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AUTHOR: 
 
 GUERBER, H. A. 
 (HEL'ENE ADELINE) 
 
 TITLE : 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE 
 
 PLACE: 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DA TE : 
 
 1907 
 
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 Guerber, H. A.}:q(Herene Ade 1 i ne ) , f dd. 1929 
 Legends of the Rhinef h[fnicrof ordi] . 
 New York,{:bA. S. Barnes & Co ^c^'^n? 
 
 xviii, 350 p.}:bfront., plates ., f:c20 cm 
 
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LEGENDS OF THE RHINE 
 
 BY 
 
 H. A. GUERHER 
 
 ATTHOK OK "MYTHS OF CRKFfl- A\!) 1;omk." " MYTI?f; OF NORTHERN 
 
 LANDS," "CO.MKS Kl' I.F.i I K.N I •!• S. " " MAKCHKN AND 
 
 EKZAHLUiNLitN," fc.lC., JilC. 
 
 SIXTJf EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 A S. 15AKNi:s & CO 
 
 Kjo; 
 
LEGENDS OF THE RHINE 
 
 BY 
 
 H. A. GUERBER 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MYTHS OF GRF.F.CF. AND ROMF," "MYTHS OF NORTHERN 
 
 >t n 
 
 LANDS,' "CONTKS KT I.K(}KNI 'KS. ' "• MARCHEN AND 
 
 erzAhlungen," etc., file. 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 SIXTH EDITION, 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 A. S. BARNES & CO 
 
 1907 
 
V 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 A.& BARNES&CXX 
 
 .»;_ 
 ,»-' 
 
 Rhine Song, •••. xiii 
 
 Preface, ••••••• .....xv 
 
 Introduction, xvii 
 
 Stavoren : The Sunken City, i 
 
 Hague : The Beggar's Curse, 5 
 
 Friesland : The Christening of a King, 8 
 
 ^ lERTRUiDENBERG : Story of St. Gertrude, o o . , . 9 
 
 ivEVLAAR : The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar, 13 
 
 Cleves; The Swan Knight, 16 
 
 The Prince's Vow, 22 
 
 LC TTicH : Saint Peter and Saint George, 25 
 
 Xanten : Story of Siegfried, ..•..,.. 26 
 
 Elberfeld : The Angel Page, . . , 41 
 
 i )0ssELDORF : The Critics Silenced, . 45 
 
 JoLOGNE : The Cathedral Legend, 47 
 
 The Devil's Wager, 53 
 
 The Devil's Stone, 54 
 
 The Fire Bell, 55 
 
 The Legend of the Cross, 56 
 
 The Eleven Thousand Virgins, . 58 
 
 A Prompt Retort, 61 
 
 The Magician and the Courtiers, . • • • . 62 
 
 The Sacrilegious Painter, • • . 64 
 
 The Christ-Child and the Boy, 64 
 
 The Resurrection of St. Matemus, 67 
 
 The Church of the Apostles, ..•••.. 67 
 
 The Stain of Sin , . . 70 
 
 The Heinzelm&mchen, ..,»*.,. 71 
 
 The Novice, ....,..,.. 72 
 
 The Priest's Gate, 73 
 
 Brauweiler : The Game of Chess, ....,,. 75 
 
 Arnoldsweiler : The Minstrel's Ride. ...♦,, 78 
 
 428843 
 
 '=*! 
 
▼I 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 s/ 
 
 ZOndorp : The Ctysta! Pilace, 
 
 GoDORF : The Will-o'-the-Wisp, 
 Aix-la-Chapelle ; The Magic Ring, 
 The Cathedral Legend, 
 Eginhard and Emma, . 
 The Emperor's Sin, . 
 The Emperor's Ride, . 
 Roland's First Adventure, 
 A Generous Deed, 
 The Golden Eggs, 
 LOlsdorf : The Cruel Sister, 
 ZOlpich : Clovis* Vow, 
 LCftelberg: The Charitable Girl » 
 ViLLiCH : The Box on the Ear, 
 Bonn: The Vehm-Gericht, 
 The Three Sleepers, . 
 The Devil and the Wind, 
 Kreuzburg : The Strange Bird, 
 
 The High Cross, 
 GoDESBERG I The Deserted Wife, 
 Ramersdorf : The Dancers Cursed* 
 - Heisterbach : The Bird of Paradise, 
 The Church Pillar, . 
 The Last Abbot, 
 NonnenstrOmberg : The Hermit Sisters, 
 
 The Cruel Parents, 
 
 Oelberg : The Thunderbolt, . 
 
 L6WENBERG : The Wild Hunt, 
 
 Drachenfels : The Story of Roland, 
 
 Rheinbreibach : The Three Miners, 
 
 Si. Apollinarisberg : The Greedy Abbot, 
 
 Ockenfels : Taken at His Word, 
 
 Landskrone : The Wonder Bridge, 
 
 Neuenahr : A Father's Legacy. 
 
 A I TEN AH R : A Brave Knight and a Ciaven, 
 
 Si nzig: Constantine's iCross, . • 
 
 *%: kiirg; God's Mercy, • . • 
 
 ttrg: The Specter Wedding, 
 
 I u Desecrated Tombs, 
 
 II TV • The Emperor's Friend, 
 Laa: :i ' 'I ac ;:■■.... a ken Castles, • • 
 
 79 
 8o 
 
 8i 
 
 85 
 
 88 
 
 90 
 
 91 
 93 
 95 
 96 
 96 
 98 
 98 
 99 
 100 
 
 lOI 
 103 
 
 107 
 108 
 109 
 III 
 
 112 
 116 
 
 117 
 118 
 120 
 121 
 122 
 123 
 127 
 129 
 132 
 
 136 
 
 137 
 
 138 
 
 139 
 140 
 
 142 
 
 CONTBNTS. 
 
 AitDBRNACR: T!ie Plrophecy, . 
 
 The Baker Boys, 
 
 The Legend of St. Genevieve, 
 Sayn : An Interrupted Wedding, 
 NiederwOrth : The Divine Pilgrim 
 CoBLENTZ : St. Ritza, 
 
 Noble Deaths, . 
 
 The Lovers, 
 The Moselle ; St. Peter's Thirst, 
 CocHEM : St. Christopher, 
 Thurant : A Carousing Army, 
 Carden : The Rescued Knight, 
 Niederlahnstein : The Unhappy Twins, 
 Lahneck : The Last of the Templars, 
 Stolzenfels : The Pet Raven, . 
 
 The Alchemist, .... 
 Rhense : An Exchange, . 
 Brey : The Water Nymphs, 
 
 The Nixie, . . » » 
 
 Marksburg : The Murdered Wife, . 
 DiNKHOLD Fountain : The Spectral Foot, 
 Boppart : The Emperor's Ducking, . 
 
 The Deserted Wife, . 
 Liebenstein and Sterrenberg : The Hostile 
 Rankenberg : The Giant's Pot, 
 Hirzenach : The Innkeeper's Wine, 
 Ehrenthal : The Steward's Shroud. 
 Werlau : The Bewitched Mine, 
 St. Goar: Miracles and Shrine, 
 Katzenellenbogen : The Assassin Priest, 
 Thurnberg : The Haunted Castle, . 
 Reichenberg : Barbarossa's Beard, , 
 Lorelei : The Unhappy Beauty, 
 
 The Fisherman, ... 
 
 A Magic Spell, .... 
 
 The Devil's Imprint, . • 
 Oberwesel : The Little Martyr, 
 SchOnberg : The Seven Sisters, 
 Gutenfels : The Emperor's Wooing, 
 Caub : Story of St. Theonest, . 
 PfAltz : A Secret Marriage, = • 
 
 Brothers 
 
 Tfi 
 
 rAG« 
 
 147 
 
 148 
 
 149 
 151 
 
 153 
 
 155' 
 
 156 
 
 158 
 160 
 163 
 
 164 
 165 
 
 167 
 169 
 172 
 
 174 
 175 
 176 
 
 177 
 178 
 181 
 182 
 
 183 
 185 
 187 
 188 
 190 
 193 
 
 195 
 
 196 
 
 198 
 199 
 202 
 203 
 205 
 206 
 207 
 209 
 212 
 212 
 
vin 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 IX 
 
 rAGS 
 
 Bacharach : The Altar of Bacchus, 215 
 
 FOrstenberg : The Tender Mother, 215 
 
 LoRCH : Delusive Whispers, 2l8 
 
 Heimburg : A Cruel Father, 220 
 
 SoNNECK : The Ghost Feast, 221 
 
 Rheinstein : The Gadfly, 223 
 
 Falkenburg : The Specter Bride, 225 
 
 Clemenskapelle : The Robber Knight, 229 
 
 Ehrenfels : The Bishop's Treachery, 230 
 
 BiNGEN : The Rat Tower, 231 
 
 Kreuznach : The Freshet, 234 
 
 Rheingrafenstein : The Devil and the Donkey, .... 234 
 
 Sprendlingen : The Butcher, 236 
 
 Sponheim : The True Cross 236 
 
 Dhaun : The Monkey as Nurse 238 
 
 Oberstein : A Lifelong Penance, . 239 
 
 ROdesheim : A Broken Vow, 240 
 
 Hans Broemser, ...•••... 241 
 
 Johannisberg : The Corkscrews, 243 
 
 Lange Winkel : The Silver Bridge, 244 
 
 Oestrich : The Revengeful Ghost, 246 
 
 Ingelheim : Charlemagne and Elbegast, .,.,.. 247 
 
 Kedrich : The Devil's Ladder, 249 
 
 Elfeld : The Rope of Hair, 251 
 
 Bibrich : The Ghostly Interview, 252 
 
 \yyMAifiZ : The Golden Shoes, 253 
 
 The Street Sweeper, 255 
 
 The Thief in Heaven, ..••,•,. 256 
 
 The Goldsmith, ...,.,,.,. 257 
 
 FlOrsheim : The Shepherd's Death, 258 
 
 Falkenstein : The Gnomes' Road, 259 
 
 The Elopement, . , 261 
 
 Frankfort : The Crossing of the Ford, 263 
 
 The Devil and the Rooster, 264 
 
 The Great Fire, 266 
 
 The Executioner Ennobled, .••••.. 267 
 
 The Weather Vane, . ' 268 
 
 Hanau : The Death of the Innocent, . o . . • . 269 
 
 Darmstadt : The Virgin's Victory, ..,.,.. 270 
 
 Auerbach : The Bewitched Lady, 271 
 
 ^'Worms : The Hoard of Gold, 271 
 
 Worms : The Unknown Knight, 
 
 The Greatest Wealth, 
 Rodenstein ; The Raging Host, 
 Oggersheim : The Deserted City. 
 Heidelberg : Legends of the Castle 
 
 The Dwarf and the Tun, . 
 Kaiserslautern : Barbarossa's Sleep, 
 Speyer : The Battle of Leipsic, 
 
 The Two Bells, . 
 Philippsburg : The Raw Recruit, 
 Karlsruhe : The Count's Vision, 
 Bretten : The Tailless Dog, . 
 Alt Eber stein : The Court Ball, 
 Neu Eberstein : The Count's Leap 
 Baden : The Devil's Pulpit, 
 Oberachern : The Petrified Church 
 MOmmelsee : The Water Sprites, 
 Trifels : The Faithful Minstrel, 
 Zabern : The Jealous Husband, 
 Strasburg : The Cathedral Legends 
 The Vow of Obedience, 
 Conflicting Customs, . 
 The Hot Porridge, 
 Haslach : The Giantess* Playthings 
 Eckhardtsberg : Tannhauser, 
 
 The Dumb Plaintiff, . 
 
 Basel : The Change of Time, . 
 
 From Castle to Cot, . 
 
 The Dance of Death, . 
 
 Augst : The Snake Lady, 
 
 SAkingen : St. Fridolin, . 
 
 The Trumpeter of Sakingcn, 
 KOnigsfelden : The Murder, 
 Habsburg : The Best Defense, 
 Schaffhausen : The Falls of the Rhine 
 Mainau : The Templar's Home, 
 Buchhorn : The Pilgrim's Return, 
 BiscHOFSZELL : The Bridge, 
 S-f. GALL : The Emperor's Riddles. 
 Toggenburg : The Countess Itha, 
 The Faithful Lover, . 
 
 PAGE 
 272 W 
 
 273 
 
 274 
 
 276*-- 
 
 279 
 280 
 
 282 
 
 284 
 
 286 U^ 
 
 287 
 
 288 
 289 
 290 
 291 
 292 
 
 293 
 294 
 296 > 
 302 
 
 304 
 306 
 
 307 
 308 
 
 310 
 
 3" 
 . 312 
 
 314 
 . 315 
 . 316 
 
 . 323 
 
 . 324 
 
 . 324 
 
 . 325 
 
 . 327 
 
 c 327 
 o 328 
 
 . 331 
 . 332 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 NiDBERG : The Knight Betrayed, 
 PfAfers : The Stolen Sacrament, 
 CoiRE : The Prophecy, 
 Farewell to the Rhine, , • 
 
 Appendix, 
 Index, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 333 
 334 
 335 
 335 
 
 337 
 343 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATION'S. 
 
 Rhenus and Moselle, . • 
 
 Entrance to the Zuyder Zee, 
 
 Lohengrin's Farewell, 
 
 Siegfried and Kriemhild, . 
 
 Siegfried's Body Borne by the Huntsmen, 
 
 General View of Cologne, with Bridge of 
 
 Cologne Cathedral Fa9ade, 
 
 Ursula Landing at Cologne, 
 
 Cologne City Hall, . 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle Cathedral, 
 
 Vow of Clovis, . 
 
 Godesberg Castle, . 
 
 Drachenburg Castle, . 
 
 Rheineck Castle, Near View, 
 
 Andernach Watch Tower, . 
 
 Moselle Bridge, Coblentz, . 
 
 Tintoretto's St. Christopher, 
 
 Lahneck, . . . • 
 
 Stolzenfels Castle, Near View, 
 
 Boppart, with Sterrenfels and Liebcnstein 
 
 Lorelei Rock, 
 
 Caub, Pfaltz, and Gutenfels, 
 
 Old House at Bacharach, 
 
 Sonneck Castle, 
 
 Rheinstein Castle, from Curhaus 
 
 Robber Knight, 
 
 Bingen, Looking Toward the River, 
 
 Germania, from Niederwald Monument, 
 
 Mainz, General View, 
 
 Worms Cathedral, 
 
 Worms Cathedral Choir, . 
 
 Heidelberg, Elizabeth Gate, 
 
 Boats 
 
 Castles, 
 
 FronHspieee 
 
 Facing p. 
 
 4 
 
 t4 
 
 20 
 
 • • 
 
 38 
 
 «• 
 
 40 
 
 «< 
 
 48 
 
 «< 
 
 52 
 
 t< 
 
 58 
 
 «< 
 
 / -t 
 
 <• 
 
 86 
 
 <« 
 
 98 
 
 «» 
 
 no 
 
 • « 
 
 124 
 
 t( 
 
 142 
 
 it 
 
 148 
 
 (« 
 
 158 
 
 << 
 
 160 
 
 «( 
 
 168 
 
 «< 
 
 170 
 
 «i 
 
 184 
 
 • ( 
 
 i 1 
 
 202 
 
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 ^ 4^ A>- 
 
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 224 
 
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 24U 
 
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 254 
 
 « ^ 
 
 272 
 
 i i 
 
 274 
 
 t< 
 
 278 
 
 XI 
 
xii 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Frederick Barbarossa. Hader, . 
 
 Strasburg Cathedral, 
 
 Basel, Old City Gate, 
 
 Basel, Upper Bridge and Cathedral, 
 
 Farewell to Sakingen, 
 
 Falls of the Rhine, . 
 
 St. Gall. CharlemagnCj • • 
 
 Cascade of Wylcr, • • • 
 
 Facing p. 280 
 296 
 310 
 312 
 322 
 
 324 
 328 
 
 334 
 
 THE RHINE SONG. 
 
 The Rhine ! That little word will be 
 
 For aye a spell of power to me, 
 
 And conjure up, in care's despite, 
 
 A thousand visions of delight : 
 
 The Rhine 1 Oh ! where beneath the son 
 
 Doth our fair river's rival run ? 
 
 Where dawns the day upon a stream 
 
 Can in such changeful beauty shine 
 
 Outstripping Fancy's wildest dream, 
 
 Like our green, glancing, glorious Rhine. 
 
 Bom where blooms the Alpine 
 Cradled in the Bodensee, 
 Forth the infant river flows, 
 Leaping on in childish glee. 
 Coming to a riper age. 
 He crowns his rocky cup with wine, 
 And makes a gallant pilgrimage 
 To many a ruined tower and shrine. 
 Strong, and swift, and wild, and brave. 
 On he speeds with crested wave ; 
 And spuming aught like check or stoy. 
 Fights and foams along his way 
 O'er crag and shoal until his flood 
 Boils like manhood's hasty blood. 
 
 — >Z0>v and Legends of the 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This book is intended as a contribution to the study of 
 Folklore, and as a Legendary Guide to the Rhine The 
 Tales have been gathered from many sources, and while all 
 the Rhine traditions are not recorded here, the principal 
 
 ones have been given. ^ . „ ,, ,u «* 
 
 As Teutonic Mythology has been outlined in Myths of 
 Northern Lands," it has not been included in this volume. 
 The real " Nibelungenlied " and the " Heldensagen " have 
 also been omitted because they form part of the author s 
 work on the " Legends of the Middle Ages." 
 
 While countless German authorities have been consulted 
 with great care, the author feels particularly indebted to 
 Mr Karl Simrock, the German Folk-lorist and Poet of the 
 Rhine, who has versified many of these picturesque tales 
 
 The interest of a Rhine pilgrimage is more than doubled 
 by a knowledge, however superficial, of the legends con- 
 nected with the principal towns, churches, and castles along 
 its banks, so it is hoped that tourists, old and young, will 
 find room in pocket or satchel for this collection. 
 
 The book is sent out into the world with a sincere hope 
 that it may enhance the pleasure of travelers and enable 
 stay-at-homes to glean some idea of the legendary charms of 
 this matchless river. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The Rhine takes its source in the St. Gothard mountain in 
 Switzerland, nearly eight thousand feet above the sea, and 
 after an impetuous rush through rocky passes and dark 
 forests, lingers, as if to gain new strength, in the peaceful 
 bosom of Lake Constance. 
 
 The mighty river, still in its youth, is only tarrying, how- 
 ever. It has not forgotten its mission, and soon resumes its 
 course, plunging down headlong over the rocky wall at 
 Schaffhausen, hurrying past village and town, boldly leaping 
 all the stumbling blocks which strew its path, and boundmg 
 on without a moment's pause. 
 
 On the way, many an Alpine stream, foaming in its haste, 
 comes to give a new impetus to its tide. Then, at Basel, 
 the Rhine takes a sudden bend northward, leaves Switzer- 
 land, and wends its sinuous way through the German 
 Fatherland. Now hastening, now seeming to rest in some 
 quiet bay, it flows on, until, swollen by the waters of many 
 tributaries, it enters Holland and slowly and majestically 
 rolls its heavy waters toward the sea. 
 
 Like many other streams of its magnitude, the Rhine 
 
 divides near its mouth, separates like the fingers of a hand, 
 
 and drains off its waters through five principal channels. 
 
 The most northerly of these branches joins the Yssel and 
 
 empties into the Zuyder Zee, which was formed by a terrible 
 
 inundation in the thirteenth century. A canal called the 
 
 I Kromme Rhein, the Waal, which unites with the Maas, 
 
 1 and the Lek, draw off the remainder of its waters, which are 
 
 g finally lost in the North Sea, after a journey of about eight 
 
 I 
 
 XYlt 
 
 
xviii 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 hundred miles, accomplished in two hundred and twenty- 
 seven hours. 
 
 Varied as the scenery along its banks are the numerous 
 legends connected with every point of interest. These 
 traditions, which form a large part of the German Folk- 
 lore, sung by poets of various times and nations, preserved 
 in many volumes of ancient and modern lore, have been 
 carefully collected, and will here be narrated in their natural 
 sequence as we go up the mighty river. 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 STAVOREN. 
 
 OTc Sunken Citi?. 
 
 Where the waves of the Zuyder Zee now roll, there was 
 once, according to tradition, a blooming and prosperous 
 tract of land, and on the very spot where fishermen now 
 anchor their boats to cast their nets, there rose a beautiful 
 city, carefully protected from the ever-encroaching sea by 
 
 massive dikes. 
 
 The inhabitants of Stavoren, for such was the name of 
 this town, were very wealthy indeed; so wealthy in fact 
 that they paved their banqueting halls with shining ducats. 
 But, in spite of their prosperity, they were selfish, hard- 
 hearted, and neglectful of the poor. 
 
 The richest among them was a maiden lady, who had 
 counting houses, farms, palaces, and fleets, but whose sole 
 thought, night and day, was how she might further increase 
 her possessions. With this purpose in view, she once 
 summoned the captain of her largest vessel, bade him sail 
 away and return within a year's time, with a cargo of the 
 most precious and best of all earthly substances. In vain 
 the captain questioned her to know exactly what she wished ; 
 she merely repeated her order with peremptory emphasis, 
 and haughtily dismissed him. 
 
 Forced to set sail at a venture, the captain left Stavoren, 
 but, not knowing in what direction to steer his course, he 
 consulted officers and crew. As each man had a different 
 opinion concerning the most precious and best of all earthly 
 
LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 STA VOREN. 
 
 % 
 
 substances, however, they only increased his perplexity. 
 After much reflection, and the smoking of many a pipe, 
 the Dutch captain concluded that nothing could be more 
 precious than wheat, the staff of life. He purchased a 
 cargo of the finest grain at Dantzic, and returned joyfully 
 to Stavoren, where he arrived long before the year was 
 ended. The lady, in the meanwhile, had duly informed all 
 her friends that her vessel had gone in search of a cargo of 
 the best and most precious of all earthly things, and as she 
 would not even confide to her most intimate friend what 
 that might be, public curiosity was fully aroused. 
 
 But when her captain suddenly appeared before her, and 
 informed her that he had brought a cargo of wheat, her 
 complacency vanished. She flew into a terrible rage, and 
 ordered that every kernel should immediately be cast into 
 the sea. In vain the captain expostulated, and entreated 
 that, since she did not want the wheat, it should be given to 
 the poor; she reiterated her commands, declaring she would 
 come down to the port in person, to make sure they were 
 properly executed. Sadly retracing his steps to the vessel, 
 the captain met several beggars, told them a cargo of 
 wheat was about to be thrown away, and by the time the 
 lady reached the dock, the poor had assembled there from 
 all parts of the city, in hopes of securing the despised 
 grain. 
 
 In spite of their imploring cries, however, the haughty 
 lady made the sailors cast all the wheat into the sea, while 
 the captain, powerless to hinder this sinful waste, looked on 
 in impotent rage. The last kernel had vanished beneath 
 the turbid waters, when he turned to his august mistress 
 and cried: **As surely as there is a God above us, you will 
 be punished for this sin, 'and the time may come when you, 
 the wealthiest lady in Stavoren, will long for a few handfuls 
 of this despised and squandered wheat," 
 
 The lady listened to these words in contemptuous silence, 
 slowly drew a costly ring from her white hand, cast it into 
 
 the sea, and coolly declared that, when she saw it again, she 
 might perchance credit his words, and believe it possible 
 that she should come to want. 
 
 That self-same evening, in preparing a fresh fish for 
 dinner, the cook found the costly ring, which he imme- 
 diately sent to his proud mistress. She became very pale 
 indeed when she recognized it. A few moments later, 
 bearers of ill-tidings came rushing in, to report in quick 
 succession the ruin of her counting houses, the destruction 
 of her fleet, the burning of her palaces, and the devastation 
 of her farms. In the course of a few hours she found her- 
 self shorn of all her wealth, for her own dwelling burned 
 down to the ground during the night, and she barely 
 escaped with her life. 
 
 Now that her money was gone, the rich of Stavoren 
 refused to recognize her, and the poor, who had met with 
 nothing but contempt and ill-treatment at her hands, 
 allowed her to die of hunger and cold in a miserable shed. 
 This sudden downfall, and the signal punishment of the 
 haughty lady, did not produce any effect at all upon the 
 other rich people of Stavoren, who continued to enjoy life 
 as before, and to neglect their fellow-creatures; so a second 
 warning was vouchsafed them. Little by little they heard that 
 the port was becoming impracticable, owing to the rapid in- 
 crease of a sand-bar, which soon rose above the waters, hinder- 
 ing all further commerce. This sand-bank was soon covered 
 with luxuriant verdure. The people, gazing upon it, called it 
 ** The Lady's Sand," and declared the vegetation upon it had 
 sprouted from the great quantity of wheat cast into the sea. 
 
 But, in spite of its rapid growth, this wheat bore no 
 fruit, and while the rich cared but little for the cessation of 
 all traffic, the poor suffered more sorely still, for now they 
 were even deprived of the small pay they had received for 
 their work of loading and unloading vessels. The second 
 warning had also fallen upon deaf ears and been exhibited 
 before unseeing eyes, yet Providence granted the rich 
 
4 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 another reprieve, and vouchsafed them a third and last 
 warning. 
 
 A little leak was discovered in the dike, through which 
 the sea, filtering into the city reservoir, rendered its waters 
 unpalatable. Laughingly the rich people vowed they 
 would drink champagne, since water could not be obtained, 
 but when the thirsty poor crowded around their gates, 
 imploring a sup of beer, they rudely dismissed them, declar- 
 ing it would be well were they actually to die of thirst, as 
 they said they should. 
 
 This last heartless refusal filled the measure of their 
 iniquities. That self-same night, when the last reveler 
 had sunk into a profound sleep, the sea noiselessly finished 
 the work of destruction, broke down the dikes, and, burst- 
 ing over Stavoren, submerged the whole town. 
 
 Over the spot where it once stood the waves now ripple 
 in I lie sunlight, or are thrashed into foam by the cold winds 
 sweeping down from the north. Boatmen, rowing out from 
 the dilapidated little fishing town which alone now bears 
 the name of the ancient city, sometimes rest upon their 
 oars, when the waters are smooth and clear, to point out, 
 far beneath them, the palaces, turrets, and ramparts of 
 Stavoren. 
 
 The streets, once so populous (thirty thousand inhabitants 
 are reported to have perished during this inundation), are 
 deserted, the market-place empty. No sound is heard save 
 when an inquisitive pike or herring, swimming though the 
 tall belfries, accidentally strikes one of the bells with its 
 flopping tail, and sets it slowly vibrating in the depths of 
 the sea, where it seems to be mournfully tolling the knell of 
 the sunken city.* 
 
 * See Note in Appendix, 
 
 \ 
 
 !2: 
 
 H 
 
 > 
 a: 
 n 
 w 
 
 H 
 O 
 
 H 
 
 a: 
 w 
 
 N 
 G 
 
 •< 
 
 D W 
 
 >> 
 
 > 
 
 
 .^ 
 
 :i^ 
 
 
 

 BAGUM. 
 
 HAGUE. 
 
 The Countess of Henneberg, a wise and thrifty woman, 
 was always busy from morning until night. Thanks to her 
 exertions and strict economy, her house was the wealthiest 
 and the best regulated in all the land, and her servants and 
 dependents lacked nothing. In exchange for her care, the 
 countess exacted from them all a close account of their 
 time, and kept them in a state of constant activity. 
 
 After portioning out the daily tasks and carefully inspect- 
 ing her household, she always resorted to the great hall, 
 where all her maids sat spinning, and here, while watch- 
 ing and directing their labors, her own wheel hummed 
 unceasingly. 
 
 One morning the aged porter entered the spinning room, 
 and approaching his mistress, respectfully informed her that 
 a poor woman craved a hearing. 
 
 *' Again, Jan !" exclaimed the countess in displeasure. 
 **How many times must I tell you that I will not encourage 
 begging ? Why does not the woman work ? Does she ex- 
 pect to eat her bread in idleness ? Wait, I shall dismiss her 
 myself ! " she suddenly added, as she rose from her seat, 
 and checked her whirling wheel. Giving a sharp glance 
 around the room, and issuing a distinct command to waste 
 no precious time in idle conversation, the countess left the 
 room and hurried along the echoing hall to the great door, 
 where the poor woman anxiously awaited her. 
 
 *' Nothing to eat!" exclaimed the countess, glancing con- 
 temptuously at the poor woman, standing before her with a 
 bundle of clean but threadbare garments on either arm, and 
 slowly repeating her last words. **You must work, my 
 good woman. Only those who earn their bread by the 
 sweat of their brow have any right to eat. '* 
 
 *'But, noble lady, I cannot work; the children are so 
 
6 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 small they need all my care," cried the poor woman, part- 
 ing the rags and showing the pale, pinched faces of two 
 puny, new-born babes. **And last week, only last week, 
 gracious lady, my poor husband was drowned." 
 
 ''What!" cried the countess, who, at the sight of the 
 babies, had started back in dismay. ** Two children, twins! 
 What business have you, a beggar, to have children ? '* 
 
 ** Gracious lady! " cried the poor woman, *^ the Lord sent 
 me these children, and now I cannot bear to hear them cry. 
 Help me, lady, help me." 
 
 ** My good woman," said the countess reprovingly, and 
 without paying any heed to her appeal, *^ the Lord surely 
 had nothing to do with those children. Do you suppose He 
 would send two children at once to a poor woman like you, 
 who have not the means to feed even one ? No, no, the 
 Lord has more sense. The Evil One must have sent you 
 those." 
 
 ** The Evil One, lady! " cried the indignant mother, clasp- 
 ing her babies closer still. ** It was the Lord sent them, and 
 I trust he will one day send you as many as there are days 
 in the year. Then, lady, when you hear them cry you will 
 understand perhaps what a mother feels." 
 
 With tears coursing down her pale face, the woman turned 
 and slowly left the castle, while the countess, feeling she had 
 wasted too many precious moments in listening to her com- 
 plaints, hastened back to her wheel. At the sound of her 
 step, accompanied by the jingle of the keys she always wore 
 at her girdle, the merry maids immediately stopped their 
 innocent chatter, and when the countess entered the room 
 the shining heads were all diligently bending over the flying 
 wheels, whose hum filled the great hall. 
 
 But no matter how fast the lady drove her own wheel, it 
 seemed to echo the words which kept ringing in her ear: 
 ^*- May the Lord send you as many children as there are 
 days in the year." Day after day, week after week, month 
 after month, the prophecy haunted her, and her servants 
 
 <1 
 
 i 
 
 s 
 
 \ 
 
 HAGUE, 7 
 
 shook their heads, as she daily became more querulous 
 and exacting. 
 
 But a day came at last when all the spinning wheels in 
 the great hall stood motionless, when the stools before them 
 remained unoccupied, and when, instead of a busy hum, 
 wailing cries echoed throughout the castle. In answer to 
 the beggar woman's prayer, the Lord had sent three hun- 
 dred and sixty-five infants at one birth to the hard-hearted 
 countess. In vain she wept and wrung her hands, the babes 
 were hers and she could not disown them. But, terrified at 
 the thought of the new duties imposed upon her, driven 
 almost frantic by the children's cries, and especially 
 appalled at the vision of the havoc which so many busy 
 hands and feet would make in her orderly household, the 
 noble Countess of Henneberg fell back upon her pillows and 
 breathed her last. 
 
 The three hundred and sixty-five children were strong and 
 healthy, so Count Henneberg decreed they should be carried 
 to the church and duly baptized ; but as the exertion required 
 to supply them with individual names would have been too 
 great, he decided that all the boys should bear the name of 
 John and all the girls that of Elizabeth, 
 
 This christening, the largest on record, was performed 
 wholesale, and the basin used for the ceremony has ever 
 since been exhibited as a curiosity, in one of the principal 
 churches of Hague. 
 
 The Henneberg children faithfully kept their baptismal 
 vow, led pure and blameless lives, and their virtues soon 
 endeared them to all their people. 
 
 Periodically they went in solemn procession to visit the 
 countess' grave, which can still be seen about one mile out- 
 side of the city of Hague; and as they marched along, their 
 three hundred and sixty-five voices joined in a pious litany 
 for the rest of their high-born mother's soul. 
 
8 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 FRIESLAND. 
 tTbe Cbrf0tenfit0 of a fcing. 
 
 Radbod was King of the Frisians when the first mission- 
 aries, braving every danger, boldly penetrated into his wild 
 and barren country, to preach Christianity, and bring good 
 tidings to the heathen. 
 
 Such was the persuasive eloquence of these pious men, 
 that they finally prevailed upon Radbod himself to receive 
 baptism, without which, they solemnly averred, he would 
 never be able to enter the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 Their glowing descriptions of Christ's baptism in the 
 Jordan fired the king's imagination to such an extent, that 
 he declared he too would be baptized in a river, and selected 
 for that purpose the mighty Rhine, which bounded his king- 
 dom on the south. Accompanied by bishop and priest, and 
 attended by many valiant warriors who were to receive the 
 sacrament at the same time, King Radbod marched down 
 to the Rhine. 
 
 The waves were rippling round his feet, and the bishop's 
 hand was already raised, when a last doubt invaded the 
 royal mind. 
 
 *' Stay thy hand, oh, bishop!" he cried. ** Before I am 
 baptized I would fain ask one more question. Tell me, 
 bishop, tell me, where are all my ancestors, who fought so 
 bravely, ruled so wisely, and nobly died on the field of 
 battle ? Tell me, bishop, where are they ? " 
 
 ** Oh, king," answered the bishop gravely, ** thy ancestors 
 were heathens; as heathens they lived, and as heathens they 
 died. Without baptism they could not enter the kingdom 
 of heaven." 
 
 ** Bishop, you have already told me that!" exclaimed 
 Radbod impatiently, his royal eyebrows contracting in dis- 
 pleasure. ** But tell me, if not in heaven, where are they? " 
 
 GERTRUIDENBERG, f 
 
 *'In hell/' solemnly answered the bishop. «'Thy fore- 
 fathers, being heathens, have gone to hell ! " 
 
 **To hell ! " vociferated King Radbod, springing out of 
 the water, and seizing the great sword he had flung down 
 upon the grass. **To hell! You villain! Dastardly 
 priest! How dare you say my ancestors have gone to hell ? 
 They were brave and noble men, they lived honorably, and 
 died without fear. I would rather— yes, by their god, the 
 great Woden, I swear — I would ten thousand times rather 
 join those heroes in their hell, than be with you in your 
 heaven of priests ! " 
 
 And turning his back scornfully upon the astonished 
 bishop, Radbod brandished his sword above his head and 
 bade his brave warriors follow him back into the wild forests, 
 there to continue worshiping, in peace, the rude gods of 
 their worthy ancestors.* 
 
 GERTRUIDENBERa 
 
 Storg of St. Ocrtru^c. 
 
 On the left bank of the Waal, not very far from its mouth, 
 is a slight elevation of land, known as the Gertruidenberg, 
 which owes its name to the following tradition : 
 
 A brave and loyal Netherland knight fell deeply in love 
 with a maiden, so good, and pure, and lovely, that the grate- 
 ful poor, in addressing her, always prefixed the title of saint 
 to her baptismal name of Gertrude. The maiden could not 
 but acknowledge her suitor was handsome, brave, and worthy 
 of being loved, but still her heart remained unmoved by all 
 his passionate entreaties. Convinced that she could never 
 return his love, and resolved to put an end to his misery, 
 she finally announced her determination to enter a convent, 
 and there spend the rest of her life in the service of the 
 Lord. 
 
 * See *• Myths of Northern Lands.** 
 
LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 When at last the irrevocable vows had all been taken, and 
 the convent doors had opened wide to receive her; when 
 the white coif and black veil had covered her shapely head, 
 the poor knight, deprived of her sweet society, found life 
 utterly unendurable, and decided to leave the land where 
 every sight and sound constantly reminded him of his lost 
 love and bitter disappointment. 
 
 The castles and broad acres he had vainly laid at her feet, 
 the wealth he had hoarded for her to scatter with lavish 
 hands, all his rich inheritance, he gave to her convent; 
 reserving nothing for himself except his noble steed and 
 oft-tried armor. Then, in the gray light of early dawn, he 
 slowly rode toward the convent, cast a despairing glance 
 up at the latticed casement, and breathed his last farewell. 
 
 A moment later, startled by the prick of his master's 
 spurs, the noble steed started off with a bound, and soon 
 bore the heart-broken knight far out of sight of his ances- 
 tral home and of the old convent walls. All day long he 
 rode straight onward, sunk in mournful meditation, and only 
 when night began to fall did he raise his head and begin 
 to look about him for shelter and food. But, although he 
 peered anxiously about through the gathering gloom, he 
 could not discern the trace of any path or dwelling upon 
 the bleak moorland. Hour after hour he wandered on, 
 hoping to find a place where his weary, stumbling steed 
 might rest, when suddenly a dimly outlined figure appeared 
 before him, and the midnight silence was broken by a voice 
 
 saying: 
 
 ** Pause, oh, knight; do not despair! I know your sorrow 
 and would fain allay it. If you will only pledge me your 
 soul— wealth, honor, prosperity, and all the joys of your lost 
 youth shall fall to your lot." 
 
