the light of the stars by its +superior splendour, so did Kriemhild obscure the beauty of the ladies +who surrounded her. When he beheld her each hero drew himself up more +proudly than ever and appeared as if ready to do battle for such a +paragon of beauty. She was preceded by chamberlains in rich attire, +but no ushers might keep back the knights from sight of her, and they +crowded about her to catch a glimpse of her face. Pleased and sad was +Siegfried, for, thought he, “How may I ever hope to win so peerless a +creature? The hope is a rash one. Better were I to forget her—but then, +alas, my heart would have ceased to beat, and I should be dead!” Pale +and red he grew. He recked not of his own great worth. For all there +agreed that so handsome a warrior had never come to the Rhineland, so +fair of body, so debonair was he. + +The Wooing of Brunhild + +Siegfried now resolved to win Kriemhild, and on Gunther’s asking him to +accompany him on an adventure the purpose of which is to gain the hand +of Queen Brunhild of Isenstein, he accepted on condition that on their +return he should be rewarded by the hand of his sister. To this Gunther +gave assent, and they set out, accompanied by Hagen and his brother +Dankwart. But the Nibelungenlied proper is silent regarding Siegfried’s +previous relations with Brunhild. In Scandinavian versions—such as the +Volsunga Saga, where this legend, originally a German one, is preserved +in its pagan form—Brunhild was a Valkyr, or war-maiden of Odin, who sent +her to sleep with a prick of a magic thorn and imprisoned her within +a circle of flame, through which Siegfried (in this version almost +certainly the god of nature, springtide, and the sun) broke, delivered +the captive, and took her as his bride, soon, however, departing from +her. In the Nibelungenlied this ancient myth is either presupposed or +intentionally omitted as unfitting for consumption by a Christianized +folk, but it is hinted that Brunhild had a previous claim upon +Siegfried’s affections. + +Brunhild had made it a condition that the hero whom she would wed must +be able to overcome her in three trials of prowess, losing his head as +a penalty of failure. Siegfried, donning the magic cloak of invisibility +he had won from Alberich, king of the dwarfs, took Gunther’s place and +won the three trials for him, Gunther going through a pantomime of the +appropriate actions while Siegfried performed the feats. The passage +which tells of the encounter is curious. A great spear, heavy and keen, +was brought forth for Brunhild’s use. It was more a weapon for a hero +of might than for a maiden, but, unwieldy as it was, she was able to +brandish it as easily as if it had been a willow wand. Three and a half +weights of iron went to the making of this mighty spear, which scarce +three of her men could carry. Sore afraid was Gunther. Well did he wish +him safe in the Burgundian land. “Once back in Rhineland,” thought he, +“and I would not stir a foot’s distance to win any such war-maid.” + +But up spake Dankwart, Hagen’s valiant brother: “Now is the day come on +which we must bid farewell to our lives. An ill journey has this been, +I trow, for in this land we shall perish at the hands of women. Oh, that +my brother Hagen and I had but our good swords here! Then would these +carles of Brunhild’s check their laughter. Without arms a man can do +nothing, but had I a blade in hand even Brunhild herself should die ere +harm came to our dear lord.” + +This speech heard the warrior-maid. “Now put these heroes’ swords into +their hands,” she commanded, “and accoutre them in their mail.” + +Right glad was Dankwart to feel iron in his hand once more and know its +weight upon his limbs. “Now I am ready for such play as they list,” he +cried. “Since we have arms, our lord is not yet conquered.” + +Into the ring of contest mighty men bore a great stone. Twelve of them +it took to carry it, so ponderous it was. Woe were they of Burgundy for +their lord at sight of the same. + +Brunhild advanced on Gunther, brandishing her spear. Siegfried was by +his side and touched him lightly to give him confidence, but Gunther +knew not it was he and marvelled, for no one saw him there. + +“Who hath touched me?” said he. + +“’Tis I, Siegfried,” replied his friend. “Be of good cheer and fear +not the maiden. Give me thy shield and mark well what I say. Make thou +motions as if to guard and strike, and I will do the deeds. Above all +hearken to my whispered advice.” + +Great was Gunther’s joy when he knew that Siegfried was by him. But +he had not long to marvel, for Brunhild was on him, her great spear in +hand, the light from its broad blade flashing in his eyes. She hurled +the spear at his shield. It passed through the iron as if it had been +silk and struck on the rings of Gunther’s armour. Both Gunther and +Siegfried staggered at the blow. But the latter, although bleeding from +the mouth with the shock of the thrown weapon, seized it, reversing the +point, and cast it at Brunhild with such dreadful might that when it +rang on her armour she was overthrown. + +Right angry was Brunhild. But she weened that the blow was Gunther’s, +and respected him for his strength. Her anger, however, overcame her +esteem, and seizing the great stone which had been placed in the ring +of combat, she cast it from her twelve fathoms. Leaping after it, she +sprang farther than she had thrown it. Then went Gunther to the stone +and poised it while Siegfried threw it. He cast the stone farther than +Brunhild had done, and so great was his strength that he raised King +Gunther from the earth and leapt with him a greater distance than +Brunhild had leapt herself. Men saw Gunther throw and leap alone. + +Red with anger grew Brunhild when she saw herself defeated. Loudly she +addressed her men. + +“Ho, ye liegemen of mine,” she cried, “now are ye subject to Gunther the +King, for, behold, he has beaten me in the sports.” + +The knights then acclaimed Gunther as the victor. By his own strength +of arm had he won the games, said they, and he in turn greeted them +lovingly. Brunhild came forward, took him by the hand, and granted to +him full power throughout her dominions. They proceeded to her palace +and Gunther’s warriors were now regaled with better cheer than before. +But Siegfried carefully concealed his magic cloak. + +Coming to where Gunther and Brunhild sat, he said: “My lord, why do +you tarry? Why are the games of which Queen Brunhild doth speak not yet +begun? I long to see how they may be played.” He acted his part so well +that Brunhild really believed that he was not aware the games were over +and that she was the loser. + +“Now, Sir Siegfried,” said she, “how comes it that you were not present +when the games, which Gunther has won, were being played?” + +Hagen, fearing that Siegfried might blunder in his reply, took the +answer out of his mouth and said: “O Queen, the good knight Siegfried +was hard by the ship when Gunther won the games from you. Naught indeed +knew he of them.” + +Siegfried now expressed great surprise that any man living had been able +to master the mighty war-maid. “Is it possible,” he exclaimed, “is it +possible, O Queen, that you have been vanquished at the sports in which +you excel so greatly? But I for one am glad, since now you needs must +follow us home to the Rhineland.” + +“You are speedy of speech, Sir Siegfried,” replied Brunhild. “But there +is much to do ere yet I quit my lands. First must I inform my kindred +and vassals of this thing. Messengers must be sent to many of my kinsmen +ere I depart from Isenstein.” + +With that she bade couriers ride to all quarters, bidding her kinsmen, +her friends, and her warriors come without delay to Isenstein. For +several days they arrived in troops: early and late they came, singly +and in companies. Then with a large escort Brunhild sailed across the +sea and up the Rhine to Worms. + +Siegfried and Brunhild + +It now became increasingly clear that Siegfried and Brunhild had had +affectionate relations in the past. [Indeed, in the Volsunga Saga, which +is an early version of the Nibelungenlied, we find Grimhild, the mother +of Gudrun (Kriemhild), administering to Sigurd (Siegfried) a magic +potion in order that he should forget about Brunhild.] On seeing +Siegfried and Kriemhild greet each other with a kiss, sadness and +jealousy wrung the heart of the war-maiden, and she evinced anything but +a wifely spirit toward her husband Gunther, whom, on the first night +of their wedded life, she wrestled with, defeated, and bound with her +girdle, afterward hanging him up by it on a peg in the wall! Next day he +appealed to Siegfried for assistance, and that night the hero donned his +magic cloak of invisibility, contended with Brunhild in the darkness, +and overcame her, she believing him to be Gunther, who was present +during the strife. But Siegfried was foolish enough to carry away her +ring and girdle, “for very haughtiness.” These he gave to Kriemhild, and +sore both of them rued it in after-time. Brunhild’s strength vanished +with her maidenhood and thenceforth she was as any other woman. + +Siegfried and Kriemhild now departed to the capital of Santen, on the +Lower Rhine, and peace prevailed for ten years, until Brunhild persuaded +Gunther to invite them to a festival at Worms. She could not understand +how, if Siegfried was Gunther’s vassal, as Gunther had informed her, he +neither paid tribute nor rendered homage. The invitation was accepted +cordially enough. But Kriemhild and Brunhild quarrelled bitterly +regarding a matter of precedence as to who should first enter church, +and at the door of the minster of Worms there was an unseemly squabble. +Then Kriemhild taunted Brunhild with the fact that Siegfried had won +and deserted her, and displayed the girdle and ring as proof of what she +asserted. + +Siegfried, confronted with Brunhild, denied that he had ever approached +her in any unseemly way, and he and Gunther attempted to make peace +between their wives. But all to no avail. A deadly feud had sprung up +between them, which was to end in woe for all. Hagen swore a great oath +that Siegfried should pay for the insult his wife had put upon Brunhild. + +The Plot against Siegfried + +Now, but four days after, news came to Gunther’s court that war was +declared against him. But this was merely a plot to draw Siegfried from +the court and compass his death. The heroes armed for war, among +them Siegfried. When Hagen bade farewell to Kriemhild she recommended +Siegfried to his care. Now, when Siegfried slew the dragon which guarded +the treasure of the Nibelungs, he bathed in its blood and became, like +Achilles, invulnerable, save at a spot where a linden leaf had fallen +between his shoulders as he bathed, and so prevented contact with the +potent stream. Hagen inquired of Kriemhild the whereabouts of this +vulnerable spot, pretending that he would guard Siegfried against +treachery in battle; and she, fully believing in his good faith, sewed a +silken cross upon Siegfried’s mantle to mark the place. + +On the following morning Siegfried, with a thousand knights, took horse +and rode away, thinking to avenge his comrades. Hagen rode beside him +and carefully scanned his vesture. He did not fail to observe the mark, +and having done so, he dispatched two of his men with another message. +It was to the effect that the King might know that now his land would +remain at peace. This Siegfried was loath to hear, for he would have +done battle for his friends, and it was with difficulty that Gunther’s +vassals could hold him back. Then he rode to Gunther, who thanked him +warmly for having so quickly granted his prayer. Gunther assured him +that if need be he would at any time come to his aid, and that he held +him the most trusty of all his friends. He pretended to be so glad +that the threat of war was past that he suggested that they should ride +hunting to the Odenwald after the bear and the boar, as they had so +often done before. This was the counsel of the false Hagen. + +It was arranged that they should start early for the greenwood, and +Gunther promised to lend Siegfried several dogs that knew the forest +ways well. Siegfried then hurried home to his wife, and when he had +departed Hagen and the King took counsel together. After they had +agreed upon the manner in which they would compass the destruction of +Siegfried, they communicated their plans to their comrades. Giselher and +Gernot would not take part in the hunt, but nevertheless they abstained +from warning Siegfried of his danger. For this, however, they paid +dearly in the end. + +The morning dawned bright and clear, and away the warriors cantered with +a clatter of hoofs and a boasting of bugles. + +Siegfried’s Farewell to Kriemhild + +Before departing Siegfried had said farewell to Kriemhild, who, she knew +not why, was filled with dark forebodings. + +“God grant I may see thee safe and well again,” said Siegfried. “Keep +thou a merry heart among thy kin until I return.” + +Then Kriemhild thought on the secret she had betrayed to Hagen, but she +could not tell Siegfried of it. Sorely she wept, wishing that she had +never been born, and keen and deep was her grief. + +“Husband,” she said, “go not to the hunt. A baleful dream I had last +night. You stood upon the heath and two wild boars approached. You fled, +but they pursued you and wounded you, and the blossoms under your feet +were red with blood. You behold my tears. Siegfried, I dread treachery. +Wot you not of some who cherish for us a deadly hate? I counsel you, I +beg you, dear lord, go not to the greenwood.” + +Siegfried tried to laugh her fears away, “It is but for a few days that +I leave thee, beloved,” he said. “Who can bear me hate if I cherish none +against them? Thy brothers wish me well, nor have I offended them in any +wise.” + +But Kriemhild would not be comforted. “Greatly do I dread this parting,” +she wailed, “for I dreamed another dream. You passed by two mountains, +and they rocked on their bases, fell, and buried you, so that I saw you +no more. Go not, for bitterly will I grieve if you depart.” + +But with a laugh and a kiss Siegfried was gone. Leaping on his steed, he +rode off at a gallop. Nevermore was she to see him in life. + +Into the gloomy forest, the abode of the bear, the wolf, and the wild +boar, plunged the knights in their lust of royal sport. Brilliant, +brave, and goodly of cheer was the company, and rich was their +entertainment. Many pack-horses laden with meats and wines accompanied +them, and the panniers on the backs of these bulged with flesh, fish, +and game, fitting for the table of a great king. + +On a broad meadow fringing the greenwood they camped, near to the place +where they were to begin the hunt, and watchers were sent round the +camp, so that no one with a message of warning on his lips might win to +the ears of Siegfried. + +Siegfried waxed restless, for he had come not to feast but to hunt, and +he desired to be home again with Kriemhild. “Ha, comrades,” he cried; +“who will into the forest with me and rouse the game?” + +“Then,” said the crafty Hagen, “let us find who is the best sportsman. +Let us divide the huntsmen and the hounds so that each may ride alone +where he chooses; and great praise shall be to him who hunts the best +and bears off the palm.” + +To this Siegfried agreed, and asked only for one hound that had been +well broken to the chase to accompany him. + +This was granted. Then there came an old huntsman with a limehound and +led the sportsmen to where there was an abundance of game. Many beasts +were started and hunted to the death, as is ever the way with good +huntsmen. + +Nothing that the limehound started could escape Siegfried. Swift was his +steed as the tempest, and whether it was bear or boar he soon came up +with it and slew it. Once he encountered a stark and mighty lion. Aiming +an arrow at the monster, he shot it through the heart. The forest rang +with acclaim at the deed. + +Then there fell by his hand a buffalo, an elk, four grim aurochs, and a +bear, nor could deer or hind escape him, so swift and wight was he. +Anon he brought a wild boar to bay. The grisly beast charged him, but, +drawing his sword, Siegfried transfixed it with the shining blade. + +“I pray thee, lord,” said the huntsman, “leave to us something living, +for in truth thy strong arm doth empty both mountain and forest.” + +Merrily rang the noise of the chase in the greenwood that day. The hills +and the leafy aisles of the forest resounded with the shouts of the +hunters and the baying of dogs. In that hunting many a beast met its +death-day and great was the rivalry. But when the hunting was over and +the heroes met at the tryst-fire, they saw that Siegfried had proved +himself the greatest huntsmen of them all. + +One by one they returned from the forest to the trysting-place, carrying +with them the shaggy fell of the bear, the bristly boar-skin, and the +grey pelt of the wolf. Meat abounded in that place, and the blast of a +horn announced to the hungry knights that the King was about to feast. +Said Siegfried’s huntsman to him: “I hear the blast of a horn bidding +us return to the trysting-place,” and raising his bugle to his lips, he +answered it. + +Siegfried was about to leave the forest, ambling quietly on horseback +through the green ways, when he roused a mighty bear. The limehound was +slipped and the bear lumbered off, pursued by Siegfried and his men. +They dashed into a ravine, and here Siegfried thought to run the beast +down, but the sides were too steep and the knight could not approach it +on horseback. Lightly he sprang from his steed, and the bear, seeing +his approach, once more took flight. So swift, however, was Siegfried’s +pursuit that ere the heavy beast could elude him he had caught it by +its shaggy coat and had bound it in such a manner that it was harmless; +then, tying it across his horse’s back, he brought it to the tryst-fire +for pastime. + +Proudly emerged Siegfried from the forest, and Gunther’s men, seeing +him coming, ran to hold his horse. When he had dismounted he dragged +the bear from his horse’s back and set it loose. Immediately the dogs +pursued