 The low, insinuating tones, the tempting offer, the terrible 
 condition attached to it, and a faint odor of sulphur and 
 brimstone diffused over the moorland, enabled the knight 
 to recognize his interlocutor in spite of the pitchy darkness. 
 
 GER TR UIDENBERG. 
 
 \ f 
 
 Disappointed lovers have often professed to be utterly 
 indifferent whether his Satanic Majesty take possession of 
 them or not; and this feeling, which is said to be quite 
 common in our enhghtened age, was already in the fashion 
 in early times, and prompted the despondent knight to 
 answer: 
 
 **'Tis a bargain, Satan. Give me wealth and honor, 
 grant me success in arms, and my soul is yours." 
 
 *'Good!" exclaimed the figure shrouded in darkness. 
 **Name the number of years you would live, sign this 
 pledge, and all shall be as you wish." 
 
 A year, in youth and love, seems almost endless. The 
 knight, who was still very young, and whose love was 
 utterly hopeless, quickly concluded that seven years would 
 allow him time enough to taste to the dregs the few joys 
 which remained for him, and to grow quite weary of life. 
 
 "Seven years and no more! Seven years will suffice! " 
 he cried, as he signed the pledge with his life-blood and 
 sealed it with his armorial ring. 
 He was about to depart, when the Evil One cried: 
 *' Remember, oh, knight, when the seven years are over, 
 and the twelfth hour of the last night has come, I shall 
 await you here, on the lonely moorland, to claim your soul." 
 **The word of a knight is inviolable, even when given to 
 such as you!" proudly answered the knight. *'In seven 
 years, at midnight, I shall be here, but until then I am 
 free." 
 
 A moment later, the sound of his horse's galloping hoofs 
 died away, the sulphurous odor vanished, and the lonely 
 moorland lay still, cold, and deserted. 
 
 From court to court the knight now wandered, scattering 
 with lavish generosity the wealth which Satan provided with- 
 out stint, and wherever he went, his astounding deeds of 
 valor won him the warmest praise. No matter how brave 
 his opponent, he was always victor in the fight, and taught 
 the proudest heads to bow at his lady's name. 
 
12 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 In jousts, pageants, and tournaments the years passed by 
 all too quickly, and, as the seventh neared its end, the knight 
 was troubled in spirit. The longing to see his beloved once 
 more before he met his self-imposed doom finally brought 
 him back to the Netherlands, and guided his steps to the 
 banks of the mighty river. The sight of the familiar con- 
 vent walls brought hot tears to his eyes, and made his heart 
 beat fast with anxiety. What if that roof no longer shel- 
 tered Gertrude ? What if another now occupied the tiny 
 cell and gazed out of the latticed window ? 
 
 These thoughts caused him so much emotion that it was 
 only with the utmost difficulty that he managed to make the 
 portress understand him. 
 
 What was not his joy and relief, therefore, when he heard 
 that Gertrude was still there, the light and hope of the con- 
 vent, and the guardian an^el of all the poor. 
 
 Admitted into her presence, the gentle tones of her 
 beloved voice ringing in his ear, and her sweet eyes fixed in 
 pity upon him, the unfortunate knight fell upon his knees, 
 and penitently confessed the story of his midnight encounter, 
 of the seven years of aimless, wandering life, and his longing 
 to behold her once more ere he went to meet his fate. 
 
 **And now, beloved, farewell!" he cried, as he staggered 
 to his feet to leave her presence. *'At midnight, on the 
 lonely moorland, I must meet my doom. Farewell! " 
 
 Gertrude, who with dilated eyes and pallid cheeks had 
 listened to his tale, sprang forward and cried: 
 
 "Stop, sir knight! Before you leave me you must 
 drink this," and the little hands trembled as she poured 
 some wine into a cup and handed it to him. ** Drink! 
 With the blessing of my holy patron St. John, and under 
 the safeguard of my love,* it will surely enable you to 
 return " * 
 
 The knight took the cup from her hand, and, mournfully 
 gazing into her beautiful eyes, exclaimed: 
 
 * See Note 2 in Appendix. 
 
 KEVLAAR. 
 
 n 
 
 "I drink to you, O Gertrude! The only prayer I am 
 worthy to utter is, ' God bless you.' " 
 
 A moment later he had gone to keep his midnight tryst. 
 Darkness rested upon the moorland, and his charger slowly 
 stumbled on. The fatal hour had come. Satan, who in 
 spite of his numerous other failings has never yet been 
 known to miss an appointment, appeared before him as 
 suddenly as on the previous occasion, but instead of pounc- 
 ing upon him, cried in evident terror: 
 
 ** Pause, oh, knight; I beseech you, pause! I will give 
 you back your promise, and will restore your pledge also, if 
 you will only stay where you are. She whom you love, she 
 to whom you last drank, has contended successfully for your 
 soul. Before such prayers as hers even my might is power- 
 less. You are free, sir knight. Farewell I " 
 
 With a howl of baffled rage the fiend then vanished, 
 leaving the knight alone on the gloomy moorland. Slowly 
 and thoughtfully he wended his way back to the old con- 
 vent, and there, in the quiet parlor, he registered a solemn 
 vow to spend the remainder of his life in the service of the 
 saint who had answered his beloved's prayer. 
 
 It was thus a gentle maiden guided the steps of an erring 
 knight, away from the path of sin and into the narrow way 
 of peace. In commemoration of this deed, her name has 
 been given to the eminence where her convent once stood, 
 which is still called the Gertruidenberg. 
 
 KEVLAAIt 
 
 Cbc Dilarfftiaae to fccviaar. 
 I. 
 
 The mother stood at the window ; 
 Her son lay in bed, alas ! 
 •' Will you not get up, dear William, 
 To see the procession pass ? " 
 
12 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 In jousts, pageants, and tournaments the years passed by- 
 all too quickly, and, as the seventh neared its end, the knight 
 was troubled in spirit. The longing to see his beloved once 
 more before he met his self-imposed doom finally brought 
 him back to the Netherlands, and guided his steps to the 
 banks of the mighty river. The sight of the familiar con- 
 vent walls brought hot tears to his eyes, and made his heart 
 beat fast with anxiety. What if that roof no longer shel- 
 tered Gertrude ? What if another now occupied the tiny 
 cell and gazed out of the latticed window ? 
 
 These thoughts caused him so much emotion that it was 
 only with the utmost difficulty that he managed to make the 
 portress understand him. 
 
 What was not his joy and relief, therefore, when he heard 
 that Gertrude was still there, the light and hope of the con- 
 vent, and the guardian angel of all the poor. 
 
 Admitted into her presence, the gentle tones of her 
 beloved voice ringing in his ear, and her sweet eyes fixed in 
 pity upon him, the unfortunate knight fell upon his knees, 
 and penitently confessed the story of his midnight encounter, 
 of the seven years of aimless, wandering life, and his longing 
 to behold her once more ere he went to meet his fate. 
 
 '*And now, beloved, farewell!" he cried, as he staggered 
 to his feet to leave her presence. *' At midnight, on the 
 lonely moorland, I must meet my doom. Farewell ! " 
 
 Gertrude, who with dilated eyes and pallid cheeks had 
 listened to his tale, sprang forward and cried: 
 
 <*Stop, sir knight! Before you leave me you must 
 drink this," and the little hands trembled as she poured 
 some wine into a cup and handed it to him. ** Drink! 
 With the blessing of my holy patron St. John, and under 
 the safeguard of my love,* it will surely enable you to 
 return." * 
 
 The knight took the cup from her hand, and, mournfully 
 gazing into her beautiful eyes, exclaimed: 
 
 ♦ See Note 2 in Appendix. 
 
 KEVLAAR, 
 
 n 
 
 "I drink to you, O Gertrude! The only prayer I am 
 worthy to utter is, ' God bless you.* " 
 
 A moment later he had gone to keep his midnight tryst. 
 Darkness rested upon the moorland, and his charger slowly 
 stumbled on. The fatal hour had come. Satan, who in 
 spite of his numerous other failings has never yet been 
 known to miss an appointment, appeared before him as 
 suddenly as on the previous occasion, but instead of pounc- 
 ing upon him, cried in evident terror: 
 
 ** Pause, oh, knight; I beseech you, pause! I will give 
 you back your promise, and will restore your pledge also, if 
 you will only stay where you are. She whom you love, she 
 to whom you last drank, has contended successfully for your 
 soul. Before such prayers as hers even my might is power- 
 less. You are free, sir knight. Farewell ! " 
 
 With a howl of baffled rage the fiend then vanished, 
 leaving the knight alone on the gloomy moorland. Slowly 
 and thoughtfully he wended his way back to the old con- 
 vent, and there, in the quiet parlor, he registered a solemn 
 vow to spend the remainder of his life in the service of the 
 saint who had answered his beloved's prayer. 
 
 It was thus a gentle maiden guided the steps of an erring 
 knight, away from the path of sin and into the narrow way 
 of peace. In commemoration of this deed, her name has 
 been given to the eminence where her convent once stood, 
 which is still called the Gertruidenberg. 
 
 KEVLAAR, 
 
 y43C pilartmnac to Icerlaar. 
 I. 
 
 The mother stood at the window ; 
 Her son lay in bed, alas ! 
 •' Will you not get up, dear William, 
 To see the procession pass ? *' 
 
14 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 •* Oh, mother, I am so ailing, 
 I neither can hear nor see ; 
 I think of my poor dead Gretchen, 
 And my heart grows faint in me." 
 
 ** Get up, we will go to Kevlaar } 
 Your book and rosary take ; 
 The Mother of God will heal you. 
 And cure your heart of its ache/* 
 
 The Church's banners are waving. 
 They are chanting a hymn divine ; 
 Tis at Ciillen is that procession, 
 At COllen upon the Rhine. 
 
 With the throng the mother follows ; 
 Her son she leads ; and now 
 They both of them sing in the chorus, 
 * Ever honored, O Mary, be thou I " 
 
 ' 11. 
 
 The Mother of God at Kevlaar, 
 Is dressed in her richest array ; 
 She has many a cure on hand there. 
 Many sick folk come to her to-day. 
 
 And her, for their votive offerings. 
 The suffering sick folk greet 
 With limbs that in wax are molded. 
 Many waxen hands and feet. 
 
 And whoso a wax hand offers. 
 His hand is healed of its sore ; 
 And whoso a wax foot offers, 
 His foot it will pain him no more. 
 
 To Kevlaar went many on crutches 
 Who now on the tight rope bound, 
 And many play now on the fiddle 
 Had there not one finger sound. 
 
 The mother she took a wax taper. 
 And of it a heart she makes : 
 •* Give that to the Mother of Jesus, 
 She will cure thee of all thy aches." 
 
 f 
 
 KEVLAAR, 
 
 With a sigh her son took the wax heart, 
 He went to the shrine with a sigh ; 
 His words from his heart trickle sadly. 
 As trickle the tears from his eye. 
 
 " Thou blessed above all that are blessed, 
 Thou Virgin unspotted, divine, 
 Thou Queen of the Heavens, before thee 
 I lay all my anguish and pine. 
 
 " I lived with my mother at CCllen ; 
 At CoUen, in the town that is there, 
 The town that has hundreds many 
 Of chapels and churches fair. 
 
 "And Gretchen she lived there near us. 
 But now she is dead, well-a-day ! 
 O Mary ! a wax heart I bring thee, 
 Heal thou my heart's wound, I pray ! 
 
 " Heal thou my heart of its anguish, 
 
 And early and late, I vow. 
 
 With its whole strength to pray and to sing, too, 
 
 Ever honored, O Mary, be thou ! 
 
 »5 
 
 %% 
 
 III. 
 
 The suffering son and his mother 
 In their little bed-chamber slept ; 
 Then the Mother of God came softly. 
 And close to the sleepers crept. 
 
 She bent down over the sick one. 
 And softly her hand did lay 
 On his heart, with a smile so tender. 
 And presently vanished away. 
 
 The mother sees all in her dreaming, 
 And other things too she mark'd ; 
 Then from her slumber she wakened. 
 So loudly the town dogs bark'd. 
 
 There lay her son, to his full length 
 Stretched out, and he was dead ; * 
 And the light on his pale cheek flitted. 
 Of the morning's dawning red. 
 
 * See Note 3 in Appendix. 
 
i6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 She folded her hands together, 
 She felt as she knew not how. 
 And softly she sang and devoutly, 
 " Ever honored, O Mary, be thou ! " 
 
 — Poem by Heine ^ translated by Bowring, 
 
 CLEVES. 
 Zhc Swan ikniQhU 
 
 The next places of legendary interest along the Rhine 
 are the small town of Nymwegen and the Duchy of Cleves, 
 concerning which almost similar traditions have come down 
 to us. The legend of Cleves, the subject of many poems 
 and of one immortal opera, is as follows: 
 
 Elsa, the only daughter and sole heiress of the Duke of 
 Luneburg and Brabant, had been intrusted to the care of 
 Frederick of Telramund, one of her father's most powerful 
 vassals. But instead of giving the orphan maiden the pro- 
 tection her loneliness required, this man tried to force her 
 to marry him that he might obtain possession of her estates. 
 In vain the lovely Elsa declared she did not love him, in 
 vain she appealed to his chivalry, he ruthlessly thrust her 
 into a damp prison, close by the rushing river, there to 
 languish in solitude until she was ready to do his will. A 
 desperate appeal to Henry I. the Fowler only elicited an 
 imperial decree that the matter should be settled in the lists 
 between Frederick of Telramund and a champion of Elsa's 
 choice. Elsa's heart sank when she heard this decision, 
 for she knew full well that no knight of the neighborhood' 
 however brave, would dare accept the challenge of one who 
 had never yet suffered defeat or given quarter. Her appre- 
 hensions were only too well founded, for day after day, the 
 herald vainly sought someone to battle for her rights. 
 
 Forsaken by all, the orphan maiden now turned to the 
 
 CLE VES, 
 
 Helper of the helpless. Night and day she knelt in her 
 narrow cell, imploring aid, and in her anguish she smote 
 her breast with the rosary clasped in her little hands, until 
 the tiny bell attached to it gave forth a low, tinkling sound. 
 These silvery tones, so faint and soft they could scarcely 
 be heard above the roar of the waters rushing past the 
 tower, floated out through the narrow window into the 
 open air, and were caught up by the winds of heaven and 
 rapidly whirled away. And as they traveled farther and 
 farther, they increased in power and volume, until it seemed 
 as if all the bells on earth had united to ring forth one 
 grand, deafening peal. 
 
 These loud and importunate tones penetrated even into 
 the far distant temple on Montsalvat, where King Parsifal 
 and his train of dauntless knights kept constant watch 
 over the Holy Grail. Anxiously, therefore, the king 
 hastened into the inner sanctuary, where the vase diffused 
 its rosy light, hoping to read on its luminous edge the will 
 of Heaven. 
 
 **Send Lohengrin to defend his future bride, but let her 
 trust him and never seek to know his origin ! " These were 
 the mysterious words which met the aged king's eye, and 
 which he immediately reported to his son. The brave 
 young Lohengrin, trained to receive the commands of the 
 Holy Grail with implicit faith, donned his armor, spoke his 
 farewells, and then and there prepared to mount his waiting 
 steed. 
 
 Suddenly a melody, such as had never yet been heard on 
 land or sea, fell upon his ean Soft, low, and sweet, it rose 
 and fell and rose again, as a snowy swan came floating 
 toward him, drawing a little skiff in its wake. Nearer and 
 nearer came the stately swan, clearer and sweeter rose the 
 mystic strain, until both came to a pause, close by the shore 
 where the knight stood as if entranced. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation Lohengrin sprang into the 
 fairy skiff, and the swan, resuming its melody, soon bore 
 
i8 
 
 M 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 CLEVES. 
 
 «9 
 
 him out of sight. The day appointed for the tournament 
 had dawned, the last preparations had been made; but, 
 among all the brave knights assembled to witness the 
 pageant, not one dared to offer himself as champion for 
 the lovely maiden, who clung to her prison bars, tearfully 
 repeating, for the last time, her agonized prayer: '^Send 
 Thou the deliverer, O Lord ! " All at once her sobs were 
 checked, for the far-away sound of music fell comfortingly 
 upon her ear. Bending forward eagerly, she soon descried 
 a spotless swan floating gently down the stream, skillfully 
 guiding a little boat, in which a radiant knight, attired in 
 full armor, lay fast asleep on a glittering shield. Just as 
 the swan passed beneath the window where Elsa stood, the 
 knight awoke, and his first conscious glance rested upon 
 her tear-stained face. ' 
 
 '' Weep no more, oh, jnaiden! " he cried, springing to his 
 feet. ** Fear nought ! I have come to defend thee ! " 
 
 As the skiff passed on down the river, the prison door 
 opened, and Frederick of Telramund appeared to lead Elsa 
 to the lists. And as the herald began, for the third and last 
 time, to summon a champion to present himself and main- 
 tain the rights of the noble young duchess, a smile of 
 insolent triumph curled his cruel lips. The last flourish of 
 the trumpets died away and Frederick of Telramund was 
 about to address Elsa, when a ringing voice proclaimed: 
 **Here am I, the Swan Knight, ready to do battle for the 
 duchess' rights, and win her cause or die ! '* 
 
 A murmur of involuntary admiration burst from the 
 crowd of spectators, as they simultaneously turned toward 
 the Rhine, and there beheld a handsome knight, standing 
 erect in a tiny skiff drawn by a swan. Spellbound they 
 watched him spring lightly ashore and dismiss the swan, 
 which floated down the river and out of sight, to the tune 
 of its own beautiful, dreamy song. 
 
 Then, for a moment, Lohengrin knelt at Elsa's feet, 
 registering a solemn vow to save her, and vaulting upon a 
 
 'k 
 
 waiting steed, drew down his visor and took his place in 
 the lists. The noble knights and ladies trembled with fear 
 when they beheld the terrible onslaught of Frederick of 
 Telramund, whose stature was that of a giant, but their 
 fear was changed into admiration, when they saw the dex- 
 terity with which the unknown knight parried or evaded his 
 crashing blows. 
 
 In breathless silence they watched the conflict; nought 
 was heard but the clank of steel, the heavy breathing of 
 the combatants, and the tramp of their horses' feet, while 
 clouds of dust almost concealed them from the spectators' 
 eyes. Suddenly a terrible blow was heard, the gigantic 
 frame of Frederick of Telramund was seen to sway for a 
 moment in the saddle ere it fell and rolled in the dust! In 
 a second Lohengrin had dismounted and stood with one 
 foot on his rival's breast, summoning him to surrender. 
 Triumphant cries, and jubilant trumpets proclaimed the 
 victory, and cheer after cheer rang through the summer air, 
 as Lohengrin knelt before Elsa once more. The multi- 
 tude's exultant cries were so loud and prolonged, that they 
 almost drowned Elsa's sweet voice, as she bade her cham- 
 pion rise and name his own reward. 
 
 But, although unheeded by the enthusiastic assembly, not 
 one of the low-spoken tones had been lost by Lohengrin, 
 who passionately replied: 
 
 ** Tempt me not, oh, noble lady! Here at your feet, where 
 I fain would linger forever, I cannot but confess hov/ 
 ardently I love you, and how sweet is the hope I cherish 
 some day to claim your hand." 
 
 The pretty flush on Elsa's soft cheeks deepened percep- 
 tibly at these words, and the long lashes drooped over her 
 beautiful eyes as she timidly held out her hand and softly 
 whispered: 
 
 ** You saved me, sir knight, I am yours ! " 
 Not a syllable of this short but interesting colloquy had 
 been heard by the shouting assembly, whose acclamations 
 
JO 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 redoubled as the knight bent low over the little hand so 
 trustingly confided to his keeping, and fervently pressed it 
 to his lips. 
 
 Before night, however, the rumor of the young duchess- 
 betrothal to the gallant Swan Knight had been noised 
 abroad, and preparations for the marriage ceremony were 
 begun without any further delay. Elsa, who had trembled 
 with fear at the mere thought of an union with Frederick of 
 1 elramund, showed no reluctance whatever to pledge her 
 troth to her valiant champion, nor did she even waver for a 
 moment in her allegiance to him, when he informed her that 
 she must never seek to know either his name or origin 
 which must remain a secret from her and from all the 
 people, unless they would part forever. 
 
 The marriage was celebrated with much pomp, the young 
 couple lived in blessed and peaceful union, and the love so 
 suddenly kindled increased in depth and fervor, as one by 
 one three beautiful children came to add to their happiness 
 and gladden their home. 
 
 But Elsa, although utterly content with her husband's 
 unalterable love and devotion, could not help but notice 
 that many of her subjects secretly mistrusted him, and con- 
 stantly tried, by every means in their power, to discover his 
 name and station. 
 
 Little by little, she too began to ponder upon the sub- 
 ject, and the more she thought of it, the more she longed 
 to know her husband's secret. Finally, curiosity prevailed 
 over prudence, and while seated beside him one day, she 
 turned toward him and abruptly asked the forbidden 
 question. 
 
 "Elsa! Elsa! Is your faith dead?" cried the Swan 
 Knight, m passionate, broken-accents. " Can you no longer 
 trust me .? I love you so, and now I must leave you. Our 
 happiness is at an end! But, before I go, your question 
 shall be answered. Come with me ! " 
 
 His pale face and despairing, reproachful glance brought 
 
 LOHE.VGRIN'S FAREWELL. 
 
 I'ixis. 
 
CLEVES. 
 
 2- 1 
 
 Elsa to her senses. With a loving cry she flung herself on 
 his breast, entreating him to forgive and forget her unfor- 
 tunate curiosity, but he mournfully shook his head and 
 replied : 
 
 **It is too late, Elsa, too late! You have doubted me, so 
 I must leave you, but before I go you shall know all.'* 
 
 The knights assembled in the great banqueting hall 
 near the Rhine, started up in surprise when their master 
 suddenly appeared in their midst, leading the pale and weep- 
 ing Elsa gently by the hand. 
 
 ''Listen, oh, knights," he suddenly began, breaking the 
 expectant silence. **The time has come when I must leave 
 you; but, before I go, it is right that you should know that 
 I, Lohengrin, son of Parsifal, the world-renowned king, was 
 sent hither by the Holy Grail, to save your duchess from 
 the oppressor's hand, Now the Holy Vessel summons me, 
 and I must go, but ere I depart, I enjoin upon you to watch 
 faithfully over my little ones and to wipe away their mother's 
 tears. Farewell ! " 
 
 Then, in the midst of the awe-struck silence which fol- 
 lowed these words, while he held Elsa in a last fond embrace, 
 the low strains of mystic music again came floating down 
 the Rhine, and a moment later the swan appeared. 
 
 Slowly and reluctantly Lohengrin tore himself away from 
 Elsa's clinging, passionate embrace, sprang down the steps 
 and into the waiting swan-boat, which glided away to the 
 sound of plaintive music, and bore him out of sight forever 
 
 In vain Elsa wept, prayed, and beat her breast with hei 
 rosary, the sound of the tinkling silver bell never again 
 broke the peaceful silence which brooded over the temple on 
 Montsalvat, where Lohengrm had resumed his watch over 
 the Holy Grail* 
 
 * See Note 4 in Appendix. 
 
22 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 c:be prfnce'6 IDow* 
 
 Otto, the youngest son of the noble family of Hesse, 
 destined from his cradle to enter a monastery and there 
 spend his life in a calling from which his ardent young 
 spirit recoiled in horror, could not resign himself to meet 
 his fate. 
 
 Alone, therefore, and in the dead of night, he effected his 
 escape from home disguised as an archer, and bravely set 
 out to seek his fortune. Several days' journey brought him 
 at last to Cleves, where his distinguished appearance, and the 
 great skill he manifested in handling the cross-bow, soon 
 won the duke's favor. 
 
 Knights and ladies of high degree crowded around 
 him, and enthusiasticaljy applauded his unerring aim, 
 but no praise seemed to gratify him half as much as 
 the radiant smile with which the duke's lovely daugh- 
 ter hailed each successful shot. For, mvisible to all the 
 noble assembly, another archer, of proverbial dexterity, 
 had slyly drawn his bow, and sent two darts to rankle 
 in the impressionable hearts of Otto and the fair young 
 duchess. 
 
 Hour after hour, and day after day, Otto most diligently 
 practiced shooting beneath a certain window, where the 
 duke's only daughter appeared from time to time to encour- 
 age him by a smile or by a fleeting gesture. One day, when 
 our enamored young archer was thus agreeably occupied, 
 the arrival of a knight and his suite caused him for a moment 
 to stay his hand. 
 
 Instead of pausing to answer the duke's stately welcome, 
 this stranger suddenly rushed forward and fell at Otto's 
 feet with the joyful cry: *'My lord and master, I have 
 found you at last ! " A second later, however, the knight 
 knelt there alone, for Otto, with a passionate gesture of 
 farewell to the maiden at the window, had darted through 
 
 CLE VES. 
 
 23 
 
 the open gate with the speed of one of his own arrows, and 
 had vanished in the neighboring forest. 
 
 Slowly the knight rose to his feet, gazed at the fleet- 
 footed youth until he was lost to sight, and then turned to 
 answer the duke, who had been a silent but astonished 
 witness of the whole scene. The usual courtesies were 
 exchanged, the banquet spread, the topics of the day duly 
 discussed, and when all the assistants had withdrawn and 
 the knight found himself alone with his noble host, he be- 
 gan to explain who he was, and the cause of his strange 
 behavior. 
 
 A few words soon revealed to the Duke of Cleves that 
 his archer, Otto, was now the sole hope and heir of his noble 
 race, his elder brothers having both died without issue. 
 Various details were added by the knight, who asserted 
 that an intense aversion for monastic life was the only thing 
 which could have occasioned the young heir's precipitate 
 flight. 
 
 **The lad is a remarkably good archer," exclaimed the 
 duke, laughing heartily; ** but methinks I can yet force him 
 to acknowledge I am a better marksman than he." 
 
 And then, while slowly sipping his Rhine wine, the duke 
 proposed a plan for the recovery of the fugitive prince. 
 It was joyfully welcomed by the Count of Homberg, who 
 bade him lose no time in putting it into execution. At the 
 duke's call, archers, knights, and men-at-arms crowded into 
 the hall, where they received orders to sally forth and not 
 return until they had captured the missing youth. 
 
 **But, I solemnly charge you, not to injure a hair of his 
 handsome young head," continued the duke impressively, 
 as he gave them the signal to depart. 
 
 With a loud cheer, the host rushed out of the castle gates, 
 and began to surround and beat the forest, while the duke 
 turned to the knight and slyly exclaimed: 
 
 " Now, sir knight, I'll bait the trap." 
 
 With a nod and smile of approval, Count Homberg 
 
u 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 watched the duke enter his daughter's apartment, and when 
 he returned at the end of half an hour, gleefully rubbing his 
 hands, he anxiously inquired : 
 
 **Well, most noble duke, is it all settled? Did you 
 experience any difficulty in winning your daughter's consent 
 and connivance ?" 
 
 ''None whatever," answered the duke, laughing so 
 heartily that the armor hanging around the great hall fairly 
 rang. '<The altar is dressed, the candles lighted, the 
 priests ready, and, unless I am very much mistaken, my men 
 are even now bringing in the victim." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth when archers 
 and horsemen burst into the hall, dragging Otto, whose torn 
 garments, disheveled locks, and exhausted appearance fully 
 corroborated their statement that he had led them a lively 
 chase. 
 
 **Take him into the church immediately," commanded 
 the duke, in his sternest tones. **I will not countenance 
 disobedience ; drag him to the altar, where he will have to 
 take his vows." 
 
 '* Never ! " exclaimed Otto passionately, <* Never ! You 
 may drag me into the church and to the altar steps, but not 
 one word will ever pass my lips. I'd rather die than take a 
 single vow ! " 
 
 ** We will see, fair sir; we will see," said the duke, who 
 paid no further heed to his vehement protests, and led the 
 way to the church, bidding his men follow with the prisoner 
 still vainly struggling to escape. 
 
 But when they had entered the sacred edifice, and Otto 
 beheld a familiar, graceful figure, all clad in white, and 
 enveloped from head to foot in a snowy veil, kneeling at the 
 altar, he suddenly ceased to offer any resistance. Like a 
 man in a dream, he was led up the aisle, and, obeying the 
 duke's imperative sign, knelt beside the vision. Instead 
 of the dreaded consecration service, the priests now began 
 the marriage ceremony. Otto suddenly forgot his rash 
 
 lVttich, 
 
 n 
 
 declaration, and with a firm and eager voice gladly took the 
 vows which were to bind him forever, not to the church, but 
 to a beloved and blushing bride. 
 
 The service concluded, the Duke of Cleves and Count 
 Romberg stepped forward to offer their congratulations, 
 explaining to Otto the change which had taken place in his 
 fortunes. 
 
 ''And now. Landgrave of Hesse, my noble son-in-law, 
 unless you sorely repent taking your vows at the altar a few 
 moments ago, in spite of your loudly declared determination 
 to die rather than do so, it behooves you publicly to confess 
 that I am a better archer than you, for /have hit the mark ! " 
 exclaimed the duke merrily. 
 
 "You may be the better marksman, sir duke ! " exclaimed 
 Otto, as he rapturously clasped his bride to his heart, "but 
 you cannot deny that / have secured the prize ! " 
 
 lOttich 
 
 Saint peter an& Saint (Beorge. 
 
 Saint Peter, weary of opening and shutting the Gates 
 of Heaven, and longing to visit the fair spot on earth which 
 bears the name of Luttich, once summoned Saint George 
 and entreated him to take his place for a Httle while. 
 
 Good Saint George, ever ready to oblige, cheerfully 
 acquiesced, studied the fastenings, and opened and shut the 
 gates until he felt sure he thoroughly understood their 
 mechanism. Then he solemnly promised his colleague to 
 refuse admittance to none who knocked, and patiently 
 answer their every question. 
 
 Saint Peter was about to depart when Saint George sud- 
 denly detained him by exclaiming: 
 
 "Hold, Peter! I don't know one word of French ! Sup- 
 pose a Frenchman should knock at the gate [ " 
 
26 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 **No danger!" replied Saint Peter reassuringly. "No 
 danger, my good fellow. Many a century has come and 
 gone since I first took charge of the Heavenly Gates, but 
 although persons of almost every nation have presented 
 themselves, no Frenchman has ever yet appeared to seek 
 admittance.'* 
 
 Then Saint Peter departed, and for a while Saint George 
 undertook the office of porter: but although he was called 
 upon to answer countless questions, and admit many souls, 
 the Germans aver he had no occasion to do violence to his 
 tongue, for no Frenchman knocked at the Gates of Heaven. 
 
 XANTEN. 
 Store ot Sfe0tde&. 
 
 At Xanten, in the Netherlands, where the Rhine lazily 
 rolls its sluggish waters, there once dwelt a mighty king by 
 the name of Sigmund, with his virtuous wife Sigelind and 
 his promising young son Siegfried. 
 
 The prince's education, carefully carried on under his 
 parents' supervision, was almost finished, when Sigmund 
 suddenly decided to place him in apprenticeship with Mimer, 
 a renowned smith, that he might learn all the intricacies of 
 the manufacture of arms of every kind. 
 
 Like a dutiful son, Siegfried bent all his energies to the 
 mastery of the new trade, and with such success that he 
 could soon rival his teacher in skill. Pleased with his 
 pupil's diligence and aptitude, Mimer frequently sought his 
 society, entertained him with tales of olden times, and at 
 last confided to him that Amilias, a gigantic Burgundian 
 knight, encased in a ponderous armor which no sword had 
 yet dinted, had sent a herald to challenge the smiths of the 
 Netherlands to forge a weapon which could pierce his coat 
 oi mail. 
 
 XANTEN, 
 
 27 
 
 Mimer confessed that he longed to try his skill, but 
 mournfully added that his aged arm no longer possessed 
 strength enough to wield the heavy hammer. Siegfried, 
 who had listened attentively to the whole story, sprang to 
 his feet as soon as Mimer had finished and impetuously 
 cried: 
 
 ** Be comforted, oh, master, for I will forge a sword which 
 shall riot only dint, but cleave the famed Burgundian 
 armor." 
 
 At dawn the next day, therefore, Siegfried began his self- 
 appointed task, and during seven days and nights the anvil 
 constantly rang under the heavy blows of his hammer. At 
 the end of this time he modestly presented himself before 
 his master, bearing in his right hand a glittering sword of 
 the finest steel 
 
 Mimer examined it critically, and then, to test its edge, 
 held it in a running stream, where he cast a fine thread 
 which the water carried toward the blade. The thread no 
 sooner touched the sword than it was severed. Delighted 
 with the satisfactory result of his experiment, Mimer pro- 
 nounced the weapon faultless, but Siegfried, dissatisfied 
 with his labor, broke it into several pieces and declared he 
 knew he could do better still. 
 
 Seven more days and nights were spent by the indefatig- 
 able young smith at his forge, and when he again appeared 
 before his master he proudly brandished a highly polished 
 sword which flashed in the sunlight like a streak of lightning. 
 
 Once more, Mimer examined and tested it: this time by 
 casting twelve whole fleeces in the running stream, but 
 when he saw them all neatly divided by the sharp blade he 
 uttered a loud shout of triumph, and declared Siegfried's 
 Balmung— such was the name the prince had given his 
 sword — the finest weapon ever forged. 
 
 Therefore, when Amilias, the Burgundian, appeared in the 
 Netherlands, Mimer fearlessly accepted his challenge, and 
 approaching the mocking giant, dealt him a great blow. 
 
28 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Amilias did not even wince, but the smile on his broad 
 countenance grew rather faint as Mimer twittingly inquired: 
 ** Well, how dost thou feel now, sir knight ?'* 
 
 '* As if something cold had touched me," replied Amilias 
 faintly. 
 
 " Shake thyself! " commanded Mimer. 
 The giant obeyed, and at his first motion his huge body 
 fell asunder. The first blow from Balmunghad cut through 
 armor and knight. The head and shoulders now rolled 
 heavily down the mountain side and fell into the Rhine, 
 where they can still be seen when the waters are clear. As 
 for the trunk, it remained on the mountain top, where it 
 looks like a huge gray rock, for it is now petrified, and is 
 frequently pointed out to admiring tourists. 
 
 The other apprentices, jealous of the praises Mimer 
 lavishly bestowed upon Siegfried, now tried to devise some 
 means of injuring him. One day, when the master of the 
 forge was absent, and when the provision of charcoal 
 necessary to maintain the great fire in the forge was almost 
 exhausted, Veliant, the oldest apprentice, hoping to 
 humiliate Siegfried by imposing upon him such a menial 
 task, bade him take the mule, go to the mountain, and 
 obtain a new supply of fuel from Regin the charcoal burner. 
 But Siegfried, glad of the change, set out merrily, and 
 after losing his way sundry times, and slaying a whole 
 brood of young dragons, reached Regin's hut just as the 
 sun was going down. 
 
 That evening, as they sat before the fire, Regin taunted 
 the young prince with serving his inferiors in birth and 
 station, until he worked him up into a passion, and wrung 
 from him an avowal that hejonged for freedom and a chance 
 to distinguish himself in the world. 
 
 Regin then revealed to Siegfried that he was none other 
 than Mimer in disguise, gave him back his freedom, made 
 him exchange his toilworn garments for others, better suited 
 to his rank, bound the sword Balmung to his side, and bade 
 
 XANTEN. 
 
 «9 
 
 him seek a man, by the name of Gripir, who would provide 
 him with a good war horse. 
 
 Gladly Siegfried obeyed this command, and strode rapidly 
 up the mountain in search of Gripir, to whom he frankly 
 made known his errand. The stud-keeper immediately 
 signified his readiness to serve him, and conducted him to 
 the mountain top, from whence he pointed out a herd of 
 horses feeding in a pasture, bidding him take his choice 
 among them. 
 