it, and in its efforts to escape into the forest it dashed madly +through a band of scullions who were cooking by the great fire. There +was a clatter of iron pots, and burning brands were strewed about. Many +goodly dishes were spoiled. The King gave order to slip the hounds that +were on leash. Taking their bows and spears, the warriors set off +in chase of the bear—but they feared to shoot at it through fear of +wounding any among the great pack of dogs that hung upon its flanks. The +one man who could keep pace with the bear was Siegfried, who, coming up +with it, pierced it with his sword and laid it dead on the ground. Then, +lifting the carcass on his shoulders, he carried it back to the fire, to +the marvel of all present. + +Then began the feasting. Rich meats were handed around, and all was +festive and gay. No suspicion had Siegfried that he was doomed, for his +heart was pure of all deceit. But the wine had not yet been brought from +the kitchen, whereat Sir Siegfried wondered. + +Addressing Gunther, he said: “Why do not your men bring us wine? If this +is the manner in which you treat good hunters, certes, I will hunt no +more. Surely I have deserved better at your hands.” + +And the false Gunther answered: “Blame me not, Siegfried, for the fault +is Hagen’s. Truly he would have us perish of thirst.” + +“Dear master,” said Hagen of Trony, “the fault is mine—if fault it +be—for methought we were to hunt to-day at Spessart and thither did I +send the wine. If we go thirsty to-day, credit me I will have better +care another time.” + +But Siegfried was athirst and said: “If wine lacks, then must we have +water. We should have camped nearer to the Rhine.” + +The Slaying of Siegfried + +And Hagen, perceiving his chance, replied: “I know of a cool spring +close at hand. If you will follow me I will lead you thither.” + +Sore athirst was Siegfried, and starting up from his seat, he followed +Hagen. But the crafty schemer, desiring to draw him away from the +company so that none else would follow them, said to him as they were +setting out for the spring: “Men say, Siegfried, that none can keep pace +with you when you run. Let us see now.” + +“That may easily be proved,” said Siegfried. “Let us run to the brook +for a wager, and see who wins there first. If I lose I will lay me +before you in the grass. Nay, I will more, for I will carry with me +spear, shield, and hunting gear.” + +Then did he gird on his weapons, even to his quiver, while the others +stripped, and off they set. But Siegfried easily passed them and arrived +at the lime-tree where was the well. But he would not drink first for +courtesy, even although he was sore athirst. + +Gunther came up, bent down to the water, and drank of the pure, cool +well. Siegfried then bent him to drink also. But the false Hagen, +carrying his bow and sword out of reach, sprang back and gripped the +hero’s mighty spear. Then looked he for the secret mark on his vesture +that Kriemhild had worked. + +As Siegfried drank from the stream Hagen poised the great spear and +plunged it between the hero’s shoulders. Deeply did the blade pierce +through the spot where lay the secret mark, so that the blood spurted +out on the traitor’s garments. Hagen left the spear deep in Siegfried’s +heart and flew in grim haste from the place. + +Though wounded to the death, Siegfried rose from the stream like a +maddened lion and cast about him for a weapon. But nothing came to his +hand but his shield. This he picked up from the water’s edge and ran +at Hagen, who might not escape him, for, sore wounded as he was, so +mightily did he smite that the shield well-nigh burst and the jewels +which adorned it flew in flinders. The blow rang across the meadow as +Hagen fell beneath the stroke. + +It was Siegfried’s last blow. His countenance was already that of a dead +man. He could not stand upright. Down he crashed among the flowers; +fast flowed his blood; in his agony he began to upbraid those who had +contrived his death. + +“Cowards and caitiffs,” he cried, “is this the price you pay me for my +fealty to you? Ill have you done by your friends, for sons of yours as +yet unborn will feel the weight of this deed. You have vented your spite +on my body; but for this dastard crime all good knights shall shun you.” + +Now all surrounded him, and those that were true among them mourned for +him. Gunther also wept. But the dying man, turning to him, said: “Does +he weep for the evil from whom the evil cometh? Better for him that it +had remained undone, for mighty is his blame.” + +Then said false Hagen: “What rue ye? Surely our care is past. Who will +now withstand us? Right glad am I that Siegfried is no more.” + +Loud was Siegfried’s dole for Kriemhild. “Never was so foul a murder +done as thou hast done on me, O king,” he said to Gunther. “I saved thy +life and honour. But if thou canst show truth to any on earth, show it +to my dear wife, I beg of thee, for never had woman such woe for one she +loved.” + +Painfully he writhed as they watched him, and as he became weaker he +spake prophetically. + +“Greatly shall ye rue this deed in the days to come,” he groaned, “for +know, all of ye, that in slaying me ye have slain yourselves.” + +Wet were the flowers with his blood. He struggled grimly with death, but +too deep had been the blow, and at last he spake no more. + +They laid his body on a shield of ruddy gold and took counsel with one +another how they should hide that the deed had been done by Hagen. + +“Sure have we fallen on evil days,” said many; “but let us all hide this +thing, and hold to one tale: that is, that as Siegfried rode alone in +the forest he was slain by robbers.” + +“But,” said Hagen of Trony, “I will myself bear him back to Burgundy. It +is little concern of mine if Kriemhild weep.” + +Kriemhild’s Grief + +Great was the grief of Kriemhild when she learned of the murder of her +husband, whose body had been placed at her very door by the remorseless +Hagen. He and the rest of the Burgundians pretended that Siegfried had +been slain by bandits, but on their approach the wounds of Siegfried +commenced to bleed afresh in mute witness of treachery. Kriemhild +secretly vowed a terrible revenge and would not quit the land where +her beloved spouse was buried. For four years she spake never a word to +Gunther or Hagen, but sat silent and sad in a chamber near the minster +where Siegfried was buried. Gunther sent for the Nibelungen treasure for +the purpose of propitiating her, but she distributed it so freely +among Gunther’s dependents that Hagen conceived the suspicion that her +intention was to suborn them to her cause and foment rebellion within +the Burgundian dominions; therefore he seized it and sank it in the +Rhine, forcing Kriemhild’s brethren never to divulge its whereabouts. + +It is a circumstance of some importance that when this treasure +enters the land of the Burgundians they take the name of Nibelungs, +as Siegfried was called Lord of the Nibelungs on first possessing the +hoard, and for this reason that part of the poem which commences with +the Burgundian acquirement of the treasure was formerly known as the +Nibelungen Not. + +The confiscation of the treasure was another sharp wound to Kriemhild, +who appears to have bitterly cherished every hostile act committed +against her by her uncle Hagen and her brothers, and to have secretly +nursed her grievances throughout the remainder of her saddened +existence. + +Kriemhild Marries Attila + +Thirteen years after the death of Siegfried, Helche, wife of Attila, +or Etzel, King of the Huns, having died, that monarch was desirous +of marrying again, and dispatched his faithful councillor, Rüdiger, +Margrave of Bechlarn, to the Burgundian court to ask for the hand of +Kriemhild. Her brethren, only too anxious to be rid of her accusing +presence, gladly consented to the match, but Hagen had forebodings that +if she gained power she would wreak a dreadful vengeance on them all. +But he was overruled, and Rüdiger was permitted to interview Kriemhild. +At first she would not hear of the marriage, but when Rüdiger expressed +his surprise at the manner in which she was treated in her own country, +and hinted that if she were to wed with Etzel she would be guarded +against such insulting conduct, she consented. But first she made +Rüdiger swear to avenge her wrongs, and this he did lightly, thinking +it merely a woman’s whim which would pass away after marriage. She +accompanied Rüdiger to the court of Etzel, stopping at his castle of +Bechlarn, where dwelt his wife Gotelind and his daughter Dietlinde. The +journey to Vienna is described in detail. At length they met Etzel +at Tulna with twenty-four kings and princes in his train and a mighty +retinue, the greatest guest present being Dietrich of Bern, King of +the Goths, who with his band of Wolfings was sojourning at the court of +Etzel. The nuptials took place at Vienna amid great magnificence, but +through all Kriemhild sorrowed only for Siegfried and brooded long and +darkly on her schemes of vengeance. + +Seven years passed, during which Kriemhild won the love of all Etzel’s +court. She bore the King a son, Ortlieb, and gained the confidence +and respect of his advisers. Another six years passed, and Kriemhild +believed that the time for vengeance had now arrived. To this end she +induced Etzel to invite her brethren and Hagen to his court at Vienna. +At first the Burgundians liked the hospitable message well, but +suspicion of it was sown in their minds by Hagen, who guessed that +treachery lurked beneath its honeyed words. In the end they accepted the +invitation and journeyed to the land of the Huns, a thousand and sixty +knights and nine thousand soldiers. On the way they encountered many ill +omens. + +The Journey + +Through Eastern Frankland rode Gunther’s men toward the river Main, led +by Hagen, for well he knew the way. All men wondered when they saw the +host, for never had any seen such lordly knights or such a rich and +noble retinue. Well might one see that these were princes. On the +twelfth day they came to the banks of the Danube, Hagen riding in the +van. He dismounted on the river’s sandy shore and tied his steed to a +tree. The river was swollen with rains and no boats were in sight. Now +the Nibelungs could not perceive how they were to win over the stream, +for it was broad and strong. + +And Hagen rebuked the King, saying: “Ill be with you, lord. See ye not +that the river is swollen and its flood is mighty? Many a bold knight +shall we lose here to-day.” + +“Not greatly do thy words help, Hagen,” spake the King. “Meeter were it +for thee to search for a ford, instead of wasting thy breath.” + +But Hagen sneered back: “I am not yet weary of life, O king, and I wish +not to drown in these broad waves. Better that men should die by my +sword in Etzel’s land. Stay thou then by the water’s edge, whilst I seek +a ferryman along the stream.” + +To and fro he sought a ferryman. Soon he heard a splash of water and +hearkened. In a spring not far off some women were bathing. Hagen spied +them and crept stealthily toward them. But they saw his approach and +went swiftly away. Hagen, approaching, seized their clothes. + +Now these women were swan-maidens, or mermaids, and one of them, +Hadburg, spake to him. “Sir Hagen,” she said, “well wot I that ye wish +to find a ferry. Now give to us our garments and we will show you where +one is.” They breasted the waves like swans. Once more spake Hadburg: +“Safely will ye go to Etzel’s land and great honours will ye gain there; +aye, greater than hero ever rode to find.” + +Right joyous was Hagen at this speech. Back he handed to the maidens +their weeds. + +Then spake another mermaid, Sieglind: “Take warning from me, Hagen. +Believe not the word of mine aunt, for she has sore deceived thee. +Go not to Etzel’s land, for there you shall die. So turn again. Whoso +rideth onward hath taken death by the hand.” + +“I heed not thy words,” said Hagen, “for how should it be that all of us +die there through the hate of anyone?” + +“So must it be,” said Sieglind, “for none of you shall live, save the +King’s chaplain, who alone will come again safe and sound to Gunther’s +land.” + +“Ye are wise wives,” laughed Hagen bitterly. “Well would Gunther and his +lords believe me should I tell him this rede. I pray thee, show us over +the stream.” + +“So be it,” replied Sieglind; “since ye will not turn you from your +journey. See you yonder inn by the water’s side? There is the only ferry +over the river.” + +At once Hagen made off. But Sieglind called after him: “Stay, Sir +Knight; credit me, you are too much in haste. For the lord of these +lands, who is called Else, and his brother, Knight Gelfrat, will make +it go hard with you an ye cross their dominions. Guard you carefully and +deal wisely with the ferryman, for he is liegeman unto Gelfrat, and if +he will not cross the river to you, call for him, and say thou art named +Amelrich, a hero of this land who left it some time agone.” + +No more spake Hagen to the swan-maidens, but searching up the river +banks, he found an inn upon the farther shore. Loudly he called across +the flood. “Come for me, ferryman,” he said, “and I will bestow upon +thee an armlet of ruddy gold.” + +Now the ferryman was a noble and did not care for service, and those who +helped him were as proud as he. They heard Hagen calling, but recked +not of it. Loudly did he call across the water, which resounded to his +cries. Then, his patience exhausted, he shouted: + +“Come hither, for I am Amelrich, liegeman to Else, who left these lands +because of a great feud.” As he spake he raised his spear, on which was +an armlet of bright gold, cunningly fashioned. + +The haughty ferryman took an oar and rowed across, but when he arrived +at the farther bank he spied not him who had cried for passage. + +At last he saw Hagen, and in great anger said: “You may be called +Amelrich, but you are not like him whom I thought to be here, for he was +my brother. You have lied to me and there you may stay.” + +Hagen attempted to impress the ferryman by kindness, but he refused to +listen to his words, telling the warrior that his lords had enemies, +wherefore he never conveyed strangers across the river. Hagen then +offered him gold, and so angry did the ferryman become that he struck at +the Nibelung with his rudder oar, which broke over Hagen’s head. But the +warrior smote him so fiercely with his sword that he struck his head off +and cast it on the ground. The skiff began to drift down the stream, +and Hagen, wading into the water, had much ado to secure it and bring it +back. With might and main he pulled, and in turning it the oar snapped +in his hand. He then floated down stream, where he found his +lords standing by the shore. They came down to meet him with many +questionings, but Gunther, espying the blood in the skiff, knew well +what fate the ferryman had met with. + +Hagen then called to the footmen to lead the horses into the river that +they might swim across. All the trappings and baggage were placed in +the skiff, and Hagen, playing the steersman, ferried full many mighty +warriors into the unknown land. First went the knights, then the +men-at-arms, then followed nine thousand footmen. By no means was Hagen +idle on that day. + +On a sudden he espied the king’s chaplain close by the chapel baggage, +leaning with his hands upon the relics, and recalling that the wise +women had told him that only this priest would return and none other of +the Nibelungs, he seized him by the middle and cast him from the skiff +into the Danube. + +“Hold, Sir Hagen, hold!” cried his comrades. Giselher grew wroth; but +Hagen only smiled. + +Then said Sir Gernot of Burgundy: “Hagen, what availeth you the +chaplain’s death? Wherefore have ye slain the priest?” + +But the clerk struck out boldly, for he wished to save his life. But +this Hagen would not have and thrust him to the bottom. Once more he +came to the surface, and this time he was carried by the force of the +waves to the sandy shore. Then Hagen knew well that naught might avail +against the tidings which the mermaids had told him, that not a Nibelung +should return to Burgundy. + +When the skiff had been unloaded of baggage and all the company had been +ferried across, Hagen broke it in pieces and cast it into the flood. +When asked wherefore he had done so, and how they were to return from +the land of the Huns back to the Rhine, Hagen said: + +“Should we have a coward on this journey who would turn his back on the +Huns, when he cometh to this stream he will die a shameful death.” + +In passing through Bavaria the Burgundians came into collision with +Gelfrat and his brother Else, and Gelfrat was slain. They were received +at Bechlarn by Rüdiger, who treated them most hospitably and showered +many gifts upon them, bestowing upon Gernot his favourite sword, +on Gunther a noble suit of armour, and on Hagen a famous shield. He +accompanied the strangers to the court of Etzel, where they were met +first of all by Dietrich of Bern, who warned them that Kriemhild +prayed daily for vengeance upon them for the murder of Siegfried. When +Kriemhild beheld Hagen, her archenemy, she wept. Hagen saw, and “bound +his helmet tighter.” + +“We have not made a good journey to this feast,” he muttered. + +Kriemhild’s Welcome + +“Ye are welcome, nobles and knights,” said Kriemhild. “I greet you not +for your kinship. What bring ye me from Worms beyond the Rhine that +ye should be so welcome to me here? Where have ye put the Nibelung +treasure? It is mine as ye know full well, and ye should have brought it +me to Etzel’s court.” + +Hagen replied that he had been ordered by his liege lords to sink it in +the Rhine, and there must it lie till doomsday. + +At this Kriemhild grew wroth. Hagen went on to say that he had enough to +do to carry his shield and breastplate. The Queen, alarmed, desired that +all weapons should be placed in her charge, but to this Hagen demurred, +and said that it was too much honour for such a bounteous princess to +bear his shield and other arms to his lodging. + +Kriemhild lamented, saying that they appeared to think that she planned +treachery against them; but to this Dietrich answered in great anger +that he had forewarned Gunther and his brothers of her treacherous +intentions. Kriemhild was greatly abashed at this, and without speaking +a word she left the company; but ere she went she darted furious glances +upon them, from which they well saw with what a dangerous foe they had +to deal. King Etzel then asked who Hagen might be, and was told his +name and lineage and that he was a fierce and grim warrior. Etzel then +recognized him as a warrior who had been a hostage with him along with +Walthar of Spain and who had done him yeoman service. + +Events March + +This last passage connects the Nibelungenlied with the Latin poem of +Walthar of Aquitaine. Indeed, the great German epic contains repeated +allusions to this work of the ninth or tenth century, which is dealt +with later in this book. + +Events now march quickly. Kriemhild offered gold untold to him who would +slay Hagen, but although her enemy was within her grasp, so doughty was +the warrior and so terrible his appearance that none dared do battle +with him. A Hun was killed by accident in a tournament, but Etzel +protected his Burgundian guests. At length Blodelin was bribed by +Kriemhild to attack Dankwart with a thousand followers. Dankwart’s men +were all slain, but he himself made good his escape by fighting his way +through the closely packed Hunnish ranks. Dankwart rushed to the hall +where the Burgundians were feasting with the Huns, and in great wrath +acquainted Hagen with the treacherous attempt which had been made upon +his life. + +“Haste ye, brother Hagen,” he cried, “for as ye sit there our knights +and squires lie slain in their chambers.” + +“Who hath done this deed?” asked Hagen. + +“Sir Blodelin with his carles. But he breathes no longer, for myself I +parted his head from his body.” + +“If he died as a warrior, then it is well for him,” replied the grim +Hagen; “but, brother Dankwart, ye are red with blood.” + +“’Tis but my weeds which ye see thus wet,” said Dankwart carelessly. +“The blood is that of other men, so many in sooth that I could not give +ye tale of the number.” + +“Guard the door, brother,” said Hagen fiercely; “guard it yet so +that not a single Hun may escape. I will hold parley with these brave +warriors who have so foully slain defenceless men.” + +“Well will I guard the doorway,” laughed Dankwart; “I shall play ye the +part of chamberlain, brother, in this great business.” + +The Beginning of the Slaughter + +Hagen, mortally incensed at the slaughter of the Burgundians by the +Huns, and wrongly suspecting Etzel of conspiracy in the affair, drew +his sword, and with one blow of the weapon smote off the head of young +Ortlieb, the son of Etzel and Kriemhild. Then began a slaughter grim and +great. The Huns fought at first in self-defence, but as they saw their +friends fall they laid on in good earnest and the combat became general. +At length Dietrich of Bern, as a neutral, intervened, and succeeded in +bringing about a half-truce, whereby Etzel, Kriemhild, and Rüdiger were +permitted to leave the hall, the remainder of Etzel’s attendants being +slaughtered like sheep. In great wrath Etzel and Kriemhild offered heavy +bribes to any who would slay Hagen. Several attempts were made, but +without avail; and the terrible conflict continued till nightfall, +when a truce was called. From his place of vantage in the hall Giselher +reproached his sister with her treachery, and Kriemhild offered to spare +her brothers if they would consent to give up Hagen. But this offer +they contemptuously refused, holding death preferable to such dishonour. +Kriemhild, in her bitter hate, set the hall on fire, and most of the +Burgundians perished in the conflagration. Kriemhild and the Huns were +astounded, however, when in the morning they discovered six hundred +of the Burgundians were still alive. The queen appealed to Rüdiger to +complete the slaughter, but he, aghast at the idea of attacking friends +whom he had sworn to protect, was about to refuse, when Kriemhild +reminded him of his oath to her. With sorrow he proceeded to fulfil his +promise, and Giselher, seeing his approach, imagined he came as an ally. +But Rüdiger promptly disillusioned him. The Burgundians were as loath +to attack Rüdiger as he them, and Hagen and he exchanged shields. The +combat recommenced, and great was the slaughter of the Burgundians, +until Gernot and Rüdiger came together and slew one another. At this, +Wolfhart, Dietrich of Bern’s lieutenant, led his men against the +Burgundians to avenge Rüdiger’s death, and Giselher and Wolfhart slew +one another. Volker and Dankwart were also slain. At length all were +dead save Gunther and Hagen, whom Dietrich accosted and whom he offered +to save. But this offer Hagen refused. Then the Lord of Bern grew wroth. + +Dietrich Intervenes + +Dietrich then donned his armour and was assisted to accoutre himself by +Hildebrand. He felt a heroic mood inspire him, a good sword was in +his hand, and a stout shield was on his arm, and with the faithful +Hildebrand he went boldly thence. + +Hagen espied him coming and said: “Yonder I see Sir Dietrich. He desires +to join battle with us after his great sorrow. To-day shall we see to +whom must go the palm. I fear him not. Let him come on.” + +This speech was not unheard of Dietrich and Hildebrand, for Hagen +came to where he found the hero leaning against the wall of the house. +Dietrich set his shield on the ground and in woeful tones said: “O king, +wherefore have ye treated me so? All my men are gone, I am bereft of all +good, Knight Rüdiger the brave and true is slain. Why have ye done these +things? Never should I have worked you such sorrow. Think on yourselves +and on your wrongs. Do ye not grieve for the death of your good kinsmen? +Ah, how I mourn the fall of Rüdiger! Whatsoever joy I have known in life +that have ye slain. It is not for me to sorrow if my kin be slain.” + +“How so, Dietrich?” asked Hagen. “Did not your men come to this hall +armed from head to heel with intent to slay us?” + +Then spake Dietrich of Bern. “This is fate’s work and not the doing of +man,” said the hero. “Gunther, thou hast fought well. Yield thee now +as hostage, no shame shall it be to thee. Thou shalt find me true and +faithful with thee.” + +“Nay, God forbid,” cried Hagen; “I am still unfettered and we are only +two. Would ye have me yield me after such a strife?” + +“Yet would I save thy life, brave and noble Hagen,” said Dietrich +earnestly. “Yield thee, I beg, and I will convoy thee safe home to +Rhineland.” + +“Nay, cease to crave this thing,” replied Hagen angrily. “Such a tale +shall never be told of me. I see but two of ye, ye and Hildebrand.” + +Hildebrand, addressing Hagen, then said that the hour would come when +he would gladly accept the truce his lord offered, but Hagen in reply +twitted Hildebrand with the manner in which he had fled from the hall. +Dietrich interrupted them, saying that it ill beseemed heroes to scold +like ancient beldams, and forbade Hildebrand to say more. Then, seeing +that Hagen was grim of mood, Dietrich snatched up his shield. A moment +later Hagen’s sword rang on his helm, but the Lord of Bern guarded him +well against the dreadful blows. Warily did he guard him against Hagen’s +mighty falchion Balmung. At last he dealt Hagen a wound deep and wide. +But he did not wish to slay him, desiring rather to have such a hero as +hostage. Casting away his shield, in his arms he gripped Hagen of Trony, +who, faint from loss of blood, was overthrown. At that Gunther began +to wail greatly. Dietrich then bound Hagen and led him to where stood +Kriemhild and gave him into her hand. Right merry was she at the sight +and blessed Dietrich, bowing low before him, telling him that he had +requited her of all her woes, and that she would serve him until death. + +But Dietrich begged Hagen’s life of the Queen, telling her that he would +requite her of all that he had done against her. “Let him not suffer,” +said he, “because you see him stand there bound.” But she ordered that +Hagen be led away to durance. + +Dietrich then went to where Gunther stood in the hall and engaged him +in strife. Loudly rang the swords as the two heroes circled in fight, +dealing mighty blows on each other’s helm, and men there had great +wonder how Sir Dietrich did not fall, so sorely angry was Gunther for +the loss of Hagen. But the King’s blood was seen to ooze through his +armourings, and as he grew fainter Dietrich overcame him as he had done +Hagen and bound him. Then was he too taken before Kriemhild, and once +again the noble Dietrich begged a life from the Queen. This she gladly +promised, but treachery was in her heart. Then went she to Hagen and +said to him that if he would return the Nibelungs’ treasure to her +he might still go home safe and sound to Burgundy. The grim champion +answered that she wasted her words, and that he had sworn an oath not +to show the hoard while any of his lords still lived. At that answer a +terrible thought entered the mind of Kriemhild, and without the least +compunction she ordered that her brother Gunther’s life be taken. They +struck off his head like that of a common malefactor, and by the hair +she carried it to the Knight of Trony. Full sorrowfully he gazed upon +it, then turning his eyes away from the haggard and distorted features, +he said to Kriemhild: + +“Dead is the noble King of Burgundy, and Giselher, and Gernot also. +Now none knoweth of the treasure save me, and it shall ever be hid from +thee, thou fiend.” + +The Death of Hagen and Kriemhild + +Greatly wroth was Kriemhild when she heard that her stratagem had +come to naught. “Full ill have ye requited me, Sir Hagen,” she cried +fiercely, and drawing the sword of Siegfried from its sheath, she raised +it with both hands and struck off the Burgundian’s head. + +Amazed and sorrowful was King Etzel when he saw this. “Alas,” cried he, +“that such a hero should die bound and by the hands of a woman. Here +lieth the best of knights that ever came to battle or bore a shield. +Sorely doth this deed grieve me, however much I was his foe.” + +Then spake old Hildebrand, full of horror that such a thing had come to +pass, “Little shall it profit her that she hath slain him so foully,” he +cried; “whatever hap to me, yet will I avenge bold Hagen.” + +With these words he rushed at Kriemhild. Loudly did she cry out, but +little did that avail her, for with one great stroke Hildebrand clove +her in twain. The victims of fate lay still. Sorely wept Dietrich and +Etzel. So ended the high feast in death and woe. More is not to be said. +Let the dead rest. Thus fell the Nibelungs, thus was accomplished the +fate of their house! + +The place of origin of the Nibelungenlied is much disputed, a number of +scholars arguing for its Scandinavian genesis, but it may be said that +the consensus of opinion among modern students of the epic is that +it took its rise in Germany, along the banks of the Rhine, among the +Frankish division of the Teutonic folk. Place-names lend colour to this +assumption. Thus in the Odenwald we have a Siegfried Spring; a Brunhild +Bed is situated near Frankfort; there is a Hagen Well at Lorch, and the +Drachenfels, or Dragon’s Rock, is on the banks of the Rhine. Singularly +enough, however, if we desire a full survey of the Nibelungenlied story, +we have to supplement it from earlier versions in use among the peoples +of Scandinavia and Iceland. These are distinctly of a more simple and +early form than the German versions, and it is to be assumed that +they represent the original Nibelungenlied story, which was preserved +faithfully in the North, whereas the familiarity of its theme among the +Southern Teutons caused it to be altered again and again for the sake +of variety, until to some extent it lost its original outline. Moreover, +such poems as the Norse Volsunga Saga and Thidreks Saga, not to speak +of other and lesser epics, afford many details relating to the +Nibelungenlied which it does not contain in its present form. It may +be interesting to give a summary of the Volsunga Saga, which is a prose +paraphrase of the Edda Songs. + +The Volsunga Saga + +The epic deals with the history of the treasure of the Nibelungs, and +tells how a certain Hreithmar had it given him by the god Loki as +a weregild for the slaying of the former’s son, Otur or Otter, who +occasionally took the shape of that animal. Loki in his turn obtained +the ransom from the dwarf Andwari, who had stolen it from the river-gods +of the Rhine. The dwarf, incensed at losing the treasure, pronounced a +most dreadful curse upon it and its possessors, saying that it would be +the death of those who should get hold of it. Thus Hreithmar, its +first owner, was slain in his sleep by his son Fafnir, who carried the +treasure away to the Gnita Heath, where, having taken the form of a +dragon, he guarded it. + +The treasure—and the curse—next passed into the keeping of Sigurd (the +Norse form of Siegfried), a descendant of the race of the Volsungs, a +house tracing its genealogy back to the god Woden. The full story of +Sigurd’s ancestry it is unnecessary to deal with here, as it has +little influence on the connexion of the story of the Volsungs with +the Nibelungenlied. Sigurd came under the tutelage of Regin, the son of +Hreithmar and brother of Fafnir, received the magic steed Grani from +the king, and then was requested by Regin to assist him in obtaining the +treasure guarded by Fafnir. After forging a sword for himself out of +the fragments of a blade left by his father Siegmund, he avenged his +father’s death and then set out to attack Fafnir. Meeting Woden, he was +advised by the god to dig a ditch in the dragon’s path. Encountering +Fafnir, he slew him and the dragon’s blood ran into the ditch, without +which he would have been drowned by the flood of gore from the monster. +As the dragon died he warned Sigurd against the treasure and its curse +and against Regin, who, he said, was planning Sigurd’s death. + +When Regin saw that the dragon was quite dead, he crept from his +hiding-place and quaffed its blood. Then, cutting out the heart, he +begged Sigurd to roast it for him. In this operation Sigurd burnt his +fingers and instinctively thrust them in his mouth, thus tasting of the +dragon’s blood, whereupon he was surprised to find that he comprehended +the language of the birds. Hearkening intently to the strange, new +sounds, he learned that if he himself should eat the heart, then he +would be wiser than anyone in the world. The birds further betrayed +Regin’s evil intentions, and advised Sigurd to kill him. Seeing his +danger, Sigurd went to where Regin was and cut off his head and ate +Fafnir’s heart. Following once again the advice of the birds, he +brought the treasure from the cave and then journeyed to the mountain +Hindarfjall, where he rescued the sleeping Valkyr, Brynhild or Brunhild, +who had been pierced by the sleep-thorn of Woden and lay in slumber clad +in full armour within a castle, surrounded by a hedge of flame. Mounting +his horse Grani, Sigurd rode through the fiery obstacle to the gate +of the castle. He entered it, and, finding the maiden asleep, cut the +armour from her with his sword—for during her long slumber it had become +very tight upon her. Brunhild hailed him with joy, for she had vowed +never to marry a man who knew fear. She taught Sigurd much wisdom, and +finally they pledged their troth. He then departed, after promising to +remain faithful to her. + +On his travels he arrived at the court of Giuki or Gibicho, a king whose +domains were situated on the Lower Rhine. Three sons had he, Gunnar, +Hogni, and Gutthorm, and a daughter Gudrun, a maiden of exquisite +beauty. His queen bore the name of Grimhild, and was deeply versed in +magical science, but was evil of nature. + +They received Sigurd with much honour. Grimhild knew of his relations +with Brunhild, and gave him a potion which produced forgetfulness of the +war-maiden, so that he accepted the hand of Gudrun which Giuki offered +him. The marriage was celebrated with great splendour, and Sigurd +remained at Giuki’s court, much acclaimed for his deeds of skill and +valour. + +Grimhild meanwhile urged upon her son Gunnar to sue for the hand of +Brunhild. He resolved to accept her advice and set out to visit her, +taking with him Sigurd and a few other friends. He first visited +Brunhild’s father Budli, and afterward her brother-in-law Heimir, from +whom he heard that Brunhild was free to choose the man she desired, but +that she would espouse no one who had not ridden through the hedge of +flame. They proceeded to Brunhild’s castle. Gunnar attempted to pierce +the flames, but was unable to do so even when seated on Sigurd’s horse, +for Grani would not stir, knowing well that it was not his master who +urged him on. At last they made use of a potion that had been given them +by Grimhild, and Sigurd, in the shape of Gunnar, rode through the wall +of fire. He explained to the war-maiden that he was the son of Giuki and +had come to claim her hand. The destiny laid upon her by Woden compelled +her to consent, but she did so with much reluctance. Sigurd then passed +three nights at her side, placing his sword Gram between them as a bar +of separation; but at parting he drew from her finger the ring with +which he had originally plighted his troth to her, and replaced it with +another taken from Fafnir’s hoard. Shortly afterward the wedding of +Gunnar and Brunhild was celebrated with lavish splendour, and they all +returned to Giuki’s court. + +Matters progressed happily for some time, until one day Brunhild and +Gudrun went to bathe in the river. Brunhild refused to bathe farther +down the stream than Gudrun—that is, in the water which flowed from +Gudrun to her—asserting that her husband was the son of a king, while +Sigurd had become a menial. Gudrun retorted to her sister-in-law that +not Gunnar, but Sigurd had penetrated the hedge of fire and had taken +from her the ring, which she then showed to Brunhild in proof of her +words. A second and even more disturbing conversation followed, which +served only to increase the hatred between the