 Guided by the advice of an old, one-eyed man— Odin in 
 disguise— whom he met on the way, Siegfried selected Grey- 
 fell, a descendant of Odin's favorite steed, the only one of 
 the horses which successfully battled against the high waves 
 in the river, and came bounding up to him. Proudly riding 
 this matchless steed, Siegfried then returned to Regin to 
 receive his further commands. That evening, seated by 
 the camp-fire, and accompanying himself by the melodious 
 tones of a harp which he touched with wondrous skill, 
 Regin chanted the oft-repeated tale of the Curse of Gold,' 
 which is as follows: 
 
 Three of the ^sir, Odin, Hoenir, and Loki, once came 
 down upon earth, disguised as mortals. As they trav- 
 eled along, they freely distributed gifts to all they met. 
 Odin gave knowledge and strength; Hoenir, gladness and 
 good-cheer; but Loki, ever inclined to mischief, lingered 
 behind them to scatter abroad the seeds of deceit and crime. 
 In his wanton love of evil, he also slew a magnificent otter, 
 which he carelessly flung over his shoulder, as he followed his 
 companions to the hut of the giant Hreidmar, where they 
 hoped to obtain refreshment. 
 
 But, no sooner had the giant's glance rested upon Loki's 
 strange burden, than he uttered a terrible cry of rage, for 
 the slain animal was his oldest son Otter, who frequently 
 assumed this form. His cry immediately brought his two 
 other sons, Regin and Fafnir to his side. With their 
 assistance he quickly bound the three gods, who, being in 
 

 30 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 human guise, could offer but slight resistance, for they 
 possessed only human strength. 
 
 In spite of their promises and entreaties, Hreidmar refused 
 to set them free, and declared they should remain in durance 
 vile until they gave him gold enough to cover every inch of 
 the slain Otter's skin. The only concession that the gods 
 could obtain, was that Loki should be allowed to go in 
 search of the ransom, while Odin and Hoenir remained as 
 hostages in Hreidmar's hut. 
 
 Loosed from his bonds, Loki quickly wended his way to 
 the source of the Rhine, where Andvari, a dwarf, was said 
 to keep watch over an immense treasure. But when he 
 reached the spot, he could find no trace of either treasure 
 or dwarf. The only living creature in sight was a beautiful 
 salmon, playfully disporting itself in the limpid waters. 
 
 Loki, the arch-deceiver, immediately suspected a fraud, 
 and without further ado, sped down the Rhine to the North 
 Sea, where he entreated Ran, the cruel sea queen, to lend 
 him the net which she so often spread to catch the rich 
 galleys floating so proudly over the surface of her husband's 
 domain. 
 
 Won by his promises of future assistance. Ran soon 
 consented to lend him her net. Armed with this infal- 
 lible instrument, Loki quickly retraced his steps to the source 
 of the Rhine. There he soon caught the salmon, which 
 proved to be, as he had so shrewdly suspected, the dwarf 
 Andvari in disguise. 
 
 Loki then demanded the jealously guarded treasure, which 
 was surrendered as the price of freedom. He was about 
 to depart when his covetous eye was caught by the glitter 
 of a golden snake-ring which Andvari wore. To wrench 
 this ring from the dwarfs 'finger and make his escape was 
 the work of a moment, yet his flight was not so rapid 
 but that he distinctly heard every word of the awful curse 
 which Andvari pronounced upon the possessor of both 
 treasure and ring. 
 
 XANTEN, 
 
 3« 
 
 Arrived at the hut where Odin and Hoenir anxiously 
 awaited him, Loki poured out the gold on the otter skin, 
 which spread out farther and farther, on all sides, until it 
 covered a wide tract of ground. The treasure, however, 
 was almost as unlimited as the skin, and when the last piece 
 of gold had been laid down upon it, it was all covered with 
 the exception of a single hair. 
 
 Hreidmar, whose eyes had greedily rested upon the count- 
 less treasures, now vowed the gods should not go until 
 they had covered the last hair with gold, and thus fulfilled 
 his conditions; so Loki, remembering the ring, produced it, 
 placed it upon the uncovered spot, and thus obtained his 
 own and his companions' liberty.* 
 
 Fearful lest anyone should deprive him of his treasure, 
 Hreidmar never for a moment left it out of his sight. Day 
 and night he lingered beside it, drawing it into his embrace, 
 and gazing for hours at a time upon the runes engraved on 
 his snake-ring. So frequently did he indulge in this latter 
 pastnne that his whole nature was soon changed, and one day, 
 when Fafnir returned alone from the chase, he found, instead 
 of Hreidmar, a great snake coiled all around the treasure. 
 
 A moment sufficed to draw his sword and kill the ser- 
 pent, and it was only when the deed was done that he 
 discovered it was his father whom he had thus slain. Sim- 
 uitaneously with this knowledge came the insidious thought 
 that the treasure was his, and that if he could only remove 
 it to a place of safety before his brother Regin appeared to 
 claim a share, it need never be divided. Hastily gathering 
 up the golden hoard, therefore, Fafnir transported it to 
 Hunaland, where he spread it all out on a plain, since called 
 the Glittering Heath, where he gloated over it night and 
 day, until he, too, became a loathsome serpent. 
 
 The tale ended, Mimer, or Regin as we must now call him, 
 revealed to Siegfried that he was Hreidmar's third and 
 youngest son, who had been forced to seek refuge in the 
 ♦See *• Stories of the Wagner Operas,*' by the author. 
 
32 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Volsung country, and there patiently bide his time, until 
 a dauntless warrior consented to aid him in recovering the 
 golden treasure. 
 
 In vain Siegfried reminded him of the awful curse which 
 its possession entailed. Regin insisted that he was ready to 
 bear the curse if he could only obtain the gold, and after 
 much entreaty finally induced Siegfried to mount Greyfell 
 and accompany him to the Glittering Heath. 
 
 From a mountain top on the opposite side of the river, the 
 young hero first beheld the golden plain, where lay the goal 
 of all Regin's hopes. Alone and on foot, he then descended 
 the mountain and sprang into a skiff which was waiting to 
 bear him across the river. The aged boatman (Odin in dis- 
 guise), hearing his purpose, cunningly advised him to dig a 
 trench in the dragon's track, — for the serpent had worn a 
 great path on the hillside, in his daily journey down to the 
 river to quench his devouring thirst,— to hide himself in this 
 trench, and plunge his sword deep into the monster's side 
 as he passed over him. 
 
 Siegfried, ever ready to receive good advice, put the old 
 boatman's suggestion into practice, and soon lay in a deep 
 trench, sword in hand, anxiously awaiting the serpent's 
 descent to the river. He had not waited long, before a 
 sound of rolling stones and a prolonged hiss fell upon his 
 Hstening ear. A moment later, he felt the serpent's fiery 
 breath touch his cheek, and then the loathsome folds of his 
 huge body rolled over the trench, shutting out the air and 
 daylight. 
 
 Undaunted by his proximity to the monster, Siegfried 
 now boldly thrust Balmung up to the hilt into the body 
 above his head. The blood gushed out of the wound in 
 torrents, rapidly filling the 'trench, and had not the mon- 
 ster, in his last convulsive struggle, rolled over on one side, 
 and thus allowed Siegfried to escape, he would have fallen 
 victim to his own hardihood, and have been drowned in the 
 slimy blood. This gore, covering him from head to foot, 
 
 XANTEN. 
 
 33 
 
 rendered him invulnerable, with the exception of a tiny 
 spot, where a fallen lime leaf stuck fast to his shoulder. 
 
 When Regin, from his lookout on the mountain top, saw 
 that Fafnir was dead, he hastened to cross the river and 
 jomed Siegfried. No trace of emotion passed over his face 
 when he beheld the lifeless form of what had once been a 
 well-beloved brother, and his eyes were soon greedily turned 
 toward the heath where the glittering treasure lay. 
 
 A moment later, fearing lest Siegfried should claim a 
 portion of this wealth, he stealthily drew Balmung out of 
 Fafnir's bleeding side. But just as he was about to deal a 
 deadly blow to the unsuspecting young hero, his foot slipped 
 in the serpent's slimy blood, and he fell upon the trenchant 
 blade, which put an end to his envy and existence at the 
 same time. 
 
 Horror-struck, Siegfried gazed for a moment upon this 
 sad sight, then vaulting upon Greyfell, he bounded away 
 leaving the Glittering Heath and its accursed treasure far 
 behind him. He considered himself safe only when he had 
 reached the distant seashore, and embarked with his steed 
 upon a vessel steered by the gentle Bragi. 
 
 So sweet was the pilot's voice, and so entrancing his 
 songs, that the waves ceased their play to listen, and the 
 winds only breathed a soft accompaniment to his harp. 
 Thus peacefully sailing over summer seas, they came at last 
 to Isenland, where Bragi told Siegfried that Brunhild, the 
 disobedient Valkyr, had been exiled to earth. 
 
 He then went on to explain, in his dreamy, poetical way, 
 that this maiden, the queen of all Isenland, had been stung 
 together with all her household, by -the irresistible thorn 
 of sleep," and doomed by Odin, the All-father, to slumber 
 on until some hero should fight his way through the barrier 
 of flames with which he had surrounded the palace, and 
 break the charm by kissing her fair young brow. 
 
 Just as the story came to an end, the keel of the vessel 
 grated upon the pebbly beach, and Siegfried, mounting his 
 
 IIM 
 
 \M 
 
 \i 
 
 1 ' 
 
34 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 XANTEN. 
 
 35 
 
 faithful Greyfell, leaped ashore, declaring his intention of 
 riding through the flames to break the spell which rested 
 upon the fair sleeper. 
 
 A moment later his swift steed had carried him away from 
 
 the seashore, into the midst of the raging flames, through 
 
 which he bravely forced his way to the very gates of the 
 
 palace of Isenstein, where he found all, as Bragi had told 
 
 him, wrapped in a deep and dreamless sleep. No sound of 
 
 life broke the profound silence which had brooded over the 
 
 place for years, and Siegfried penetrated unmolested into an 
 
 apartment where the fair Brunhild lay wrapped in slumber. 
 
 No change had passed over her in all this time; her 
 
 countenance was more beautiful, if anything, than on the 
 
 day when the fatal thorn had stung her, and after a moment 
 
 spent in breathless contemplation, Siegfried bent above her 
 
 sleeping form, and pressed a gentle kiss upon her smooth 
 
 brow. The blue eyes opened wide, the princess awoke, and 
 
 knights, maids, and waiting men, simultaneously aroused 
 
 from their prolonged repose, resumed the conversations and 
 
 occupations broken off so long ago. 
 
 The deliverer was welcomed with songs and festivals, and 
 every day some new game or banquet was devised in his 
 honor. Six months passed by like a dream, and seemed all 
 too short to Brunhild, who had fallen in love with the hand- 
 some young warrior as soon as her first conscious glance 
 had rested upon him. But there were other great deeds for 
 Siegfried to accomplish, and Odin, impatient at his inactivity, 
 finally sent his two wise birds. Thought and Memory, to 
 warn him that life was short, time fleeting, and that it 
 behooved him to be up and doing. 
 
 No sooner had this warning fallen upon Siegfried's ear, 
 than he mounted Greyfell, and without pausing to take leave 
 of Brunhild, rode out of the castle of Isenstein, and away 
 to the sea. There he embarked in a waiting vessel which 
 immediately set sail, and bore him off to the Nibelungen- 
 land, the land of perpetual darkness and mist. 
 
 Landing here, Siegfried was immediately called upon to 
 settle a quarrel between two young princes, Niblung and 
 Shiblung, whose father had died leaving an immense 
 treasure. This he had found in the course of his journeys, 
 on a lonely plain called the Glittering Heath. These two 
 princes, who had grown thin and pale watching the treasure, 
 which was also guarded by Alberich (Andvari), king of the 
 dwarfs, earnestly implored Siegfried to divide the hoard 
 between them. The hero consented upon condition that 
 the sword, which lay on top of the gold, and which he 
 immediately recognized as his own Balmung, should be 
 given him in exchange for his services. 
 
 The brothers made no objection, and he began the divi- 
 sion of the treasure, which was carried on quite satisfac- 
 torily to both parties until nothing but the accursed ring 
 remained. The princes, quarreling for its possession, 
 fought until both fell mortally wounded upon their vast 
 piles of gold, and died clasping their glittering treasures in 
 a last fond embrace. 
 
 While Siegfried was mournfully contemplating this sad 
 sight, Alberich the dwarf, fearing lest the newcomer should 
 attempt to carry away the great hoard, donned his Tarn- 
 kappe,-— a magic mantle which had the power of making the 
 wearer invisible to mortal eyes,— and stealing behind the 
 hero, dealt him a great and treacherous blow. 
 
 Siegfried soon recovered, and seeing no foe, concluded 
 that the attack must have been made by the dwarf. 
 Patiently biding his time until he felt a sharp current of air 
 touch his cheek, he promptly stretched out his strong right 
 hand, caught his invisible little opponent, divested him of 
 the Tarnkappe, which he appropriated, and made him 
 solemnly swear to serve him only, and to guard the im- 
 mense treasure faithfully for his use 
 
 Shortly after this encounter Siegfried came into contact 
 with the Nibelungen warriors, whom he defeated, thanks to 
 his Tarnkappe and invincible Balmung. This victory gave 
 
36 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 XANTEIff. 
 
 hiiD the sovereignty over the land of mist and darkness, where 
 he rested for a while, ere he returned home, accompanied 
 by a kingly retinue of a thousand stalwart Nibelungen 
 knights. The journey was accomplished in safety, and 
 when the numerous galleys reached Xanten, on the Rhine, 
 ^;here were great rejoicings, and the long absent Siegfried 
 and his mighty followers were entertained with sumptuous 
 feasts. Siegfried lingered here by his parents' side, recount- 
 ing his adventures by land and sea, and taking an active 
 part in jousts and games, until, weary of this aimless 
 existence, he determined to go in search of new adventures. 
 The main part of the Nibelungen warriors were sent back 
 to the land of mist and darkness, to await his summons, 
 only ten of their number being privileged to accompany him 
 to the famed Burgundian land. Over hill and down dale 
 they traveled, following, the sinuous course of the Rhine, 
 until they reached the city of Worms, the Burgundian 
 capital, where they were hospitably received by King 
 Gunther, and by every member of the royal family. 
 
 One person only, Hagen, the confidant and adviser of the 
 king, viewed the strangers with displeasure, and strove, by 
 every means in his power, to disparage them before his mas- 
 ter. But, in spite of all his evil insinuations,Gunther received 
 Siegfried with all the courtesy due his rank, and ordered 
 sundry festivities and games in his honor, in the course 
 of which all had cause to admire the strength and agility 
 displayed by the Nibelungen king. Kriemhild, sister of 
 Gunther, than whom no more beautiful maiden ever dwelt 
 upon the banks of the Rhine, daily watched and applauded 
 his prowess, culled choice roses from her famous garden, 
 and twined them into garlands for the handsome young 
 victor, who showed himself humble and gentle before her 
 alone, and whose burning love glances kindled an answer- 
 ing flame in her impressionable heart. Even in her dreams, 
 he was ever before her, and sharing the superstition so 
 general in her day, she anxiously sought a favorable inter- 
 
 37 
 
 pretation for them all. What was not her chagrin therefore 
 when, after an agitated night, her dream was interpreted 
 tragically. She had dreamed that a beautiful falcon, flying 
 toward her from the north, nestled contentedly in her bosom 
 whence it was cruelly torn away by two dark eagles which 
 suddenly swooped down upon it and left it lying at her feet 
 a bleeding and mangled corpse. Ute, the queen mother,' 
 skilled in interpreting dreams, declared she would marry a 
 northern king, who would love her, and rest happy in her 
 love, until treacherously slain by two cruel foes. The first 
 part of the prophecy caused Kriemhild's heart to flutter 
 with joy; for was not Siegfried a king from the north, and 
 did she not love him and long for his love in return > But 
 her tender spirit quailed when she heard the tragic end so 
 she strove, by all the means in her power, to banish \he 
 recollection of this ominous dream. 
 
 She was greatly assisted in this process by several excit- 
 ing events, for, according to some versions of the story a 
 terrible dragon suddenly appeared and bore her off to a cave 
 in the Drachenfels, whence she was heroically rescued by 
 Siegfried. Other traditions aver that two kings declared war 
 against Burgundy, and were defeated, thanks to the courage 
 of Siegfried, who returned to Worms in triumph. 
 
 Shortly after these events the Burgundian court was 
 further excited by the arrival of a herald sent by Brunhild, 
 queen of Isenland, to promise her hand and kingdom to any 
 knight who could outdo her in casting a spear, hurling a 
 stone, and in leaping. 
 
 In answer to the manifold questions asked him, the herald 
 warmly lauded the charms of his fair queen, related how she 
 had been stung by -the thorn of sleep," surrounded by a 
 barricade of raging flames, and finally released by the kiss 
 of a beautiful stranger, who had braved every danger to 
 approach her, had lingered contentedly by her side, but had 
 at last suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. 
 
 This story greatly interested Gunther, the Burgundian 
 
38 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 king who bade the herald return with all speed to Isenland, 
 to inform Brunhild that he accepted her challenge, and 
 would soon present himself, ready to win her hand or die. 
 
 After vainly trying to deter him from this rash enterprise, by 
 revealing to him that Brunhild, being a Valkyr, was endowed 
 with more than human strength, Siegfried determined to 
 accompany him to Isenland, in the guise of a vassal, and lend 
 him all the assistance in his power for Kriemhild's sake.* 
 
 Brunhild, who had dispatched her herald in hopes that 
 her challenge would reach the ear of Siegfried and bring 
 him back to her feet, scornfully viewed the Burgundian 
 king, and haughtily bade him prepare for the appointed 
 contest. Siegfried, who had remained by the vessel, 
 hastily donned his Tarnkappe, which he had brought with 
 that purpose in view, and stealing unseen to Gunther's side, 
 bade him go through th& motions and fear naught, for he 
 would aid and sustain him. 
 
 Brunhild's first blow overthrew Gunther and his invisible 
 supporter, but before she had time to cry out *' Victory," 
 Siegfried placed Gunther upon his feet once more, and 
 hurled the spear at her, butt-end foremost, with such force, 
 that Brunhild staggered and fell, and was obliged to con- 
 fess herself beaten. 
 
 But, although her first attempt had proved unsuccessful, 
 and the king she scorned had shown himself no despicable 
 foe, Brunhild still hoped to defeat him. Catching up a 
 huge stone, therefore, she threw it with incredible force, 
 and bounding after it, alighted beside it as it fell. 
 
 A murmur of admiration arose, and all the spectators 
 eagerly watched to see whether Gunther could rival her in 
 strength and agility a second time. Invisible to all, Sieg- 
 fried bent, caught up the stone, threw it much further than 
 Brunhild had done, and grasping Gunther by his broad belt, 
 landed him beside the stone with one mighty bound. The 
 Burgundian king had won, and, in the midst of deafening 
 
 *See " Myths of Northern Lands," by the author. 
 
 SIEGFRIED AND KRIEMHILD. 
 Royal Palace, Munich. 
 
XANTEN 
 
 39 
 
 acclamations, the proud Brunhild was forced to confess 
 herself outdone. 
 
 Furious at being thus caught in her own trap, and deter- 
 mined to exterminate the strangers rather than become the 
 wife of their king, Brunhild secretly began to assemble her 
 troops, beguiling her guests into a false sense of security 
 by the sumptuous festivals which she gave in their honor. 
 
 Siegfried, however, perceiving these criminal intentions, 
 stole secretly away to the Nibelungen land, whence he soon 
 returned with an imposing force of knights, in time to save 
 Gunther, and to compel Brunhild to keep her promise. 
 
 The bridal party now proceeded to Worms, whither Sieg- 
 fried preceded them to announce their coming. The timid 
 but warm welcome he received from Kriemhild encouraged 
 him to sue openly for her hand. When Gunther arrived 
 their marriage was celebrated and Brunhild learned for the 
 first time that Siegfried was not, as her husband had told 
 her, one of his vassals, but a mighty king, and the hero 
 who had slain a dragon and become invulnerable by bath- 
 ing in its blood. 
 
 When all the wedding festivities were ended, Siegfried 
 bore his happy bride away to the Nibelungen land, where 
 he gave her all the Nibelungen hoard, reserving for himself 
 nothing but the fatal ring. The course of their peaceful 
 and happy life was interrupted, after several years, by a 
 pressing invitation to visit their Burgundian kindred, an 
 invitation far too cordial to be refused. 
 
 So the Nibelungen king and queen set out with a royal 
 retinue, and, after a delightful journey over the smooth sea 
 and along the Rhine, they reached the city of Worms in the 
 midst of great rejoicings. The harmony which reigned at 
 first among the various members of the royal family was 
 soon disturbed, however, by the treacherous Hagen, who, 
 having once overheard by what stratagem Brunhild had 
 been won, now revealed the secret to her, thus cunningly 
 enlisting her aid to compass Siegfried's death. 
 
40 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Next, he artfully insinuated himself into Kriemhild's 
 good graces, and under pretext of better guarding her hus- 
 band's precious life, won from her the admission that 
 although Fafnir's blood had rendered her husband invulner- 
 able, there was one little spot on his shoulder — where the 
 lime leaf had stuck — where a blow might prove fatal. At his 
 urgent request, Kriemhild embroidered a tiny leaf on Sieg- 
 fried's garment, on the exact spot where the real leaf had 
 rested, while he vehemently swore he would keep her secret 
 and constantly watch over her husband's safety. 
 
 But one day, when the royal party were hunting in the 
 Odenwald, and when Siegfried was bending over a little 
 fountain to slake his burning thirst, the treacherous Hagen 
 stole behind him, thrust his spear through the embroidered 
 leaf into the stooping form, and thus basely slew him. 
 
 Siegfried's lifeless body was carried home on a shield and 
 laid before Kriemhild's door, and when she found it there 
 she almost died of grief. To discover the murderer, — for she 
 suspected foul play, — she bade each warrior lay his hand upon 
 the beloved remains, and when at Hagen's touch the blood 
 again began to flow, she vehemently denounced him as a 
 traitor and assassin. 
 
 According to some versions of this tale Siegfried's body 
 was burned, and Brunhild, regretting what she had done, 
 stabbed herself and was buried with him. According to 
 others he was laid at rest in a sumptuous tomb, and Kriem- 
 hild, who would fain have returned to the Nibelungen- 
 land, was persuaded to remain with her kin in her native 
 country. A few years later, guided by her family's wishes, 
 she sent for the mighty Nibelungen hoard, which was 
 conveyed to Burgundy in several large vessels, and placed 
 in a great tower of which Kriemhild only held the key. 
 But Hagen, the vile murderer, who was as avaricious as 
 treacherous, soon stole the treasure, and fearing lest he 
 should be forced to restore it, buried it deep in the Rhine, 
 near Lochheim, where it remains to this day. 
 
 SIEGFRIED'S BODY HORXE BY THE 
 HUNTSMEN. 
 
 Pixi, 
 
ELBERFELD. 
 
 41 
 
 Some years later, under the influence of a magic draught, 
 or urged by the thirst for revenge, Kriemhild married Attila, 
 king of the Huns, and, under pretext of a friendly visit, 
 beguiled the Burgundians into her realm. In trying to 
 execute her orders and slay Hagen, the Huns fell foul of 
 the Burgundian heroes, who died only after they had slain 
 many of their foes, Gunther and Hagen perishing by the 
 feand of Kriemhild, who however died by the sword as soon 
 as Siegfried was avenged. 
 
 The Drachenfels, where Siegfried slew the dragon; the 
 city of Worms, which owes its name to the corpse of the 
 gigantic worm Fafnir, found on the Glittering Heath; the 
 Rose Garden, where Kriemhild, the happy maiden, wove 
 garlands for her lover; the Odenwald, where Siegfried fell; 
 the church of St. Cecilia, where his tomb can still be seen; 
 and Lochheim, where the Nibelungen hoard is buried in the 
 Rhine, are the principal places along this mighty river 
 which are connected with the great German epic, the 
 Nibelungenlied, the story of the noble Siegfried, born in 
 the Netherlands, at Xanten, on the Rhine.* 
 
 ELBERFELD. 
 
 ^bc Bngel page* 
 
 A LAD of faultless proportions and peerless beauty once 
 sought a brave and noble knight, humbly entreating per- 
 mission to serve him as page. Charmed by his graceful 
 manners and frank request, the knight engaged him, and 
 never, for a moment, did he have cause to regret having 
 secured his services. 
 
 The cheerful alacrity with which the little page performed 
 every duty, the intense devotion which enabled him to 
 discover and anticipate almost every wish, soon won his 
 master's approval, and before long they became inseparable 
 
 * See Note 5 in Appendix, 
 
42 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 companions. The years passed swiftly by; never before 
 had the knight enjoyed such continuous prosperity, and 
 never had success so persistently attended him, as since 
 the day and hour when the youthful page had first entered 
 his gate. 
 
 One day when master and follower were riding along the 
 banks of the Rhine, they suddenly noticed the approach of 
 a band of dastardly men, who had often, but vainly, sought to 
 harm the virtuous knight. Their troop was so numerous 
 and so cleverly disposed, that a single glance sufficed 
 to show the knight the utter impossibility of hewing 
 his way through their serried ranks, or of making his 
 escape. 
 
 ** Would to God you were safe within my castle walls, my 
 faithful little page ! " he sadly cried. '' We are lost, my lad, 
 but it behooves us to sell ou;- lives as dearly as possible, and 
 to die like heroes, instead of cravens. Get behind me, oh, 
 page, and should a chance present itself, remember I bid 
 you flee ! " 
 
 *' Master, master, follow me! I will show you a way to 
 escape, follow me ! '* cried the little page, galloping along 
 the river bank, and suddenly spurring his reluctant steed 
 into the rushing tide. 
 
 '* Rash youth, return ! " called the knight, bounding for- 
 ward in the vain hope of overtaking the venturesome page. 
 *' Better die, fighting bravely, than to perish miserably in 
 the waves. Return, my page, return ! " 
 
 **Fear nothing, master, follow me! " still cried the little 
 page, and his silvery tones rose so confidently above the 
 noise of the wind and waves, that the knight unconsciously 
 obeyed. A few moments later the horses had found a 
 firm footing, and guided by his' page, the knight safely forded 
 the Rhine, and reached the opposite shore, as the baffled 
 foe came down to the water's brink. 
 
 In vain the pursuers urged their steeds into the deep 
 waters; no trace of ford could be found, so they were 
 
 ELBERFELD. 
 
 43 
 
 forced to abandon the pursuit. The knight's warm ex- 
 pressions of gratitude and admiration only deepened the 
 affection of the little page, who seemed perfectly happy 
 when in his presence, or when engaged in some of his 
 numerous errands of mercy. 
 
 Not long after this miraculous escape from death, the 
 knight's heart was torn with anguish, for his wife, his be- 
 loved young wife, lay dangerously ill. The learned physi- 
 cians, summoned in haste to her bedside, gravely shook 
 their heads, and declared she must die, for the only remedy 
 which could give her relief— the milk of a lioness— could 
 not be procured in that country. 
 
 The rumor of the strange and unobtainable prescription 
 rapidly spread throughout the castle, and came to the ears 
 of the faithful little page, who immediately sprang to his 
 feet and rushed out of the hall. An hour later— before any 
 decided change for the worse had taken place— he suddenly 
 appeared at the lady's bedside, flushed and panting, but 
 bearing a full cup of lioness* milk, which the learned doctors 
 administered to the patient without delay. In a very few 
 moments the color stole back into the lady's pallid cheeks, 
 the light to her eyes, and she soon sank into a sweet sleep, 
 from which she awoke fully cured, and restored to life, 
 health, and love. 
 
 Then the knight eagerly sought his little page, and grate- 
 fully poured out the thanks with which his heart overflowed. 
 *'But tell me, my noble, faithful page, how could you so 
 speedily procure a remedy which all my wealth and the 
 doctors' influence could not command } " he inquired, after 
 the first expression of his undying gratitude. 
 
 "Noble master, I knew that a lioness was suckling her 
 cubs in an Arabian den, and so '* 
 
 *S\rabia!" exclaimed the knight, interrupting him, 
 ''Arabia! Did you find your way thither, and effect 
 your return within one short hour's time ?" 
 
 *'Even so, oh, gracious master,'*' modestly replied the 
 
44 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 little page, with his beautiful, candid eyes fixed on his 
 master's pale, astonished face. 
 
 ** Lad, who are you, then?" suddenly demanded the 
 knight, a nameless terror invading his heart. **Who are 
 you ? Speak; and conceal nothing!" 
 
 ** Master, beloved master ! ask not who I am, nor whence 
 I came," cried the little page, sinking down at his feet, 
 and stretching out imploring hands. *^ Question me not! 
 Let me remain at your side, oh, master! and remember 
 that no harm has befallen you since I have been in your 
 service." 
 
 ''Lad, cease this pleading and answer me. Who are 
 you .'- '' insisted the knight, carefully avoiding his passionate 
 glance of entreaty. 
 
 ** A spirit, oh, master! A spirit of light, who for you, and 
 your service, left a home in the realms above. But now, 
 oh, master ! I must go. Farewell, farewell ! " * 
 
 ** Lad, lad, leave me not ! Remain ! " now cried the knight 
 in his turn. ** Ask what reward you please, but do not for- 
 sake me. Remain, my faithful little page, for I cannot live 
 without you ! " 
 
 ** You have questioned my origin and have mentioned a 
 reward. The charm is broken, oh, master ! and now I must 
 go. In exchange for the services I have performed so 
 cheerfully and so lovingly, I ask you to place a silver bell 
 in the dense forest, that its tinkling sound may guide the 
 weary wanderers, and enable them to find their way home. 
 Dedicate the bell to the Almighty and to his angelic host, 
 oh, master! and receive my last farewell." 
 
 The lad vanished, but none saw him leave the hall or pass 
 through the castle gates, and no trace of him was ever found. 
 The angel page had faded from mortal sight, and returned 
 to the heavenly home, inhabited by countless spirits as 
 good, faithful, and pure as he. 
 
 His last request was piously fulfilled by the noble knight, 
 who seemed absorbed in mournful recollections of the oast, 
 
 * See Note 6 in Appendix, 
 
 dOsseldorf. 45 
 
 for his eye constantly roamed in search of the beautiful pa^e 
 
 who had left him, and when, at evensong, the silvery tones 
 
 of the little bell pealed forth in the quiet air, they fell upon 
 
 his ear like angels words and filled his heart with restless 
 longing. 
 
 Little by little the knight's strength failed. His step 
 grew slow and feeble, and one day, when the shades of 
 night were falling and the first tinkle of the little bell fell 
 upon his ear, he softly murmured : - My page, my faithful 
 little page ! " and his soul was released and allowed to join 
 the angel spirit he had learned to love so well. After that 
 and for many a year, the bell continued to peal forth its 
 silvery chimes, some echoes of which are still said to linger 
 in the Elberfeld forest, and many a weary wanderer has had 
 cause to bless the virtuous knight and his angel page 
 
 dOsseldorf. 
 
 Zhz Critics Silenced 
 
 A GREAT crowd once assembled on the market place at 
 DUsseldorf, to view the unveiling of the equestrian statue 
 of the beloved Elector, John William. 
 
 Gabriel Grupello, the artist, stood at his post, and at the 
 prince s signal dropped the veil. The statue, a master- 
 piece, excited much admiration, and the artist's heart swelled 
 with pride when the Elector, in token of approval, publicly 
 seized and shook his hand. 
 
 But the courtiers, jealous of this unwonted mark of dis- 
 tinction, eagerly sought something to depreciate, and as 
 they dared not criticise the ^^gy^ which the Elector had 
 pronounced perfect, they took their revenge by disparaging 
 the steed. One found fault with the hoofs, another with 
 the withers, a third with the neck, a fourth with the ears; 
 
46 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 in short no part of the unfortunate quadruped could meet 
 with the courtiers' entire approvah 
 
 Silently Grupello listened to all their comments, and 
 when they had quite finished he turned to the Elector, 
 gravely entreating permission to erect a scaffolding around 
 the statue once more, and to be allowed three days' work, 
 screened from all inquisitive eyes and secured from every 
 interruption. The Elector graciously complied with this 
 request, and during three days the heavy clang of the ham- 
 mer resounded incessantly on the market place. 
 
 The courtiers, passing to and fro, heard the sound and 
 complacently congratulated themselves upon the valuable 
 hints they had bestowed upon the artist. The last day 
 came, the hammering ceased, the scaffolding fell, and once 
 more, the Elector and his suite gathered around the statue. 
 
 ** Well, my noble lords and gentlemen," cried the Elector, 
 turning to his followers, **are you satisfied now?" 
 
 " Yes, the hoofs are quite right now ! " exclaimed the 
 hoof-critic approvingly. 
 
 **And the arch of the neck is no longer strained, but flex- 
 ible and proud," said another suavely. 
 
 **See ! " cried a third, ** the ears now seem quite natural ! " 
 
 Each courtier warmly praised the particular part he 
 had once condemned, and all, thinking the success owing 
 entirely to themselves and to their timely suggestions, openly 
 professed their complete satisfaction. 
 
 With downcast eyes Grupello listened to their praise, but, 
 when they had quite finished, he raised his head and boldly 
 cried: 
 
 ** Behold, your Royal Highness! neck, hoofs, ears, and 
 withers are quite unchanged,^ for a statue of bronze, once 
 cast, cannot be altered." 
 
 **You have not changed it, Master Grupello! " exclaimed 
 the Elector, astonished. ** Pray tell me what you were ham- 
 mering so vigorously, then ?" 
 
 **Oh !" replied the artist, carelessly shrugging his shoul- 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 
 47 
 
 ders, **I was merely demolishing the reputation of the 
 critics, who were jealous of the praise your Royal Highness 
 so generously bestowed." 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 OTe CatbeDral Xcgen^ 
 
 Engelbert the Holy, bishop of Cologne, longed to signal- 
 ize his rule and inim^.rtalize his name by some great work. 
 He determined, therefore, to erect a cathedral which would 
 tower far above ir d outshine all others, and with this lauda- 
 ble purpose in view, sent for a renowned architect. 
 
 Elated by the honor thus conferred upon him, this man 
 readily undertook to produce a suitable plan within a certain 
 space of time, and withdrew from the bishop's presence full 
 of eagerness to begin his work. But, when he had returned 
 to his own humble little dwelling, spread a huge sheet of 
 spotless parchment upon the table before him, and prepared 
 his rules, compasses, and other drawing implements, the in- 
 spiration he so confidently expected entirely failed him. 
 
 Hour after hour the architect pondered, but the great 
 sheet still remained a perfect blank. To stimulate his ideas 
 he finally concluded to take a little walk, and thoughtfully 
 wandered along the crooked, narrow streets, and out of the 
 Frankenpforte to the banks of the Rhine. A stretch of fine, 
 smooth sand and the prevailing solitude checked the archi- 
 tect's uncertain steps, and invited him to linger for a while. 
 Idly, at first, he began tracing the outline of a cathedral in 
 the sand ; then suddenly he grasped his cane more firmly 
 and drew more rapidly, until, in his excitement, his breath 
 came in quick, short gasps. Dome, turrets, and spire were 
 added one by one, and when all was finished, he raised his 
 head and proudly exclaimed : 
 
 *' There is the cathedral plan! Surely none can evei 
 equal it." 
 
48 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 ** No ; none but the cathedral of Mayence, of which that 
 is a very fair copy," said a mocking voice close beside him. 
 
 The architect, who until then had believed himself quite 
 alone, now turned with a start and beheld a wizened little 
 old man, who bent over his plan with a sarcastic expression 
 on his sharp face. His first impulse was, of course, to give 
 utterance to his anger, but a second glance at the completed 
 plan brought the instant conviction that the criticism was 
 true. 
 
 Hastily the architect effaced the outline, smoothed the 
 sand, and patiently began to trace a second plan. Under 
 his practiced hand, choir, nave, altar, and chapel rapidly 
 assumed beautiful and harmonious proportions. Like one 
 inspired, he added ornament and tracery, carefully elabo- 
 rating his design, and when the last touch had been given, 
 he stood off a few paces and triumphantly cried : 
 
 ** There ! No such an edifice as that has ever yet pierced 
 the blue vault of heaven." 
 
 **No; none except the cathedral of Strasburg," snickered 
 the same derisive voice which already^ once before, had 
 dashed his hopes to the ground. 
 
 **Strasburg ! " exclaimed the architect. **Strasburg, 
 ay — yes ! True, too true ! " and his head sank down upon 
 his breast, and the light of pleasure died out of his eyes. 
 But he was a sanguine man, and a moment later he had 
 recovered his wonted energy and begun a third plan, mut- 
 tering that he would surely have time to complete it before 
 the sun set and darkness overtook him. His hand fairly 
 trembled with eagerness, and his eyes almost started from 
 their sockets, as he tried to represent the visions of beauty 
 which now thronged his brain. The cane moved faster and 
 faster, the lines covered Ihe sand like network, the red 
 disk of the sun sank beneath the distant horizon, and its 
 rosy glow was reflected in the sparkling river as the last line 
 was rapidly traced. 
 