women, and Brunhild +planned a dreadful vengeance. She feigned illness, retired to her bed, +and when Gunnar inquired what ailed her, asked him if he recalled the +circumstances of their wooing, and how Sigurd, and not he, rode through +the flames to win her. So furious was she at the dreadful insult which +had been placed upon her by Gudrun that she attempted to take Gunnar’s +life. She still loved Sigurd, and could never forgive Gunnar and his +sister for robbing her of him. So terrible was her grief that she sank +into a deep slumber in which she remained for seven days, no one daring +to waken her. Finally Sigurd succeeded in doing so, and she lamented to +him how cruelly she had been deceived; she declared that he and she +had been destined for one another, and that now she had received for +a husband a man who could not match with him. Sigurd begged her not to +harbour a grudge against Gunnar, and told her of his mighty deeds—how +that he had slain the king of the Danes, and also the brother of Budli, +a great warrior—but Brunhild did not cease to lament, and planned +Sigurd’s death, threatening Gunnar with the loss of his dominions and +his life if he would not kill Sigurd. Gunnar hesitated for a long time, +but at length consented, and calling Hogni, ordered him to slay Sigurd +that they might thus obtain the treasure of the Rhinegold. Hogni was +aghast at this, and reminded him that they had pledged their oaths to +Sigurd. + +Then Gunnar remembered that his brother Gutthorm had sworn no oath of +loyalty to Sigurd, and so might perform the deed. They plied him with +wolf and snake meat to eat, so that he might become savage by nature, +and they tried to excite his greed with tales of the Rhinegold treasure. +Twice did Gutthorm make the attempt as Sigurd lay in bed, but twice +he was deterred from slaying him by the hero’s penetrating glance. The +third time, however, he found him asleep and pierced him with his sword. +Sigurd awoke and hurled his own sword after Gutthorm, cutting him in +two. He then died, stating that he knew Brunhild to be the instigator +of the murder. Gudrun’s grief was frantic, and at this Brunhild laughed +aloud as if with joy; but later she became more grief-stricken than +Sigurd’s wife herself, and determined to be done with life. Donning +her richest array, she pierced herself with a sword. As she expired she +requested to be burned on Sigurd’s funeral pyre, and also prophesied +that Gudrun would marry Atli, and that the death of many heroes would be +caused thereby. + +Gudrun’s Adventure + +Gudrun in her great sorrow fled to the court of King Half of Denmark, +at which she tarried for seven years. Her mother Grimhild learned of +her place of concealment and attempted to bring about a reconciliation +between her and Gunnar. She was offered much treasure if she would marry +Atli, King of the Huns, and finally she consented. Atli became +covetous of Gunnar’s wealth—for the latter had taken possession of the +Rhinegold—and invited him to his court. But Gudrun sent a message of +warning to her brother. The runes which composed this, however, were +so manipulated by Vingi, one of the messengers, that they read as a +harmless invitation instead of a warning, and this Gunnar and Hogni +determined to accept. They reached Atli’s court in due season, and as +they arrived Vingi disclosed his true character, stating that he had +lured them into a snare. Hogni slew him, and as they rode to Atli’s +dwelling the Hunnish king and his sons armed themselves for battle and +demanded Sigurd’s treasure, which they declared belonged by right to +Gudrun. Gunnar refused to part with it, and a great combat began. Gudrun +armed herself and fought on the side of her brothers. A fierce battle +raged with great loss on both sides, until nearly all the Nibelungs were +slain, and Gunnar and Hogni, forced to yield to the power of numbers, +were captured and bound. + +Gunnar was now asked if he would purchase his life with the treasure, +and he replied eventually that he would do so if he were given Hogni’s +heart. To humour his request the Huns cut out the heart of a slave and +brought it to him; but Gunnar saw through the stratagem and recognized +the heart as that of a coward. They then cut out Hogni’s heart, and +Gunnar, seeing that this was indeed the heart of a prince, was glad, for +now he alone knew where the treasure of the Rhinegold was hid, and he +vowed that Atli should never know of its whereabouts. In great wrath the +Hunnish monarch ordered Gunnar to be thrown into a pit of snakes. His +hands were bound, yet the hero from the Rhine played so exquisitely with +his toes on a harp which Gudrun had sent to him that he lulled to sleep +all the reptiles—with the exception of an adder, which stung him to the +heart so that he died. + +Atli, spurning the bodies of the fallen, turned to Gudrun, saying that +she alone was to blame for what had happened. That evening she killed +her two sons, Erp and Eitil, and served their flesh at the banquet which +the King was giving for his warriors. When Atli asked for the boys to +be brought to him, he was told that he had drunk their blood in his wine +and had eaten their hearts. + +That night, while he slept, Gudrun took Hogni’s son Hnifling, who +desired to avenge his slaughtered father, and entering Atli’s chamber, +the young man thrust a sword through the breast of the Hunnish king. He +awoke through the pain of his wound, and was informed by Gudrun that she +was his murderess. He bitterly reproached her, only to be told that she +cared for no one but Sigurd. Atli’s last request was that his obsequies +should be such as were fitting for a king, and to ensure that he had +proper funeral rites Gudrun set fire to his castle and burnt his body +together with those of his dead retainers. + +The further adventures of Gudrun are related in certain songs in the +Edda, but the Volsunga Saga proper ends with the death of Atli. + +Comparisons between the Epics + +We see from this account that the Volsunga Saga presents in many +respects an older form of the Nibelungenlied story. Sigurd is the same +as Siegfried; Gunnar, Hogni, and Gudrun are parallels with Gunther, +Hagen, and Kriemhild—although, strangely enough, that name is also borne +by Gudrun’s mother in the Volsunga Saga. We will recall that the events +detailed in the first part of the lay of the Volsungs are vaguely +alluded to in the Nibelungenlied, which assures us that the connexion we +have thus drawn is a correct one. + +Myth or History? + +We come now to the vexed question as to whether the Nibelungenlied is +mythical or historical in origin. This question has been approached by +certain scholars who, because of their lack of mythological knowledge, +have rendered themselves ridiculous in attempting elucidations on a +purely historical basis. An entirely mythological origin is not here +pleaded for the Nibelungenlied, but it should surely be recognized, even +by the historian who is without mythological training, that no story of +any antiquity exists which does not contain a substantial substratum of +mythical circumstance. So speedy is the crystallization of myth around +the nucleus of historical fact, and so tenacious is its hold, that to +disentangle it from the factors of reality is a task of the most extreme +difficulty, requiring careful handling by scholars who possess a wide +and accurate knowledge of mythological processes. Even to-day, when +students of history have recovered from the first shock of the intrusion +into their domain of the mythologist and the folklorist, so much remains +to be effected in the disentanglement of what is believed to be absolute +historical fact from the mythical growths which surround it that, were +they conscious of the labour which yet remains in this respect, even the +most advanced of our present-day historians would stand aghast at the +task which awaits their successors. + +In the Nibelungenlied we have a case in point. What the exact +mythological elements contained in it represent it would indeed +be difficult to say. Students of the Müllerian school have seen in +Siegfried a sun-god, who awakens Brunhild, a nature goddess. This aspect +is not without its likelihood, for in one passage Brunhild tells how +Odin thrust into her side a thorn—evidently the sharp sting of icy +winter—and how the spell rendered her unconscious until awakened by +Siegfried. There are many other mythological factors in the story, and +either a diurnal or seasonal myth may be indicated by it. But it would +require a separate volume to set forth the arguments in favour of a +partial mythological origin of the Nibelungenlied. One point is to be +especially observed—a point which we have not so far seen noted in a +controversy where it would have seemed that every special circumstance +had been laboured to the full—and that is that, besides mythological +matter entering into the original scheme of the Nibelungenlied, a very +considerable mass of mythical matter has crystallized around it since it +was cast into its first form. This will be obvious to any folklorist +of experience who will take the trouble to compare the Scandinavian and +German versions. + +The Historical Theory + +Abeling and Boer, the most recent protagonists of the historical theory, +profess to see in the Nibelungenlied the misty and confused traditions +of real events and people. Abeling admits that it contains mythical +elements, but identifies Siegfried with Segeric, son of the Burgundian +king Sigismund, Brunhild with the historical Brunichildis, and Hagan +with a certain Hagnerius. The basis of the story, according to him, is +thus a medley of Burgundian historical traditions round which certain +mythological details have crystallized. The historical nucleus is the +overthrow of the Burgundian kingdom of Gundahar by the Huns in A.D. +436. Other events, historical in themselves, were torn from their proper +epochs and grouped around this nucleus. Thus the murder of Segeric, +which happened eighty-nine years later, and the murder of Attila by +his Burgundian wife Ildico, are torn from their proper historical +surroundings and fitted into the story. Boer, on the other hand, will +not have it that there is any mythology at all in the Nibelungenlied, +and, according to him, the nucleus of the legend is an old story of +the murder of relatives. This became grafted on the Siegfried legend +according to some authorities, but Boer will not admit this, and +presents a number of arguments to disprove the mythical character of the +Siegfried story. The reasoning is ingenious, but by no means +valuable. We know that the mythologies of the ancient Germans and the +Scandinavians were in many respects, though not in all, one and the same +system, and we find many of the characters of the Nibelungenlied among +the divine beings alluded to in the Edda. It is unlikely that the +dramatis personae of a German murder story would find its way into even +the most decadent form of Scandinavian belief. There is every reason to +conclude that a great many historical elements are to be discovered in +the Nibelungenlied, but to discount entirely those which are mythical +is absurd and even more futile than it would be to deny that many of the +incidents related in the great epic reflect in some measure historical +events. + +The Klage + +The Klage, a sequel to the Nibelungenlied, recounts somewhat tamely +the events which follow upon the dire catastrophe pictured in the great +German epic. It is on the whole more modern than the Lied, and most +critics ascribe it to a period so late as the fourteenth century. It +is highly artificial and inartistic, and Grimm points out that it is +obvious that in penning it the author did not have the Nibelungenlied, +as we know it, before him. As it is practically unknown to +English-speaking readers, a résumé of it may not be out of place here. +It describes the search among the dead bodies in the house of slaughter, +the burying of them, the journey of Etzel’s “fiddler,” Swemmelin, to the +Rhine by way of Bechlarn and Passau to give the tidings of the massacre +to Queen Brunhild, his return, and the final parting from Etzel of +Dietrich and his wife Herrat, who also take Bechlarn on their way. Level +and poor as the narrative is, it reaches pathos in the description of +the arrival of the messengers at Bechlarn. To spare his niece (Gotelint) +Dietrich tells them not to mention the terrible events which have +happened, but to say that he and Rüdiger will soon come to see her, or +at all events himself. They are received with great rejoicing—Gotelint +and her daughter think “both to receive love without sorrow, as often +before, from beloved glances.” The young margravine has a foreboding of +evil at seeing the messengers so few—only seven. Then her mother tells +her of an evil dream which she has had, and she in turn has to tell of +another which has come to herself. Meanwhile the messengers are at +hand, and are observed to be sad. They give to Rüdiger’s wife the false +tidings of peace which they have been instructed to relate, and the +younger lady wonders that her father should have sent no message to +herself specially. The ladies continue to question the messengers about +Kriemhild: how has she received her brother? what did she say to Hagen? +what to Gunther? How is it, asks the younger one, that Giselher has sent +her never a message? Each lying answer costs the speaker more and +more sorrow, and at last his tears begin to flow. The young margravine +exclaims that there must be ill news, that evil has befallen them, and +that the guests and her father must be dead. As she speaks one of the +messengers can contain himself no longer, and a cry breaks with blood +from his mouth. All his companions burst into tears at the same time. +The margravine conjures them by their troth to tell how they parted +from her husband, saying that the lie must have an end. “Then spake the +fiddler, Swemmelin the messenger: ‘Lady, we wished to deny to you that +which we yet must say, since no man could conceal it; after this +hour, ye see Margrave Rüdiger no more alive.’” The margravine, we are +afterward told, dies of grief at the news, as does old Queen Ute at her +abbey of Lors. Brunhild survives, and is prevailed upon by her vassals +to have her son crowned. Etzel, after parting with Dietrich, loses +his mind; according to another version, his fate remains altogether +uncertain. Dietelint, the young margravine, is taken under Dietrich’s +protection, who promises to find her a husband. Bishop Pilgrin has the +story written out in Latin letters, “that men should deem it true.” A +writer, Master Konrad, then began to set it down in writing; since then +it has been often set to verse in Teuton tongues; old and young know +well the tale. “Of their joy and of their sorrow I now say to you no +more; this lay is called Ein Klage.” + +Walthar of Aquitaine + +One of the grandest and most heroic epics of the great age of romance +is that of Walthar of Aquitaine. It is indissolubly connected with the +Rhine and with the city of Worms because in the vicinity the hero whose +feats of arms it celebrates fought his greatest battle. It was written +in monkish Latin at any time between the eighth and ninth centuries, and +is connected with later versions of the Nibelungenlied, which contains +numerous allusions to it. Founded upon traditional materials collected +and edited by some gifted occupant of the cloister, it opens in the +grand manner by telling how the empire of the Huns had already lasted +for more than a thousand years, when Attila invaded the territory of the +Franks, ruled over by Gibicho. Gibicho, trembling for his throne, by the +advice of his counsellors determined to pay tribute and give hostages to +the terrible Hun; but as his son Gunther was too young to be sent as a +hostage, he put in his place a noble youth named Hagen, and paying the +invaders a great indemnity in treasure, thus secured the safety of his +kingdom. The Huns then turned their attention to the Burgundians, whose +king Herric had an only daughter, the beautiful Hildegund. Herric shut +himself up in the town of Châlons, and calling together his ministers +imparted to them his deliberations. + +“Since the Franks, who are so much stronger than we, have yielded,” he +said, “how can we of Burgundy hope to triumph against such a host? I +will give my daughter Hildegund as a hostage to the Huns. Better that +one should suffer than that the realm should be laid waste.” The Huns +accepted Hildegund as a hostage, and with much treasure turned their +faces westward to the kingdom of Aquitaine, whose king, Alphere, had an +only son, Walthar, who was already affianced to Hildegund. He, too, had +to give up his son as hostage and pay tribute. + +Although ruthless as an invader and cruel as a conqueror, Attila +displayed the utmost kindness to the children. He treated them in every +way as befitted their rank, and handing the girl over to the queen, had +the boys trained in martial exercises and intellectual arts, till in +a few years’ time they easily surpassed all of the Huns in every +accomplishment that becomes a knight. So greatly did Attila’s queen +trust the maiden, Hildegund, that she placed in her charge all the +treasures Attila had won in war. Life was pleasant for the youthful +hostages, but one day news came to the ear of Attila that Gibicho was +dead and that Gunther was his successor. Learning this, Hagen succeeded +in making his escape by night, and fearing that Walthar would follow his +example, Attila’s queen suggested to her husband that he should marry +the youthful warrior, who had greatly distinguished himself at the head +of the Huns, to a Hunnish maiden. But Walthar had no mind for such a +match and declared himself unworthy of marriage, urging that if wedded +he might neglect his military duties, and declaring that nothing was so +sweet to him as for ever to be busy in the faithful service of his lord. +Attila, never doubting him, and lulled from all suspicion by further +victories won by him over a rebellious people, dismissed the matter +from his mind; but on returning from his successful campaign Walthar +had speech with