 ** There !" he cried. ** This is no treacherous effect of 
 
 
 
 a. 
 
 o 
 
 ^ 
 
 o 
 
 n 
 
 r 
 
 c 
 
 O 
 
 <->-, 
 
 o 
 
 
 :z: 
 
 c 
 
 w 
 
COLOGNE. 
 
 49 
 
 memory, but a creation of my own brain which will make 
 my name immortal." 
 
 '*Ha! ha! ha!" chuckled the little old man, whose 
 presence the architect had again entirely forgotten in his 
 abstraction. **You are mistaken again, sir architect; for 
 what you so proudly call a creation of your own brain looks 
 singularly like the cathedral of Amiens." 
 
 Beside himself with anger, and completely baffled, for he 
 could not but acknowledge the similarity, now that it was 
 pointed out to him, the architect threw his staff at the 
 stranger's feet and impetuously cried : 
 
 ** Perhaps you, who laugh at me, could draw a better 
 plan ! " 
 
 The clawlike fingers immediately closed over the staff, 
 and in the rapidly gathering twilight the stranger traced 
 the plan, cut, and elevation of a stupendous cathedral. 
 With dilated eyes the architect breathlessly followed his 
 every movement; and although the lines were so quickly 
 and faintly traced that they were lost to sight almost as 
 soon as made, he still saw enough to be convinced that the 
 plan far surpassed anything that he had yet seen. 
 
 **Well, what do you think of my plan?" suddenly asked 
 the old man, when he had quite finished. 
 
 ''It is simply stupendous!" exclaimed the architect. 
 ''But who are you, who can thus, in a few moments, create 
 such an exquisite plan ? You are surely the greatest archi- 
 tect on the face of the earth, or " 
 
 " His Satanic Majesty, the greatest architect in the Lower 
 World, at your service, sir architect. Moreover, if my 
 plan pleases you, it is yours. You shall reap all the honors 
 and profits which it cannot fail to bring you, if you will only 
 consent to pledge me your soul in exchange." 
 
 " Avaunt! Satan, avaunt ! " cried the terrified architect, 
 vehemently crossing himself again and again. With a snarl- 
 ing cry of rage the fiend then vanished, and the architect 
 found himself alone once more, by the rushing river. No 
 
50 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 trace of his companion remained except a faint odor of brim- 
 stone, which seemed tu Ihiger on the quiet evening air. With 
 hasty, trembling steps, the architect returned home, and 
 all night long he tossed about on his sleepless couch, 
 vainly striving to recollect the plan of the cathedral, which 
 hovered vaguely and tantalizingly before him. But, in 
 spite of all his efforts, he could not reproduce even the 
 
 most simple detail 
 
 Day after day passed, the appointed time was almost gone, 
 and still the architect was no nearer his goal than at first. 
 Once more he wandered out through the Frankenpforte to 
 the banks of the swift-flowing Rhine, and there, in the 
 gathering twilight, as he had hoped, in spite of a momentary 
 spasm of fear, the fiend once more appeared before him. 
 
 **The plan is still at your disposal, sir architect," he 
 murmured in soft, insinuating tones. ** Subscribe to my 
 conditions, and you shall have it." 
 
 As in a dream, the architect beheld the finished cathedral, 
 and heard the cries of an enthusiastic multitude praising his 
 name. Overcome by the temptation, he quickly gasped: 
 ** I consent— the plan! Give it— quick! " 
 *^ Meet me here, at midnight, to-morrow," answered the 
 Tempter, ''and as soon as you have signed your name to a 
 certain little pledge, which I shall have the honor of laying 
 before you, the plan will be yours." The thought of sub- 
 mitting such a marvelously beautiful plan to Engelbert the 
 Holy, and of the glory which would ever rest like a halo 
 upon his name, at first occupied all the architect's ideas; but 
 when night closed in, and he found himself all alone in his 
 room, the recollection that his soul would be lost forever 
 came upon him with all its force. 
 
 With loud groans, and many tears, he sank upon his knees, 
 to entreat aid from Heaven; but when he would have prayed, 
 he could find no suitable words and could only repeat, over 
 and over again, the short conversation which had taken 
 place between him and the fiend. His housekeeper, 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 
 51 
 
 awakened by his groans, grew pale with horror as she 
 crouched by the key-hole and heard every word. 
 
 Tremblingly she put on her hooded cloak, stole out of the 
 house door, locked it behind her, and thrusting the key into 
 her pocket, hobbled off to church, where she poured out the 
 whole story into the astonished ears of her father-confessor, 
 and wound up by imploring him to save her master's soul. 
 
 The priest, who had listened very attentively, pondered 
 the matter for a while, and then began to explain to the 
 tearful, anxious woman that a plan sufficiently beautiful to 
 induce her master to pledge his soul for its possession must 
 be obtained almost at any price. However, he admitted 
 that a human soul should be rescued, if possible; and pro- 
 ducing a piece of the true cross, set in gold and precious 
 stones, bade her give it to her master, with minute direc- 
 tions for its use. The holy relic concealed beneath the dark 
 folds of his mantle, the architect stole out alone, late at 
 night, to keep his appointment with his Satanic Majesty. 
 Not a star twinkled in the firmament above, and the wind 
 whistled and moaned as it blew over the river, and touched 
 his pale face with its clammy breath. Not a sound was 
 heard in the city, save the dismal howls of a few dogs, until 
 the bells slowly tolled the midnight hour. 
 
 As the twelfth stroke died away, the Evil One suddenly 
 appeared with a huge roll of parchment tucked under his 
 arm. 
 
 "The plan! the plan!" gasped the architect, shivering 
 with something besides the cold. 
 
 ''It is here. You shall have it, in a moment," answered 
 Satan. *'Just prick your finger with your penknife, use 
 your blood to sign your name to this pledge, and the plan 
 is yours." 
 
 The architect ransacked his pockets, but could not find 
 his knife. Satan, who had anxiously watched his fruitless 
 search, uttered an impatient ejaculation, and hastily 
 cried; 
 
'-> 
 
 s« 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 " Here, hold this plan for a moment, while I look for a 
 
 sharp stone." , ^ , , , . 
 
 For a moment he groped around in the darkness but 
 when he had found what he wanted, and raised his head, 
 he recoiled in horror. The architect stood before h.m, 
 clasping the plan close to his breast and brand-^-g ^he 
 relic above his head as he vehemently cned: "Get thee 
 behind me, Satan! Back, I say! In the name of the One 
 who died upon this cross, I bid thee depart." Cowermg in 
 fear his ugly features distorted by rage, Satan exclaimed: 
 
 "Villain' You have outwitted me, but I shall yet have 
 my revenge. The plan is yours, it is true, but the cathe- 
 dral shall never be finished without my aid and consent. 
 The story of your fraud will be noised abroad, but your name, 
 instead of enduring forever, will soon be buried '" °b hvion 
 
 With a threatening gesture Satan then vanished, while 
 the architect hastened home with the precious p an which 
 he had secured at such a terrible risk. Engelbert the 
 Holy approved of it warmly, and the work was begun with- 
 out delay. Countless workmen were employed, enormous 
 sums were expended, and the architect, fondly hoping to 
 outwit the Evil One a second time, had his name engraved 
 in deep characters on one of the large stones of the tower 
 In his eagerness to see the effect, he sprang upon this block 
 before it was properly secured, and as he leaned over, it 
 tipped and fell to the ground, carrying him with it and 
 crushing him to death beneath its weight. 
 
 Owing to this accident the work was stopped, but, 
 although often renewed, hundreds of years passed by ere the 
 cathedral of Cologne was entirely finished. It is, moreover 
 commonly reported that it. would still be incomplete had 
 not Satan consented to its termination, and even contributed 
 funds for the construction, by establishing a famous lottery 
 in its behalf. But, although the cathedral begun in 1225 
 was finished in 1880, the name of its real architect is still 
 unknown. 
 
 i 
 
 COLOGNE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 II 
 
COLOGNE, 53 
 
 Among the numerous legends recounted to explain the 
 long unfinished state of the Cologne Cathedral, is another 
 amusing specimen. 
 
 The devil had not forgiven the wily architect who had 
 once so cleverly defeated his calculations; and was fully 
 resolved to make a second attempt to secure his soul. Dis- 
 guised, therefore, as on a former occasion, he went to call 
 upon the architect, who, recognizing him, could not restrain 
 a certain feeling of elation at the thought of having escaped 
 him; a feeling which was greatly increased by the first words 
 spoken by his Satanic Majesty. 
 
 **Well, sir architect, your work progresses finely, in 
 spite of the few condemnatory expressions I made use of on 
 the memorable occasion when you got the better of me. 
 You must really excuse the temper I then showed; but, you 
 see, it was the very first time that I had been outwitted, 
 and until then, I scarcely realized that you were more than 
 a match for me." 
 
 ** You flatter me," stammered the architect; overcome by 
 his polite bow, yet rather doubtful whether the speech was 
 intended as a compliment or as an insult. 
 
 **No, no!" replied the devil. ** Not at all, my dear 
 sir, you are fully as smart as I; and if you have no objec- 
 tion, I would like to make a bet with you where you could 
 not so easily outwit me a second time." 
 
 Bewildered by these compliments, and forgetting in his 
 conceit that he owed his safety to divine intervention only, 
 the architect agreed to the bet. So the devil engaged 
 himself to bring water from Treves to Cologne, by a new 
 aqueduct, before the cathedral was finished, the architect's 
 soul being the prize of the winner. 
 
 This bet duly settled, Satan vanished, and the architect, 
 doubling his force of workmen, labored early and late at 
 
54 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 the cathedral, and even had a great stone, upon which his 
 name had duly been engraved, hoisted up on the nearly fin- 
 ished tower. One evening, just after this stone had been 
 set into place, and before it was properly secured, the archi- 
 tect climbed up to the top of the tower, and glancmg toward 
 the heights, saw a silvery stream of water come rushing 
 toward the city with the force and rapidity of a torrent. 
 
 **The devil has won! " he exclaimed, springing upon the 
 great stone in his dismay. A moment's oscillation, and 
 stone and architect fell to the ground, where the latter was 
 
 crushed to pieces. 
 
 Tradition further relates that the devil, in the shape of a 
 hu-e black hound, darted forward to seize the architect's 
 soul ere he was dead, but came just too late to secure his 
 prey A very ancient bas-relief commemorates this tradition, 
 and the traveler can there see the hound vainly trying to 
 secure the architect's soul, which, however, escapes forever 
 from his power. 
 
 (Tbe Dcvire Stone. 
 
 The devil, who plays so important a part in all the 
 legends of the cathedral, was so angry when he saw the 
 work advancing that he flew to the Seven Mountains, caught 
 a great block of stone in his nervous grasp, and hurled it 
 with all his might against the nearly completed building. 
 His animus was such that the ponderous block would surely 
 have struck and wrecked the building, had not a benevolent 
 Providence interfered by suddenly sending so strong a wind 
 that the stone deflected from its course and fell harmlessly 
 
 short. ' 
 
 This stone, which can still be seen, and is known as the 
 Devil's Stone, bears the imprint of Satan's hot hands, and 
 the people of Cologne aver that ever after that, Satan was 
 duly careful to allow for the wind whenever he aimed for 
 a certain goal. 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 
 55 
 
 ZTbe jfire J3ell. 
 
 In one of the great towers of the Cologne cathedral hung 
 the great bell which rang morning, noon, and night to call 
 the faithful to prayers, and solemnly tolled the flight of time. 
 Constant use gradually dulled its sound, however, and 
 finally the city council declared that Wolf, the great founder, 
 should fashion a new bell, for which they appropriated 
 twenty-five thousand pounds of pure metal. 
 
 Wolf made the mold, melted the metal, and invited all 
 the people to witness the casting of the new cathedral bell. 
 As he directed the stream of liquid metal into the mold, he 
 proudly looked around him, and hoping to make a good 
 impression upon the unsophisticated people, hypocritically 
 exclaimed : ** God speed the casting ! " 
 
 As he was an utter atheist, however, this prayer was not 
 granted, and when the mold was broken, the bell was 
 found useless, as it was cracked from top to bottom. A 
 second mold was prepared, a second casting made, and as 
 the same mockery was again gone through with, the second 
 bell also proved an utter failure. 
 
 Angry at this double mischance, Wolf prepared to make a 
 third casting, and in his excitement he exclaimed as usual : 
 ** Devil take the work ! " which impious words made the 
 people shudder with horror. 
 
 In spite of the founder's impiety, however, the bell this 
 time proved quite flawless, was hung in the tower, and Wolf 
 was invited to be present that his hand might ring the first 
 melodious peal. Pleased with the honor, the founder gave 
 a mighty pull to the rope, but instead of the harmonious 
 sound he expected, the mighty bell gave forth such a harsh, 
 discordant tone that the people anxiously crossed themselves, 
 and looked up at the tower with a shudder of horror. 
 
 Wolf himself, horrified at the sound, started back in dis- 
 may and fell from the tower, but the great bell remfined 
 there, not to summon the faithful to the house of God, but 
 
s« 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 COLOGNE, 
 
 57 
 
 to warn the citizens of Cologne that some great danger was 
 threatening them. Its harsh, discordant tones are never 
 heard, therefore, except in case of fire or war; and when 
 they rend the quiet air, the women and children cross them- 
 selves and pray, while the men rush forth to give the 
 required aid. 
 
 ** Since then there hangs that fated bell, a warning to the bad ; 
 A lesson to the wicked 'tis, its tale so deep and sad ; 
 The offspring of the skill of hell, the child of curses dire, 
 'Tis now but toU'd in time of storm, of dread, or doole, or fire." 
 
 — /. G. Seidl, 
 
 Sbe XcdcnD of tbe Ctoaa. 
 
 In the cathedral of Cologne are a number of holy relics, 
 which are exhibited for the edification of the faithful on all 
 solemn occasions. Here, in a costly shrine, are the skulls 
 of the Magi, which, transferred from Constantinople to 
 Milan, found a permanent resting place in Cologne already 
 in the twelfth century. 
 
 The cathedral also boasts of the possession of a fragment 
 of the true cross, of which the following curious legend is 
 
 told: 
 
 Although driven out of the garden of Eden, and pre- 
 vented from ever returning to its grateful shade by the 
 angel with the flaming sword, Adam and Eve often longed 
 to see its glories again. Feeling the dreaded approach of 
 death, and hoping to prolong his life, Adam once bade 
 Seth hasten thither, to secure some balsam from the tree 
 of life, directing him to follow the footprints burned into 
 the soil by his flying feet. Seth, ever obedient, soon came 
 to the gate, where the angel with his flashing sword bade 
 him pause and state his errand. 
 
 Sadly shaking his head, the heavenly messenger then 
 replied that four thousand years must elapse ere pardon 
 would become manifest, and that the wood of the cross, 
 
 upon which the Lamb of Atonement would be slain, would 
 grow from the grave where Adam would sleep. As Seth 
 was about to turn aside discouraged, the angel bade hint 
 cast a glance mto Paradise, and see what Adam had forfeited 
 Seth perceived the matchless garden, and caught a glimpse 
 
 ^ n I ""^ ^'^^' ^^^'" ^^^^ ^^"^ ^^^^ into the depths 
 of hell, where Cain was suffering the punishment of his 
 crime and whose summit, almost lost in the skies, sup- 
 ported the graceful form of a woman, clasping a beautiful 
 chdd to her breast. This babe cast upon him a glance of 
 ineffable compassion. 
 
 The guardian angel, stretching out his hand, then plucked 
 three seeds from this lofty tree, and gave them to Seth 
 bidding h.m return home, and plant them upon his father's 
 grave. Shortly after, Adam died and was buried, the seeds 
 were planted, and three trees, a pine, cedar, and cypress 
 springing out of the grave, twined round each other, untii 
 they lormed but one immense trunk 
 
 Moses used a twig of this tree to perform his miracles, 
 David sat beneath it bewailing his sins, and Solomon had it 
 cut down to furnish one of the lofty pillars for the Temple 
 Owing to some error, however, the pillar was first too lone 
 then too short, and was finally discarded and cast by Solo- 
 mon s order into the Cedron, whose waters carried it away 
 to the South. The Queen of Sheba, on her way to Jeru- 
 salem, saw the mighty log, secured it, and offered it to the 
 king, who not being able to use it in spite of all his efforts 
 had It sunk in the pool of Bethesda, whose waters then 
 received their miraculous power. The trunk, however rose 
 again to the surface just before the Crucifixion, and was 
 used to fashion the cross upon which the Lord died 
 
 Buried upon Calvary, the cross remained untouched until 
 Helena mother of Constantine, came to seek it, three hun- 
 dred and twenty-eight years later, and distinguished it from 
 the crosses of the malefactors, lying beside it, by the 
 miraculous effect it had upon a dying woman, whom it 
 
58 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 restored to life. The cross, thus recovered, remained in 
 Jerusalem until borne away by Chosroes, King of Persia, 
 from which country it was recovered by Heraclius, in the 
 vear 615 It was then that the true cross was divided into 
 innumerable fragments, which have gradually been scattered 
 in various churches throughout the world, where they are 
 always regarded as relics of great value. 
 
 G:bc eleven ^EbousanD IDlraina^ 
 
 One of the most noted churches of Cologne is dedicated 
 to St Ursula, and is richly and fantastically decorated with 
 paintings representing various scenes of her life, and with 
 the bones of her eleven thousand martyred companions. 
 
 Ursula was the only child of Vionetus, or Thionetus, King 
 of Brittany, and of his beautiful wife Daria. The maiden 
 showed great instincts of piety, and as soon as she was 
 old enough, learned to read all the theological books and 
 treatises, and became as well versed in theology as the 
 most learned priest. She was also very beautiful, but 
 early in life she registered a solemn vow to serve the 
 Lord only, and to forego marriage and all worldly pomps 
 for his sake. When she was but fifteen years of age Ursula 
 lost her mother, and shortly after that her father, whom the 
 Venetians call the Moor, received an embassy from Agrip- 
 pinus, King of England, who wished to secure Ursula's 
 hand*for Conon, his only son. Vionetus, knowing that a 
 refusal might be considered so insulting as to entail a 
 bloody war, did not dare to,say no; yet he could not bear to 
 force his child into a detested alliance. While he was pon- 
 dering what answer he could give, Ursula, discovering the 
 cause of his perplexity, volunteered to give her own reply. 
 After having duly prayed she summoned the ambassadors, 
 and told them she would consent to the proposed alliance. 
 
 LANDING OF ST. URSULA AT COLOGNE. 
 
COLOGNE, 
 
 59 
 
 provided the heathen prince would embrace Christianity, 
 would give her ten handmaidens of spotless purity and 
 noble birth, each accompanied by a thousand virgins, would 
 supply an equal number of virgin attendants for her own 
 train, would grant her three years of freedom that she 
 might make a pious pilgrimage to Rome, visiting all the 
 holy shrines by the way, and would claim her as wife only 
 when the journey was ended. 
 
 The ambassadors, having received this answer, hastened 
 home, where they described the Princess Ursula's beauty 
 and attainments in such glowing terms, that the heathen 
 prince immediately received baptism, and collecting the 
 eleven thousand virgins from all parts of his kingdom, sent 
 them over to Brittany to attend their future queen. 
 
 Ursula received the maidens gladly, and bidding them 
 assemble in a flowery meadow, she expounded the Gospel so 
 convincingly that she soon converted them all. The Eng- 
 lish prince, hastening to Brittany at her summons, was told 
 to remain for a while and comfort her father, while she 
 and her maidens embarked in a number of vessels, in which 
 they intended to sail for Rome. Dismissing pilot and sailors, 
 Ursula declared they needed no other guidance and assist- 
 ance than God's, and singing pious hymns in chorus, the 
 maiden band sailed away. Now, either because Ursula was 
 deficient in geography, or because she was indeed guided by 
 an unseen hand, she steered her vessel northward, instead 
 of southward, and with the other vessels in her wake entered 
 the Rhine, where, aided by favorable winds, she sailed against 
 the current, disembarking only once at Cologne. 
 
 Here she was favored by the vision of an angel, who 
 appeared at the foot of her bed, holding the martyr's palm, 
 to warn her that on her return she and her eleven thousand 
 virgin companions would suffer martyrdom at the hands of 
 the Huns. Calmly resuming her journey on the morrow, 
 Ursula sailed up the Rhine to Basel, where, according to 
 some accounts, she was met by the captain of a Christian 
 
 ■| i 
 
6o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 legion, who escorted her across the mountains. Other ver- 
 sions relate that the procession of spotless maidens was 
 preceded by six angels, who smoothed the road under their 
 feet, spread tents for their protection at night, and pro- 
 vided food and refreshment on the way. 
 
 Still singing hymns in chorus, the maidens arrived in 
 Rome, where Pope Cyriacus joyfully received and blessed 
 them, and where they were joined by the prince and his 
 attendants, who had also undertaken the pilgrimage, and 
 had hastened to Rome by another way. The eleven thou- 
 sand virgins, having finished visiting all the shrines, now 
 prepared to return northward, accompanied by Prince 
 Conon and his attendants, and by Pope Cyriacus and sundry 
 cardinals and priests. 
 
 Two Roman generals, heathens, seeing the maidens 
 depart, and fearing lest their example and preaching should 
 convert all the northern barbarians, sent a secret message 
 to the King of the Huns, who was then besieging Cologne, 
 to bid him slay Ursula and her train as soon as they came to 
 that point on their way down the Rhine. 
 
 The maiden procession, attended by the prince and Pope, 
 passed over the Alps, crossed Switzerland, re-embarked at 
 Basel, and sailed down the Rhine where the wild Huns, 
 after slaying all the men, attacked the pious maidens. Ex- 
 horted by Ursula, they all died like martyrs and went to 
 heaven to receive the promised palm and crown. Ursula, 
 last of all, was pierced by three arrows from the Huns* 
 bows, and only one of her maidens managed to escape 
 from their murderous fury. This maiden, Cordula by 
 name, was hiding in the hold of one of the vessels, when 
 she was favored with a vision, saw the skies open, and beheld 
 all her companions enter Paradise, waving their palms and 
 singing hymns of praise. At this sight she repented of 
 her cowardice, and after a fervent prayer left her hiding 
 place and went in search of the martyrdom which she soon 
 found. 
 
 COLOGNE. $r 
 
 " The maiden spoke and sought the shore ; 
 In one short hour she lived no more. 
 Upon thy lovely banks, O Rhine, 
 Poured her pure blood like new-pressed wine. 
 Can it be doubted that she got 
 The high reward she io well sought ? 
 Or that, amidst the maiden choir, 
 She now, in glory, strikes the lyre ? " 
 
 — Rheincronik — Hagan. 
 
 The bones of the eleven thousand holy virgins were 
 hastily interred, but none knew the exact spot where they 
 had been buried, until Kunibert, bishop of Cologne, having 
 fervently prayed that he might discover the holy relics saw 
 a dove come down from the sky, and after fluttering over- 
 head for a moment, flit off to a corner of the church where 
 .t began to scratch diligently. Guided by this sign, the 
 bishop began a search, which soon proved successful The 
 bones of the eleven thousand virgins now serve as decora- 
 tion for the church, and St. Ursula's remains, having been 
 found interred separately, were placed in a sarcophagus, on 
 which the miraculous dove is represented, * 
 
 a prompt -Retort. 
 
 The Church of the Minorites in Cologne, which, according 
 to the legend, was erected by the cathedral workmen during 
 their hours of rest, is supposed to have been begun in 1220 
 and finished forty years later. 
 
 In this church was buried the celebrated theologian and 
 philosopher. Duns Scotus, whose epitaph F gives a short 
 r/sumioi his career, for beside the date of his death, 1309 it 
 bears the Latin inscription, "Scotia me genuit, Anglia me 
 suscepit, Gallia me docuit, Colonia me tenet." 
 
 According to tradition, this sage was buried in a trance 
 and many years later, when the vault was opened to receive 
 a new inmate, it was discovered that Duns Scotus had left 
 
 * See Note 7 in Appendix. 
 
69 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 COLOGNE, 
 
 63 
 
 his coffin and dragged himself to the foot of the stairs, where 
 he had evidently perished of cold, hunger, and thirst. Thus 
 sadly and tragically ended the life of one of the wisest men of 
 his time, who was also noted for great quickness at repartee. 
 He was a favorite of Charles the Bold, who often invited him 
 to his table, where he tried to call forth some of the noted 
 sallies of the philosopher's keen wit. On one occasion, the 
 Duke of Burgundy, in a facetious mood, asked the sage sitting 
 opposite him what was the difference between Scot and sot, 
 wording his question like Bacon, *' What is there between 
 
 Scot and Sot?" 
 
 **The table only," replied the philosopher promptly, to 
 the great discomfiture of his princely interlocutor, who 
 however did not dare to resent the answer which he had 
 provoked. 
 
 xrbe flbagician anD tbc Courtiers. 
 
 In the Church of St. Andrew in Cologne can be seen the 
 tomb and relics of the famous magician and astrologer 
 Albertus Magnus, who lived and died in the neighboring 
 convent of the Dominicans, where he once displayed his 
 marvelous power for the entertainment of William of 
 
 Holland. 
 
 Invited in midwinter to a garden feast in the convent, 
 William of Holland wonderingly accepted the invitation, 
 and accompanied by his courtiers, all clad in their warmest 
 garments on account of the inclemency of the season, he 
 resorted thither at the appointed time. The guests were 
 immediately led into the gardens,— a cheerless picture of 
 wintry gloom,— where at a motion from the magician's wand 
 the scene was suddenly changed to all the glory of mid- 
 summer. 
 
 Throwing aside the warm garments, which the tropical 
 heat rendered unendurable, the courtiers flung them care- 
 lessly down on the grass, and gayly partook of the rich viands 
 
 and cooling drinks brought by the monks for their delecta- 
 tion. Jest, song, and feasting beguiled the time so success- 
 fully that the guests started with surprise when the convent 
 bell suddenly began to ring the "Ave Maria." At the first 
 stroke of the bell, Albertus Magnus' magic had been entirely 
 dispelled, and the courtiers, standing knee-deep in snow, 
 tugged at their garments, which were half incased with 
 ice, longing to throw them over their shoulders to preserve 
 themselves from the icy blasts which again swept down from 
 the north. 
 
 Their sudden dismay and frantic efforts greatly amused Wil- 
 liam of Holland, who, in token of thanks for the monks' gar- 
 den party in midwinter, gave them the tract of land between 
 Cologne and Rodenkirchen. The courtiers who were sent to 
 carry this deed to the convent on the morrow, were politely 
 invited into the refectory, where the prior poured out some 
 of his choicest wine for their refreshment. Charmed with 
 the flavor of this vintage, the messengers drank toast after 
 toast, until the prior, fearing they would not leave until 
 they had drained the cask, implored Albertus Magnus to 
 devise some means to make them depart. The magician, 
 therefore, stepped forward and again filled their cups, but 
 when the guests would fain have tasted this wine they saw 
 lurid flames rise out of each vessel, and in their terror each 
 turned and clutched at his companion, not noticing at first 
 that each had caught the other by the nose. 
 
 The flames subsiding suddenly, they were covered with 
 confusion at their absurd position, and were so furious at 
 having thus been turned into ridicule that they left imme- 
 diately, and never returned to tax the convent hospitality 
 again. 
 
64 
 
 b. 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 tTbc SacrflecilouB |>ainter. 
 
 The Church of St. Mary of the Capitol, founded by 
 Plectrude, mother of Charles Martel, upon the site once 
 occupied by the Roman Capitol, possesses as altar-piece 
 a crucifix to which great miracles are attributed. Some 
 young painters, idly talking together one day, dared one of 
 their number to enter the church and renew the sacred 
 emblem's freshness by giving it a new coat of paint. 
 
 The artist, a heedless young fellow, immediately accepted 
 the challenge, and knowing the priests would not permit 
 him to touch their holy image were he to present himself in 
 the daytime, he entered the church alone at midnight. Just 
 as the city clocks were tolling the hour, he dipped his 
 brush in the paint, but no sooner had the bristles touched the 
 crucifix, than his arm fell paralyzed to his side. 
 
 Gazing upward in terror at the figure on the cross, he 
 fancied he saw such a reproachful glance fall upon him that 
 he fell down before the altar in convulsions. A priest found 
 him there early in the morning, but, in spite of every care, 
 he expired unconscious, when the clocks were again tolling 
 the midnight hour, and since then no painter has dared to 
 touch the sacred image on the altar. 
 
 tCbe Cbtiet QStm ati5 tbe J8ov* 
 
 A POOR widow of Cologne daily brought her only child, 
 a little boy named Hermann Joseph, to pray before the 
 image of the Virgin and ChHd, in the Church of St. Mary 
 of the Capitol. The little fellow, deeply impressed by his 
 mother's stories, and by the beauty of the image, was very 
 anxious indeed to make some offering, such as he saw laid 
 upon the shrine, but, as they were very poor indeed, he had 
 nothing to give. 
 
 COLOGNE. 65 
 
 It happened one day, however, that Hermann Joseph, for 
 the first time in his life, received a great rosy-cheeked 
 apple. This seemed such a priceless treasure to him that 
 he rushed off alone to the church, and kneeling before the 
 image, begged Mary, with all a child's innocent faith, to 
 let her beautiful babe stoop down, and take in his little hand 
 the gift he had brought. 
 
 This simple prayer was granted, and the Virgin bending 
 down, the Christ Child took the apple with such a radiant 
 smile that little Hermann Joseph returned home beside him- 
 self with delight. In hopes of pleasing the Child, he daily 
 brought a tiny offering to lay at its feet, scouring the hedge- 
 rows for the daintiest wild flowers, searching for wild straw- 
 berries, and gathering the brightest pebbles he could find. 
 
 When Hermann Joseph was ten years old, however, his 
 mother informed him that she was too poor to continue 
 sending him to school, and that he must now learn a trade, 
 so he could make his own way in the world ere long. The 
 poor child, who loved his books, and had hoped to become 
 a priest, ran tearfully into the church, and, falling down 
 upon his knees, confided his sorrow to the Virgin and Child. 
 
 When he had ended his prayer, a gentle voice fell upon 
 his ear, and looking upward he saw, as well as heard, that 
 the Virgin was speaking to him. She bade him lift a stone 
 behind the altar, beneath which he would find a sum of 
 money sufficient to enable him to go to school and become 
 a priest as he wished. 
 
 Overjoyed at this promise, little Hermann Joseph sought 
 and found the money, which enabled him to continue his 
 studies and enter a monastery. There, absorbed in his 
 learned researches, he forgot the Virgin and Child, and 
 spent all his time in abstruse study. One day, however, his 
 memory suddenly deserted him, and finding he could re- 
 member nothing he read, he closed his books in despair. 
 
 Then the recollection of his happy childhood came back 
 to him, and realizing how forgetful and ungrateful he had 
 
66 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 W 
 
 proved, he returned to Cologne, where, flinging himself on his 
 knees before the image, he humbly implored forgiveness for 
 his sins. He lingered there all day long on his knees, and fell 
 into a doze toward evening; he dreamed the Virgin spoke to 
 him as of old, promising him a happy life in Paradise, where 
 the Lord would repay him for all his childish offerings by 
 giving him heavenly flowers and fruit in lavish profusion. 
 
 This dream comforted Hermann Joseph greatly, and when 
 he awoke and found his memory entirely restored, he re- 
 turned fervent thanks. He returned to his convent, and 
 resumed his studies, which, however, never again made him 
 forget to worship the Holy Mother and Child. 
 
 In commemoration of this legend, a statue has been 
 placed in the church of St. Mary of the Capitol, representing 
 the Infant Jesus bending do^n to accept Hermann Joseph's 
 
 first childish gift. 
 
 According to another version of this legend, the child 
 Hermann Joseph died while he was very young indeed, and 
 the mourning mother was comforted by a dream, in which 
 the Infant Jesus spoke to her, promising her child should 
 be his playmate in heaven, and reap a rich reward for his 
 childish gifts. Knebel has versified this form of the legend, 
 and his poem concludes with the lines: 
 
 ** And thus he spoke in dying: 
 * O mother, dear, I see 
 The beautiful Child Jesus 
 A-coming down to me ! 
 
 *• ' And in his hand he beareth 
 
 Bright flowers as white as snow, 
 And red and juicy strawberries. 
 Dear mother, let me go ! * 
 
 "He died. And that fond mother 
 Her tears could not restrain ; 
 But she knew he was with Jesus 
 And she did not weep again." 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 
 (Tbe •Resurrection ot St. yiSatemua. 
 
 67 
 
 The Church of St. Gereon, in Cologne, is also known as 
 the Church of the Martyrs, in honor of the three hundred 
 and eighteen soldiers of the Thebaid legion. They suffered 
 persecution there with their captain Gereon, under the 
 Emperor Diocletian, and their bones still serve to decorate 
 the building. 
 
 The first church on this site is said to have been erected 
 by order of the Empress Helena, over the bones of St. 
 Maternus. The legends relate that when this good and 
 holy man died the people, unable to live without his wise 
 counsels, implored St. Peter, who was then bishop of Rome, 
 to restore him to life. 
 
 When St. Peter heard this appeal, he looked fixedly in 
 the direction of Cologne and cried in loud tones: **The 
 time of rest has not yet come, Maternus. Arise, and fight 
 for the Cross." Then, turning to the messenger, he gave 
 him his staff, and bade him hasten homeward, and lay it on 
 the grave, promising that the saint would come to life again, 
 although he would already have lain forty days in the tomb. 
 
 St. Peter's prediction was duly fulfilled, the good old 
 saint rose from the dead, lived as many years after his 
 resurrection as he had spent days in the tomb, and when he 
 died, at last, it was with the full consciousness that he had 
 obeyed St. Peter's injunctions, fought the good fight to 
 the end, and deserved the rest which was awaiting him in 
 the many mansions. 
 
 ZTbe Cburcb of tbe Bpoetled. 
 
 JosT VON Buhl, the wealthy merchant of Cologne, was 
 very unhappy indeed, as he remorsefully thought of his 
 many sins, and wondered how he could make the scales of 
 justice incline in his favor when the great and terrible Day of 
 Judgment came. All night long he pondered this question, 
 
; •' 
 
 i;" 
 
 68 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 and when morning dawned, he hastened down to the river 
 side purchased a whole boat-load of fine blocks of stone, 
 and had them carted up to the place where the Church of 
 the Apostles, which had fallen into ruins, was slowly being 
 rebuilt He, himself, went with the carters, and when they 
 halted before the place, stepped up to the monks who were 
 gazing in open-mouthed astonishment at the long procession 
 of carts and said: -Good Fathers, is it quite true that one 
 good deed will outweigh many bad ones, when the Holy 
 Apostles weigh our sins and virtues in their scales on the 
 
 Judgment Day ?" 
 
 <' Yes- it is true," answered the monks wonderingly. 
 **Well, then," exclaimed Jost von Buhl, ** I'll give you 
 these stones to rebuild your church, trusting they will prove 
 ponderous enough to make the scales tip in my favor, and 
 outbalance my sins on the last day." 
 
 The church which the wealthy merchant thus helped to 
 rebuild in the thirteenth century was daily visited, about 
 one hundred years later, by the beautiful young wife of 
 Mengis von Aducht, who came there to implore the Virgin to 
 grant her dearest wish and give her a child. 
 
 One day when this fair lady, Richmodis, had been pray- 
 ing more fervently than usual, the Virgin suddenly leaned 
 down from the altar and gave her a skull. She accepted 
 it and gazed upon it in sad resignation, thinking it surely 
 portended an early death instead of maternity. But while 
 she was thus silently gazing down upon it, she saw three 
 delicate white roses spring out of the skull, change to white- 
 winged angels, and softly fly away. 
 
 Pondering deeply on this mystery, Richmodis returned 
 home, was taken ill, died, and was buried, by order of her 
 inconsolable husband, in the church she loved so well. The 
 night after her interment, while Mengis sat mourning alone 
 in his empty house, the sexton, an avaricious man, stole 
 into the church, lantern in hand, opened the tomb, and 
 prepared to rob Richmodis of her costly jewels. 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 
 69 
 
 But just as he bent over the corpse to draw the wedding 
 ring from her finger, he saw her slowly rise. As he fled in 
 terror, she crept out of the tomb, crossed the market place, 
 and knocked loudly at the door of her house. The mourn- 
 ing knight von Aducht was roused from his abstraction by 
 the sudden appearance of his frightened servants, who breath- 
 lessly declared that their beloved mistress stood in the street 
 waiting for admittance. 
 
 Mengis von Aducht heaved a deep sigh, gazed at them in 
 wonder, and mournfully said: ** Alas! the beloved dead never 
 return, and I would sooner believe that my horses were gaz- 
 ing out of the attic window, than credit the idle tales you tell. " 
 
 Hardly had the words left his lips, however, when a heavy 
 tramping was heard along the stairs and overhead, and a 
 moment later his faithful steeds thrust their heads out of 
 the attic window, whinnying plaintively as they felt the cool 
 night air. 
 