Hildegund on the subject of their betrothal, hitherto +untouched between them. + +At first she thought that he merely mocked her, but he protested that he +was weary of exile, was anxious to escape, and would have fled ere this +but that it grieved him to leave her alone at the Hunnish court. Her +reply is one characteristic of women in medieval days. + +“Let my lord command,” she said; “I am ready for his love to bear evil +hap or good.” + +She then provided him, out of the treasure-chests of Attila, with helm, +hauberk, and breast-plate. They filled two chests with Hunnish money in +the shape of golden rings, placed four pairs of sandals on the top and +several fish-hooks, and Walthar told Hildegund that all must be ready in +a week’s time. + +The Escape + +On the seventh day after this Walthar gave a great feast to Attila, his +nobles, and his household. He pressed food and wine on the Huns, and +when their platters were clear and the tables removed, he handed to +the king a splendid carven goblet, full to the brim of the richest and +oldest wine. This Attila emptied at a draught, and ordered all his men +to follow his example. Soon the wine overcame the Huns, who, pressed by +Walthar, caroused so deeply that all were at last rendered unconscious. + +Walthar gave the sign to Hildegund, and they slipped from the hall and +from the stable took his noble war-horse Lion, so named for his courage. +They hung the treasure-chests like panniers on each flank of the +charger, and taking with them some food for the journey, set off. +Hildegund took the reins, Walthar in full armour sitting behind her. All +night they did not draw rein, and during the day they hid in the gloomy +woods. At every breath, at the snapping of a twig, or the chirping of +a bird, Hildegund trembled. They avoided the habitations of men and +skirted the mountains, where but few faces were to be seen, and so they +made good their flight. + +But the Huns, roused from their drunken sleep, gazed around stupidly +and cried loudly for Walthar, their boon companion as they thought, +but nowhere was he to be found. The queen, too, missed Hildegund and, +realizing that the pair had escaped, made loud wail through the palace. +Angry and bewildered, Attila could touch neither food nor drink. Enraged +at the manner in which he had been deceived, he offered great gifts +to him who would bring back Walthar in chains; but none of the Hunnish +champions considered themselves fit for such a task, and at length the +hue and cry ceased, and Walthar and Hildegund were left to make their +way back to Aquitaine as best they could. + +Full of the thought that they were being pursued, Walthar and the maiden +fled onward. He killed the birds of the wood and caught fish to supply +them with food. His attitude to Hildegund was one of the deepest +chivalry, and he was ever mindful for her comfort. Fourteen days had +passed when at last, issuing from the darkness of the forest, they +beheld the silver Rhine gleaming in the sunlight and spied the towers +of Worms. At length he found a ferry, but, fearing to make gossip in +the vicinity, he paid the ferryman with fishes, which he had previously +caught. The ferryman, as it chanced, sold the fish to the king’s cook, +who dressed them and placed them before his royal master. The monarch +declared that there were no such fishes in France, and asked who had +brought them to Worms. The ferryman was summoned, and related how he had +ferried over an armed warrior, a fair maiden, and a great war-horse with +two chests. Hagen, who sat at the king’s table, exclaimed full joyfully: + +“Now will I avow that this is none other than my comrade Walthar +returning from the Hunnish land.” + +“Say ye so?” retorted King Gunther. “It is clear that by him the +Almighty sends me back the treasure of my father Gibicho.” + +So ordered he a horse to be brought, and taking with him twelve of his +bravest chiefs besides Hagen, who sought in vain to dissuade him, he +went in search of Walthar. + +The Cave + +Journeying from the banks of the Rhine, Walthar and the maiden had by +this time reached the forest of the Vosges. They halted at a spot where +between two hills standing close together is situated a pleasant and +shady cave, not hollowed out in the earth, but formed by the beetling of +the rocks, a fit haunt for bandits, carpeted with green moss. But little +sleep had Walthar known since his escape from the Hunland, so, spying +this cool retreat, he crept inside it to rest. Putting off his heavy +armour, he placed his head on Hildegund’s lap, bidding her keep watch +and wake him by a touch if she saw aught of danger. But the covetous +Gunther had seen his tracks in the dust, and ever urging on his +companions soon came near the cave where Walthar reposed. Hagen warned +him of Walthar’s powers as a champion, and told him that he was too +great a warrior to permit himself to be despoiled easily. + +Hildegund, noticing their approach, gently aroused Walthar, who put on +his armour. At first she thought the approaching band were Huns pursuing +them, and implored him to slay her; but Walthar smilingly bade her be of +good cheer, as he had recognized Hagen’s helm. He was evidently aware, +however, of the purpose for which he had been followed, and going to +the mouth of the cave, he addressed the assembled warriors, telling them +that no Frank should ever return to say that he had taken aught of his +treasure unpunished. + +Hagen advised a parley in case Walthar should be ready to give up the +treasure without bloodshed, and Camillo, the prefect of Metz, was sent +to him for this purpose. Camillo told him that if he would give up his +charger, the two chests, and the maiden, Gunther would grant him life; +but Walthar laughed in his face. + +“Go tell King Gunther,” he said, “that if he will not oppose my passage +I will present him with one hundred armlets of red metal.” + +Hagen strongly advised the king to accept the offer, for on the night +before he had had an evil dream of a bear which tore off one of the +king’s legs in conflict, and put out one of his own eyes when he came +to Gunther’s aid. Gunther replied with a sneer, and Hagen, greatly +humiliated, declared that he would share neither the fight nor the +spoil. + +“There is your foe,” he said. “I will stay here and see how you fare at +his hands.” + +Now only one warrior could attack Walthar at a time. It is needless to +go into details of his several conflicts, which are varied with very +considerable skill and fancy, but all of which end in his triumph. The +sixth champion he had to meet was Patavrid, sister’s son to Hagen, who +vainly endeavoured to restrain him, but who also was worsted, and after +the fall of the next warrior the Franks themselves urged Gunther to end +the combat; but he, furious at his want of success, only drove them to +it the more vehemently. + +At last four of them made a combined attack on Walthar, but because of +the narrowness of the path they could not come at him with any better +success than could one single warrior, and they too were put out of the +fight. + +Then Gunther was left alone and, fleeing to Hagen, besought him to come +to his aid. Long did Hagen resist his entreaties, but at last he was +moved by Gunther’s description of the manner in which his kinsfolk had +been slain by Walthar. Hagen’s advice was to lure Walthar into the open, +when both should attack him, so Hagen and the king departed and selected +a spot for an ambush, letting their horses go loose. + +Uncertain of what had passed between Hagen and the king, Walthar decided +upon remaining in the cave till the morning, so after placing bushes +around the mouth of the cave to guard against a surprise, he gave thanks +to heaven for his victory. + +Rising from his knees, he bound together the six horses which remained, +then, loosing his armour, comforted Hildegund as best he might and +refreshed himself with food, after which he lay down upon his shield and +requested the maiden to watch during his sleep. Although she was tired +herself, Hildegund kept awake by singing in a low tone. After his first +sleep Walthar rose refreshed, and bidding Hildegund rest herself, he +stood leaning upon his spear, keeping guard at the cave-mouth. When +morning had come he loaded four of the horses with spoils taken from +the dead warriors, and placing Hildegund on the fifth, mounted the sixth +himself. Then with great caution he sent forward first of all the +four laden horses, then the maiden, and closed the rear with the horse +bearing the two treasure-chests. + +For about a mile they proceeded thus, when, looking backward, Hildegund +espied two men riding down the hill toward them and called to Walthar +to flee. But that he would not do, saying: “If honour falls, shame +shall attend my last hour.” He bade her take the reins of Lion, his good +charger, which carried the gold, and seek refuge in the neighbouring +wood, while he ascended the hill to await his enemies. + +Gunther advanced, hurling insulting epithets at the champion, who +ignored him, but turned to Hagen, appealing to their old friendship +and to the recollections of the many hours of childhood they had spent +together. He had thought that Hagen would have been the first to welcome +him, would have compelled him to accept his hospitality, and would have +escorted him peacefully to his father’s kingdom. If he would break his +fealty to Gunther, said Walthar, he should depart rich, his shield full +of red gold. Irritated at such an offer, Hagen replied that he would not +be deluded, and that for Walthar’s slaying of his kinsmen he must have +vengeance. So saying, he hurled his spear at Walthar, which the latter +avoided. Gunther then cast a shaft which was equally harmless. Then, +drawing their swords and covering themselves with their shields, the +Franks sought to close with the Aquitainian, who kept them at bay with +his spear. As their shorter swords could not reach past Walthar’s mighty +shaft, Gunther attempted to recover the spear which he had cast and +which lay before the hero’s feet, and told Hagen to go in front; but as +he was about to pick it up from the ground Walthar perceived his device +and, placing his foot upon it, flung Gunther on his knees, and would +have slain him had not Hagen, rushing to his aid, managed to cover him +with his shield. + +The struggle continued. The hot sunshine came down, and the champions +were bathed in sweat. Walthar, tired of the strife, took the offensive, +and springing at Hagen, with a great stroke of his spear carried away +a part of his armour. Then with a marvellous blow of his sword he smote +off the king’s leg as far as the thigh. He would have dispatched him +with a second blow, but Hagen threw himself over Gunther’s body and +received the sword-stroke on his own head. So well tempered was his helm +that the blade flew in flinders, shivered to the handle. + +Instantly Walthar looked about him for another weapon, but quick +as thought Hagen seized the opportunity and cut off his right hand, +“fearful to peoples and princes.” But, undismayed, the hero inserted the +wounded stump into the shield, and drawing with his left hand a Hunnish +half-sword girt to his right side, he struck at Hagen so fiercely that +he bereft him of his right eye, cutting deep into the temple and +lips and striking out six of his teeth. But neither might fight more: +Gunther’s leg, Walthar’s hand, and Hagen’s eye lay on the ground. They +sat down on the heath and stanched with flowers the flowing stream of +their blood. They called to them Hildegund, who bound up their wounds +and brought them wine. + +Wounded as they were, they cracked many a joke over their cups, as +heroes should. + +“Friend,” said Hagen, “when thou huntest the stag, of whose leather +mayest thou have gloves without end, I warn thee to fill thy right-hand +glove with soft wool, that thou mayest deceive the game with the +semblance of a hand. But what sayest thou to break the custom of thy +people in carrying thy sword at thy right side and embracing thy wife +with thy left arm?” + +“Ha,” retorted Walthar, laughing grimly, “thou wilt have to greet the +troops of heroes with a side glance. When thou gettest thee home, make +thee a larded broth of milk and flour, which will both nourish and cure +thee.” + +Then they placed on horseback the king, who was in sore pain. Hagen bore +him back to Worms, whilst Walthar and Hildegund pursued their way to +Aquitaine, and, on arrival, magnificently celebrated their wedding. + +For thirty years did Walthar rule his people after his father’s death. +“What wars after this, what triumphs he ever had, behold, my blunted +pen refuses to mark. Thou whosoever readest this, forgive a chirping +cricket. Weigh not a yet rough voice but the age, since as yet she hath +not left the nest for the air. This is the poem of Walthar. Save us, +Jesus Christ.” + + + + + +CHAPTER VII—HEIDELBERG TO SÄCKINGEN + +Heidelberg is known all over the world as one of Germany’s great +university towns, as the site of an unrivalled if ruined schloss, and of +a view at the junction of the Rhine with the Neckar which is one of +the most famous in the world. It lies between lofty hills covered with +vineyards and forests, flanked by handsome villas and gardens, and is +crowned by its castle, which has suffered equally from siege and the +elements, being partially blown up by the French in 1609, and struck by +lightning in 1704. + +The Wolf’s Spring + +The name of Jette, a beautiful prophetess of the ancient goddess Herthe, +is linked with the neighbourhood of Heidelberg by the following tragic +tale. + +When the old heathen gods and goddesses were still worshipped in the +Rhine country, a certain priestess of Herthe took up her abode in an +ancient grove, where she practised her occult arts so successfully that +the fame of her divinations spread far and wide, and men came from all +parts of Europe to learn from her what the future had in store for them. +Frequently a warrior left her abode with a consuming fire kindled in +his breast which would rob him of sleep for many a long night, yet none +dared to declare his love to her, for, lovely though she was, there +was an air of austerity, an atmosphere of mysticism about her which +commanded awe and reverence, and forbade even the smallest familiarity. + +One evening there came to the grove of Herthe a youth from a far distant +land, seeking to know his destiny. All day he had journeyed thitherward, +and the dusk had already fallen ere he reached the sacred spot. Jette +sat on the glimmering altar-steps, clad in a flowing white robe, while +on the altar itself burned a faint and fitful flame. The tall, slender +trees, showing fantastic and ghostly in the fading light, made a fitting +background for the gleaming shrine; and the elusive, unearthly beauty of +the priestess was quite in keeping with the magic scene. Her mantle +of austerity had fallen from her; she had forgotten that she was a +prophetess; for the moment she was but a woman, full of grace and charm. +The youth paused as though held by a spell. + +“Fair prophetess,” he said in a low voice, fearing to break in rudely +upon her meditations, “wilt thou read me my fate?” + +Jette, roused from her reverie, fixed her startled gaze on the handsome +stranger, whose dark, burning eyes met hers in deepest admiration. +Something stirred in her heart at the ardent glance, the thrilling +tones, and her wonted composure deserted her. + +“Youth,” she faltered at length, “thou comest at a time when my +prophetic skill hath failed me. Ere I tell thee thy fate I must offer +sacrifice to Herthe. If thou wilt come to-morrow at this hour I will +tell thee what the stars say concerning thy destiny.” + +It was true that her skill had deserted her under the admiring scrutiny +of the young warrior, yet she delayed also because she wished to hear +his voice again, to meet the ardent yet courteous glance of his dark +eyes. + +“I will return, O prophetess,” said he, and with that he was gone. + +Jette’s peace of mind had gone too, it seemed, for she could think of +naught but the handsome stranger. + +On the following evening he returned, and again she delayed to give him +the information he sought. He was no less rejoiced than was Jette at the +prospect of another meeting. + +On the third day the priestess greeted him with downcast eyes. + +“I cannot read thy destiny, youth,” she said; “the stars do not speak +plainly. Yet methinks thy star and mine are very close together.” She +faltered and paused. + +“Dost thou love me, Jette?” cried the young man joyfully. “Wilt thou be +my bride?” + +The maiden’s blushing cheeks and downcast glance were sufficient answer. + +“And wilt thou come with me to my tower?” pursued the youth eagerly. + +Jette started back in affright. + +“Nay, that I cannot,” she cried. “A priestess of Herthe is doomed an she +marry. If I wed thee we must meet in secret and at night.” + +“But I will take thee to Walhalla, and Freya shall appease Herthe with +her offerings.” + +Jette shook her head. + +“Nay,” said she; “it is impossible. The vengeance of Herthe is swift—and +awful. I will show thee a spring where we may meet.” + +She led him to a place where the stream branched off in five separate +rivulets, and bade him meet her there on the following night at a +certain hour. The lovers then parted, each full of impatience for the +return of the hour of meeting. + +Next evening, when the dusk had fallen on the sacred grove of Herthe, +Jette made her way to the rendezvous. The appointed time had not yet +arrived, but scarcely had she reached the spot ere she fancied she heard +a step among the undergrowth, and turned with a glad smile, prepared to +greet her lover. Imagine her dismay when instead of the youth a grisly +wolf confronted her! Her shriek of terror was uttered in vain. A moment +later the monster had sprung at her throat. + +Her lover, hastening with eager steps toward the place of meeting, heard +the agonized shriek and, recognizing the voice of Jette, broke into a +run. He was too late! The monster wolf stood over the lifeless body of +his beloved, and though in his despairing fury the youth slew the huge +brute, the retribution of