 Convinced by this miracle of the truth of the servants' 
 statements, the knight now rushed to the door, caught his 
 recovered wife in his arms, carried her into bed, and a 
 few days later she was entirely restored to life and health. 
 She even lived to bear three beautiful children, who were so 
 good and lovely that all deemed them angels, and she often 
 told them the story of her reception of the skull, which por- 
 tended her death, and of the three white roses which sprang 
 out of it and represented them, imploring them to do all in 
 their power to become angels at last, that the whole vision 
 might come true. 
 
 As for Mengis von Aducht, he ordered horses' heads to be 
 carved in stone, and placed under the gable of his roof, as a 
 constant reminder of the night when his steeds climbed up 
 to the attic and gazed out of the window into the street, 
 where his newly risen wife was patiently waiting for re- 
 admittance into his house and heart. These stone heads can 
 still be seen, and are one of the curiosities always pointed 
 out to strangers in the quaint city of Cologne. 
 
 1 !• 
 
70 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ANNO, bishop of Cologne, lay all alone in his bed chamber 
 in the Episcopal palace, one night, but while all his attend- 
 ants were plunged in slumber, he alone could not sleep. 
 The thought of his sins kept him awake, and in the wee 
 small hours of the night he winced at the thought of the 
 tyranny he had shown in robbing the people of all their 
 
 former privileges. 
 
 While he was musing thus, the Angel of Death suddenly 
 entered his room, pronounced the mystical words which 
 seoarate soul and body, and a moment later the bishop saw 
 his own corpse lying stiff and cold, and was hurried away 
 by the angel through unlimited space. In a few seconds he 
 was brought into a vast hall, illumined by tall tapers, and 
 filled with the intoxicating perfume of the most precious 
 
 incense. 
 
 Anno gazed about him in surprise, and saw that he was in 
 a goodly assembly of all the noble bishops who had passed 
 away before him. He recognized among others, the bishops 
 of Cologne, St. Maternus, Severinus, Kunibert, Hildebold, 
 Bruno, St. Herbert, and his own predecessor Hermann, beside 
 whom was a vacant seat. Conjecturing that this place was 
 reserved for him. Anno was about to sit down, when Arnold, 
 bishop of Worms, detained him, and, pointing to a hideous 
 stain on his breast, declared in solemn tones: 
 
 **None but the stainless can sit here. Return to earth, 
 oh, brother! remove the stain, and then we will welcome 
 
 you." 
 
 Reluctantly, for he was very sorry to leave this peaceful 
 spot, Anno returned to earth, resumed his abode in his 
 lifeless clay, and when morning came hastened to atone 
 for the sins of the past by restoring all their former privi- 
 leges to the inhabitants of Cologne, and doing penance for 
 his sins. 
 
 COLOGNB. 
 
 71 
 
 The next night, when all was still, the Angel of Death 
 again came to visit him, and led him away to the heavenly 
 mansion, where, seeing the disfiguring stain had vanished, 
 the bishops gladly received him in their midst to dwell with 
 them in bliss forever. 
 
 Xtbe I3ein3clmanncben. 
 
 In the good old days, when fairies, elves, and dwarfs con- 
 stantly visited the earth, when wishes were immediately 
 granted, the virtuous always rewarded and the wicked 
 invariably punished, the inhabitants of Cologne were par- 
 ticularly favored, as they were under the protection of 
 the Heinzelmannchen, a tiny race of benevolent beings, who 
 stole noiselessly into their houses at night, and deftly 
 finished all the work which, though begun, had been set aside 
 before it was ended.* 
 
 Relying upon their aid, the bakers set their dough to 
 raise, slept soundly, and when they awoke found piles of 
 newly baked loaves; the miller's grain was ground, and the 
 flour tied up in sacks; the housewives' rooms were swept and 
 dusted, the spinner's flax all spun, and a tailor in town 
 always found the garments he had begun to cut out, duly 
 made and pressed, lying neatly folded upon his table. 
 
 Now, the tailor's wife was a very inquisitive woman, and 
 very anxious to see the benevolent Heinzelmannchen, who 
 labored so kindly for them. As she was a heavy sleeper 
 and could not easily wake up, she strewed dry pease all over 
 the floor ere she went to bed one evening. The tiny 
 Heinzelmannchen, racing ^to and fro in their busy haste, 
 stepped on the pease, tripp'ed and fell, making such a clatter 
 with the irons, tongs, scissors, etc., that the tailor's wife, 
 waking up, hastened to take a peep at them. 
 
 The Heinzelmannchen, seeing her, and guessing that it 
 was she who had strewn pease on the floor, were so indig- 
 nant that they left the house and town forever. Since 
 
 * See Note 8 in Appendix. 
 
79 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 COLOGNE, 
 
 75 
 
 then the people of Cologne have been obliged to do their 
 tasks unaided, and all the work which is not finished at night- 
 fall is sure to be found in the same unsatisfactory state in 
 the morning, for the Heinzelmannchen have vowed never to 
 visit the town again. 
 
 A KNIGHT and his beautiful little eight-year-old daughter 
 Beatrix once paused at the gate of a convent in Cologne 
 where dismounting, the knight intrusted his child to the 
 holy nuns, bidding them take good care of her, and admit 
 her ioto their order, if, at the end of ten years, he had not 
 returned from Palestine to claim her. 
 
 Ten years passed by, and the beautiful child had become 
 a lovely maiden, whom all the nuns loved dearly, and to 
 whose deft fingers they owed the floral decorations which 
 daily decked the Virgin's altar in the convent chapel. The 
 nuns, wishing to give Beatrix every facility to steal in and 
 out of the chapel to carry her flowers, had even intrusted 
 the key to her keeping, and when the ten years were ended, 
 they readily prevailed upon her to become a novice. 
 
 A few days after, when Beatrix was in the convent garden, 
 gathering flowers, the portress bade her step into her cell, 
 and gaze out of her window — the only opening beside the 
 door in the long wall — and see the bright pageant filing past. 
 Beatrix, eager to catch a glimpse of the gay world which 
 she only dimly remembered, leaned out of the casement, 
 and soon attracted the attention of a handsome young 
 knight, who threw her a kiss. A few days later the little 
 novice stole into the chapel at midnight, laid the keys at 
 the Virgin's feet, told her she was about to steal forth into 
 the world to join one who loved her dearly, and implored 
 her forgiveness, and a kindly welcome should she ever 
 return. Then, stealing out into the street, the little novice 
 vanished, and it was only fifteen years later that a veiled 
 
 lady rang at the convent gate, inquiring of the portress 
 whether the convent had not sheltered a novice by the name 
 of Beatrix some fifteen years before. 
 
 The portress, a garrulous old crone, immediately informed 
 her that Beatrix was there still, honored by all for her 
 many virtues, and, that although she had refused to take the 
 veil for many a year, she was to take her conventual vows 
 on the morrow. Then, at the stranger's request, the por- 
 tress pointed out the entrance to the chapel, which opened 
 out into the street, and watched her glide into the empty 
 place of worship. 
 
 The returned Beatrix, for it was she, fell upon her knees, 
 and implored the Virgin's pardon. To her utter astonish- 
 ment she then heard the image on the altar relate that for 
 fifteen long years, the Virgin, in her guise, had faithfully 
 fulfilled the duties which she now bade her resume, instruct- 
 ing her to take the vows on the morrow. 
 
 The nuns, coming into the chapel at dawn, found the 
 novice Beatrix, who had spent the night in prayer at the 
 foot of the altar, and tenderly led her away to array her 
 for the ceremony, little thinking that she had been absent 
 fifteen years, and that it was the Virgin who had served the 
 novitiate in her stead. 
 
 The new nun now lived such a holy, exemplary life that she 
 became the pattern of all the sisterhood, and finally died in 
 such great odor of sanctity that she was canonized. 
 
 The city of Cologne was once strongly fortified. Now 
 the mighty walls have all been razed, the moats filled, and 
 the space they occupied is used as a public park or prome- 
 nade. Several of the old city gates have been allowed to 
 stand, however; the most noted among these monuments 
 
74 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 being the Hahnenthor and the Pfaffenthor, of which latter 
 tlie following story is told : 
 
 At one time the burghers of the city were very anxious 
 indeed to maintain their freedom, which the various arch- 
 bishops had tried to restrict in many ways. Engelbert the 
 Holy, coming to the Episcopal see, determined to get the 
 better of this rebellious element, and with this purpose in 
 view took measures to secure its noted leader, Hermann 
 Gryn. 
 
 As he dared not make away with him openly, he had 
 recourse to a stratagem, and sent a message to the worthy 
 burgher, inviting him to a convent near the city gates, where 
 he wished to hold a secret interview with him and discuss 
 the best plan for settling their continual feuds. Hermann 
 Gryn promised faithfully to be present at the appointed 
 hour and place, but, instead of keeping the matter secret, 
 as the prelate had requested, he imparted it to the city 
 council, telling them he was not without fear of foul play, 
 and begging them to come to his rescue, should his absence 
 be too prolonged. 
 
 Courageously then, Gryn wended his way alone to the 
 convent, knocked, and was admitted. They led him along 
 dark passages, until he came before a heavy iron door, which 
 the monks told him opened into the archbishop's private 
 rooms. Here they bade him enter alone, as their presence 
 was not desired at the interview. 
 
 Hermann immediately complied with what seemed a very 
 natural request, but when he found himself in total dark- 
 ness, and heard the iron door quickly shut and locked be- 
 hind him, he was seized with dismay. He then remem- 
 bered that the monks kept a lion as a curiosity, and 
 concluded that he had treacherously been exposed to its 
 
 fury. 
 
 A moment later a loud roar broke the silence, proving 
 that his conjectures were true ; so he quickly drew the sword 
 which he wore hidden under his cloak, resolved to defend 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 City Hall. 
 
BRAUWEILER. 
 
 75 
 
 his life. A terrible struggle took place in the darkness, but 
 the man finally slew the lion, and stepping over its carcass 
 began to explore his prison, which was lighted at the farther 
 end by a small grated window. When evening came, and 
 the worthy burghers saw no signs of their beloved leader's 
 return, they went in haste to the convent, where the brothers 
 told them that Hermann Gryn had imprudently ventured 
 into the lion's den and been slain. Deceived by the monks' 
 pretended sorrow, the burghers began to bewail their loss 
 as they slowly moved away, but, suddenly, their mourning 
 ceased, for through a grated window they saw a hand 
 frantically beckoning to them, and heard Gryn's voice 
 calling them to the rescue. 
 
 To storm the convent, break in the doors, rescue Gryn, 
 and learn from his lips the whole story of the monks' per- 
 fidy, did not take the enraged citizens very long, and in 
 their indignation they seized and hung the lying brothers 
 under the great arched doorway, which has since been known 
 as the Pfaffenthor or priests' door. 
 
 To commemorate Hermann Gryn's brave face to face 
 encounter with the lion, a bas-relief representing the scene 
 was placed directly above the main entrance of the City Hall 
 of Cologne, where it can still be seen. 
 
 4 
 
 BRAUWEILER. 
 
 (Tbc (Bamc of Cbe60» 
 
 As Otto III. was but a child when his father died, leaving 
 him heir to the Western Empire, the cares of the govern- 
 ment were intrusted to his mother, and to a handsome and 
 capable young nobleman named Ezzo, who acquitted him- 
 self nobly of this charge. 
 
 The young emperor was brought up at court under his 
 mother's eye, but his lovely sister, Mathilda, was sent to 
 
70 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 BRA UWEILER, 
 
 77 
 
 the convent at Brauweiler, where she spent many years 
 under the care of the nuns, leaving this quiet retreat only 
 to witness the coronation of her brother, which took place 
 as soon as he was of age to reign alone. 
 
 Count Ezzo, who, as already stated, was young and hand- 
 some, no sooner saw the lovely princess than he fell deeply 
 in love with her, and his heart beat high with pleasure when 
 he noticed that she seemed to prefer his society and conver- 
 sation to tJiat of all the other courtly knights. His hap- 
 piness was of short duration, however, for Mathilda soon 
 returned to her convent home, and he became so melancholy 
 and absent-minded that the emperor began to marvel at the 
 sudden change in his usually genial companion. Thinking 
 to divert him from the sad thoughts, whose cause he did not 
 in the least suspect. Otto one day challenged Ezzo to a game 
 of chess, laughingly exclaimijig that the victor of three suc- 
 cessive games might ask the vanquished for any boon he 
 chose, which the latter would be forced to grant. 
 
 Pale and trembling with eagerness, for he now saw a way 
 to urge his suit, which, until then, had seemed hopeless, 
 Ezzo began the game, and played so skillfully that he beat 
 his sovereign thrice. Then, falling at the monarch's feet, 
 he asked for the hand of Mathilda, which Otto, mindful of 
 his promise, agreed to bestow upon him, providing he 
 could win the young lady's consent. 
 
 Seeing the ill-suppressed anxiety and impatience of the 
 suitor, Otto then laughingly bade him prepare to bear an 
 important missive to the Brauweiler convent, telling him to 
 be sure and wait until he received an answer to it in person. 
 Ezzo, needless to state, was soon ready, and rode in hot 
 haste to the convent, where, as bearer of an imperial mes- 
 sage, he was allowed to see the Princess Mathilda alone. 
 
 The answer to the letter must have been all he could wish, 
 for he soon informed the prioress that he had come to 
 escort the princess to court, where she was to be married. 
 The prioress, hearing this news, shook her head in dis- 
 
 may, and vainly tried to prevail upon Mathilda to select a 
 heavenly rather than an earthly spouse. As the young 
 couple were about to ride away she again renewed her 
 entreaties, and seeing no signs of relenting in the princess* 
 beautiful, blushing face, she angrily exclaimed : 
 
 '* I'd sooner believe this withered staff could again bud and 
 bear leaves, than that any good will accrue to you out of 
 this alliance." 
 
 Ezzo, seeing a cloud pass over his beloved's countenance 
 at these ominous words, hurled after her instead of the 
 customary blessing, suddenly caught the staff out of the 
 holy mother's hand, thrust it deep in the earth near the 
 convent door, and exclaimed, **Let it remain there, holy 
 mother, and we will see whether or not God approves of 
 the union of loving hearts, and sanctions earthly mar- 
 riages," ere he rode gayly away at Mathilda's side. The 
 marriage preparations were soon ended, the nuptial cere- 
 mony took place, and as the solemn benediction was pro- 
 nounced over the newly married couple, the mulberry staff 
 put forth its first tiny little leaf. Little by little it grew 
 and developed, until it became a mighty tree, and flourished 
 as proudly as Ezzo and Mathilda, who lived happily 
 together, and whose many children grew up to be as good 
 and happy as they. 
 
 The mulberry tree is still standing near the Brauweiler 
 convent, at a short cfistance from Cologne, and whenever 
 it shows any signs of decay, if true lovers kiss beneath its 
 shade, it is sure to send forth a fresh shoot, which in due 
 time replaces the withered and dried up tree.* 
 
 * See Note 9 in Appendix. 
 
 I 
 
78 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 ARNOLDSWEILER. 
 
 XTbe /Rinetrcrs IRtDc. 
 
 Arnold, the minstrel, was once invited to accompany 
 Charlemagne on a hunting expedition to the great Burgel- 
 wald forest, where plentiful game was to be found, so that 
 he might amuse the emperor and his guests, while they sat 
 at meat and rested from their strenuous exertions. 
 
 At noon, one day, the emperor bade Arnold sing to him, 
 and was so charmed with the minstrel's great talent, that 
 he promised to grant him as much land as he could ride 
 around ere the meal was ended. Arnold immediately 
 sprang on the emperor's own steed, which was offered 
 him, and rode rapidly away, scoring the tree-boles with 
 his sword as he dashed by. 
 
 As the minstrel urged the horse to its utmost speed, the 
 animal had not gone very far ere it began to show signs 
 of fatigue, but Arnold, who had foreseen this, and cleverly 
 stationed relays of horses along the road he intended to 
 pursue, urged him ruthlessly on, nor paused except to 
 change steeds, when he came to the first station he had 
 marked out. Riding thus at full speed, and changing 
 horses ere their energy quite flagged, he rode around all the 
 Burgelwald, and when he returned to the camp the emperor 
 laughingly remarked that he had returned too soon, was 
 evidently too modest, and concluded by asking how much 
 land he now claimed. 
 
 "The whole forest ! " exclaimed the minstrel, falling at the 
 emperor's feet, and then he boldly confessed the stratagem 
 which he had used.* The emperor freely forgave him when 
 Arnold informed him that he had acted thus merely to 
 secure the revenues of the BUrgelwald for the benefit of the 
 poor and sick. Charlemagne, touched by his humanity, 
 gave him also the neighboring castle, which became the 
 home of Arnold's descendants, who all cared for the poor 
 
 * See Note lo in Appendix. 
 
 ZUNDORF. 
 
 79 
 
 as diligently as the minstrel, in whose honor the neighboring 
 village of Arnoldsweiler is named. 
 
 ZUNDORF. 
 
 ^be Crystal palace. 
 
 In the bed of the Rhine, between Zundorf and the little 
 island of the same name, is the crystal palace of Father 
 Rhine, if the report of a village midwife is to be believed. 
 One night, when she was about to retire, this woman was 
 suddenly called away from home by a taciturn man, en- 
 veloped in a great cloak, and carrying a lantern of curious 
 pattern. 
 
 Following him closely in the pouring rain, she stumbled 
 along in the darkness until she felt cold water eddy around 
 her ankles. She was about to jump back in terror, when 
 the man caught her in his arms and plunged with her right 
 into the river. When she opened her eyes again, she found 
 herself in a beautiful crystal palace, all set with precious 
 stones, where she was shortly bidden to take good care of a 
 beautiful golden-haired nymph or Undine. 
 
 The nurse was so efficient, that before many hours had 
 passed her patient was comfortably settled, and able to talk 
 a little. In soft whispers the golden-haired lady now con- 
 fided to the old nurse that her husband was the mighty 
 water spirit whom mortals call Father Rhine,* while she 
 was the only daughter of the Lord of Rheidt. 
 
 One day, clad in foamy green, and disguised as a mortal 
 Father Rhine had appeared at the village dance, invited het 
 to tread a measure with him, and whirling her around in 
 ever widening circles had reached the river edge and sud- 
 denly plunged with her into the stream, where he had con- 
 veyed her to his crystal palace and made her his happy wife. 
 
 The fair young lady then cautioned the old woman to 
 
 * See " Myths of Northern Lands," by the author. 
 
8o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 accept no more than the usual reward for her services, no 
 matter how eagerly her husband might press her to accept 
 rich gifts, and closed her eyes in feigned sleep as Father 
 Rhine appeared. Seeing his beloved wife entirely out of 
 danger, the river god beckoned to the nurse to follow him, 
 led her into his treasure chamber, where lay great heaps of 
 gold, silver, and precious stones, and bade her help herself. 
 
 The old woman, mindful of the advice just received, 
 passed by jewels and gold, selected the small silver coin 
 which was her usual guerdon, and resisting all her mysteri- 
 ous conductor's entreaties to take more, signified her readi- 
 ness to depart. 
 
 Taking her by the hand, Father Rhine then passed along 
 a dark corridor, rose with her through the limpid flood, 
 deposited her, dripping but safe, on the shore near her 
 native town, and vanished, after flinging a whole handful 
 of gold into her lap. Ever since then, the simple people 
 delight in telling of the marvels of the crystal palace 
 beneath the flood, for the old woman often described it 
 minutely for the benefit of her admiring listeners, always 
 producing a handful of gold in proof of the truth of her tale. 
 
 GODORF. 
 
 OTc •UDlill=o*:=tbC:=1D(!ltep* 
 
 The marshy peninsula which extends between GoJ>?f 
 and Rodenkirchen is said to be the favorite resort of the 
 sprite known all along the Rhine as the Herwisch, and in 
 England as the Will-o'-the-Wisp. Thi<^ mischievous little 
 creature is said to delight in leading unsuspecting travelers 
 astray, and in playing all manner of pranks, but, like most 
 practical jokers, he is quick to resent any attempt to make 
 
 fun of him. 
 
 One day a maiden, passing across this stretch of ground 
 
 AIX-LA - CHAPELLE, 
 
 8 1 
 
 \ 
 
 % 
 
 at nightfall, began to sing all the songs she knew, to beguile 
 the loneliness of the way and inspire her with courage. 
 Having soon come to the end of her scanty repertoire, she 
 carelessly sang a mocking ditty about the Herwisch, who, 
 enraged at her impudence, came rushing toward her threat- 
 eningly brandishing his tiny lantern. 
 
 With a cry of terror, the girl began to run, closely 
 pursued by the sprite, who, in punishment for her derisive 
 song, flapped his wings in her face and frightened her so 
 badly that she became an idiot. 
 
 Since then, the young people of Germany have never 
 dared to sing the mocking refrain, and carefully avoid men- 
 tioning the Herwisch's name after nightfall, lest they 
 should in some way arouse his anger. 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 
 
 Charlemagne, king of France, and emperor of the West, 
 had married a beautiful Eastern princess by the name of 
 Frastrada, for whom he had conceived an intense passion. 
 Thrice before had Charlemagne been married, and he little 
 suspected that his affections, which he had long deemed 
 extinct, could revive with such fervor. All wondered at 
 his devotion, but none suspected that the gold ring in- 
 scribed with cabalistic signs, which Frastrada continually 
 wore, was the magic talisman which had worked such a 
 charm. 
 
 The new queen, however, did not long enjoy her power. 
 A dangerous illness overtook her, and when on the point of 
 death, fearful lest the ring should pass into the hands of 
 another, while she was buried out of sight and forgotten, 
 she slipped the magic treasure from her finger into her 
 mouth and breathed her last. 
 
83 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Solemn preparations were made to inter her with great 
 pomp in the cathedral of Mayence, but when they would 
 fain have carried her thither, the emperor, who had seemed 
 quite stupefied with grief, flung himself on his knees 
 beside the corpse, clasped it in his arms, and passionately 
 declared that he could not bear to consign it to the dark 
 and lonely tomb, where it would be lost to his sight forever. 
 In vain the councilors and courtiers argued and entreated; 
 in vain Turpin, the prime minister, represented that the 
 people had need of him ; the emperor refused to leave 
 the apartment where the dead queen lay, or to partake 
 of any food. Exhausted at last by his lengthy fast and 
 extravagant grief, Charlemagne fell asleep at his post, and 
 Turpin, who had been watching for this opportunity, and 
 who, by this time, felt convinced that the queen possessed 
 a charmed gem, noiselessfy stole to her bedside. 
 
 But, although he carefully examined hands, neck, and ears, 
 no such jewel was to be seen. He was about to give up 
 the search, when, bending over the corpse, he suddenly per- 
 ceived a glimmer of gold through the parted lips of the 
 dead queen. Trembling lest the emperor should awaken 
 before he had accomplished his purpose, Turpin hastily 
 extracted the ring and concealed it on his own person. 
 
 A few minutes later Charlemagne awoke. His first glance 
 fell upon the corpse, from which he turned with a slight 
 shudder ; his second upon the faithful Turpin, who was 
 anxiously watching him. 
 
 "- Turpin, my faithful friend ! " he suddenly cried, leaving 
 his seat and casting himself into the prime minister's arms. 
 ** Your presence is like balm to my wounded heart! You 
 shall remain by my side forever ! '* 
 
 This first outburst over, the emperor quietly allowed him- 
 self to be led from the mortuary chamber, pausing at the 
 door for a moment to give orders for the long delayed 
 burial. Then, accompanied by Turpin, who was forced to 
 ride constantly by his side, Charlemagne saw Frastrada's 
 
 AJXLA.CHAPELLE. 
 
 83 
 
 remains consigned to the tomb prepared to receive them 
 over which was placed the Latin inscription which is still 
 legible in spite of the many years which have since come 
 and gone. 
 
 The courtiers, ever watchful and inclined to jealousy 
 soon noticed Turpin's wonderful influence over the emperor 
 and knowing naught of the magic ring, were at a loss to 
 account for ,t. As for Turpin, wearied beyond all expres- 
 sion by Charlemagne's constant demands upon his atten- 
 tion, and fearful lest the ring should eventually pass into 
 less scrupulous hands, he could find no rest either night or 
 day, and vainly sought to devise some safe plan to rid him- 
 self of the troublesome gem. 
 
 One night, when the emperor had left his palace at Ingel- 
 heim and was camping out in the forest on his way to the 
 north, Turpin left the tent where his master lay sound 
 asleep, and wandered out into the moonlight alone It was 
 
 .ufTu"^^' ''"''^ *''^ ""« ''^'' '^^^e '"to his possession, 
 that he had been able to elude Charlemagne's watchfulness 
 and enjoy a moment's solitude, and his heart swelled with 
 
 ix;!fM u^ °^ '^"^^ ^' ^^ P'""«^^ '"to the pathless forest 
 While he cogitated how he could best dispose of the magic 
 nng, Turpin wandered on and on, until, at last, he found 
 himself at the opening of a beautiful glade. The moonlight 
 flooded this retired spot and shone like silver over the deep 
 and quiet pool, which lay thus embosomed in the dark woods 
 Lost in admiration at the tranquil beauty of the scene 
 1 urpin sat down on a stone and feasted his eyes in silence ' 
 But soon the ever present idea of the magic ring came 
 to disturb his contemplative mood. With a sigh he drew it 
 from Its hiding place in his breast, and for the first time he 
 noticed, by the pale light of the moon, <hat beside some 
 cabalistic signs the ring bore the image of a tiny swan 
 Suddenly the thought struck him that the opportunity 
 so long and vainly sought was now at hand, and that 
 the deep and placid waters before him would soon close 
 
84 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 
 
 85 
 
 over and conceal the ring forever. A moment later, 
 the jewel flashed beneath the rays of the moon, a slight 
 splash was heard in the night air, ever widening ripples 
 broke the mirror-like surface of the pool, and a snowy 
 swan appeared, sailing with stately calm over the ruffled 
 
 waters. 
 
 Immensely pleased to be rid of this care Turpin now 
 retraced his steps to the emperor's tent. There he soon had 
 the satisfaction of perceiving that the spell was broken, 
 and that Charlemagne had returned to the old undemon- 
 strative friendship which had united them for many a year, 
 and no longer paid him the unwelcome attentions of a pas- 
 sionate and jealous lover. 
 
 The emperor, however, betrayed some signs of restless- 
 ness, and when the sun had risen bright and clear, he 
 suddenly proposed that they should tarry in that spot 
 another day, and enjoy the pleasures of the hunt in the 
 mighty forest. His proposition was hailed with enthusiasm, 
 and soon after the forest echoes were all rudely awakened by 
 the joyous clangor of the hunting horns, as a royal stag started 
 from the covert, closely followed by huntsmen and hounds. 
 In vain the frightened animal exerted its utmost speed, the 
 hounds still pursued, until, panting and exhausted, he was 
 brought to bay in the very glade which Turpin had visited 
 the night before. Charlemagne, who had been foremost in 
 the chase all morning, and who alone had been in at the 
 death of the stag, now checked his steed, and remained mo- 
 tionless in his saddle, gazing in spellbound admiration at 
 the sunny stretch of water which reflected the blue sky, and 
 at the stately swans gliding over its smooth surface. *' Ah! 
 how beautiful ! " he exclaimed. ** I would fain linger here 
 
 forever." 
 
 Then he dismounted, cast himself down upon the smooth 
 grass by the edge of the pool, plunged his hands into the 
 cool tide, and quenched his ardent thirst. There he re- 
 mained in dreamy content all day long, summoning his 
 
 courtiers thither by winding his horn. When the shadows 
 began to lengthen, and the lurid glow of the setting sun 
 was reflected in the miniature lake, he made a solemn vow 
 to build a palace near this spot, that he might revel in its 
 beauty and never be forced to leave it again. 
 
 The vow was kept, and the palace became the nucleus of 
 Charlemagne's capital and favorite city Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 When many years had passed, and the great emperor felt 
 the approach of death, he commanded that his body should 
 be laid to rest in the cathedral vault, not far from the spot 
 he loved so well, and pronounced an awful curse upon the 
 sacrilegious hand which should attempt to open his tomb 
 or to remove his remains. 
 
 Strangers visiting Aix-la-Chapelle are cautioned against 
 Visiting the magic pool by moonlight, for, at the mystic hour 
 When Turpin dropped the ring into its placid waters, the 
 spell recovers all its former power, and the traveler who has 
 once been subjected to its sway may wander where he will; 
 his longing heart will always lead his reluctant feet back to 
 the charmed spot. 
 
 Sbe Catbe^^lI Xegend. 
 
 The cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle, with its delicate yet 
 lofty spire, had been duly begun, and the work was well 
 under way, when it was brought to a sudden standstill from 
 lack of funds to complete it. In vain all the councilors of the 
 city put their wise heads together, they could not find any way 
 of raising money, and were about to give up the attempt in 
 despair, when a Httle old man suddenly appeared in their 
 midst, proposing to give them a barrel of gold in exchange 
 for the soul of the first living creature which entered the 
 cathedral after it was all finished. 
 
 At first the magistrates recoiled horrified, and demurred, 
 but when Satan, for it was he, demonstrated that if they did 
 
 ill 
 
86 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 not accept his offer, he would immediately make use ot the 
 money to purchase up many venal souls, they decided to 
 take the gold and reveal to no one the way in which it had 
 been procured. Satan, having thus obtained their solemn 
 promise to deliver up to his tender mercies the soul of the 
 first living creature which entered the cathedral, promptly 
 supplied all the necessary funds. The work progressed 
 rapidly, and soon the people of Aix-la-Chapelle began to 
 talk of the dedication of their cathedral. 
 
 All at once, however, the general joy was turned to sorrow, 
 and all the inhabitants of the city, who had been strangely 
 anxious to penetrate within the closed doors, now loudly 
 declared they would never set foot inside the sacred build- 
 ing. Seeking the reason for this sudden revulsion, it 
 was soon ascertained that one of the councilors had con- 
 fided the secret of Satan's interference to his wife. She in 
 her turn had intrusted it to the keeping of a friend, whence 
 it had, of course, spread over the town like wild fire, filling 
 all hearts with nameless dread. 
 
 The Pope and bishops, finding no one willing to enter the 
 cathedral, and not wishing to risk their own precious souls, 
 were at a loss how to proceed, when a monk suddenly came 
 into their presence and proposed a plan which was hailed 
 with enthusiasm by every member of the clergy. By their 
 order the preparations for the dedication were speedily 
 ended, and when all was ready, and the people of Aix-la- 
 Chapelle duly assembled in front of the cathedral, a huge 
 box was brought and placed close beside the doors, which 
 
 were set ajar. 
 
 Then the box-lid was cautiously slipped aside and a cap- 
 tive wolf, springing out of his narrow quarters, rushed into 
 the empty edifice. The assembled multitude saw the monks 
 shut the door, heard a howl of rage, and saw the building 
 shake violently from foundation to spire. While they were 
 gazing open-mouthed at this miracle, the doors burst open 
 and the devil escaped, snarling with anger at being outwitted, 
 
 ji 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE CATHEDRAL. 
 
AIX^LA-CHAPELLE, 
 
 87 
 
 and banging the door so noisily behind him that it was 
 cracked from top to bottom. 
 
 Satan having fled, and his power being ended, the priests 
 fearlessly entered the cathedral, thrust out the dead body 
 of the wolf, and solemnly proceeded to dedicate the beauti- 
 ful building to the service of God. Since then, however, 
 one of the cathedral doors has been disfigured by an un- 
 seemly crack, while another, of more recent date, bears the 
 effigy of a wolf, apparently playing with a pine-cone, which 
 the mediaeval artist intended as a symbol of his soul. 
 
 The devil, however, did not forget that he had been out- 
 witted, and patiently bided his time, hoping he would find 
 some means of revenge. After several years' cogitation, 
 he resolved to pick up a great mound of earth which then 
 stood near Leyden, carry it to Aix-la-Chapelle, and drop it 
 on the city at nightfall, thus crushing cathedral and inhab- 
 itants at once. The journey was long, the mound heavy 
 and cumbersome, and, owing to the dusk and the size of 
 his burden, Satan could not very well descry the position 
 of the town. He therefore asked an old woman, whom he 
 met by the way, to point out its exact location. 
 
 She recognized her interlocutor by the peculiar smell of 
 brimstone hovering around him, told him he had gone far 
 out of his way, and pointing to the right, where she declared the 
 city lights were twinkling, she bade him walk on another mile. 
 Misled by these directions, the devil strode on, dropped 
 his burden upon what he supposed was the city, and chuck- 
 ling with glee, returned home. Imagine his chagrin, there- 
 fore, when passing near there one day, to discover that 
 he had flung the mound down in the center of a plain near 
 the city, where it now forms the much frequented summer 
 resort known as the Lousberg. 
 
 Charlemagne, it is said, was so pleased with the cathedral 
 erected in his favorite city, that he donated three thousand 
 pounds of sterling silver for the manufacture of a suitable 
 bell. The work was intrusted to a dishonest founder, who 
 
88 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 
 
 89 
 
 appropriated the precious metal for his own use and substi- 
 tuted pewter. 
 
 The emperor, wishing to be the first to ring the new bell, 
 pulled the rope as soon as it was hung, but, dismayed at 
 the dull clang it produced, he called the founder and bade 
 him ring it. Hoping to deceive the monarch, the dishonest 
 artisan tugged so lustily at the rope that the huge clapper 
 fell down upon him, and killed him in punishment for his 
 dishonesty. 
 
 Ever since then the bell, whose silvery tones had been 
 intended to summon the faithful to church, has been rung 
 for fires only, and whenever its discordant clang is heard 
 the people start up in dismay, for they know some great 
 misfortune has occurred. 
 
 Charlemagne, at his own request, was buried beneath the 
 cupola of this church, where his body rested undisturbed 
 until the Emperor Otto III. ordered the opening of his 
 predecessor's tomb. Charlemagne's body was found per- 
 fectly preserved, sitting upright on an ivory throne, with all 
 his regal emblems around him, his sword Joyeuse at his 
 side, and an open Bible on his knee. The chair upon which 
 he sat is now exhibited in the cathedral, for the emperor's 
 body was placed in a sarcophagus, where it has remained 
 ever since. As for the sword and regalia, they were trans- 
 ported to Vienna, where they figure among the imperial 
 crown jewels. 
 
 BfllnbarD anD jemma. 
 
 Among all the scholars trained in Alcuin's school at Aix- 
 la-Chapelle, none was more apt and diligent than Eginhard, 
 who won not only his master's praise but also the approval 
 of Charlemagne. As soon, therefore, as his education was 
 completed, the emperor offered him a position at court, 
 where he became his private secretary and knew all the 
 secrets of state. 
 
 Young Eginhard, honored by all for his learning and 
 integrity, soon won the affections of Emma, Charlemagne's 
 daughter; but, fearful of the emperor's displeasure, the 
 lovers met only in public, and then had but little occasion to 
 exchange tender words and glances. One winter night, how- 
 ever, overcome with longing to see his beloved, Eginhard 
 st(jle softly across the courtyard, and visited her in her 
 tower. Forgetful of time in the pleasures of unchecked 
 conversation, he lingered beside her until dawn, and when 
 he would fain have left her, shrank back appalled, for the 
 ground was all covered with newly fallen snow. 
 
 Not daring to cross the yard, lest his footprints should 
 betray his carefully guarded secret, and compromise his lady- 
 love, Eginhard stood hesitating at the door, until Emma, 
 with ready woman's wit, declared she would carry him 
 over, for the double track made by her feet would occasion 
 no ill-natured comments. This plan was immediately carried 
 out, and Charlemagne, after a sleepless night, gazing idly 
 out of his window, saw his daughter carrying Eginhani 
 across the yard. 
 
 In open council, that selfsame day, the emperor re- 
 counted what he had seen, and asked how he should deal 
 with the culprits; but when his advisers recommended 
 banishment or death for the presumptuous young secretary, 
 he declared that in his eyes all mortals were equal and that 
 he deemed it wiser to bestow upon him his daughter's hand. 
 The young people were then summoned, and amid the 
 general silence the imperial decision was made known. 
 
 Longfellow has given us an admirable poetic version of 
 this charming legend, which he concludes thus: 
 
 *' And the good emperor rose up from his throne, 
 And taking her white hand within his own 
 Placed it in Eginhard's, and said : ' My son. 
 This is the gift thy constant zeal hath won ; 
 Thus I repay the royal debt I owe, 
 And cover up the footprints in the snow.' ** 
 
 — 7 ales of a Wayside Inn, 
 
90 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 tTbe J6mperor*0 S(m 
 
 Charlemagne, the great and glorious emperor of the 
 West, had sinned so deeply that he dared not even confess 
 his wrong-doing in order to obtain absolution and recover 
 his long lost peace of mind. In spite of all his efforts to 
 reveal it, his lips refused to speak, and that transgression, 
 buried in his heart and branded in his memory, made him 
 feel like an outcast from the Church. 
 
 Tortured by remorse, he finally sought the presence of 
 St. Egidius, a holy man of Aix-la-Chapelle, and penitently 
 kneeling before him, began to confess all his sins. The 
 minor transgressions were quickly disposed of, and soon 
 nothing remained to be told except that one awful sin 
 whose shadow darkened all his life. Instead of words, 
 however, the emperor could only utter heart-rending groans, 
 while scalding tears coursed down his pale face. 
 
 Touched by his evident remorse, and longing to help 
 him free his soul from its burden of sin, Egidius finally 
 gave him his tablets, bidding him write the confession he 
 had not strength to utter. But the emperor sadly shook 
 his head, pushed the tablets aside, and, as soon as he could 
 speak, confessed that, much as he would like to do so, he 
 could not obey, as he had never learned to write. 
 
 Egidius, not at all surprised, — for in those days only a 
 few learned men knew how to read or write, — then offered 
 to teach Charlemagne the art, so that he might at last con- 
 fess his sin and obtain forgiveness. The emperor received 
 this proposal with joy, and patiently learned to trace his 
 letters, although his mighty fist, accustomed to swing the 
 battle-ax and brandish the mighty sword Joyeuse, was but 
 little fitted for such work. 
 
 The mastery of the art of writing cost him far more exer- 
 tion than would have been required to win a victory over 
 a horde of fierce barbarians, and great beads of perspiration 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 
 
 91 
 
 often appeared on the imperial brow, ere he succeeded in 
 learning to trace the words which would reveal his great sin 
 While Charlemagne, weeping and groaning, was painfully 
 tracmg the record which his lips refused to utter, Egidius 
 knelt in a corner of the cell in silent prayer. The emperor 
 having finished his confession, and added a fervent plea 
 for forgiveness, dropped his stylus, rose from his seat and 
 humbly laid the tablets before St. Egidius, who stared upon 
 them with a face of blank astonishment. He had seen 
 Charlemagne tracing heavy, unformed characters, yet the 
 surface of the tablets was perfectly smooth and no trace of 
 writing was to be seen. 
 
 While he was thus gazing fixedly upon it, a few words in 
 golden letters suddenly appeared, and eagerly looking at 
 them he saw: *'God forgives all who truly repent." A low 
 exclamation of surprise attracted the attention of Charle- 
 magne, whose head was bowed in deep contrition, and look- 
 ing up, he too read the comforting assurance that his sin 
 had been forgiven. 
 
 OTe Bmpercr'0 •RfOe. 
 
 Ten long years had passed since the emperor had ridden 
 out of his favorite city, at the head of his army, to go and 
 fight the heathen, and now, instead of the welcome tidings 
 of his return, dark rumors of defeat and death spread 
 throughout the whole country. Convinced of the truth of 
 these reports, the lords of the empire assembled to discuss 
 what had better be done, and, after much deliberation, sent 
 an embassy to the Empress Hildegarde. They bade her, for 
 her subjects' sake, choose another husband to rule the nation 
 wisely, instead of Charlemagne, who would never be seen 
 again. 
 
 Hildegarde, at first, indignantly refused to consider this 
 proposal, but finally, seeing the justice of their wishes, she 
 consented, for the good of the country, to marry any man 
 
90 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 AIX^LA-CHAPELLE, 
 
 91 
 
 Is- 
 
 TTbc iSmperor*0 Sin. 
 
 Charlemagne, the great and glorious emperor of the 
 West, had sinned so deeply that he dared not even confess 
 his wrong-doing in order to obtain absolution and recover 
 his long lost peace of mind. In spite of all his efforts to 
 reveal it, his lips refused to speak, and that transgression, 
 buried in his heart and branded in his memory, made him 
 feel like an outcast from the Church. 
 
 Tortured by remorse, he finally sought the presence of 
 St. Egidius, a holy man of Aix-la-Chapelle, and penitently 
 kneeling before him, began to confess all his sins. The 
 minor transgressions were quickly disposed of, and soon 
 nothing remained to be told except that one awful sin 
 whose shadow darkened all his Hfe. Instead of words, 
 however, the emperor could only utter heart-rending groans, 
 while scalding tears coursed down his pale face. 
 
 Touched by his evident remorse, and longing to help 
 him free his soul from its burden of sin, Egidius finally 
 gave him his tablets, bidding him write the confession he 
 had not strength to utter. But the emperor sadly shook 
 his head, pushed the tablets aside, and, as soon as he could 
 speak, confessed that, much as he would like to do so, he 
 could not obey, as he had never learned to write. 
 
 Egidius, not at all surprised,— for in those days only a 
 few learned men knew how to read or write,-~then offered 
 to teach Charlemagne the art, so that he might at last con- 
 fess his sin and obtain forgiveness. The emperor received 
 this proposal with joy, and patiently learned to trace his 
 letters, although his mighty fist, accustomed to swing the 
 battle-ax and brandish the mighty sword Joyeuse, was but 
 little fitted for such work. 
 
 The mastery of the art of writing cost him far more exer- 
 tion than would have been required to win a victory over 
 a horde of fierce barbarians, and great beads of perspiration 
 
 often appeared on the imperial brow, ere he succeeded in 
 learning to trace the words which would reveal his great sin. 
 
 While Charlemagne, weeping and groaning, was painfully 
 tracing the record which his lips refused to utter, Egidius 
 knelt in a corner of the cell in silent prayer. The emperor 
 having finished his confession, and added a fervent plea 
 for forgiveness, dropped his stylus, rose from his seat and 
 humbly laid the tablets before St. Egidius, who stared upon 
 them with a face of blank astonishment. He had seen 
 Charlemagne tracing heavy, unformed characters, yet the 
 surface of the tablets was perfectly smooth and no trace of 
 writing was to be seen. 
 
 While he was thus gazing fixedly upon it, a few words in 
 golden letters suddenly appeared, and eagerly looking at 
 them he saw: **God forgives all who truly repent." A low 
 exclamation of surprise attracted the attention of Charle- 
 magne, whose head was bowed in deep contrition, and look- 
 ing up, he too read the comforting assurance that his sin 
 had been forgiven. 
 
 Zbc J6mpcror'0 "RiDe. 
 
 Ten long years had passed since the emperor had ridden 
 out of his favorite city, at the head of his army, to go and 
 fight the heathen, and now, instead of the welcome tidings 
 of his return, dark rumors of defeat and death spread 
 throughout the whole country. Convinced of the truth of 
 these reports, the lords of the empire assembled to discuss 
 what had better be done, and, after much deliberation, sent 
 an embassy to the Empress Hildegarde. They bade her, for 
 her subjects* sake, choose another husband to rule the nation 
 wisely, instead of Charlemagne, who would never be seen 
 again. 
 
 Hildegarde, at first, indignantly refused to consider this 
 proposal, but finally, seeing the justice of their wishes, she 
 consented, for the good of the country, to marry any man 
 
 h « 
 
92 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 AIX-LA-CIIAPELLE, 
 
 93 
 
 they recommended; stipulating, however, that she should be 
 allowed to spend three more days in strict solitude, mourn- 
 ing for the beloved husband whom she would never behold 
 again. 
 
 Well pleased with this answer, the lords withdrew, and 
 began making preparations for the coming marriage, while 
 Hildegarde wept for Charlemagne, who, by the way, was 
 not at all dead, but very busy fighting the heathen, whom 
 he had almost entirely subdued. 
 
 During the night, while poor Hildegarde wept, an angel 
 of the Lord suddenly appeared to Charlemagne, and bade 
 him return in hot haste to Aix-la-Chapelle, if he would not 
 lose both wife and scepter at once. Thus warned, the 
 emperor sprang on the steed which the heavenly messenger 
 had brought, and sped over mountain and valley with 
 marvelous rapidity, arriving at Aix-la-Chapelle just as the 
 third and last night of Hildegarde's respite was drawing to 
 
 a close. 
 
 Instead of entering his palace, however, the emperor dis- 
 mounted and passed into the silent cathedral, where he 
 seated himself in his great golden chair, with his sword 
 across his knees, as was his wont when dispensing justice. 
 There he waited until the sacristan came to prepare the 
 church for the wedding, which was to take place soon after 
 sunrise. 
 
 This man, startled by the sight of the imposing figure 
 seated upon the imperial throne, and thinking it an appari- 
 tion, staggered, and would have fallen, had he not steadied 
 himself by the rope of the great bell, which, thus suddenly 
 set in motion, sent peal after peal through the awakening 
 city. 
 
 The people of Aix-la-Chapelle, startled by the untimely 
 and frantic ringing, rushed out of their houses to see what 
 had occurred, and as they entered the church they uttered 
 loud cries of joy, for there sat Charlemagne in all his 
 wonted state. 
 
 These cries soon reached the ears of the unhappy Hilde- 
 garde, who, still dissolved in tears, and deeming they were 
 intended to welcome h€r unknown bridegroom, shrank back 
 in fear; but her sorrow was changed to boundless joy when 
 she saw her beloved husband once more, and heard how 
 Providence had miraculously interfered to save her from a 
 hated second marriage.* 
 
 •RolanO'a jffrat BDpcnture, 
 
 Charlemagne once summoned all his knights before him 
 at Aix-la-Chapelle, and told them he was very anxious to 
 secure a priceless jewel set in the shield of a robber knight 
 who ranged the Ardennes. He bade them go forth separately 
 and try to secure it, promising that the successful knight 
 should have any reward he cared to claim. 
 
 As it was then a time of peace, and there was no fighting 
 on hand, the knights were only too glad to sally forth in 
 quest of the robber knight, each secretly hoping to secure 
 the jewel and return in triumph to Aix-la-Chapelle on the 
 appointed day. 
 
 Milon, Charlemagne's brother-in-law, was specially 
 anxious to win the prize, and, accompanied by his young 
 son Roland, who acted as his page, he scoured the Ardennes 
 forest for many a day. All his search proved in vain, how- 
 ever, and weary and discouraged, Milon dismounted from 
 his steed, removed his armor, and lay down under a tree to 
 sleep, bidding Roland keep watch beside him. 
 
 The lad obeyed, but soon, seeing his father asleep, and 
 longing for some exciting adventure, he donned the armor, 
 sprang on the war horse, and rode into the forest. There 
 he encountered the robber knight, whom he recognized 
 by the jewel glittering brightly in the center of his shield. 
 
 Too brave to retreat, although somewhat dismayed at the 
 prospect of an encounter with an antagonist so much taller 
 and stronger than he, Roland laid his lance at rest, charged 
 
 * See Note ii in Appendix. 
 
94 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 gallantly, and, when unhorsed, continued the struggle, afoot. 
 An inadvertent movement on the part of the robber knight 
 finally permitted the young hero to deal him a mortal blow; 
 and after cutting off his hands and head, wrenching the 
 jewel from the shield and hiding it in his bosom, Roland 
 returned to the place where his father was still sleeping 
 soundly. 
 
 Carefully removing all traces of blood, and putting the 
 armor back as he had found it, Roland awaited his father's 
 awakening. Without saying a word, he then accompanied 
 him on a further quest, and viewed his dismay when he 
 found the lifeless body of the antagonist he had so long 
 and vainly sought. 
 
 On the appointed day all the knights appeared before 
 Charlemagne in Aix-la-Chapelle, each accompanied by a 
 page bearing the head, 'hands, or some part of the armor of 
 the robber knight of the Ardennes. One and all declared 
 they had found him slain in the forest, where, according to 
 the traces, a terrible encounter must have taken place. 
 
 Last of all came Milon with dejected mien. He was 
 closely followed by Roland, however, who held a shield in 
 which the resplendent jewel was set. At this sight all the 
 people set up a loud shout of joy, and Charlemagne bade 
 Milon step forward and claim his reward. Amazed at this 
 reception, the knight turned to gaze in the direction where 
 all their glances were fixed, and seeing the jewel, openly 
 declared that, as he had not won it, he deserved neither 
 reward nor praise. Roland, closely questioned by his 
 imperial uncle, now revealed how he had obtained the 
 prize; and when asked to name his reward, said he would 
 fain be admitted among the number of knights privileged to 
 accompany Charlemagne wherever he went, and to fight 
 always by his side. 
 
 A IX- LA - CHA PELLE, 
 
 95 
 
 B (Generous Deed* 
 
 Rudolph, count of Hapsburg, was riding alone one day, 
 and came to a rushing torrent near Aix-la-Chapelle. He 
 plunged his spurs into the sides of his mettlesome steed, and 
 was about to stem the raging current, when he suddenly 
 became aware of the presence of a feeble old priest, who was 
 tucking up his gown to ford the stream. 
 
 The count paused to warn him of the danger, but the 
 old priest calmly continued his preparations, declaring that 
 as a dying man had sent for him to administer extreme 
 unction, it was his duty to risk his life, even, in order to save 
 a soul. 
 
 Touched by the priest's simple faith, and the strong sense 
 of duty which urged him to confront any peril, the count 
 sprang from his steed, bade the old man mount, and 
 watched him until he had safely crossed the stream and was 
 out of sight. Then Rudolph returned home on foot, wonder- 
 ing whether he would have the courage to do his duty as 
 faithfully as that feeble old man. 
 
 Early on the morrow, the priest appeared before his door, 
 leading the steed, which he brought back to the count with 
 many thanks. He said that owing to its fleetness he had 
 reached the bedside of the dying man in time to induce him 
 to ask forgiveness for his sins, and trust in the mercy of the 
 Lord. Rudolph of Hapsburg listened attentively to the 
 old priest's tale, and then made him a present of the horse, 
 vowing that it should ever after be used to carry the priest 
 and his brothers on their constant errands of mercy. 
 
 Many years later, when this count of Hapsburg had be- 
 come emperor of Germany, and was surrounded by the 
 pomps of his imperial court, a wandering minstrel sang the 
 tale of this kindly deed, and the people cheered enthusi- 
 astically when they heard that it was their beloved emperor, 
 who had given his favorite steed to further the good work 
 of the priests of Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 
96 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 trbe Golden £000. 
 
 LULSDORF. 
 
 97 
 
 Frederick, emperor of Germany, having abdicated in 
 favor of his son Maximilian, the people crowded around the 
 new ruler, seeking to win his favor by the gifts which they 
 hastened to offer him. One deputation after another laid 
 their offerings at his feet, and last of all came a messenger 
 from the Jews, the usurers of the town, bearing a basket all 
 filled with eggs of the purest gold. 
 
 The people gazed in awe at the gift, which was of fabulous 
 value, and were greatly surprised when, instead of the 
 gracious thanks they fully expected, the emperor sternly 
 bade his guard seize the messenger, lock him up in the 
 dungeon, and capture all the usurers in town. 
 
 The Jew money-lenders, falling at his feet, implored his 
 mercy, wringing their hands, inquiring how they could have 
 incurred the royal displeasure, and offering great sums for 
 their release. But Maximilian paid no heed to their prayers 
 and ironically said, as he bade the guards lead them away: 
 
 ** The hens which lay such desirable eggs should be kept 
 in a place of safety." 
 
 LULSDORF. 
 
 i» > ' i. 
 
 Ccuel Sister. 
 
 Close by the village of Lulsdorf, near the right bank of 
 the Rhine, is the ruined tower of an old castle, built in the 
 fifth or sixth century, which was once inhabited by a knight 
 and his two daughters. These maidens were of very dif- 
 ferent characters and dispositions, for one was gentle and 
 lovely, while the other was hard and vindictive. 
 
 The gentle maiden was engaged to be married, and on 
 the eve of her wedding strolled by the riverside, where she 
 was joined by her elder sister, who, unknown to anyone, had 
 fallen deeply in love with the prospective bridegroom. 
 
 While pretending a friendliness she was far from feeling, the 
 jealous sister lured the morrow's bride out of sight of the 
 castle, and bade her stretch out her hand and pluck a beau- 
 tiful water lily growing almost out of reach. Then, as the 
 gentle girl leaned far over the water, she suddenly and 
 treacherously pushed her in. The struggling maiden tried 
 to scramble ashore again, and piteously implored her jealous 
 sister to help her, promising all she could think of as a 
 bribe to induce her to lend a rescuing hand, but all in vain. 
 When she had sunk for the third and last time beneath the 
 deep waters, the wicked sister crept home in the gathering 
 darkness, entered the bride's room, locked herself in, and 
 issued forth on the morrow only, decked in bridal array 
 and closely veiled. 
 
 As the sisters were of the same height and figure, and as 
 their voices were exactly alike, no one suspected the fraud. 
 The marriage ceremony took place, and when it was ended, 
 the newly married couple returned to the castle, where they 
 were entertained during the nuptial feast by the songs of 
 many minstrels who had hastened thither at the report of a 
 wedding. 
 
 One of these minstrels, the last to arrive, pausing by the 
 river to mend a broken harp-string, had found in the sedges 
 the corpse of the beautiful bride, which had been washed up 
 by the tide. By virtue of his art, for tradition reports he 
 was a magician as well as a musician, he fashioned a harp 
 out of the maiden's body, using the strands of her golden 
 hair for strings. 
 
 •* The body which lay outstretched on the sands, 
 Became a beautiful harp in his hands, 
 For he took the maiden's snow-white breast 
 And he made it a j^lace for the chords to rest 
 And on her small fingers so fair to see 
 He fixed the strings as well might be ; 
 Which out of the locks of her golden hair. 
 He twined with a skill so wondrous rare.** 
 
 — Snoiues translation of German poem 
 
98 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 With this marvelous instrument he now appeared bfefore 
 the wedding guests, and letting his fingers wander over its 
 strings, produced a melody so plaintive and soul-stirring 
 that the veiled bride suddenly burst into tears. The bride- 
 groom, pushing the veil aside to wipe them away and com- 
 fort her, suddenly discovered the fraud, and wildly in- 
 quired what it meant. 
 
 But the harper continued his strain, unmoved by all the 
 commotion around him, until the pleading tones became 
 so urgent that the murderess, goaded to madness by their 
 importunity, confessed her crime ere she sank to the floor 
 in violent convulsions from which she died. 
 
 ZULPICH. 
 
 ZuLPiCH, as the ancient Tolbiac is now called, is the site 
 of Clovis' famous battle against the invading Teutons. It 
 was here he uttered the solemn vow that if the God of his 
 Christian wife Clothilde would only grant him the victory, 
 he would be baptized, and would serve him only all the rest 
 of his life. 
 
 The victory remained with the Francs, and Clovis, mind- 
 ful of his vow, was duly baptized in the cathedral at Rheims, 
 where the archbishop, St. Remi, solemnly bade him bend 
 the knee before the Lord of heaven, and henceforth burn 
 what he had worshiped, and worship what he had been 
 wont to destroy. 
 
 lUftelberg. 
 
 Ube Cbaritable (3irL 
 
 A LEGEND relates that this eminence received its name 
 from Ltifthilde, a charming and charitable girl who did much 
 good to the poor. She employed all her spare moments 
 in spinning fine thread which she sold at a high price, and 
 
 VOW OF CLOVIS. 
 
 Blanc. 
 
98 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 With this marvelous instrument he now appeared before 
 the wedding guests, and letting his fingers wander over its 
 strings, produced a melody so plaintive and soul-stirring 
 that the veiled bride suddenly burst into tears. The bride- 
 groom, pushing the veil aside to wipe them away and com- 
 fort her, suddenly discovered the fraud, and wildly in- 
 quired what it meant. 
 
 But the harper continued his strain, unmoved by all the 
 commotion around him, until the pleading tones became 
 so urgent that the murderess, goaded to madness by their 
 importunity, confessed her crime ere she sank to the floor 
 in violent convulsions from which she died. 
 
 ZULPICH. 
 
 r 
 
 ZuLPiCH, as the ancient Tolbiac is now called, is the site 
 of Clovis' famous battle against the invading Teutons. It 
 was here he uttered the solemn vow that if the God of his 
 Christian wife Clothilde would only grant him the victory, 
 he would be baptized, and would serve him only all the rest 
 of his life. 
 
 The victory remained with the Francs, and Clovis, mind- 
 ful of his vow, was duly baptized in the cathedral at Rheims, 
 where the archbishop, St. Remi, solemnly bade him bend 
 the knee before the Lord of heaven, and henceforth burn 
 what he had worshiped, and worship what he had been 
 wont to destroy. 
 
 LUFTELBERG. 
 tTbc Cbai'it.ibfc (3frL 
 
 A LEGEND relates that this eminence received its name 
 from Liifthilde, a charming and charitable girl who did much 
 good to the poor. She employed all her spare moments 
 in spinning fine thread which she sold at a high price, and 
 
 VOW OF CLOVIS. 
 
 Blanc. 
 
VILLICH, 
 
 99 
 
 devoted all the money which she thus earned to buy reme- 
 dies for the sick, who considered her far more skillful than 
 any leech. 
 
 Charlemagne, out hunting one day, had the misfortune to 
 wound himself sorely, and would have bled to death, had not 
 this deft-handed maiden been summoned. By her timely 
 assistance she saved his life. Full of gratitude for her 
 services, the emperor bade her mount his horse, promising 
 to give her as much land as she could ride around ere sun- 
 down. Liifthilde, nothing daunted, urged the emperor's 
 steed to its utmost speed, and rode all around the forest 
 now known as the Luftelberg. 
 
 To prove that she had really been all around it, she 
 dropped her spindle, and kept twisting her thread, which was 
 found to describe the exact boundary of the land which the 
 emperor gave her in fee. This she appropriated for the 
 use of the poor, founding an order of nuns, who employed 
 all their time in caring for the sick. 
 
 VILLICH. 
 
 Z\sz 3Boi on tbe Bar, 
 
 In the tenth century Adelheid was abbess of the nunnery 
 at Villich, and by her energy kept all her nuns in very good 
 order and hard at work. A broken-hearted young lady 
 once asked permission to enter her convent, saying that 
 her betrothed had perished in battle in a distant land, and 
 that, as she was now entirely alone, she would fain retire 
 from the world. 
 
 She was therefore admitted, took her vows, and as she 
 was the possessor of a beautiful voice, was soon appointed 
 leader of the convent choir. One day, while she was singing 
 in her stall, her glance fell down upon the congregation, 
 and there, among the people, she suddenly beheld her lover, 
 
lOO 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 who had not been slain, but only sorely wounded. Hen sur- 
 prise was so great that she paused abruptly in her pious 
 strain, and a loud, discordant cry broke from her trembling 
 lips. 
 
 The abbess, who was a quick-witted woman, and equal 
 to any emergency, immediately perceived the cause of the 
 nun's confusion. To bring her promptly back to a realiz- 
 ing sense of time and place, she raised her hand and dealt 
 her a sound box on the ear. 
 
 Startled into propriety by this stinging blow, the nun 
 went on with the service, singing as truly as before, and 
 tradition recounts that never again did she dare to raise her 
 eyes during the service, or sing a note out of tune, for fear 
 of feeling the abbess' heavy hand. 
 
 *• And lo ! a ifiiracle ! the maid 
 Casts down her shameful eyes : 
 Then raised her song in sweet accord, 
 To all the nuns' surprise. 
 
 — Adelheid von Slotterfoth, 
 
 BONN. 
 
 ^be lt)ebmdedcbt 
 
 In the crypt of the cathedral of Bonn, which is said to 
 have been founded by Constantine, were once held those 
 famous midnight meetings of the German secret society 
 called Vehmgericht, which, in the Middle Ages, took the 
 law into its own hands, and executed summary justice, acting 
 as powerfully and independently as the Inquisition in Spain. 
 
 The Lord of Freyerwahl, a lawless robber knight, had 
 long committed every sort of crime with impunity, and 
 everyone had learned to fear and detest him. One day, 
 while riding through a village, he caught a glimpse of a 
 lovely young girl, the niece of the priest, whom he kid- 
 naped that selfsame night, after setting fire to the parson- 
 
 
 BONN. 
 
 lOI 
 
 k 
 
 ' age to prevent immediate pursuit The poor village priest 
 lost all he had in the flames, but his deepest sorrow was 
 caused by the total disappearance of his orphaned niece, of 
 whom he could obtain no tidings. One year after this 
 calamity, which he had never ceased to mourn, the priest was 
 summoned by an emissary of the Vehm, and led into the 
 crypt of the Bonn cathedral at midnight. While waiting for 
 further developments, he took note of the silent masked 
 figures, the sable-hung walls, open grave, ax, block, rope, 
 and roll of parchment, which he knew were the emblems of 
 the secret society. 
 
 All at once, the silence was broken by the entrance of a 
 prisoner, who was accused of kidnaping a young lady and 
 condemned to marry her. The knight of Freyerwahl, for it 
 was he, angrily refused to do so, but, in spite of all his 
 struggles, the girl was brought in, and, at an imperious sign 
 from the judge, the priest performed the marriage ceremony. 
 
 As soon as the service was ended, and while the priest 
 was rejoicing to see his niece once more, the judge went on 
 to declare that the slight reparation just made to the poor 
 girl's honor in no way balanced the crimes committed by 
 the accused, who was then and there sentenced to death and 
 executed. The guilty lord of Freyerwahl's remains were 
 duly interred in the cathedral, but the only inscription 
 placed above them was his name, with the words: **Died 
 by order of the Vehm, 1250." 
 
 Zhc Zhxcc Sleeperd, 
 
 Bonn, the birthplace of Beethoven, is noted for the 
 extreme laziness of its inhabitants, who love to indulge in 
 their propensity for prolonged sleep. Three young men of 
 this town were said to be specially affected with somno- 
 lence. They considered it an unendurable hardship to be 
 forced to wake up and rise some time during the day, and 
 
I02 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 resolved to withdraw to a cave outside the city, where they 
 settled themselves comfortably for a long nap. 
 
 Day after day passed by and they slept peacefully on ; 
 but at the end of seven years one of them slowly opened 
 his eyes, and sleepily muttered, ** Do you hear that ox bel- 
 low?" Then he sank back again in sound sleep. 
 
 Seven years later, the second youth half opened his eyes 
 and hesitatingly answered, **It is not an ox, but a cow!" 
 ere he too relapsed into oblivion. The silence of the cave 
 was again unbroken, save by the sleepers' long-drawn breath, 
 until another seven years had passed, when the third youth 
 dreamily inquired, *' What ox ? What cow? Can't you let 
 a fellow sleep in peace?" and turned over to resume his 
 slumbers. 
 
 The three Bonn sleepers are still said to occupy the same 
 cave, one of them waking for a moment every seven years. 
 In turn they volunteer a few words, forming a conversation 
 as thrillingly interesting as the one recorded above, which 
 proves how very witty lazy young men are apt to become. 
 
 BONN. 
 
 T03 
 
 tffee Derfl 
 
 ;4i Si.,.'' 
 
 x\^c TBnfn^• 
 
 His Satanic Majesty, on his usual rounds one wintry 
 morning, entered the cave of the Wind. Many were the 
 pranks which these two mischief-makers had enjoyed 
 together. On this occasion the Evil One seemed unusually 
 talkative and restless. After a few moments' stay, he sud- 
 denly rose from his chair and addressed the Wind, who, 
 according to his customary tactics, had incessantly bustled 
 about the cave, upsetting everything in his eager haste 
 to welcome his distinguished visitor from the Lower Regions. 
 
 ** My dear Wind," Satan exclaimed, **it is a beautiful 
 frosty day. Leave this dark cave and come out for a little 
 walk with me." 
 
 The Wind, at this proposal, gave an ecstatic twirl on the 
 
 tips of his toes, flew across the cave, and stormily embraced 
 his guest, crying: 
 
 **A splendid idea, my dear friend, and quite worthy of 
 your superior genius. I have been pining for exercise, and 
 was just wishing for an excuse to leave this narrow cell." 
 
 *'Very well," replied the Devil, laughing at his friend's 
 impetuous embrace. *'Come along, then." 
 
 Arm in arm, the two cronies left the cave and sallied out 
 into the quiet and peaceful world. A heavy frost lay like a 
 white mist over the frozen ground, and the trees, shrubs, 
 and grasses along the roadside were all covered with myriads 
 of icy pendants, which gHttered in the early beams of the 
 sun and reflected all the brilliant hues of the rainbow. 
 
 ** Ha ! ha! " chuckled the Wind in Satan's ear. '' My dear 
 Devil, do look at those silly trees, shrubs, and grasses, all 
 decked out in their finest jewels ! Just see how proudly 
 they display their glittering apparel before an admiring 
 world. Foolish things ! They little suspected I would be 
 out to-day. What say you, my friend, shall 1 trouble their 
 joy a little and upset their silly complacency ? " 
 
 The Devil, that notorious killer of all innocent pleasure, 
 gladly hailed the proposal. 
 
 '' Now, just watch me! " exclaimed the Wind, and he drew 
 in such a. great, long breath that it seemed as if he must 
 burst. 
 
 The trees, shrubs, and grasses suddenly forgot their 
 harmless pride, and the Sun, who had seen the Devil and 
 the Wind putting their heads together, and foresaw that 
 some evil would result from this ominous consultation, drew 
 down the corners of his great smiling mouth, and quickly 
 placed a thick misty veil before his eyes, to shut out the 
 sight which he knew, only too well, would next greet him. 
 
 *'Ah, Wind, cruel Wind," he sighed; ^*why not let the 
 earth rejoice in her jewels ? Why seek to destroy what is 
 already so perishable ? " 
 
 The diamond-incrusted vegetation, missing the glad sun- 
 
104 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 BONN, 
 
 loi 
 
 light, and dreading the enemy's power, now began to shiver 
 softly with nameless apprehension. A moment later 'the 
 Wind, tearing his arm out of his friend's, rushed forward 
 with fury, shook plants and trees until they writhed and 
 twisted in his relentless grasp, and all their bright pendants 
 lay shattered in a thousand minute fragments on the ground. 
 
 *'Ha! ha! ha!" then laughed the Devil and Wind in 
 chorus. 
 
 '*Well done! Friend Wind," added Satan, as his com- 
 panion, having dashed all the bright jewels to the earth, 
 and ruthlessly broken and twisted many tender limbs, now 
 joined him again. ** I congratulate you upon your swift 
 executive powers. Really, my dear fellow, I nearly died 
 laughing when I saw those trees writhe in your grasp. 
 And the groans they uttered when you wrenched the 
 diamond crowns from their heads and dashed them to 
 pieces on the frozen ground! It was too funny for words. 
 Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Arm in arm, once more, and still laughing heartily in 
 chorus, Satan and the Wind continued their walk. The 
 Sun, peeping out timidly from behind the misty folds of his 
 veil, gladly saw them depart, and as soon as they were quite 
 out of sight, he brushed it entirely aside and smiled down 
 encouragingly upon the shivering trees gazing so mourn- 
 fully upon their ruined finery. 
 
 "Courage! courage!" he smiled. **The fiends are 
 gone. Courage my friends, courage. You have my 
 warmest sympathy." 
 
 And he shone down upon them so brightly and steadily 
 that the trees, softened by his kind words and looks, 
 slowly dropped great reluctant tears, which sparkled quite 
 as brilliantly as their glorious jewels. These warm tears 
 fell down upon the frozen ground and broken pendants, 
 which soon melted at their contact, and finally disappeared, 
 leaving no trace whatever of their once beautiful presence. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Satan and his companion had jour- 
 
 neyed on, losing no opportunity, however slight, of doing 
 some damage or of playing some scurvy trick. Nothing 
 and no one seemed safe from their pranks. The W^ind impu- 
 dently kissed the maidens' cheeks until they fairly glowed 
 with indignation, and slyly pinched the little children's 
 fingers and toes until they began to cry. A moment later, 
 he stole treacherously behind a poor old woman, turned her 
 tattered shawl up over her head, and twisted her garments 
 so tightly about her that she could scarcely move a step. 
 Then, laughing and whistling, he snatched the hat right off 
 a venerable alderman's head, and tossed it far away. But, 
 when the old gentleman, puffing and blowing with his 
 unwonted exertions, would fain have laid his pudgy fingers 
 upon his truant headgear, the Wind snatched it away again, 
 forcing the poor old alderman to continue his aggravating 
 pursuit. Weary at last of this sport, the Wind joined his 
 companion, who had watched the alderman's frantic efforts 
 with intense amusement, and had fairly held his sides 
 with laughter, and they both resumed their journey, which 
 finally brought them into the city of Bonn. The Devil, 
 shrewdly glancing right and left, took note of all he saw 
 along the way, and a well-pleased, sardonic grin passed over 
 his expressive features whenever he saw quarreling or 
 strife. 
 
 The two companions came at last to a place where the 
 street grew broad and wide, the present Market Place, on 
 one side of which stood a great building used in those days 
 as a Jesuit monastery. 
 
 ** My dear Wind," suddenly exclaimed Satan, stopping 
 short before the heavy oaken door, ** would you mind 
 waiting for me here a few minutes while I run in and see 
 how my dear friends, the Jesuits, are getting on ? " 
 
 ** Not at all!" exclaimed the Wind, who was not sorry to 
 rest a little after all his exertions. 
 
 At Satan's touch the oaken door flew open wide, and a 
 moment later the Wind found himself alone and began to 
 
io6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 walk slowly up and down the street, whistling softly to him- 
 self. Satan, in the meanwhile, had begun his round of 
 inspection within. He listened at key-holes, peeped over 
 the brothers* shoulders, glanced through their books and 
 papers, softly whispered a word in this ear and a sentence 
 in that, while the smile on his ugly face deepened and 
 broadened, for he was only too well pleased with all he 
 heard and saw. 
 
 *'Ha! ha! "he chuckled softly to himself. "These fine 
 fellows are after my own heart, and are so busy dispatching 
 my business that really I cannot tear myself away from 
 them. I must stay here and watch them carry out these 
 little plans of theirs. But to avoid awakening any sus- 
 picions, I'll assume the Jesuit robe and cowl, and will even 
 adopt their motto, *The end justifies the me^ns.' Ha! ha! 
 ha ! " 
 
 The Wind, awaiting his friend's return, grew impatient. 
 His step grew quicker, his whistle shriller, and as it was 
 very cold he began to blow on his own fingers to keep them 
 warm. Several hours passed, and still no sign of the 
 Devil's return. 
 
 **He must have forgotten that I am waiting out here in 
 the cold," exclaimed the Wind, and stepping to the heavy 
 oaken door, he applied his lips to the key-hole, and uttered 
 a long shrill whistle, which roused all the echoes in the old 
 building, caused the Jesuits to draw their cowls closer 
 around their ears and thrust their hands farther up their 
 wide sleeves, while the Devil laughed maliciously to himself 
 as he pictured his friend's impatience. 
 
 "There, that will surely fetch him !" cried the Wind com- 
 placently, drawing himself up and resuming his interrupted 
 walk, but minute after minute passed and still the door 
 remained closed. To while away the time, the Wind spas- 
 modically tried a few of his former pranks upon the passers- 
 by, but as no one was there to laugh at his sallies, they 
 no longer afforded him so much pleasure. Repeatedly he 
 
 KREUZBERG, 
 
 107 
 
 whistled at the oaken door, shook it until the boards 
 creaked and groaned, and the Jesuits within crossed them- 
 selves in sudden terror. The Wind, in his impatience, then 
 changed his whistle into a prolonged howl, which grew 
 louder and louder, until the good people of Bonn fairly 
 shuddered. But finally, exhausted by these frantic efforts, 
 he ceased howling, and breathed forth long, plaintive sighs, 
 which rose and fell as he trudged backward and forward 
 awaiting the Devil's return. 
 
 Years ago the Jesuits forsook the ancient convent, but 
 the Wind, waiting at the door, failed to recognize his old 
 friend in his new garb, and remained at his post. There he 
 still paces, back and forth, sometimes angry, sometimes 
 reproachful, sometimes playful. But go when you will, 
 night or day, summer or winter, you will be sure to find 
 him waiting for his old ally, in front of the old Jesuit con- 
 vent, on the Market Place in Bonn. 
 
 KREUZBURG. 
 
 B Strange JStrd. 
 
 Long before the Kreuzberg had become a holy spot, and 
 was studded with the crosses to which it now owes its name, 
 the site of the convent was occupied by a cunning fowler. 
 He snared birds of all kinds, which he knew by name and 
 whose habits he could accurately describe. 
 
 This fowler was so passionately fond of ornithology that 
 he was never so happy as when he could discover a new 
 specimen, and so proud of his learning that he openly 
 declared he could name any winged creature on earth, and 
 challenged the devil to do as much. 
 
 Satan, who had long been watching to secure the fowler's 
 soul, seeing an opportunity to reach his ends, now promised 
 to supply him v/ith all the birds he wanted, in exchange for 
 the possession of his soul at death. He bargained, however. 
 
io8 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 GODESBERG. 
 
 that he would relinquish all claim to it, if the fowler ever 
 brought him a bird he could not name. 
 