Herthe was complete. + +Henceforth the scene of the tragedy was called the ‘Wolf’s Spring,’ and +the legend is enshrined there to this day. + +The Jester of Heidelberg + +Considering the wide fame of Rhenish vintages, it is perhaps not +surprising that wine should enter as largely into the Rhine legends as +the ‘barley bree’ is supposed to enter into Scottish anecdote. In truth +there runs through these traditions a stream of Rhenish which plays +almost as important a part in them as the Rhine itself. We are told that +the Emperor Wenzel sold his crown for a quantity of wine; in the tale +connected with Thann, in Alsace, mortar is mixed with wine instead +of water, because of the scarcity of the latter commodity during the +building of a steeple; while in the legends of “The Devil’s Vineyard,” +and “The Cooper of Auerbach” the vintage of Rhineland provides the main +interest of the plot. The following quaint little story, attaching to +the castle of Heidelberg, is a ‘Rhenish’ tale in every sense of the +word. + +In the days when the Schloss Heidelberg was in its most flourishing +state the lord of the castle numbered among his retainers a jester, +small of stature and ugly of feature, whose quips and drolleries +provided endless amusement for himself and his guests. Prominent among +the jester’s characteristics was a weakness for getting tipsy. He was +possessed of an unquenchable thirst, which he never lost an opportunity +of satisfying. + +Knowing his peculiarity, some youthful pages in the train of the +nobleman were minded to have some amusement at his expense, and they +therefore led him to a cellar in which stood a large vat filled with +fragrant wine. And there for a time they left him. + +The jester was delighted at the propinquity of his favourite beverage +and decided that he would always remain in the cellar, regaling himself +with the vintage. His thirst increased at the prospect, so he produced +a gimlet, bored a hole in the vat, and drank and drank till at length he +could drink no more; then the fumes of the wine overcame him and he sank +down in a drunken stupor. Meanwhile the merry little stream flowed from +the vat, covered the floor of the cellar, and rose ever higher. + +The pages waited at the top of the stairs, listening for the bursts of +merriment which were the usual accompaniments of the jester’s drinking +bouts; but all was silent as the grave. At last they grew uneasy and +crept below in a huddled group. The fool lay quite still, submerged +beneath the flood. He had been drowned in the wine. + +The joke now seemed a sorry one, but the pages consoled themselves with +the thought that, after all, death had come to the jester in a welcome +guise. + +The Passing Bells + +There is a legend connected with the town of Speyer in which poetic +justice is meted out to the principal characters, although not until +after they have died. + +The tale concerns itself with the fate of the unfortunate monarch Henry +IV. History relates that Henry was entirely unfit to wear the ermine, +but weak as he was, and ignominious as was his reign, it was a bitter +blow that his own son was foremost among his enemies. At first the +younger Henry conspired against his father in secret; outwardly he was +a model of filial affection, so that he readily prevailed upon the weak +monarch to appoint him as his successor. After that, however, he openly +joined himself to his father’s foes; and when the Pope excommunicated +the monarch, gradually the Emperor’s following went over to the side of +his son, who then caused himself to be invested with imperial honours. +The deposed sovereign, deprived of power and supporters, was compelled +to go into exile; even his personal freedom was secured only as the +price of his renunciation of the crown. Broken and humiliated, feeling +intensely the disgrace of his position, he determined to undertake a +pilgrimage to Liége, accompanied only by his servant Kurt, who alone +of all his train had remained faithful to him. The pilgrimage was +successfully accomplished, but ere he could enter upon the return +journey the wretched Emperor died, in want and misery, utterly neglected +by his kindred. Even after death the Pope’s ban was effective, so that +his corpse was not allowed interment for several years. During that +period the faithful Kurt kept guard unceasingly over his master’s coffin +and would not suffer himself to be drawn therefrom. + +At length, however, Henry V, under pressure from his princes and nobles, +gave orders that his father’s remains be conveyed to Speyer and there +interred in the royal vault with such honours as befitted the obsequies +of a monarch. The messengers found old Kurt still holding his vigil +beside the Emperor’s body, and in recognition of his faithfulness he +was permitted to follow the funeral cortege to Speyer. There were in +the town certain good and pious folk who were touched by the servant’s +devotion, and by these he was kindly treated. But all their kindness +and attention could not repair the havoc which his weary vigil and long +privations had wrought on his health, and a few months later he followed +his master to the grave. + +Strange to relate, as he expired all the bells of Speyer tolled out a +funeral peal such as was accorded to an emperor, and that without being +touched by human hands. Meanwhile Henry V also lay dying. All the +luxury of his palace could not soothe his last moments; though he was +surrounded by courtiers who assumed sorrow and walked softly, and though +all his kindred were around him, he saw ever before him the image of his +dead father, pointing at him with a grim, accusing finger. Stricken with +terror and remorse, and tortured by disease, he longed for death to end +his torments, and at last it came. + +Again the passing bell was tolled by invisible hands, but not this time +the peal which announced the passing of an emperor. The citizens heard +the awful sound which told that a criminal had paid the law’s last +penalty, and asked one another what poor wretch had been executed. Awe +and astonishment seized upon everyone when it was known that the Emperor +had died, for they knew then that it was no earthly hand that had rung +his death-knell. + +Legends of Windeck + +Concerning the neighbourhood of Windeck, some eight miles from Baden, +several interesting tales are current. The castle itself has long +enjoyed the reputation of being haunted by the ghost of a beautiful +girl, though when or wherefore this originated tradition does not +relate. We are told that a young huntsman, whom the chase had driven +thitherward, saw the spectre and was so stricken with her charms that +day after day he visited the castle, hoping to see her once more. But +being disappointed, he at length took up his solitary abode in the +deserted fortress, renouncing his former pursuits and ceasing from all +communication with his friends. + +One day he was found dead in his bed with so peaceful an expression of +countenance that those who saw him could not doubt that his end had been +a pleasant one. On his finger was a ring of quaint design which he had +not been known to wear, and it was whispered among the peasantry that +the ghost-maid of Windeck had claimed her lover. + +The Hennegraben + +Hard by the Schloss Windeck lay a deep trench, known as the Hennegraben, +of which traces may still be found. It is rendered immortal by reason of +the following romantic legend, which tells of its magical origin. + +A certain young knight, lord of the castle of Windeck, for some unknown +reason had seized and imprisoned the worthy Dean of Strassburg. It is +true that the Churchman was treated with every consideration, more like +a guest than a captive, but he nevertheless resented strongly the +loss of his liberty, as did also the good folk of Strassburg when they +learned what had happened. + +Two of the Dean’s young kinsfolk resolved to journey to Windeck and beg +that their uncle might be set free. On their way thither they had to +pass through a forest, where they met an old woman. + +“Whither away, my pretty boys?” said she. “Will you not tell an old +gossip your destination?” + +The elder of the two replied courteously that they were on their way +to Windeck, where their uncle was imprisoned. “Perchance,” he added +timidly, “the lord may accept us as hostages till the ransom be paid.” + +“Perchance,” mimicked the old woman, “aye, perchance! Think you the +knight of Windeck will take such lads as you are for hostages?” + +And in truth they were not an imposing couple—the elder a slim, fragile +youth, whose eyes were already tearful at the prospect of confronting +his uncle’s captor; while the younger was a mere boy, sanguine and +adventuresome as children often are. + +“I will challenge this knight,” said the boy seriously. “I will draw +sword for my uncle, for I also am a knight.” + +“Hush, Cuno,” said his brother, smiling in spite of himself at the boy’s +ardour. “We must not talk of fighting. We must entreat the knight to let +our uncle go free.” + +“What would you have, Imma? Entreat? Nay, that we shall not.” He +stopped awkwardly, and his sister’s rising colour showed plainly her +embarrassment at having her sex thus suddenly revealed. + +The old woman looked at her kindly. + +“I knew from the first that thou wert a maid disguised,” she said. +“Go, and God speed you! Tell the knight of Windeck that the people of +Strassburg mean to attack his castle on the morrow, and that his only +means of resisting them is to dig a deep trench across the one possible +approach. But stay—there is no time for that; I will give you something +wherewith to dig the trench.” + +She whistled shrilly and in answer to her call a grey hen fluttered +toward her; this she gave to the young people. “When the moon rises,” +she said, “take the hen and place it where you wish the trench to be.” + +Then with a few words to the hen in a strange tongue, she bade the +brother and sister farewell and went on her way. + +The two continued their journey and upon arriving at Windeck they were +agreeably surprised in the lord of the castle, for he was young and +handsome and very courteous, not at all the ogre they had imagined. In +faltering tones Imma told him their mission, conveyed to him the old +witch’s warning, and presented the grey hen. + +When he heard that they proposed to gain their uncle’s freedom by +themselves taking his place, the knight regarded his visitors with +mingled feelings of pity and astonishment. The gentle, appealing glance +of the elder, no less than the naive candour of the younger, appealed +to his sympathies. In a very short time Cuno, who had quite forgotten to +challenge his host, was on the best of terms with him. + +Meanwhile the Dean, very impatient and incensed, paced his small chamber +like a caged lion, or bemoaned his lost liberty and meditated on the +chances of escape. He was roused from a reverie by the sound of familiar +voices outside his cell, and a moment later the door was flung open and +Cuno entered unceremoniously. + +“You are free, uncle, you are free! Imma and I have come to save you!” + +Once more Imma flushed crimson at the revelation of her sex. The +astonished knight glanced with a new interest at her beautiful face, +with its rosy colour and downcast eyes. Turning to the Dean, he greeted +him cordially. + +“You are free,” he said. “Your nephews have promised to remain with me +as hostages till you have provided a ransom,” Then, turning humorously +to Imma, he added: “Wilt thou be a soldier in my employ, youth? Or +wouldst have a place in my household?” + +Imma vouchsafed no other reply than a deepening of her colour. She +must, however, have found words to utter when, later, the gallant knight +begged her seriously to remain at Windeck as his wife—for ere nightfall +the old Dean, grumbling and somewhat reluctant, was called upon to +consent to his niece’s betrothal. This he did at length, when Imma had +joined her entreaties to those of her lover. + +That night the grey hen was placed as the witch had advised, and it +was as she had said. With the dawn the Strassburgers arrived before the +castle, to find a newly made trench filled with the castle troopers. +When they learned that the Dean was free they called for a truce, and it +was not blood, but wine, which flowed that day, for all were invited to +share the wedding-feast of Imma and the knight of Windeck. + +The Klingelkapelle + +On the road between Gernsbach and Eberstein there once stood an ancient, +moss-grown cell. It had been occupied by a beautiful pagan priestess, a +devotee of Herthe, but when the preaching of the white monks had begun +to spread Christianity among the people she left the neighbourhood. In +passing by that way a Christian monk noticed the deserted retreat and +took possession of it, issuing at intervals to preach to the inhabitants +of the surrounding country. + +One stormy night as he sat within his cell he fancied he heard a +pleading voice mingling with the roar of wind and waters. Going to the +door, he beheld a young girl who seemed to be half dead with cold and +fatigue. The good monk, who was never indifferent to human suffering, +drew her quickly inside, bade her seat herself by the fire, and set food +and wine before her. When she had recovered a little from the effects of +the storm the hermit questioned her with regard to her presence in such +a lonely spot and at such an unseasonable hour. The maid replied that +she had once dwelt in just such a pleasant and peaceful cell as that in +which she now reposed, but that cruel persecution had driven her from +her retreat. + +“Then you, too, are a hermit?” said the young monk inquiringly, looking +down at his fair guest. The wine had brought some colour to her pale +cheeks and he could see that she was beautiful, with a beauty beyond +that of any maiden he had ever seen. + +“Yes,” she replied, “I am a priestess of Herthe. This cell in which I +beg for shelter was once my own. It was those of your religion who drove +me from it.” + +“You are not a Christian?” asked the monk, startled in spite of himself +by the passionate tones in which she spoke. + +The maiden laughed. + +“Am I not as beautiful as your Christian maids?” said she. “Am I not +human even as they are?” She moved about the cell as she spoke, and +picked up a piece of embroidery. “See, this is my handiwork; is it +less beautiful because it is not the work of a Christian? Why should we +suffer persecution at your hands?” + +The young monk endeavoured to show that she was unjust in her estimate +of his religion. Gravely he told her the story of Christianity, but his +thoughts were of her weird beauty and he spake less earnestly than was +usual. And the maid, with an appearance of child-like innocence, waited +until he had finished his recital. She saw that she had him completely +in her power and pressed her advantage to the uttermost. She drew +closer to him, raised his hand, and pressed it to her lips. The monk +surrendered himself to her caresses, and when at length she begged +him to break the symbol of his religion he was too much fascinated to +refuse. He raised the cross and would have dashed it to the ground, but +at that very moment he heard high above the storm the sound of a bell. +Contrite and ashamed, he fell on his knees and prayed for pardon. When +he looked up again the girl had disappeared. + +The hermit found the warning bell suspended on a bough outside his cell; +how it came there he never knew, but he was sure that it had been sent +to rescue him from the wiles of Satan and he treasured it as a sacred +relic. Many came from far and near to see the wonder, and on the site +of the cell the monk founded a chapel which became known as the +Klingelkapelle, or ‘Tinkling-chapel.’ + +The Wafer-Nymph of Staufenberg + +A charming story is linked with the castle of Staufenberg. One day while +its owner was out hunting he lost his way in the forest. The day was +hot, and the hunter was well-nigh overcome with thirst and fatigue when +he entered a pleasant glade in which a spring of limpid water bubbled +and sparkled. Having quenched his thirst, he seated himself on a mossy +bank to rest before proceeding homeward. Suddenly he saw at a little +distance a damsel of unique and marvellous beauty, braiding her wet hair +by the side of the spring. He watched her for a time in silence, then, +conscious that the damsel had observed his scrutiny, he hastened to her +side and courteously begged her permission to remain a little longer in +the glade. + +“You are the lord of these domains,” she replied graciously. “It is I +who am grateful to you for suffering me to dwell here.” + +The young knight protested eagerly that she honoured the forest with her +presence, and, indeed, he had already begun to wish that she might dwell +not only in the forest but in the schloss itself as his wife and its +mistress—for he had fallen in love with her at first sight. Indeed, so +ardent was his passion that he could not conceal his infatuation; he +told her of his love and begged that she would give him a little hope. +The maid’s hesitation only drove him to urge his suit with increasing +ardour. + +“I will say neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no,’” she replied, smiling. “Meet me +to-morrow at this hour and you shall have your answer.” + +The knight parted reluctantly from the fair lady and promised to return +on the following day. When the appointed time arrived he was already at +the tryst, eagerly awaiting the approach of his beloved. When at length +she came he renewed his pleadings with even greater ardour, and to his +unbounded delight the answer was favourable. + +“I am a water-nymph,” said the lady, “the spirit of the stream from +which you drank yesterday. You saw me then for the first time, but I +have often seen you in the forest—and I have long loved you.” + +The knight was more than ever enchanted by this naive confession, and +begged that their wedding should not be long delayed. + +“There is one condition,” said the nymph. “If you marry me you must +remain for ever faithful. Otherwise you must suffer death, and I eternal +unhappiness.” + +The knight laughed at the bare idea of his proving unfaithful to his +beloved, and his vows were sincere. + +Shortly afterward they were married, and none supposed the beautiful +being to be aught but a very attractive woman; in time there was born to +them a little son. The knight adored both wife and child, and for some +years lived a life of ideal domestic happiness. But there came a time +when another interest entered into his life. Rumours of fighting reached +him from France; he saw the knights of neighbouring fortresses leading +their troops to the war, and a martial spirit stirred within him. His +wife was not slow to observe that his world was no longer bounded by the +castle-walls of Staufenberg, and she wisely resolved not to stand in the +way of her lord’s ambitions, but rather, if possible, to help them to +an honourable realization. So with much labour and skill she made him a +strangely wrought belt, which she gave him at once as a love-token and +a charm to secure success in battle. She concealed her grief at his +departure and bade him farewell bravely. + +At the head of his troop the knight rode boldly into France and offered +his services to a distinguished French leader, to whom he soon became +indispensable—so much so, in fact, that the nobleman cast about for a +means of retaining permanently in his train a knight of such skill and +courage. But he could think of nothing with which to tempt the young +man, who was already possessed of gold and lands, till the artless +glances of his youngest daughter gave him his cue. For he saw that +she had lately begun to look with some favour on the simple knight of +Staufenberg, and it occurred to him that the hand of a lady of rank +and beauty would be a very desirable bait. Nor was he mistaken, for the +gaieties of the Frankish court had dazzled the knight, and the offer +of the lady’s hand completely turned his head; not that he felt a great +affection for her, but because of the honour done to him. So he accepted +the offer and drowned, as best as he could, the remembrance of his wife +and child at Staufenberg. Nevertheless he sometimes felt that he was not +acting honourably, and at length the struggle between his love for his +wife and his pride and ambition became so severe that he determined to +consult a priest. + +The good man crossed himself when he heard the story. “She whom you +married is an evil spirit,” said he. “Beneficent spirits do not wed +human beings. It is your duty to renounce her at once and do penance for +your sin.” Though he hardly found it possible to believe the priest’s +assertion, the knight strove to persuade himself that it was true, and +that he was really acting virtuously in renouncing the water-nymph and +marrying again. So he performed the penances prescribed by the priest, +and allowed the wedding preparations to proceed. + +When the day of his wedding arrived, however, he was strangely perturbed +and pale. The rejoicings of the people, the gay processions, even the +beautiful bride, seemed to have no interest for him. When the hand of +the lady was placed in his he could not repress an exclamation; it was +cold to the touch like the hand of a corpse. + +On returning the wedding procession was obliged to cross a bridge, and +as they approached it a great storm arose so that the waters of the +stream washed over the feet of the bridegroom’s horse, making it prance +and rear. The knight was stricken with deadly terror, for he knew that +the doom of which the water-nymph had spoken was about to overtake him. +Without a word he plunged into the torrent and was nevermore seen. + +At the very hour of this tragedy a great storm raged round the castle of +Staufenberg, and when it abated the mother and child had disappeared for +ever. Yet even now on a stormy night she can still be heard among the +tree-tops weeping passionately, and the sound is accompanied by the +whimpering of a child. + +Trifels and Richard Coeur-de-Lion + +As a troop of horsemen rode through Annweiler toward the castle of +Trifels, in which Richard Coeur-de-Lion was imprisoned by the Archduke +of Austria, his deadly enemy, the plaintive notes of a familiar lay fell +on their ears. The singer was a young shepherd, and one of the knights, +a troubadour, asked him to repeat his ditty. The youth complied, and +the knight accompanied him as he sang, their voices blending tunefully +together. + +Giving him generous largess, the knight asked the minstrel who had +taught him that song. The shepherd replied that he had heard it sung in +the castle of Trifels. At this intelligence the stranger appeared highly +gratified, and, turning to his companions, ejaculated: “The King is +found!” + +It was evident to the shepherd that the new-comers were friends of +Richard, and he warned them earnestly that danger lay before them. Only +by guile could they hope to succour their King. The warning was heeded, +and the tuneful knight rode forward alone, disguised in a minstrel’s +tunic, in which he was welcomed at the castle. His courtly bearing soon +won him the favour of the castellan’s pretty niece, who persuaded her +uncle to listen to his songs. During one of their stolen interviews the +girl betrayed the place where the King of England was imprisoned, +and that night, from beneath a window, the minstrel heard his King’s +well-remembered voice breathing a prayer for freedom. His hopes being +thus confirmed, he took his harp and played the melody which he himself +had composed for Richard. The King immediately joined in the familiar +lay. When its strains had ended, “Blondel!” cried the captive excitedly. +The minstrel cautiously replied by singing another song, telling how he +was pledged to liberate his master. + +But suspicion was aroused, and Blondel was requested to depart on the +following day. Deeming it prudent to make no demur, he mounted his +horse, after having arranged with the castellan’s niece to return +secretly at nightfall. He rode no further than an inn near Annweiler, +which commanded a view of the castle. There his host informed him that +the Emperor was presently to be crowned at Frankfort, and that on the +evening of that day the garrison would celebrate the event by drinking +his health. + +The minstrel said that he would certainly join the company, ordered wine +for the occasion, and promised to pay the reckoning. He then withdrew to +seek his comrades. At dusk he returned stealthily to the castle, and at +his signal the maid appeared at a little postern and admitted him. + +On the day of the Emperor’s coronation stealthy forms crept among the +trees near by the castle, and concealed themselves in the thick foliage +of the underbrush. The garrison, gaily dressed, quitted the keep, the +drawbridge was lowered, and the men were soon quaffing the choice wine +which the stranger had ordered. + +Meanwhile Blondel had appeared before the postern and had given his +accustomed signal; for a time there was no response, and the minstrel +was becoming impatient, when the gate was suddenly opened and the maiden +appeared. + +The minstrel now told the girl his reason for coming hither: how he +hoped to liberate the captive monarch. As a reward for her connivance +he promised to take her with him to England. Then he beckoned to his +friends, there was a sudden rush, and armed forms thronged the postern. +The frightened maid, dreading lest violence should overtake her uncle, +shrieked loudly; but her cries were unheeded, and the English knights +pressed into the courtyard. + +The assailants met with little resistance, seized the keys, threw open +the prison door, and liberated their King. The castellan protested +loudly, and threatened Richard with mighty words, but all to no purpose. +When the garrison returned they were powerless to render aid, for the +castellan was threatened with death should his followers attack the +castle. In the end a truce was made, and the English were allowed to +retire unmolested with their King. Although urged by him, the maid +refused to accompany Blondel, so, giving her a gold ring as a memento, +he parted from her. + +Returning again many years afterward, the minstrel once more heard the +same song which the King had sung to his harp in the castle of +Trifels. Entering the inn, he recognized in the landlord the one-time +shepherd-boy. From him he learnt that the castellan had perished by an +unknown hand, and that his pretty niece, having, as she thought, plumbed +the depths of masculine deceit, had entered the nunnery of Eberstein at +Baden. + +Thann in Alsace + +Thann is known to legend by two things: a steeple and a field. The +steeple was built in a season of great drought. Water had failed +everywhere; there was only the thinnest trickle from the springs +and fountains with which the people might allay their thirst. Yet, +strangely, the vineyards had yielded a wonderful harvest of luscious +grapes, and the wine was so abundant that the supply of casks and +vessels was insufficient for the demand. Therefore did it happen that +the mortar used for building the steeple was mixed with wine, wherefore +the lime was changed to must. And it is said that even to this day, +when the vines are in blossom, a delicate fragrance steals from the old +steeple and on the stones a purple dew is seen, while some declare that +there is a deeper tone in the harmony of the bells. + +The Lying-field + +The field is a terrible place, barren and desolate, for it is avoided +as a spot accursed. No living thing moves upon it; the earth is streaked +with patches of dark moss and drifts of ghastly skulls, like a scattered +harvest of death. Once, says the legend, a wayfarer, surprised by the +swift-fallen night, lost himself on the plain. As he stumbled in the +darkness he heard the clocks of the town near by strike the hour of +midnight. At this the stillness about the wanderer was broken. Under his +feet the earth seemed to tremble, there was a rattling of weapons, and +there sounded the tramp of armed men and the tumult of battle. + +Suddenly the shape of a man in armour appeared before him, terrific and +menacing. + +“What do you seek here, in a field that has been accursed through many +centuries?” he asked. “Do you not know that this is a place of terror +and death? Are you a stranger that you stand on the place where a +king, Louis the Pious, betrayed by his own sons, was handed over to +his enemies, his crown torn from his head by his own troops? And he who +would have died gladly in battle suffered the shame and dishonour that +were worse than death. He lifted up his hands to heaven and cried with +bitterness: ‘There is no such thing on earth as faith and loyalty. +Accursed be sons and warriors, accursed be this field whereon such deeds +have been done, accursed be they for ever!’” + +The spectre paused and his words echoed across the field like the cry of +a lost soul. Again he spoke to the trembling wanderer: “And that curse +has endured through the centuries. Under this plain in mile-wide graves +we faithless warriors lie, our bones knowing no repose; and never will +that curse of our betrayed king be lifted from us or this place!” + +The spectral warrior sank into the gloomy earth, the tumult of fighting +died away. The wayfarer, seized with terror, stumbled blindly on in the +night. + +Strassburg + +Strassburg, the capital of Alsace-Lorraine, is only two miles west of +the Rhine. The city is of considerable antiquity, and boasts a cathedral +of great beauty, in which the work of four centuries is displayed to +wonderful advantage. By the light of the stained-glass windows the +famous astronomical clock in the south transept can be descried, +still containing some fragments of the horologe constructed by the +mathematician Conrad Dasypodius in 1574. This, however, does not tally +with the well-known legend of the clock, which now follows. + +The Clockmaker of Strassburg + +There dwelt in the town of Strassburg an old clockmaker. So wrapped up +was he in his art that he seemed to live in a world of his own, quite +indifferent to the customs and practices of ordinary life; he forgot his +meals, forgot his sleep, cared nothing for his clothes, and would have +been in evil case indeed had not his daughter Guta tended him with +filial affection. In his absent-minded fashion he was really very fond +of Guta, fonder even than he was of his clocks, and that is saying not a +little. + +The neighbours, busy, energetic folk who performed their daily tasks and +drank wine with their friends, scoffed at the dreamy, unpractical old +fellow and derided his occupation as the idle pastime of a mind not too +well balanced. But the clockmaker, finding in his workroom all that he +needed of excitement, of joy and sorrow, of elation and despondency, did +not miss the pleasures of social life, nor did he heed the idle gossip +of which he was the subject. + +It need hardly be said that such a man had but few acquaintances; yet a +few he had, and among them one who is worthy of especial note—a wealthy +citizen who aspired to a position of civic honour in Strassburg. In +appearance he was lean, old, and ugly, with hatchet-shaped face and +cunning, malevolent eyes; and when he pressed his hateful attentions on +the fair Guta she turned from him in disgust. + +One day this creature called on the clockmaker, announced that he had +been made a magistrate, and demanded the hand of Guta, hinting that it +would go ill with the master should he refuse. + +The clockmaker was taken completely by surprise, but he offered his +congratulations and called the girl to speak for herself as to her hand. +When Guta heard the proposal she cast indignant glances at the ancient +magistrate, whereupon he, without giving her an opportunity to speak, +said quickly: + +“Do not answer me now, sweet maid; do not decide hastily, I beg of you, +for such a course might bring lasting trouble on you and your father. I +will return to-morrow for your answer.” + +When he was gone Guta flung herself into her father’s arms and declared +that she could never marry the aged swain. + +“My dear,” said the clockmaker soothingly, “you shall do as you please. +Heed not his threats, for when I have finished my great work we shall be +as rich and powerful as he.” + +On the following day the magistrate called again, looking very important +and self-satisfied, and never doubting but that the answer would be +favourable. But when Guta told him plainly that she would not marry him +his rage was unbounded, and he left the house vowing vengeance on father +and daughter. + +Scarcely was he gone ere a handsome youth entered the room and looked +with some surprise at the disturbed appearance of Guta and her +father. When he heard the story he was most indignant; later, when the +clockmaker had left the young people alone, Guta confessed that the +attentions of the magistrate were loathsome to her, and burst into +tears. + +The young man had long loved the maiden in secret, and he could conceal +his passion no longer. He begged that she would become his bride, and +Guta willingly consented, but suggested that they should not mention +the matter to her father till the latter had completed his great clock, +which he fondly believed was soon to bring him fame and fortune. +She also proposed that her lover should offer to become her father’s +partner—for he, too, was a clockmaker—so that in the event of the +master’s great work proving a failure his business should still be +secure. The young man at once acted upon the suggestion, and the father +gratefully received the proffered assistance. + +At last the day came when the clockmaker joyfully announced that his +masterpiece was finished, and he called upon Guta and his young partner +to witness his handiwork. They beheld a wonderful clock, of exquisite +workmanship, and so constructed that the striking of the hour +automatically set in motion several small figures. The young people were +not slow to express their admiration and their confidence that fame was +assured. + +When the clock was publicly exhibited the scepticism of the citizens was +changed to respect; praise and flattery flowed from the lips that had +formerly reviled its inventor. Nevertheless the civic authorities, urged +thereto by Guta’s discarded lover, refused to countenance any attempt +to procure the wonderful clock for the town. But soon its fame spread +abroad to other cities. Members of the clockmakers’ guild of Basel +travelled to see it, and raised their hands in surprise and admiration. +Finally the municipal authorities of Basel made arrangements to purchase +it. + +But at this point the citizens of Strassburg stepped in and insisted on +preserving the clock in their own city, and it was therefore purchased +for a round sum and erected in a chapel of the Strassburg Cathedral. +The corporation of Basel, having set their hearts on the wonderful +timepiece, commissioned the clockmaker to make another like it, and +offered substantial remuneration. The old man gladly agreed, but his +arch-enemy, hearing of the arrangement and scenting a fine opportunity +for revenge, contrived to raise an outcry against the proposal. “Where +was the advantage,” asked the magistrates, “in possessing a wonderful +clock if every city in Germany was to have one?” So to preserve the +uniqueness of their treasure they haled the old clockmaker before +a tribunal and ordered him to cease practising his art. This he +indignantly refused to do, and the council, still instigated by his +enemy, finally decided that his eyes be put out, so that his skill in +clockmaking should come to a decided end. Not a few objections were +raised to so cruel a decision, but these were at length overruled. The +victim heard the dreadful sentence without a tremor, and when asked if +he had any boon to crave ere it were carried out, he answered quietly +that he would like to make a few final improvements in his clock, and +wished to suffer his punishment in its presence. + +Accordingly when the day came the old man was conducted to the place +where his masterpiece stood. There, under pretence of making the +promised improvements, he damaged the works, after which he submitted +himself to his torturers. Hardly had they carried out their cruel task +when, to the consternation of the onlookers, the