 At first the fowler, finding his snares always full of game, 
 was delighted with his bargain, but little by little the haunt- 
 ing fear that the devil would claim his soul troubled him so 
 sorely that he wondered, night and day, how he might outwit 
 the fiend. After many days of deep thought, he finally 
 decided to take one of his own little grandchildren, smear 
 him with tar, roll him in loose feathers of every kind and 
 hue, and then present him to the devil, bidding him class 
 the bird and tell its name. 
 
 This plan, cleverly carried out, greatly puzzled the devil, 
 who, after vainly scratching his head with his clawlike 
 fingers, and impatiently curling and uncurling his long tail, 
 was finally compelled to declare he was unable to class the 
 strange specimen before him, and must therefore relinquish 
 all claims upon the fowler's soul, 
 
 Thus delivered from an awful fate, the fowler revealed 
 the deception he had used, and when the devil took leave of 
 him in a very indignant mood, the happy man solemnly 
 swore that he would never again attempt to deal with the 
 Evil Spirit. 
 
 109 
 
 On the highway leading from Bonn to the castle of Godes- 
 berg is a tall cross, erected by one of the knights of Drachen- 
 fels. This nobleman had left his wife to take part in the 
 Crusades, and after more than twenty years' absence returned 
 home to find that she had married one of his rivals shortly 
 after his departure. 
 
 Burning to avenge this insult, the knight would fain have 
 challenged his supplanter, but he was dead; his wife was in 
 a nunnery, and their sole heir was a youth of seventeen, who 
 little suspected the crime his parents had committed. 
 
 Riding along the highway one day, the Lord of Drachen- 
 fels met a youth, whom, by his likeness to his faithless wife, 
 he immediately recognized as her son. Carried away by 
 passion, he immediately attacked and slew him; but when 
 the youth lay dead before him, he suddenly realized what he 
 had done, and fled in remorse. 
 
 A passing peasant found the corpse and went to the con- 
 vent, where the unhappy mother, learning her loss, sank 
 back unconscious and died twenty-four hours later. 
 
 ** There was a nun in Villich fair, 
 Who had lived a life of sorrow ; 
 They brought her a lock of that stripling's hair. 
 And she died upon the morrow." 
 
 — Planchi. 
 
 As for the murderer, continually haunted by his young 
 victim's face, he wandered restlessly from place to place. 
 Then, after erecting a memorial cross, known as the Hoch 
 Kreuz, on the very spot where the youth fell, he withdrew 
 into a monastery, where he spent the remainder of his life 
 in doing penance for his sin. 
 
 ** This cross was built on this fatal spot ; 
 More of the tale man knoweth not." 
 
 "Planch/, 
 
 GODESBERG. 
 tSbt l^eeetted WXtc. 
 
 On the hill near Bonn, where the ruins of the castle of 
 Godesberg are now to be seen, the Romans once erected 
 a temple to Jupiter, which, however, was changed into a 
 Christian church as soon as the people were converted. 
 This sacred edifice having fallen into ruins, the emperor 
 Julian built a fortress on its site ; which, in due time, made 
 
 I 
 
no 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 way for the present building, of which nothing but 'pictur- 
 esque ruins now remain. 
 
 Godesberg castle cam i by inheritance to Gebhard, arch- 
 bishop of Cologne, who, notwithstanding his clerical vows, 
 fell deeply in love with a fair maiden. As the Reformers 
 were very busy in those days, and in contradiction to the 
 Catholics, permitted their priests to marry, Gebhard, who 
 was no bigoted Catholic, gladly allowed himself to be con- 
 verted to the new faith. 
 
 The Catholic party, resenting his defection and denounc- 
 ing his first action, which was to marry his lady-love, 
 deprived him of his clerical power and emoluments, which 
 he had forfeited by his marriage. It also declared open war 
 against him, hoping to wrest from his grasp the extensive 
 property which he had inherited, and to which it had no just 
 claim. Forced to defend himself, Gebhard now fought 
 bravely, but, in spite of all his efforts, he soon found himself 
 deprived of all his property, except the castle of Godesberg, 
 where he retreated with his dearly won bride. Even there, 
 however, he was not long allowed to enjoy her company 
 in peace, and seeing himself obliged to go forth again, 
 and do battle against his opponents, he confided her to the 
 care of the last scion of the Neuenahr family. Gebhard was 
 defeated and forced to flee, his castle surrounded, and after 
 a long siege it was captured by the Catholics, who, enraged 
 at the obstinate resistance made by the inmates, then 
 reduced it to its present ruined condition. 
 
 The deserted bride, separated forever from her husband, 
 withdrew into a sisterhood of which she was made canoness, 
 to spend the remainder of her life in utter seclusion. 
 
 o 
 o 
 o 
 m 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 > 
 
 H 
 r 
 
RAMERSDORF, 
 
 III 
 
 RAMERSDORF. 
 
 Ebe Bancera CurgcD. 
 
 The inhabitants of the little hamlet of Ramersdorf had 
 been wont to assemble every Sunday afternoon on the vil- 
 lage green, where the young people danced merrily. But 
 when the year one thousand came, all hearts were oppressed 
 by a nameless fear that the end of the world was near at 
 hand. These gay doings all ceased, and the abbot of 
 Lowenberg gladly saw his church crowded from morning till 
 night with humble suppliants for divine mercy. 
 
 The much dreaded year came and passed. The sun con- 
 tinued to rise and set, and seeing no signs of coming dis- 
 solution, a reaction set in, and the young people gayly 
 prepared to resume their former Sunday afternoon pastime. 
 Scarcely had the music begun, however, when the abbot 
 appeared among them, and peremptorily bade them cease. 
 But when lads and lasses laughingly disregarded his orders, 
 he turned upon them and solemnly cursed them, saying he 
 hoped Heaven would compel them to dance without ceasing 
 for a whole year and a day. 
 
 Frightened by this curse, the young people would now 
 fain have paused in their merry round, but to their dismay 
 they found they had no more control over their feet. So 
 they whirled around faster and faster, hour after hour, day 
 and night, until the fatal year was ended, and the extra day 
 came to a close. The dancers then fell in a senseless heap 
 in the middle of the hollow worn by their untiring feet; but, 
 although they were eventually restored to consciousness 
 they remained helpless idiots as long as they lived. 
 
 Needless to say, since this awful punishment, the young 
 people of Ramersdorf have ceased dancing on Sunday on 
 the village green, and there is no place in Germany whert 
 the Sabbath quiet is more strictly observed. 
 
i 
 
 112 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 HEISTERBACH. 
 
 ^be JBird of patadiae* 
 
 In the monastery at Heisterbach, where many holy men 
 spent their lives in meditation and prayer, there once lived 
 a monk by the name of Alfus. He had taken refuge in the 
 cloister early in life, and had diligently studied and prayed, 
 until a great light had dawned upon his soul, and he had 
 amassed a store of knowledge which made him famous for 
 many a mile around. 
 
 But, in spite of all his learning, his mind remained so 
 pure and simple that he thought he knew nothing at all, and 
 his faith was like that of a little child. Such was his usual 
 condition of innocent trust; yet, being human, he too had 
 seasons of temptation, when torturing doubt would assail 
 and rankle within his soul. 
 
 In the course of a long life he had frequently noticed 
 that familiarity lessens enjoyment, that the eye wearies at 
 last of the most beautiful sight, the ear of the sweetest 
 sound, that the most intoxicating perfumes finally pall upon 
 the senses, and that the mind grows weary of even the most 
 elevated train of thoughts. 
 
 ** Will it be thus in heaven?" he anxiously questioned, 
 in one of these dark seasons of doubt. *' Will not the 
 beauty of the heavenly mansions cease to please our eyes, 
 and the grand tones of the celestial harmony lose all charm 
 for our ears ? Will not the joys of heaven itself grow dim 
 in the course of eternity ?" 
 
 Although Alfus faithfully struggled against these insid- 
 ious doubts, and strove to regain his simple faith, he was 
 continually haunted by fear and unable to taste a moment's 
 peace. Hoping to divert his thoughts by a long walk, he 
 left the monastery very early one morning. The sun had 
 risen bright and clear, the pure white clouds floated dreamily 
 across the azure sky, casting faint fitful shadows over 
 
 HEISTERBACH, 
 
 1 1 \ 
 
 mountain and river, the dew glistened on the nodding 
 blades of grass and radiant flowers, and the birds rapturously 
 trilled their morning carol as he pensively walked down the 
 hill and entered the dense forest. 
 
 The whole earth seemed to breathe forth peace and joy, 
 but Alfus* heart was not at rest, and these serene sights 
 and sounds only added poignancy to his grief. 
 
 '* Ah! " he sighed, ** with what rapture I first gazed upon 
 this scene! What emotions and holy thoughts were 
 awakened by the first glimpse of this matchless river ! 
 What lofty purposes were kindled in my heart at the sight 
 of these grand hills! But now, alas! all is changed. The 
 rapture I once experienced I no longer feel. The grandeur 
 which almost oppressed me has lost its power, and I fre- 
 quently pass along without vouchsafing even a glance to 
 this magnificent view." 
 
 While musing thus, Alfus wandered through the forest, 
 paying no attention to the road he was following. A slight 
 feeling of fatigue made him pause at last, and glance about 
 him; but although he was quite familiar with every inch of 
 ground about the monastery for many a mile around, he 
 could not remember ever having seen this spot before. 
 All around him tall trees of an unknown species gently 
 rustled their leafy branches. At his feet delicate ferns and 
 wild flowers dipped under the weight of some gorgeous 
 butterfly or busy bee, and while he stood there, forgetful of 
 fatigue in his breathless admiration, a bird, perched on a 
 neighboring tree, suddenly began to sing. This unearthly 
 song was so sweet, so thrilling, so low, so distinct, so utterly 
 unlike any music he had heard before that Brother Alfus 
 sank down on a mossy stone and listened to it with intense 
 rapture. The song lasted but a second, then abruptly 
 ceased, leaving the monk sick with longing to hear it once 
 more. But the bird had vanished, no sound now broke the 
 forest silence, so he reluctantly rose to wend his way back 
 through the woods to the old monastery. 
 
 I 
 
■! 1 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHmE. 
 
 'I 
 
 It was very strange, however. His step, elastic and full 
 of vigor as he strode down the hill that very morn, was now 
 hesitating and slow, his beard was strangely gray, and all 
 his body seemed feeble and stiff. The scene, too, seemed 
 changed, and where he had scrambled through underbrush, 
 he now saw tall trees of at least a century's growth. 
 
 Slowly and painfully, Alfus trudged on, and as soon as he 
 reached the edge of the forest, he eagerly looked up to the 
 monastery. But behold! that too was changed. The build- 
 ings seemed larger, the entrance gate wider, and the walls 
 looked old and weather-beaten. 
 
 What could have happened? How could such changes 
 have taken place during an absence, which, at the utmost, 
 had only lasted a few hours ? Alfus passed his hand over 
 his eyes as if to clear his sight, and anxiously resumed his 
 walk. Some women were'washing at the village fountain, 
 and he, who knew every man, woman, and child, for miles 
 around, wonderingly gazed into faces which he had never 
 
 seen. 
 
 **Look!" cried one of them, nudging her companion. 
 *'That old monk wears the dress of the order, yet I do not 
 remember ever having seen him before. Who can he be ?" 
 
 Alfus paid no heed to this remark, nor paused to question 
 the women, but hastened on as fast as his trembling limbs 
 would allow him, and timidly rang the monastery bell. In 
 spite of his trouble, he noticed it no longer gave forth the 
 silvery peal he knew so well, and when a young monk, a 
 stranger, opened the door, he gazed upon him aghast, and 
 exclaimed in tremulous tones: 
 
 ^HVhy! where is Brother Anthony? Why does he not 
 open the door as usual ?" 
 
 ** Brother Anthony! " exclaimed the monk. '' We have 
 no Anthony here. I am the porter, and for the past five 
 years no one else has opened the door." 
 
 For a moment poor Alfus stood on the threshold as if 
 petrified, but at the sight of two cowled figures, slowly pac- 
 
 HEISTERBACH. 
 
 115 
 
 ing along the cloister wall, he rushed forward, calling them 
 by the familiar names of his fellow-monks, whom he fancied 
 he recognized. But no one answered his cry, and when he 
 peered eagerly beneath their cowls he realized his mistake 
 and despairingly cried: 
 
 ** Brethren, I entreat you, speak, and tell what has 
 happened ! I left the monastery, as usual, this morning 
 only, for a little stroll in the woods, and come back to find 
 all changed. Where is the abbot ? Where are my com- 
 panions ? Is there no one here who remembers Alfus ? " 
 
 ^* Alfus— Alfus,'* thoughtfully repeated an aged monk, 
 who sat in the warm sunshine. ''Alfus, yes; there was 
 once a brother of that name in this monastery, but that was 
 long ago. I remember, when but a lad, hearing the old 
 monks tell how he wandered out one summer morning, and 
 vanished in the forest, whence he never returned. Although 
 they sought carefully for him for many a day, no trace of 
 him was ever found, and the abbot said that God must have 
 borne him up to heaven in a chariot of fire, like Elijah, for 
 he was very holy indeed. But all this happened a hun- 
 dred years ago." 
 
 At these last words a sudden light seemed to illumine the 
 face of poor Alfus, who slowly sank down upon his knees, 
 clasped his tremulous hands, and exclaimed : 
 
 '^ Now I understand it all, oh, gracious Lord! Truly a 
 thousand years are but as a day in thy sight. A whole 
 century passed while I held my breath to listen to the song 
 of the bird which sings at the gate of Paradise. Forgive 
 my unbelief, O Lord; grant that I may enter into thy rest, 
 and do not refuse to receive my penitent soul." 
 
 Brother Alfus then stretched out his trembling hands, a 
 radiant smile illuminated his pale face, and when the 
 wondering monks, crowding around him, would fain have 
 helped him rise, they found his soul had flown away to join 
 his companions in the heavenly mansions, and there enjoy 
 an eternity of unchanging bliss.* 
 
 * See Note 12 in Appendix. 
 
ii6 
 
 4 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 *'lF you will only give me that stone, good friar," ex- 
 claimed a knight, as he struck his gauntleted hand against 
 a stone in one of the pillars of the church at Heisterbach 
 on the Rhine; -if you will only give me that stone, you 
 shall have a purseful of gold in exchange/' 
 
 -Give you that stone, sir knight! What value can it 
 possibly have in your eyes ? " exclaimed the poor old friar, 
 gazing at the knight in open-mouthed astonishment. 
 
 **Alas good friar! a demon of sleeplessness and unrest 
 haunts my pillow wherever I go. Here only I find repose, 
 here only it dares not persecute me. When the opening 
 service is ended, and I lean my head back against this 
 stone as a preparatory fnove toward directing all my at- 
 tention to your sermon, my eyelids droop gently over 
 my eyes, and my weary limbs relax in profound sleep. 
 Some magic p^wer must be concealed in this hard stone, 
 good friar. I beseech you, therefore, grant my prayer. 
 
 The simple-minded friar, who fancied the knight was in 
 earnest, gravely pondered the matter a while. Then he 
 excused himself and went to consult the abbot, his superior, 
 who listened to the whole story with a humorous twinkle in 
 
 his eye and finally said : 
 
 -Brother, go and tell the noble knight that our church 
 pillars cannot be molested, but that, since he has derived so 
 much comfort from it, he had better take advantage of the 
 stone's narcotic powers as often as possible, for the service 
 which precedes the sermon may, in time, do^ good to his 
 soul and prepare him to enjoy everlasting rest." 
 
 HEISTERBACH. 
 
 tlbe Xa0t Bbbot. 
 
 1 1 
 
 The once magnificent abbey of Heisterbach is now noth- 
 ing but a picturesque ruin, said to be haunted by the 
 unquiet spirit of the last abbot. Long years ago, his com- 
 panions folded their weary hands over their silent hearts 
 and sank to rest. The summer winds have long whispered 
 through the waving grasses which grow over their graves, 
 and the winter snows have silently spread their white pall 
 over all, but still the aged abbot can find no peace. 
 
 Night after night, when the cool evening breezes blow 
 over the Seven Mountains and ripple the waters of the 
 Rhine, when the silvery moon-beams gently steal along the 
 ruined walls, the abbot appears, and slowly wanders in and 
 out among the tombs. His hair is white, the light has 
 long died out of his sightless eyes, and as he noiselessly 
 moves along, he counts with his staff the grassy mounds 
 beneath which his departed brethren have lain for many a 
 year. 
 
 This task finished, he heaves a mournful sigh, and sadly 
 whispers that the number is not yet complete. One grave 
 is lacking still, but the aged abbot is doomed to haunt the 
 place until the last crumbling wall has fallen into dust, and 
 the great stones have all dropped asunder. When no trace 
 of the ancient abbey remains, when tradition alone will 
 remind the traveler of its former existence, the abbot's 
 watch will be over, and he too will sink into his grave and 
 be at rest. 
 
 A poetical version of this legend is as follows. 
 
 " Sadly through yon graveyard creeps 
 The abbot old and hoar, 
 His long beard in the night wind sweeps ; 
 His heart knows joy no more. 
 
 " No more he hears — no more he sees ; 
 A long staff guides his way. 
 
ii8 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 What seeks he there ? why braves the breeze ? 
 ♦ He counts the graves,' they say. 
 
 ** And ever as he counts, it seems. 
 As still were wanting one. 
 He shakes his hoary head, and deems 
 Next day his race is run. 
 
 ** Not yet is made that couch, his own 
 Warm tears his wan cheeks lave ; 
 When yon firm fabric's overthrown 
 He'll only find his grave." 
 
 — C Rheinhold, 
 
 NONNEN-STROMBERG. 
 trbe f)erm(t Sisters. 
 
 Back of the little town of Konigswinter on the Rhine 
 rise the seven hills known as the Siebengebirge, from whence 
 beautiful views can be had of the Rhine and the surrounding 
 country. The charm of the mountains is further enhanced 
 by a halo of legend and romance which makes them particu- 
 larly attractive to lovers of tales of olden times. One of 
 these tales is as follows : 
 
 The lord of Argenfels had two beautiful daughters, 
 Bertha and Mina, with whom he spent all his time, for he 
 was already well advanced in years, and could no longer 
 take any part in the military plans then afoot. All the 
 country was in a great state of excitement at this time, for 
 St. Bernard, the eloquent preacher, had been urging a 
 Crusade at Spires, and his enthusiasm had decided many 
 knights to join the emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, in the 
 attempt to deliver the Holy Sepulcher from the hands of 
 
 the Saracens. 
 
 The knight of Argenfels, debarred by age from taking an 
 active part in the expedition, nevertheless gave his money 
 lavishly to further the cause, and warmly welcomed the 
 
 NONNEN. S TR MB ERG. 
 
 119 
 
 knights continually passing his gates on their way to the 
 general tryst at Frankfort-on-the-Main. One evening, he 
 gave shelter to a handsome and brave young lord who dwelt 
 on the Wolkenberg, one of the Seven Mountains. He no 
 sooner saw the lovely Bertha than he entirely lost his heart 
 to her. As he had but little time to spare, and must leave 
 on the morrow, the knight made such good use of his time, 
 that when he rode away, it was as the betrothed of the fair 
 maiden, who was to marry him as soon as he returned from 
 the Holy Land. 
 
 The Crusade begun so hopefully proved very disastrous 
 indeed. Many brave knights died in distant lands, and the 
 Lord of Wolkenburg, among others, fell into the hands of 
 the Saracens and was detained in prison for seven long 
 years. You can imagine how the ardent lover pined, and 
 how solemnly he finally registered a vow to dedicate a chapel 
 to St. Peter, if he would but deliver him from captivity and 
 allow him to join his betrothed once more. 
 
 At last his prayers were answered, and as soon as he was 
 released he hastened back to his native land. From afar he 
 eagerly looked for the first glimpse of the lordly towers of 
 Argenfels, and perceived with a sharp pang that they were 
 a mass of blackened ruins. Springing out of the boat at the 
 landing he hurried up the hill, and learned from an old 
 shepherd that the castle had been besieged and taken by a 
 robber knight, that the old lord of Argenfels had fallen in 
 the fray, and that his lovely daughters must have perished 
 also, as they had never since been seen. 
 
 The broken-hearted Lord of Wolkenburg then sadly with- 
 drew to his lonely castle in the Seven Mountains, but, find- 
 ing his sorrow unbearable, he resolved to consecrate the 
 remainder of his life to God, and retire to some remote 
 spot where he might erect a hermitage. He penetrated far 
 into the woods in search of a suitable place, and came at 
 last to a little hut, where, to his intense surprise and delight, 
 he found his beloved Bertha and her sister. 
 
ItO 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 After the first exchange of loving greetings had taken 
 place, and the first rapture of meeting was over, the maiden 
 told him how she and her sister had escaped from the 
 besieged castle of Argenfels by an underground passage. 
 They had taken refuge here, in the dense forest, to escape 
 from the pursuit of their enemy, who had made war against 
 them to get Bertha into his power. 
 
 Needless to say, the knight of Wolkenburg did not turn 
 hermit, but married his lady-love, and built the chapel 
 dedicated to St Peter which crowns the Nonnen-Stromberg, 
 one of the Seven Mountains, where Mina founded the con- 
 vent in which she permanently took up her abode. 
 
 On the xXonnen-Stromberg lived a cruel and unprin- 
 cipled knight, who, having lost all his sons, dragged his 
 only daughter out of the convent of Villich, where she had 
 already taken a nun's vows, and told her she would be 
 forced to marry so that his race should not become entirely 
 
 extinct. 
 
 In vain the poor young nun wept and protested; her 
 father declared she would be forced to obey, and to pre- 
 vent her escape he kept her a close prisoner, while he 
 looked around him for a suitable husband. 
 
 A knight of the neighborhood, fully as wicked as he, 
 finally suggested that his son should be the bridegroom, and 
 in spite of the young man's resistance, commanded him to 
 be ready on a certain day, taking measures to secure 
 obedience by force, should such a course become necessary. 
 The youth, who had lost a beloved betrothed, and had 
 secretly taken vows in the monastery of Heisterbach, was 
 dragged to the altar in robe and cowl, where he was joined by 
 a tearful nun. Both stood motionless and irresponsive, 
 while a priest, bribed for the purpose, read the marriage 
 
 OEHLBERG, i i 
 
 service and gave them the nuptial benediction, lie had 
 scarcely uttered the last words, when the young couple, fall- 
 ing on their knees, fervently exclaimed: *' In God alone we 
 put our trust ! " With a terrible crash the ground opened 
 under them, and received their bodies, while their pure souls 
 were seen by all the witnesses soaring gladly up into the 
 open heavens, where hosts of angels met them with psalms 
 of joy. 
 
 The dishonest priest, terrified at this vision, rushed out 
 of the chapel and down the mountain, which ever since then 
 has been known as the Nonnen-Stromberg, and his lifeless 
 body was found in a ravine on the morrow. As for the 
 cruel fathers they lived unhappily, died miserably, and their 
 souls, we are told, were claimed by Satan, whose faithful fol- 
 lowers they had long been. 
 
 OEHLBERG. 
 
 ;rbc ci;buiiOerbolt» 
 
 Balther von Bassenich, having quarreled with the 
 bishop of Cologne and put him to death, the emperor, indig- 
 nant at the outrage, besieged and took his castle, which 
 was immediately set afire. As the emperor's entrance had 
 been effected at night, and in silence, Balther little sus- 
 pected anything wrong, and was greatly surprised when his 
 only daughter Liba roused him from sleep, imploring him 
 to fly. 
 
 In the dense smoke which already filled the castle, father 
 and daughter made their way to a secret passage, along 
 which they traveled all night, ere they came to its mouth, 
 which opened into a cave. Here father and daughter 
 remained in concealment, subsisting upon mountain roots 
 and berries, and when they deemed it safe enough, they 
 withdrew further into the heart of the forest, where they 
 built a little hermitage, in which they took up their abode. 
 
122 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ■ I, 
 
 (^1 
 
 '^1 
 
 I 
 
 As the knight of Bassenich was now old and feeble, Liba 
 was obliged to provide for all his wants, ranging the forest 
 in search of berries, and thinking constantly of her lover, 
 Schott von Grunstein, who must be mourning for her as one 
 long dead. One evening, while father and daughter were 
 sitting on a broad stone, talking over the past, the knight 
 expressed a great desire to die, declaring he knew his sins 
 would be forgiven, for he had sorely repented of all the evil 
 he had done. 
 
 While he was talking thus, a storm gathered overhead, 
 and suddenly a thunderbolt crashed down upon them, slay- 
 ing both father and daughter. Schott von Grunstein, who 
 was wandering idly in the forest, came to see where the bolt 
 had struck, and to his surprise and amazement found a 
 charred and blackened corpse and close beside it a kneeling 
 
 female. 
 
 Drawing near, and frightened by her immobility,, he 
 touched her and recognized his beloved Liba, who was quite 
 dead ! After piously laying her to rest beside her father, 
 near the rock which is known as the Treuenfels, the discon- 
 solate lover took up his abode in their little hermitage, and 
 spent the remainder of his life in seclusion, longing for the 
 time when he might join his beloved in heaven. 
 
 LOWENBERG. 
 
 CI c TOilD fbixnU 
 
 The Lowenberg, another of the Seven Mountains, was 
 once the daily hunting ground of a neighboring knight, who 
 was so fond of the chase that he even hunted on Sundays, 
 and once pursued his quarry to the foot of the altar where a 
 priest was celebrating mass. 
 
 Outraged by the insolence of the knight, who then and 
 there slew his game, the priest solemnly cursed him. At the 
 
 DRACHENFELS. 
 
 123 
 
 
 same moment the ground opened beneath the hunter's feet, 
 and a pack of hounds from the Infernal Regions fell upon 
 and tore him to pieces. 
 
 Ever since then, on stormy nights, this Sabbath-breaker's 
 restless ghost hunts wildly through the air, followed by a 
 spectral train of huntsmen and hell hounds, for he can find 
 no rest, though dead, and is condemned to lead the Wild 
 Hunt forever. 
 
 This legend, which originated in the myth of Odin, leader 
 of the Raging Host, is told with slight variations of many 
 places along the Rhine, where sudden wind storms, rising 
 during the night, are still considered by the credulous 
 peasantry as the passing of a mysterious heavenly host.* 
 
 DRACHENFELS. 
 
 tR>e Store of itolan^* 
 
 The great crag known as the Drachenfels or Dragon 
 Rock, where from the river a mighty cave can be seen, owes 
 its name to the legends connected with it, which are very 
 numerous indeed. Some authorities aver that it was here 
 that Siegfried slew the Dragon; according to others, this 
 cave was the den of a famous monster, who, in heathen 
 times, feasted daily upon the tender damsels left bound near 
 his lair, duly decked with flowers, for they were the victims 
 offered up in sacrifice to him. 
 
 It happened one day, however, that the maiden chosen by 
 lot to appease the hunger of the dragon was a Christian. 
 Instead of fainting away and thus becoming a helpless prey, 
 as her predecessors had done, this maiden boldly faced the 
 monster, holding up a cross before his gaping jaws. Terrified 
 at the sight of this holy emblem, the dragon started back, 
 lost his balance, fell into the river, and was drowned. The 
 people, awed by this miracle, and pleased to be rid of their 
 
 * See " Myths of Northern LandSo" 
 
124 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 exacting foe, allowed the maiden to preach to them, and 
 were eventually all converted to the Christian faith. 
 
 A third legend relates that the dragon lingered in the 
 cave year after year, opening its jaws to swallow ships and 
 crew whenever an unsuspecting mariner steered his vessel too 
 near that dangerous shore. This Httle pastime was continued 
 until far in the Middle Ages, when, one day, he swallowed a 
 ship loaded with nothing but gunpowder. The effect we 
 are told was instantaneous and disastrous, for no sooner had 
 the inoffensive looking black stuff reached the pit of his 
 stomach— where lay the inexhaustible supply of fire which 
 dragons were then wont to belch forth at will— than it sud- 
 denly exploded, scattering the monster's remains far and 
 
 wide. 
 
 This cliff is now surmounted by a beautiful new castle, the 
 Drachenburg, and by the crumbling and picturesque ruins 
 of what was once a mighty stronghold, occupied by the Lord 
 of Drachenfels and his only daughter Hildegarde. 
 
 A passing knight entered this castle at nightfall, claim- 
 ing the hospitality of the inmates. No sooner had he be- 
 held the lovely young chatelaine than he fell desperately 
 in love with her and resolved, if possible, to win her for 
 his wife. In order to produce a favorable impression, the 
 knight exerted himself to entertain both father and daugh- 
 ter by recounting exciting adventures by land and sea, 
 and in doing so, unconsciously revealed his identity; for the 
 deeds of young Roland, Charlemagne's beloved nephew, 
 were the theme of every wandering bard. 
 
 As soon as the Lord of Drachenfels discovered the exalted 
 rank of his visitor, he cordially pressed him to stay a few 
 days; an invitation which Roland gladly accepted, as it gave 
 him time to urge his suit with the fair Hildegarde. 
 
 Walking with him through the romantic ** Nightingale 
 Valley" at the foot of the castle, one warm summer eve, 
 she listened blushingly to his passionate declaration of love 
 and gladly promised to become his wife. 
 
 O 
 > 
 
 n 
 
 n: 
 
 DO 
 C 
 ?0 
 O 
 
 n 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 
 r 
 
I 
 
 ii 
 
 DRA CHEN PELS. 
 
 125 
 
 But, before the lovers could be married, a messenger 
 from Charlemagne came to summon Roland to war, for 
 the Saracens threatened to invade France and overthrow 
 Christianity in Europe. This summons was so urgent 
 that no true knight could hesitate to obey, and Roland 
 regretfully parted from Hildegarde, promising to return as 
 soon as possible to claim her for his bride. 
 
 Time passed on. The rumor of Roland's high deeds first 
 made Hildegarde's heart swell with pride, then came a long 
 weary time of waiting with no tidings at all, and lastly a 
 messenger tearfully reported that Roland had died, fighting 
 bravely in the Valley of Roncevaux. 
 
 At these tidings poor Hildegarde's heart was almost broken. 
 She felt that all earthly happiness was over, and that she 
 could only find solace in prayer. Finally she prevailed upon 
 her father to let her enter the convent of Nonnenworth, 
 which was situated on an island in the Rhine, within sight 
 of her ancestral home. 
 
 The time of probation was shortened for her, by special 
 dispensation, and soon, having taken conventual vows, she 
 spent all her time in the chapel praying for the soul of her 
 beloved. She always added a special entreaty that the end 
 might come, and her longing heart be permitted to join 
 her lover in the heavenly mansions. 
 
 Roland had not perished in the Valley of Roncevaux, as 
 history relates, and although sorely wounded, he slowly made 
 his way back to the castle of Drachenfels, where he pre- 
 sented himself one summer evening, his heart thrilling with 
 joy. He was greatly astonished, therefore', to see all the 
 servants shrink away from him in speechless terror; but, 
 too impatient to pause and question them, he rushed im- 
 petuously into the great hall where the Lord of Drachenfels 
 sat mournfully alone, and breathlessly asked for Hilde- 
 garde. 
 
 A few moments later the light died out of his eyes, and 
 the smile faded from his lips, for he knew that Hildegarde 
 
is6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 RHEINBREITBA CH, 
 
 137 
 
 < :^Bfl) 
 
 
 had left him, and realized that, as she had already taken the 
 irrevocable vows, he had lost her forever. 
 
 That selfsame night Roland rode sadly out of the castle 
 of Drachenfels, and when he had reached an eminence over- 
 looking the island of Nonnenworth, on the opposite side of 
 the Rhine, he slowly dismounted from his steed. Seated 
 upon a stone, he spent the night gazing at the convent, 
 and wondering whether the twinkling light he saw was 
 burning in Hildegarde's cell. 
 
 Early in the morning he saw the long procession of nuns 
 issue from the convent door and file into the chapel, and 
 fancying he could distinguish Hildegarde's graceful form 
 among the rest, he determined to build an hermitage on the 
 very spot where he sat, and spend the remainder of his life 
 there, in watching over his beloved. This resolution was 
 soon put into effect, and Roland, the brave knight, having 
 disposed of all his property, laid aside armor and sword, 
 assumed the garb of an hermit, and spent all his time in 
 penance and prayer, gazing continually upon the convent at 
 his feet and at the river which flowed between him and his 
 beloved. 
 
 One winter morning, he saw the nuns march slowly into 
 the churchyard, bearing a coffin. His heart was oppressed 
 with fear, for the graceful form which he had identified 
 with Hildegarde was missing in their ranks. At sundown 
 the convent priest, visiting him as usual, informed him that 
 one of the nuns was dead, and in answer to his eager inqui- 
 ries revealed that it was Hildegarde. In faltering tones 
 Roland then confessed who he was, how dearly he had loved 
 the dead, and informed the priest that when he died he 
 wished to be buried with his face turned toward the spot 
 where Hildegarde lay. 
 
 Troubled by this request, the priest hastened thither on 
 the next day to offer further consolations to the mourner, 
 but found them useless, for Roland lay cold in death, but 
 with a radiant smile upon his pallid face. The priest buried 
 
 him as he had requested, and ever since then the height 
 where the hermitage once stood has been known as Ro- 
 landseck. This name was long borne by a castle erected 
 near there, of which nothing but ruins now remain to 
 remind the traveler of this touching tale of undying love.* 
 A later legend of Drachenfels relates that Adelheid, 
 the only daughter of another castle owner, was wooed by 
 abase and cowardly wretch, who, having been ignominiously 
 dismissed from her father's presence, persuaded her to meet 
 him alone in the woods near by. To deprive everyone else of 
 the bride he could not secure, this man stabbed her mortally, 
 intending to perish also, but, frightened by the awfulness 
 of death, he had not the courage to slay himself, and fled 
 instead. 
 
 He must have died shortly after, however, and it is sup- 
 posed he felt some remorse for his crime, for his ghost 
 nightly haunts these regions. It steal noiselessly down 
 into the village below the castle, to lay a cold finger upon 
 the forehead of those about to die, thus warning them that 
 their end is near, and that it is time to make their peace 
 with God and seek forgiveness of their sins. 
 
 RHEINBREITBACH. 
 
 Zbc Zhxcc Afnera* 
 
 In the mountains just back of Rheinbreitbach are the 
 oldest copper mines in Germany, which, exhausted and filled 
 with water, are no longer a scene of busy labor as they were 
 a few centuries ago, when the miners daily came there from 
 their homes in Rheinbreitbach to work all day in the dark 
 passages underground. 
 
 Three of these miners, who were very good friends, always 
 walked back and forth together, and worked side by side, 
 never failing to breathe a short prayer ere they went down 
 
 ♦ See Note 13 in Appendix. 
 
128 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 n 
 
 - 
 
 i 
 
 into the shaft. But one morning, when there was a special 
 pressure of work, they omitted the prayer, hurried down to 
 their post, and were hard at work when they were startled 
 by a long, ominous, rumbling sound, and by the shaking 
 of the ground around them. 
 
 Simultaneously they rushed toward the shaft to escape, 
 but they were too late, for a huge mass of fallen earth and 
 stones blocked up the passage in which they found them- 
 selves caught as in a trap. After the first moments of utter 
 despair, they encouraged each other to work their way out, 
 for they had food enough to last them twelve hours, and 
 their lamps had been freshly filled. 
 
 Before they began they said their usual prayer, to atone 
 for the morning's omission, and set bravely to work, but in 
 spite of all their efforts, food, strength, and light soon failed 
 them, and clasping each other's hands they lay down in the 
 darkness saying, ** God's will be done." 
 
 They had lain thus a long, long while when a light suddenly 
 appeared at one end of the gallery, and with dilating eyes 
 they beheld the approach of the mine specter, Meister Ham- 
 merling, of whom they had heard many a tale. Drawing 
 near them, the ghost addressed them in sepulchral tones, 
 gave them a basket in which they would find all the food 
 they required, a lantern which would supply the necessary 
 Hght, and bade them work their way out of the mine, prom- 
 ising that the first wish they uttered when they again beheld 
 the light of day would be granted them. 
 
 Meister Hammerling vanished after speaking thus, but 
 basket and lantern remained, and the three miners, refreshed 
 and encouraged, set to work again with renewed zest, 
 although their families in Rheinbreitbach mourned them as 
 dead. During seven years the lantern burned brightly, night 
 and day, the provision basket was never empty, and the work- 
 men digging their way out, and having no way of counting 
 time, little suspected how long they had been buried alive. 
 Finally the day came when a blow from their pick^ax let 
 
 ST, APOLLINARTSBERG. 
 