clock began to emit +discordant sounds and to whirr loudly. When it had continued thus for a +while the gong struck thirteen and the mechanism came to a standstill. + +“Behold my handiwork!” cried the blind clockmaker. “Behold my revenge!” + +His assistant approached and led him gently away. Henceforward he lived +happily with Guta and her husband, whose affectionate care compensated +in part for the loss of his eyesight and his enforced inability +to practise his beloved art. When the story became known the base +magistrate was deprived of his wealth and his office and forced to quit +the town. + +And as for the clock, it remained in its disordered state till 1843, +when it was once more restored to its original condition. + +The Trumpeter of Säckingen + +A beautiful and romantic tale which has inspired more than one work of +art is the legend of the Trumpeter of Säckingen; it shares with “The +Lorelei” and a few other legends the distinction of being the most +widely popular in Rhenish folklore. + +One evening in early spring, so the legend runs, a gallant young soldier +emerged from the Black Forest opposite Säckingen and reined in his steed +on the banks of the Rhine. Night was at hand, and the snow lay thickly +on the ground. For a few moments the wayfarer pondered whither he should +turn for food and shelter, for his steed and the trumpet he carried +under his cavalry cloak were all he possessed in the world; then with +a reckless gesture he seized the trumpet and sounded some lively notes +which echoed merrily over the snow. + +The parish priest, toiling painfully up the hill, heard the martial +sound, and soon encountered the soldier, who saluted him gravely. The +priest paused to return the greeting, and entering into conversation +with the horseman, he learned that he was a soldier of fortune, +whereupon he invited him with simple cordiality to become his guest. The +proffer of hospitality was gratefully accepted, and the kindly old man +led the stranger to his home. + +The old priest, though not a little curious with regard to his guest’s +previous history, forbore out of courtesy to question him, but +the warmth and cheer soon loosened the trumpeter’s tongue, and he +volunteered to tell the old man his story. Shorn of detail, it ran +as follows: The soldier’s youth had been passed at the University of +Heidelberg, where he had lived a gay and careless life, paying so little +attention to his studies that at the end of his course his only asset +was a knowledge of music, picked up from a drunken trumpeter in exchange +for the wherewithal to satisfy his thirst. The legal profession, which +his guardian had designed for him, was clearly impossible with such +meagre acquirements, so he had joined a cavalry regiment and fought in +the Thirty Years’ War. At the end of the war his horse and his trumpet +were his sole possessions, and from that time he had wandered through +the world, gaining a scanty livelihood with the aid of his music. Such +was his history. + +That night Werner—for so the young man was called—slept soundly in the +house of the old priest, and next morning he rose early to attend the +festival of St. Fridolin, in celebration of which a procession was +organized every year at Säckingen. There, at the head of a band of +girls, he beheld a maid who outshone them all in beauty and grace, and +to her he immediately lost his heart. From that moment the gaieties of +the festival had no attraction for him, and he wandered disconsolately +among the merry-makers, thinking only of the lovely face that had caught +his fancy. + +Toward nightfall he embarked in a little boat and floated idly down +the Rhine. Suddenly, to his amazement, there arose from the water the +handsome, youthful figure of the Rhine-god, who had recognized in his +pale cheek and haggard eye the infallible signs of a lover. Indicating a +castle at the edge of the river, the apparition informed Werner that his +lady-love dwelt therein, and he bade him take heart and seek some mode +of communicating with her. At this Werner plucked up courage to row +ashore to his lady’s abode. There in the garden, beneath a lighted +window, he played an exquisite serenade, every perfect note of which +told of his love and grief and the wild hopes he would never dare to +express in words. + +Now, the lord of the castle was at that very moment telling to his +beautiful daughter the story of his own long-past wooing; he paused in +his tale and bade his daughter listen to the melting strains. When +the notes had died away an attendant was dispatched to learn who the +musician might be, but ere he reached the garden Werner had re-embarked +and was lost to sight on the river. However, on the following day the +nobleman pursued his inquiries in the village and the musician was +discovered in an inn. + +In obedience to a summons the trumpeter hastened to the castle, where +the old lord greeted him very kindly, giving him a place with his +musicians, and appointing him music-master to the fair Margaretha. +Henceforward his path lay in pleasant places, for the young people were +thrown a great deal into each other’s society, and in time it became +evident that the lady returned the young soldier’s tender passion. Yet +Werner did not dare to declare his love, for Margaretha was a maiden +of high degree, and he but a poor musician who not so very long ago had +been a homeless wanderer. + +One day Werner heard strange, discordant sounds issuing from the +music-room, and thinking that some mischievous page was taking liberties +with his trumpet, he quietly made his way to the spot, to find that the +inharmonious sounds resulted from the vain attempt of his fair pupil to +play the instrument. When the girl observed that her endeavours had been +overheard, she joined her merriment with that of her teacher, and Werner +then and there taught her a bugle-call. + +A few weeks later the nobleman, hearing of a rising of the peasants, +hastened to Säckingen to restore order, leaving his daughter and Werner +to guard the castle. That night an attempt was made upon the stronghold. +Werner courageously kept the foe at bay, but was wounded in the mêlée, +and Margaretha, seeing her lover fall and being unable to reach him, +took the trumpet and sounded the bugle-call he had taught her, hoping +that her father would hear it and hasten his return. And, sure enough, +that was what happened; the nobleman returned with all speed to the +assistance of the little garrison, and the remnant of the assailants +were routed. Werner, who was happily not wounded seriously, now received +every attention. + +Her lover’s peril had taught Margaretha beyond a doubt where her +affections lay, and she showed such unfeigned delight at his recovery +that he forgot the difference in their rank and told her of his love. +There on the terrace they plighted their troth, and vowed to remain true +to each other, whatever might befall. Werner now ventured to seek the +nobleman that he might acquaint him of the circumstances and beg for +his daughter’s hand, but ere he could prefer his request the old man +proceeded to tell him that he had but just received a letter from an old +friend desiring that his son should marry Margaretha. As the young +man was of noble birth, he added, and eligible in every respect he was +disposed to agree to the arrangement, and he desired Werner to write to +him and invite him to Säckingen. The unfortunate soldier now made his +belated announcement; but the old man shook his head and declared that +only a nobleman should wed with his daughter. It is true he was greatly +attached to the young musician, but his ideas were those of his times, +and so Werner was obliged to quit his service and fare once more into +the wide world. + +Years passed by, and Margaretha, who had resolutely discouraged the +advances of her high-born lover, grew so pale and woebegone that her +father in despair sent her to Italy. When in Rome she went one Sunday +with her maid to St. Peter’s Church, and there, leading the Papal +choir, was her lover! Margaretha promptly fainted, and Werner, who had +recognized his beloved, was only able with difficulty to perform the +remainder of his choral duties. Meanwhile the Pope had observed that the +young man was deeply affected, and believing this to be caused by the +lady’s indisposition, he desired that the couple should be brought +before him at the conclusion of the service. With kindly questioning +he elicited the whole story, and was so touched by the romance that he +immediately created Werner Marquis of Santo Campo and arranged that +the marriage of the young people should take place at once. Immediately +after the ceremony, having received the Papal blessing, they returned +to Säckingen, where the father of the bride greeted them cordially, for +Margaretha was restored to health and happiness, and his own condition +was satisfied, for had she not brought home a noble husband? + +The Charcoal-Burner + +In the woods of Zähringen there dwelt a young charcoal-burner. His +parents before him had followed the same humble calling, and one might +have supposed that the youth would be well satisfied to emulate their +simple industry and contentment. But in truth it was not so. + +On one occasion, while on an errand to the town, he had witnessed a +tournament, and the brilliant spectacle of beauty and chivalry had +lingered in his memory and fired his boyish enthusiasm, so that +thenceforth he was possessed by ‘divine discontent.’ The romance of the +ancient forests wherein he dwelt fostered his strange longings, and in +fancy he already saw himself a knight, fighting in the wars, jousting in +the lists, receiving, perchance, the prize of the tourney from the fair +hands of its queen. And, indeed, in all save birth and station he was +well fitted for the profession of arms—handsome, brave, spirited, and +withal gentle and courteous. + +Time passed, and his ambitions seemed as far as ever from realization. +Yet the ambitious mind lacks not fuel for its fires; the youth’s +imagination peopled the woody solitudes with braver company than courts +could boast—vivid, unreal dream-people, whose shadowy presence increased +his longing for the actuality. The very winds whispered mysteriously of +coming triumphs, and as he listened his unrest grew greater. At length +there came a time when dreams no longer satisfied him, and he pondered +how he might attain his desires. + +“I will go out into the world,” he said to himself, “and take service +under some great knight. Then, peradventure—” + +At this point his musings were interrupted by the approach of an old +man, clad in the garb of a hermit. + +“My son,” he said, “what aileth thee? Nay”—as the youth looked up in +astonishment—“nay, answer me not, for I know what thou wouldst have. Yet +must thou not forsake thy lowly occupation; that which thou dost seek +will only come to thee whilst thou art engaged thereon. Follow me, and I +will show thee the spot where thy destiny will meet thee.” + +The young man, not yet recovered from his surprise, followed his aged +guide to a distant part of the forest. Then the hermit bade him farewell +and left him to ponder on the cryptic saying: “Here thy destiny will +meet thee.” + +“Time will show the old man’s meaning, I suppose,” he said to himself; +“in any case, I may as well burn charcoal here as elsewhere.” + +He set to work, hewed down some great trees, and built a kiln, which, +before lighting, he covered with stony earth. What was his amazement +when, on removing the cover of the kiln in due course, he discovered +within some pieces of pure gold! A moment’s reflection convinced him +that the precious metal must have been melted out of the stones, so +he again built a kiln, and experienced the same gratifying result. +Delighted with his good fortune, he concealed his treasure in an +appropriate hiding-place and proceeded to repeat the process till he had +obtained and hidden a large fortune, of whose existence none but himself +was aware. + +One night, as he lay awake listening to the wind in the trees—for his +great wealth had this drawback, that it robbed him of his sleep—he +fancied he heard a knock at the door. At first he thought he must have +been mistaken, but as he hesitated whether to rise or not the knock was +repeated. Boldly he undid the door—a feat requiring no small courage +in that remote part of the forest, where robbers and freebooters +abounded—and there, without, stood a poor wayfarer, who humbly begged +admittance. He was being pursued, he declared; would the charcoal-burner +shelter him for a few days? Touched by the suppliant’s plight, and moved +by feelings worthy of his chivalrous ideals, the youth readily extended +the hospitality of his poor home, and for some time the stranger +sojourned there in peace. He did not offer to reveal his identity, +nor was he questioned on that point. But one morning he declared his +intention of taking his departure. + +“My friend,” he said warmly, “I know not how I may thank you for your +brave loyalty. The time has come when you must know whom you have served +so faithfully. Behold your unfortunate Emperor, overcome in battle, +deprived of friends and followers and fortune!” + +At these astounding words the young charcoal-burner sank on his knees +before the Emperor. + +“Sire,” he said, “you have yet one humble subject who will never forsake +you while life remains to him.” + +“I know,” replied the Emperor gently, raising him to his feet, “and +therefore I ask of you one last service. It is that you may lead me by +some secret path to the place where the remnant of my followers await +me. Alas, that I, once so powerful, should be unable to offer you any +token of a sovereign’s gratitude!” + +“Sire,” ventured the youth, “methinks I may be privileged to render yet +one more service to your Majesty.” Straightway he told the story of his +hidden treasure and with simple dignity placed it at the disposal of +his sovereign, asking for nothing in return but the right to spend his +strength in the Emperor’s service—a right which was readily accorded +him. + +The gold, now withdrawn from its place of concealment, proved to be +a goodly store, and with it the Emperor had no difficulty in raising +another army. Such was the courage and confidence of his new troops that +the first battle they fought resulted in victory. But the most valiant +stand was made by the erstwhile charcoal-burner, who found on that field +the opportunity of which he had long dreamt. The Emperor showed his +recognition of the gallant services by knighting the young man on the +field of battle. On the eminence whither the old hermit had led him the +knight built a castle which was occupied by himself and his successors +for many generations. + +And thus did the charcoal-burner become the knight of Zähringen, the +friend of his Emperor, the first of a long line of illustrious knights, +honoured and exalted beyond his wildest dreams. + + + + + +Conclusion + +With this legend we close on a brighter and more hopeful note than +is usually associated with legends of the Rhine. The reader may have +observed in perusing these romances how closely they mirror their +several environments. For the most part those which are gay and buoyant +in spirit have for the places of their birth slopes where is prisoned +the sunshine which later sparkles in the wine-cup and inspires song +and cheerfulness. Those, again, which are sombre and tragic have as +background the gloomy forest, the dark and windy promontory which +overhangs the darker river, or the secluded nunnery. In such +surroundings is fostered the germ of tragedy, that feeling of the +inevitable which is inherent in all great literature. It is to a tragic +imagination of a lofty type that we are indebted for the greatest of +these legends, and he who cannot appreciate their background of gloomy +grandeur will never come at the true spirit of that mighty literature of +Germany, at once the joy and the despair of all who know it. + +Countless songs, warlike and tender, sad and passionate, have been +penned on the river whose deathless tales we have been privileged to +display to the reader. But no such strains of regret upon abandoning +its shores have been sung as those which passed the lips of the English +poet, Byron, and it is fitting that this book should end with lines so +appropriate: + + + Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted + The stranger fain would linger on his way! + Thine is a scene alike where souls united + Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray; + And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey + On self-condemning bosoms, it were here, + Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, + Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, + Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year. + + Adieu to thee again! a vain adieu! + There can be no farewell to scene like thine; + The mind is colour’d by thy every hue; + And if reluctantly the eyes resign + Their cherish’d gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine! + ’Tis with the thankful heart of parting praise; + More mighty spots may rise, more glaring shine, + But none unite in one attaching maze + The brilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days. + + The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom + Of coming ripeness, the white city’s sheen, + The rolling stream, the precipice’s gloom, + The forest’s growth, and Gothic walls between, + The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been, + In mockery of man’s art: and there withal + A race of faces happy as the scene, + Whose fertile bounties here extend to all, + Still springing o’er thy banks, though Empires near them fall. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hero Tales and Legends of the +Rhine by Lewis Spence + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERO TALES OF THE RHINE *** + +***** This file should be named 16539-h.htm or 16539-h.zip ***** This +and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/5/3/16539/ + +Produced by Steve Pond + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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