 129 
 
 in the light of day. Then the lantern was extinguished, the 
 basket found empty. The three men returned hearty thanks 
 for their delivery, ere they sought their homes in Rhein- 
 breitbach. Walking along briskly one exclaimed: **A11 I 
 now wish is to press wife and children to my heart once 
 more ere I die." 
 
 '* And I," exclaimed the second, *' shall be ready to leave 
 the world forever, when I have once more seen my family at 
 table with me as usual." 
 
 ** All I now ask," exclaimed the third, '' is to linger for a 
 year and a day with my loved ones, and then to be at rest." 
 
 A few minutes later the three miners entered the village, 
 where their appearance caused a great sensation, and where 
 all crowded around them, scarcely able to believe the testi- 
 mony of their own eyes. 
 
 As soon as the first miner had embraced his wife and 
 children he fell down dead, the second passed peacefully 
 away after his first meal, and the third, having often 
 recounted his adventures in the mine, slept to wake no more 
 on earth at the end of a year and a day. 
 
 ST. APOLLINARTSBERG. 
 
 On the top of a hill, near Remagen on the Rhine, in full 
 
 view of the river, rises the pretty church dedicated to St. 
 Apollinaris, which was formerly a great resort for pilgrims. 
 This church is beautifully decorated with ancient and 
 modern works of art, and among the latter are some of 
 Ittenbach's and Mailer's exquisite paintings. 
 
 The first artist who decorated this building is said to 
 have been so entranced by the view obtainable from the 
 church tower, that he painted his own portait there, that 
 
130 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ST. aPOLLINARISBERG. 
 
 131 
 
 his eyes might ever rest upon hill and dale, and follow the 
 sinuous course of the glistening river. 
 
 The particular sanctity of this church is attributed to the 
 relics of St. Apollinaris which it contains, and which one 
 of the bishops intended to convey to Cologne in the twelfth 
 century. But the ship containing the holy remains came 
 to a sudden stand-still in the middle of the river, directly 
 opposite Remagen, and as no efforts could avail to make it 
 continue its journey down the stream, the bishop declared 
 the saint had evidently elected to remain there. 
 
 Not very far from the church, at the foot of the mountain, 
 is the celebrated Apollinaris fountain, whose waters are 
 bottled and sent to all parts of the world to aid digestion. 
 A curious legend is told about these waters and a mediaeval 
 abbot, who ruled the people roundabout, but, instead of 
 giving them a good example, practiced every vice, and was 
 particularly addicted to over eating and drinking. This 
 prelate once saw a beautiful young girl called Sabine, whom 
 he began to compliment and talk to in a way utterly unbe- 
 coming an old man and a priest. The girl, who was virtu- 
 ous and gentle, rejected his unwelcome attentions; plainly 
 informing him that she was engaged to a young huntsman, 
 whom she loved and was about to marry. 
 
 The abbot, furious at this check, immediately began to 
 intrigue to force her to resign her lover, and either obey 
 him or enter a convent; but Sabine, who had frankly told 
 her betrothed of the prelate's visit and conversation, im- 
 plored him to secure for her the protection of his influential 
 master, the virtuous lord of Aarberg. 
 
 No sooner had this nobleman heard the young hunts- 
 man's appeal than he promised to aid him, and after trans- 
 ferring Sabine to a place of safety, he waited for a good 
 opportunity to punish the wicked old abbot. This oppor- 
 tunity came very soon, for finding that he had been out- 
 witted, the prelate tried to console himself by eating 
 and drinking more than usual. He soon brought upon him- 
 
 self such a terrible attack of indigestion, that complaining of 
 extreme dizziness and a strange loss of appetite, he prepared 
 for a journey to some medicinal springs at a distance. 
 
 On his way thither he passed the castle of Aarberg, and 
 the master, warned of his coming, seized him and put him 
 into prison. There the abbot fumed and raged as much as 
 he pleased, but none came at his cry. Lunch, dinner, and 
 supper hour passed without bringing any of the dainty 
 dishes to which he was so accustomed and devoted. 
 
 His cries finally became so imperious that a jailer appeared, 
 and, in answer to his clamors for food and drink, bade him 
 satisfy his hunger and thirst with the loaf of black bread 
 and the jar of water which had been placed there for his use. 
 
 Vanquished at last by hunger,— for the violent exercise he 
 had indulged in had made him ravenous, — the abbot tasted 
 the bread and water, and lying down upon the hard stones 
 slept far more peacefully than at home. Several days he 
 spent thus; no one but the jailer appeared, and no other 
 fare was vouchsafed him than the usual prisoner's allowance 
 of bread and water. 
 
 At last, the lord of Aarberg came, blandly inquiring 
 about his health, and asking whether his appetite had 
 returned. The prelate threatened to complain to the 
 emperor, but was silenced when the nobleman coolly 
 answered that in that case he would feel himself called upon 
 to attract the Pope's attention to sundry little matters which 
 had come under his immediate observation, and which doubt- 
 less would not receive his complete approval. Then the lord 
 of Aarberg, again inquiring concerning his guest's appetite, 
 and hearing him declare he was famished, made a sign. 
 Sabine now stepped into the cell, bearing a tray loaded 
 with appetizing viands, which fairly made the abbot's 
 mouth water. Just as he was about to partake of this 
 food, however, his host stopped him to inquire how much 
 a journey to the mineral springs, with the usual fees to 
 the local physician, would cost. 
 
i3> 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ''Six hundred ducats! " exclaimed the abbot gruffly, for 
 he was in a great hurry to enjoy his dinner. 
 
 **Then, abbot," continued the lord of Aarberg, ** since 
 you have recovered your health without taking the journey, 
 and the water from my fountain has entirely restored your 
 appetite, you owe me those six hundred ducats, which I will 
 trouble you to give me before you begin your meal." 
 
 The abbot vainly demurred, but finally, seeing his tray 
 vanish at a sign, he paid the required sum and was 
 allowed to eat in peace. The six hundred ducats were 
 immediately handed over to Sabine as a marriage por- 
 tion, and the lord of Aarberg courteously escorted the abbot 
 home, dropping a very strong hint to the effect that, should 
 he ever molest Sabine or her husband again, he would not 
 fail to report the matter to the Pope, who would certainly 
 not let him off with a mel*e fine. 
 
 This warning proved effectual in hindering the abbot from 
 further misdeeds; and when he died shortly after from over 
 eating and drinking, the people openly rejoiced at the 
 thought that he had ceased to trouble them forever. 
 
 OCKENFELS. 
 tXat^en at bla Word. 
 
 The ivy-covered ruins of the castle of Ockenfels, not very 
 far from Linz, once belonged to a stern, hard-hearted knight, 
 Rheinhard von Renneberg, who departed for the war, leav- 
 ing his only daughter Etelinda in charge of the castle chap- 
 lain. During his absence Rudolf of Linz fell in love with 
 the maiden, and, encouraged by the chaplain, he declared his 
 passion. The young people were anxiously awaiting Rhein- 
 hard's return to ask his consent to their union, but when 
 they heard he was coming on the morrow, with a stranger, 
 whom he had selected as his future son-in-law, they knew 
 he would never listen to their plea. 
 
 OCKENFELS. 
 
 133 
 
 The chaplain, certain that Rheinhard would ruthlessly 
 part the lovers, now advised them to marry immediately, and 
 after he had given them the marriage benediction, led them 
 into a secret vault, known to him alone. There he left them 
 with light, water, and food, promising to come and release 
 them when the count's first outburst of anger was over, and 
 it would be safe to encounter him. The young people were 
 quite happy at first, for they little suspected that the cruel 
 lord had thrown the chaplain into a foul dungeon as soon 
 as he had heard the story of his daughter's marriage. He 
 said he would keep him there until he revealed where the 
 young people were concealed, and swore a solemn oath 
 that he hoped he might die a sudden death, if ever he con- 
 sented to forgive his daughter or her husband. 
 
 At the end of several days the young couple, having 
 neither water nor provisions left, and being plunged in 
 darkness, cautiously stole out of their hiding place by night, 
 passed unseen through the castle, and took refuge in the 
 forest, where they dwelt in a cave. Here Rudolf snared 
 birds and gathered roots and berries for the subsistence of 
 his lovely wife. During two years they remained there, but 
 when a severe winter came and their scant garments no 
 longer sufficed to protect Etelinda and her babe from the 
 cold, Rudolf made up his mind to brave her father's anger, 
 and to make an attempt to obtain some relief for her sake. 
 He had not gone far before he met Rheinhard, hunting in 
 the forest, and sternly bidding him follow, he led him to the 
 cave. There Rheinhard found his daughter, almost frozen 
 to death. Touched by her sufferings, he forgave her freely, 
 and took her back to Ockenfels. 
 
 As soon as he arrived there, he hastened to the dungeon 
 into which he had cast the poor chaplain, intending to set 
 him free; but, losing his balance, he fell and broke his neck; 
 thus meeting with sudden death as soon as he had forgiven 
 his only daughter. 
 
134 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 LANDSKRONE AND NEUENAHR 
 
 Where the German river Ahr flows into the Rhine, stand 
 the ruins of the once lordly castle of Landskrone, directly 
 opposite the fortress of Neuenahr. In the beginning of the 
 Middle Ages the knights inhabiting these two castles were 
 very good friends indeed, and, in order to see each other 
 daily, and as often as they pleased, they spanned the rush- 
 ing stream with a high arched bridge, the marvel of the 
 whole countryside, where it was known as the Wonder 
 Bridge. 
 
 But these knights died, their successors quarreled, and 
 soon no one crossed the bridge, within whose crevices the 
 birds deposited seeds which sprouted and grew, covering the 
 gray stones with an intricate tangle of flowering shrubs and 
 creepers. Year after year passed by, and the bridge, with 
 its burden of blossoms, arching over the rushing waters, 
 was so picturesque that it deserved more than ever the 
 title of the Wonder Bridge. 
 
 When several centuries had elapsed, one of the castles 
 became the property of a young knight, who accidentally met 
 the young lady of the other castle at a tournament, and fell 
 desperately in love with her. Unfortunately, however, this 
 damsel's father was very conservative indeed, and so rigidly 
 kept up the family feud that the young people dared not 
 openly proclaim their love. They parted sadly when the fes- 
 tivities were ended, and returned to their respective homes. 
 Gazing out of his window, toward the abode of his beloved, 
 the knight's glance suddenly fell upon the Wonder Bridge, 
 so long unused, softly illumined by the light of the moon. 
 He resolved to try whether it would not prove as service- 
 able to lovers as to faithful friends. So he ventured out 
 of the long closed postern gate, and slowly and patiently 
 worked his way through the flowery tangle, startling the 
 
 LANDSKRONE AND NEUENAHR, 
 
 135 
 
 sleepy birds, who had so long been undisturbed, and caus- 
 ing them to flutter away from their cozy nests. 
 
 The maiden, standing at her casement, saw her lover 
 draw near in the silvery moonlight, which flooded the 
 long unused path, and hastened noiselessly out to meet 
 him. Night after night the lovers now enjoyed a clandes- 
 tine meeting, and finding that there was no hope of win- 
 ning the maiden's father to consent to their union, the 
 knight finally persuaded her to accompany him back over 
 the bridge. 
 
 Gently and lovingly he helped her across the stream, and 
 led her into the chapel of Landskrone, where a waiting 
 priest soon made them man and wife. The Wonder 
 Bridge, having faithfully done its duty, and served lovers 
 and friends, finding itself now utterly useless, gradually 
 crumbled away into ruins, dropping its stones into the 
 waters, one by one, until now no traces of it remain. 
 
 Many years after the marriage of these true lovers, — who 
 lived happily together, and never repented having made use 
 of the means of communication ready to hand, — long after 
 the bridge had fallen into decay, the castle of Landskrone 
 was besieged by a great army. The lord of Landskrone 
 held out bravely, until at last his garrison was so reduced 
 by famine and death, and his walls so rapidly caving in 
 beneath the enemy's heavy battering rams, that he could 
 not but perceive that he would soon fall into their hands. 
 
 Too proud to surrender, yet wishing to save his only 
 daughter, he led her to a secret passage, where he prom- 
 ised to join her as soon as the enemy broke into the for- 
 tress, and escape with her to a foreign land. In her subter- 
 ranean retreat the maiden tremblingly listened to the din 
 of battle overhead, and when it suddenly ceased she anx- 
 iously watched for her father's coming. Hour after hour 
 went by, and still he did not appear. A cool spring, trick- 
 ling along one wall, furnished her water to drink, and a 
 fissure in the rock overhead renewed her supply of fresh air 
 
136 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 and permitted her to distinguish the difference between 
 night and day. 
 
 The pangs of hunger soon began to make themselves felt, 
 however, and the poor girl, who did not know how to 
 escape from her underground hiding place, feared she would 
 die of inanition, when she suddenly saw a snowy dove creep 
 through the fissure and drop a piece of bread at her feet. 
 Fed thus, like Elijah in the desert, the maiden lingered 
 there, vainly waiting for her father, who had fallen in the 
 last encounter. She was finally discovered and rescued by 
 some peasants, who had watched the dove fly into the 
 crevice with bread pilfered from their tables, and soon issue 
 without it, thereby greatly exciting their curiosity. 
 
 As the enemy had departed, after leaving the castle in 
 ruins, the maiden had nothing more to fear. She was 
 soon comforted for her' father's loss by the love of a young 
 nobleman of the neighborhood, who married her and 
 remained faithful to her as long as he lived. 
 
 NEUENAHR. 
 B !fatbet'0 Xegac^. 
 
 The old lord of Neuenahr lay upon his deathbed. He 
 had already taken leave of all his weeping retainers, but the 
 most trying ordeal yet remained, for he had to say farewell 
 to his two sons, who stood broken-hearted beside him. 
 
 Laying a hand upon either bowed head in solemn blessing, 
 the old father bade them remember his teachings, live in 
 peace together, deal honorably with all men, and then, 
 calling for his sword and plow, he suddenly added: 
 
 '*To you, my eldest born, who delight in warfare, I 
 bequeath my trusty sword, — which has never been drawn to 
 uphold an unjust or unworthy cause, — together with my 
 ancient castle, the cradle of our race. But you, my youngest 
 
 ALTENAHR. 37 
 
 son, who prefer the peaceful avocations of the husbandman 
 and shepherd, shall have this plow, the emblem of all agricul- 
 tural pursuits, and may use it to till my broad acres, which 
 are henceforth your own." 
 
 Having spoken thus, and breathed a last prayer, the old 
 lord of Neuenahr passed away, and his sons succeeded him. 
 But while the sword bequeathed to the elder has long been 
 covered with rust, and the old Neuenahr castle has fallen into 
 ruins, the plow still furrows the rich lands of the younger 
 son's inheritance, which continue to bear fine harvests and 
 support a happy and thrifty race. 
 
 ALTENAHR. 
 
 ^be JBrave "(kniflbt an& tbe Craven. 
 
 Where the rocks tower highest above the German Ahr, 
 a tributary of the Rhine, there once rose the castle of 
 Altenahr, which withstood many a long siege. On one 
 occasion an old lord defended it bravely month after 
 month, year after year, until all his family and retainers had 
 perished, either from the wounds received, or from the 
 terrible privations of a protracted siege. 
 
 The lord of Altenahr finally remained alone, and feeling 
 that he could not prevent the enemy from entering the 
 stronghold now that his garrison was dead, he donned his 
 armor for the last time, mounted his war horse, and riding 
 up on the ramparts he blew a defiant peal upon his bugle. 
 The enemy, who suspected that the garrison was greatly 
 weakened by famine, called aloud to the old lord, imploring 
 him to surrender, and promising not to take the life of any 
 of his men. But the old knight grimly informed them that 
 his men, being dead, had escaped their tyranny forever, 
 and that he too would die free. 
 
 Then, with a farewell wave of his hand, he plunged his 
 
138 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 nCrb URG. 
 
 139 
 
 I 
 
 '^i 
 
 spurs in his steed, urged him at full gallop along the ram- 
 part, and leaping the parapet, which rose sheer above the 
 rushing river, he and his steed plunged down into the water, 
 which closed over them forever. 
 
 The castle which this grim old knight defended so 
 bravely was again besieged by the French in 1690, but 
 instead of a hero it was a craven who now had charge of the 
 garrison. Summoned to surrender, he immediately signified 
 his readiness to do so, imploring the French, however, to 
 fire upon the castle thrice, so that he might save his honor 
 by declaring he had surrendered only after braving the 
 enemy's fire. 
 
 This request was complied with, but when the faithless 
 ofiicer, who had been allowed to depart free, presented 
 himself before his superiors, they angrily demanded how he 
 had dared surrender before a shot had been fired. The 
 officer vainly tried to defend himself by alleging that he had 
 resisted an attack, but as the story of the three shots had 
 reached the general's ear, he was sentenced to die by 
 the same number of shots for which he had betrayed his 
 trust. 
 
 SINZIG. 
 Condtantfne'0 Ctosa. 
 
 In the year 311, early in the morning, just after matins 
 were over, Constantine, the first Christian emperor, riding 
 forth to meet his rival Maxentius, suddenly saw in the skies 
 overhead a resplendent cross, on which was inscribed the 
 comforting assurance /// hoc signo vi?ices (By this sign thou 
 shalt conquer). The emperor and all the men in his 
 legions immediately bent the knee before this vision, and in 
 silence they watched the miraculous sign gradually fade 
 away, until the skies were as blue as usual. Then, strong 
 in the promise they had received, they hastened on, and 
 meeting the enemy completely defeated him. 
 
 Countless places claim the honor of this miracle, among 
 others Mainz and Rome, but the people of Sinzig invariably 
 assure the traveler that it occurred in their town, and in 
 proof of their statement point out an ancient painting, 
 representing this miracle, which is the chief treasure of a 
 quaint and interesting thirteenth century church. 
 
 NURBURG. 
 
 Ulrich, count of Niirburg, was about to die. As he had 
 no wife or children to smooth his dying pillow, his only 
 brother Conrad, archbishop of Cologne, whose record was 
 far from blameless, hastened to his bedside and tearfully 
 exclaimed : 
 
 ** Alas, my brother! had you, like me, served God all the 
 days of your life, instead of fighting, you would now be sure 
 of forgiveness, and I, at least, would know you were enjoy- 
 ing bliss in Paradise." 
 
 In answer to this lament the lord of Niirburg calmly 
 replied that as he had loved the Lord, had always acted like 
 a true knight, and had fought only to defend the feeble and 
 oppressed, he fully expected forgiveness for his sins and 
 admission into the heavenly realm. Then, seeing a very 
 incredulous expression on the archbishop's face, he bade 
 Conrad hang his shield upon a nail, and declared that three 
 days after his death he would send him a sign to prove that 
 his trust in God's mercy was not misplaced. 
 
 Three days after Ulrich's death, while the archbishop was 
 anxiously staring at the shield, he suddenly saw its bright 
 disk touched by the dazzling light of a sunbeam, which 
 played for a moment over its polished surface and then dis- 
 appeared as the shield suddenly fell down to the floor. 
 
 An old servant, who had overheard the brothers' last con- 
 
140 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 versatioii, and who had seen the promised sign, now drew 
 near to the astonished prelate, tendering the keys of the 
 castle, and gravely said : 
 
 **God grant that your life may be such that, when your 
 last hour has come and your crozier hangs upon yonder nail, 
 you may be vouchsafed as signal a token that the Lord has 
 forgiven your sins, and received you into his glory.'* 
 
 DATTENBURG. 
 TTbe Specter TICleDDtng* 
 
 Kurt von Stein was galloping wildly along the rocky 
 road in a gorge not- far from the Rhine, seeking a place 
 where he might take shelter for the night, for the storm was 
 raging and darkness was coming on rapidly. All at once 
 he saw a light ahead of him, and coming nearer he per- 
 ceived the ruins of the ancient castle of Dattenburg. He 
 roused the echoes by calling for a servant to come and take 
 his horse. As no one answered his call, he soon dismounted, 
 and felt his way up the narrow winding stairs, which led to 
 the top of the tower, where a light was shining brightly. 
 When he came to the last step he perceived an open door, 
 and through it he saw a beautiful lady sitting by a table all 
 alone. 
 
 In answer to his courteous request for shelter, the lady 
 silently motioned him to enter, and the table, bare a moment 
 before, was soon covered with all manner of viands, of 
 which she invited him by signs to partake. Somewhat awed 
 by the maiden's beauty and silence, the knight obeyed, 
 glancing about him from time to time, and taking particular 
 note of two portraits on the wall. He conjectured these 
 must represent the young lady's parents, as there was a great 
 resemblance between them, in spite of the antiquated garb. 
 
 DATTENBURG. 
 
 141 
 
 which would seem to indicate that they had lived several 
 centuries before. 
 
 After having finished his meal, Kurt von Stein ventured 
 an interrogation, ^^Your parents, I suppose?" Receiving 
 a gracious affirmative gesture, he concluded the fair lady 
 was mute, and continuing his conversation on the same 
 system, soon discovered that she was an orphan and alone, 
 the last of her race. Excited by her beauty, he finally 
 began to make love to her, and before many hours had 
 passed, he was kneeling at her feet, entreating her to be his 
 bride. Then, having won her consent, he saw her crown 
 herself with a wreath of rosemary, and obeying her gesture, 
 followed her down the stairs and into the castle chapel. 
 
 There he was surprised to see a numerous assembly of 
 persons in antiquated garb steal from behind pillar and 
 tomb and silently take their places in the empty church. 
 A moment later a mitered bishop stepped down from the 
 tomb on which he had been lying with folded hands, and 
 marching gravely up to the altar began the service. 
 
 Kurt von Stein, sobered now, and quailing with fear, 
 vainly tried to speak the necessary answer to the priest's 
 demand, whether he accepted that lady for wife, but, before 
 he could recover the power of speech, the twelve solemn 
 strokes from the convent of St. Helena reached his ear. 
 
 " God have mercy upon me! " he suddenly exclaimed, 
 and sank fainting to the ground. When he recovered from 
 his swoon, the sun was shining above him, the phantoms 
 had disappeared, and he was alone in the ruined Dattenburg 
 chapel, his steed close beside him. 
 
 Kurt von Stein hastened home, but as long as he lived 
 he vividly remembered the night he had spent in those 
 ruins, and often gave thanks for having been saved from a 
 marriage with the dead, for he instinctively felt that the 
 lady could have been nothing but a ghost. 
 
I4» LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 RHEINECK. 
 DeeecrateC) ^ombs. 
 
 The tower of the old castle of Rheineck (which has 
 recently been rebuilt) was erected in the twelfth cen- 
 tury and once belonged to a spendthrift lord named 
 Ulrich, who, having squandered all his money, ardently 
 longed for more. One day, while he was trying to devise 
 some plan to obtain gold, he saw an aged pilgrim draw 
 near, and in answer to his appeal for food and shelter bade 
 him enter his dismantled castle, whence the servants had all 
 departed, and where nothing but bread and water could be 
 procured. 
 
 The pilgrim, amazed at this state of affairs, inquired 
 whether there was not a drop of wine left in the castle cellar, 
 and when the knight replied that all his casks were dry, 
 begged him to go down and inspect them once more. 
 Ulrich and the pilgrim were soon wandering through the 
 great cellar, where, in a remote corner, the latter finally 
 discovered a well concealed cask of rich old wine. He 
 and his host then indulged in sundry liberal potations, 
 which soon loosened Ulrich's tongue, and induced him to 
 confide to his guest his intense longing for wealth. 
 
 When he had ended, the pilgrim told him that his desire 
 for gold could easily be satisfied, for not far off lay an 
 immense treasure, which could readily be obtained. He 
 then proceeded to inform the knight that the treasure was 
 under the special protection of the witches, but that as they 
 were all on their way to the Brocken for their yearly 
 Walpurgisnacht dance, he could easily secure it by entering 
 the castle chapel at midnight, breaking open his ancestors' 
 tombs, and removing their bones, under which the hoard 
 had been placed for safe keeping. 
 
 Ulrich was at first greatly shocked by this proposal, but 
 soon the greed for gold overcame all his scruples, and he did 
 
RHEINECK. 
 
 M3 
 
 as the pilgrim advised. One by one he carried the molder- 
 ing bodies out of the chapel and laid them on the grass at 
 midnight. As he was bending over the last coffin, which 
 contained the remains of a brother who had died in infancy, 
 he was startled by perceiving a rosy child rise up at his 
 touch who exclaimed: 
 
 *' Brother — quick — quick! Bring back the dead to their 
 resting place, ere it is too late ! " 
 
 A moment after the child was gone, and only a few 
 crumbling bones were to be seen. Filled with nameless 
 dread, Ulrich now rushed out of the chapel to fulfill the 
 mandate he had received. As he stepped out of the sacred 
 edifice he noticed that the pilgrim, whom he had left 
 standing without, had assumed colossal proportions, and 
 felt his claw-like fingers close over his arm, while he ex- 
 claimed in sinister tones: '' Come, Ulrich, you are mine ! " 
 
 But once more the rosy child appeared, crying loudly : 
 
 ** Get thee behind us, Satan ! " and the devil, for it was he, 
 vanished at this command, with a hoarse cry of rage. 
 
 The knight, thus miraculously saved from an awful fate, 
 piously replaced his ancestors' bones in their tombs, without 
 pausing for a moment to search for the promised gold. 
 On the morrow he began a pilgrimage to Rome, humbly 
 praying at every shrine by the way for the forgiveness of 
 his sins. 
 
 Some years later, the villagers saw an aged pilgrim toil 
 slowly up the castle hill. Failing to see him come down 
 again, they went in search of him, and found him dead 
 in the chapel. They turned the body over, to view the 
 face, hidden in the cowl, and suddenly recognized the 
 emaciated but well-known features of their former lord. 
 
 Since then, when the moon is full, and the village bell 
 tolls the midnight hour, a cowled figure is seen slowly 
 wandering around the ruins, and the people declare it is the 
 ghost of Ulrich, the desecrator of his parents' tombs, who, 
 in spite of pilgrimage and penance, cannot yet find any rest. 
 
144 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 HAMMERSTEIN. 
 
 Cf c iEmperor'0 JricnD. 
 
 On the right bank of the Rhine, very near the river, but 
 perched high up on a huge rock of gray freestone, rise the 
 ruins of the ancient castle of Hammerstein. 
 
 This castle was occupied in the eleventh century by Otto, 
 count of Hammerstein, who was unfortunate enough to 
 enter into a quarrel with'Erkenbold, the powerful archbishop 
 of Mainz. But, while Otto carried on an open warfare, the 
 wily priest continually tried to outwit him by underhand 
 dealings, and ardently hoped that his opponent would 
 infringe some ecclesiastical decree, so that he could have 
 the satisfaction of excommunicating him. 
 
 The opportunity soon occurred. Otto married his beauti- 
 ful cousin, without remembering to secure the sanction of 
 the Pope, which was indispensable in marriages between 
 blood relations. The archbishop, hearing of it, imme- 
 diately excommunicated his hated rival, and declared his 
 intention of denouncing him to the emperor at the general 
 assembly at Cologne. 
 
 Otto, fearing lest he would be forced to relinquish his 
 wife, whom he loved dearly, vainly tried to capture the 
 priest on his way down the Rhine. He only succeeded in 
 further increasing his enmity, for as soon as Erkenbuld 
 arrived in Cologne, he prevailed upon the emperor to declare 
 war against Otto, and even besiege the castle of Hammer- 
 stein. During this siege, both Otto and his wife were 
 wounded, still hebravely held out against the imperial forces, 
 until Henry IV., weary of waiting, declared that after all the 
 Lord of Hammerstein's offense was not so heinous that it 
 could not be condoned, and, by dint of persuasion and com- 
 mands, reconciled Erkenbold to his enemy. 
 
 Otto, who loved to live in peace with his neighbors, was 
 
 LAACH, 
 
 145 
 
 very grateful indeed for all the emperor's good offices in his 
 behalf, and showed his gratitude by fighting valiantly with 
 him for many a long year. But, when at last his arm grew 
 too feeble to wield the sword with its former vigor and effi- 
 cacy, he withdrew to his fortress of Hammerstein, where 
 the tidings soon reached him that the emperor had been 
 deposed and imprisoned by his favorite son. 
 
 Helpless to deliver him, Otto mourned his age and weak- 
 ness, and often declared that he wished his daughters were 
 sons, so that they might go out and do battle in his stead. 
 While he was bewailing his master's fate one evening, several 
 years after these tidings had reached him, the old emperor 
 appeared before him, disguised as a pilgrim, told him how 
 he had effected his escape with the aid of the jailor, and 
 implored his protection and support. 
 
 Otto welcomed him warmly, and began to seek as 
 many supporters as possible for him, so that he might 
 wrench the imperial power from his unnatural son ; but, 
 before the forces were fully assembled, before the first blow 
 had been struck, the aged emperor, worn out by suffering, 
 died peacefully in his old friend's arms. He forgave his 
 son and left the crown and seal in Otto's keeping, until 
 they were claimed by his heir. 
 
 The castle of Hammerstein, which was besieged many 
 times after this, was completely destroyed by the French 
 in 1660. 
 
 LAACH. 
 tTbe Sunfien Caatle* 
 
 The deep Lake of Laach, near Andernach on the Rhine, 
 fed by a thousand living springs and with no visible outlet, 
 has not always existed, for tradition relates that a great hill 
 once rose on this identical spot. 
 
 On the topmost peak of this elevation was once perched 
 
146 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 a mighty castle, the home of a wicked robber knight, the 
 terror of all the country f^r many a mile around. 
 
 One day, this cruel lord of Laach partook of a certain 
 dish, which his cook declared was composed of nothing 
 but stewed eels, but which, in reality, was a species of 
 water snake. No sooner had he tasted it, than he became 
 aware he could understand the language of beasts and 
 birds, and wishing to keep this knowledge for himself alone, 
 he ate up all there was in the dish. 
 
 It happened, however, that the waiter had tasted the 
 stew in the pantry, before he set it on his master's table, 
 and so was just as wise as he. 
 
 Although the lord of Laach now understood the lan- 
 guage of all Hving creatures, he was none the happier, 
 for he constantly heard them revile him for his cruelty, 
 and learned bitter truths about himself. These had only 
 the effect of making him more disagreeable than ever, 
 instead of influencing him to amendment. 
 
 One day, however, he overheard the conversation of two 
 hens, and learned that ere sundown his castle would sink 
 down deep into the earth. Hurrying to his stable, for it 
 was nearly time for sunset, the Lord of Laach hastily 
 saddled his own steed, calling to his servant to bring his 
 valuables as quickly as possible. But, when the man clung 
 to his bridle, frantically imploring him not to leave him 
 behind, — for he too had understood the fowls' conversation 
 and was afraid to die, — the cruel master struck him to the 
 ground with his gauntleted fist. 
 
 Before he could ride out of the castle gate, however, the 
 sun set, and with a sudden rumbling noise the whole hill 
 sank down into the bosom of the earth, with the Lord of 
 Laach and all his servants. When the astonished peasants 
 visited the spot on the morrow, they found a lake rippling 
 in the sunlight, a lake said to be bottomless, for the wicked 
 knight is reported to have sunk down to the nethermost hell, 
 where he is slowly roasting in punishment for his many crimes. 
 
 ANDERNACH. 
 
 147 
 
 Many years after this terrible judgment, a little castle 
 was erected on an island in the center of the lake, by order 
 of another Lord of Laach, a poet and musician, who took 
 pleasure in dwelling there. The fairies, who are said to 
 haunt the lake in great numbers, were so fond of this knight's 
 entrancing music that one night, while he was sleeping, 
 they gently drew island, castle, and master down into the 
 crystal depths of the lake, where, on quiet evenings, the 
 soft sound of his lovely music can still be heard. 
 
 Not far from the lake is a monastery which these fairies 
 have also taken under their special protection, and whenever 
 a monk is about to die, they warn him of coming dissolu- 
 tion by placing a snow-white lily in his stall in the chancel 
 at midnight. The monk, finding this token in his place at 
 early mass on the morrow, then prepares for death, which 
 invariably comes exactly three days after the fairies' warning. 
 
 ANDERNACH. 
 
 The little fortified city of Andernach, whose ramparts are 
 still in a fair state of preservation, was one of the fifty 
 strongholds founded by Drusus, who posted a legion here 
 to restrain the constant invasions of the northern barbarians 
 into the more civilized portions of the realm. 
 
 Chilp^ric, son of Merovig who gave his name to the 
 first dynasty of French kings, dwelt in this little town, and 
 the legends record that while he was on the tower with his 
 wife Basina, a druidess, she once bade him look toward the 
 northeastern horizon and tell her what he saw. 
 
 The king obeyed, but soon shrank back in terror, exclaim- 
 ing that he saw lions, tigers, leopards, and other wild beasts, 
 which seemed coming to devour him. Quieting his fears, his 
 wife bade him look again, and hereported that bears, wolves, 
 
148 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 and hyenas had fallen upon the wild beasts he had first 
 noticed, and devoured them all. Next he saw dogs, cats, and 
 mice devour the bears and wolves, falling a prey in their 
 turn to smaller animals still, who suddenly vanished, leaving 
 the scene as deserted as in the beginning. 
 
 Turning to his wife Basina, who could interpret all manner 
 of dreams and omens, Chilp^ric asked of her an explana- 
 tion of what he had seen, and learned that his immediate 
 descendants would resemble lions, tigers, and leopards, and 
 would rule a hundred years. The wolves, bears, and hyenas 
 were symbolical of the rulers who would hold the land dur- 
 ing the next century, but they, with their uncouth appear- 
 ance and rough manners, were destined to be followed by a 
 timid, treacherous race, typified by the dogs, cats, and mice, 
 which would finally be destroyed by the smallest of their 
 vassals. 
 
 This prediction was duly verified, for while the fz'-st 
 Merovingians were strong and brave, their successors wt;re 
 cruel and cunning. Then came the sluggard kings, whose 
 effeminacy might well be compared to the cat's sensuous 
 ways, and they were, as Basina had predicted, entirely 
 supplanted by P^pin the Short, the smallest man in the 
 kingdom, but founder of the great Carlovingian dynasty. 
 
 During the Middle Ages, the inhabitants of Linz and 
 Andernach could never agree and were continually at war, 
 each hoping to obtain the supremacy and utterly destroy 
 the other city. As the towns were only a short distance 
 apart they could often pounce upon each other unawares, 
 and the inhabitants of Linz, knowing the people of Ander- 
 nach were sound sleepers, and took special pleasure in pro- 
 longing their morning nap, once resolved to attack them at 
 dawn of day. 
 
 ANDERNACH. 
 Watch Tower. 
 
ANDERNACH, 
 
 149 
 
 In silence the enemy stole up under the city wall, which 
 they prepared to scale. Their attempt would probably 
 have proved successful had it not been for the greediness of 
 two baker lads, who had crept up into the tower to steal 
 honey from the hives which the watchman kept up there. 
 
 Hearing a slight noise, and fearing the approach of the 
 watchman, the youths cautiously peered over the wall, and 
 thus became aware of the enemy's proximity. A moment 
 later, having thrown the hives down upon the foe, the boys 
 rushing to the bell loudly rang the alarm. 
 
 The Andernachers, springing out of bed, hurriedly donned 
 their armor, seized their weapons, and rushed out, but their 
 interference was no longer necessary, as the infuriated bees 
 had already routed the enemy. 
 
 In commemoration of this event, the statues of the two 
 baker lads have been placed just within the Andernach gates. 
 There they can still be seen, exact effigies of the boys who 
 crept up the tower to steal honey, and saved the town. 
 
 TTbc XegcnD ot St. ©cnevieve. 
 
 The most celebrated church in Andernach is dedicated to 
 St. Genevieve, who dwelt here in the eighth century. She 
 was the daughter of the Duke of Brabant, and the wife of 
 Siegfried, ruler of Austrasia, who had established his capital 
 at Andernach. 
 
 As Genevieve was as good as she was beautiful, her husband 
 was very proud of her, and very reluctantly parted from her 
 when the Saracens threatened to invade the southern part of 
 his kingdom. To make sure his beloved wife would be 
 perfectly safe, Siegfried entrusted her to the care of his 
 friend, Golo of Drachenfels, who, unfortunately, was not as 
 virtuous as he appeared, and soon began to persecute Gene- 
 vieve with unwelcome attentions, trying to persuade her to 
 break faith with her husband and elope with him. 
 
I50 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 As she was far too virtuous to listen to his infampus pro- 
 posals, Golo became so angry against her that he falsely 
 accused her of base crimes, and locked her up in a damp 
 prison, where she languished for several weeks. Then, 
 learning that Siegfried was on his way home, and fearing 
 lest he should discover the fraud, Golo hurried out to meet 
 him, and pretending extravagant sorrow, told him that 
 Genevieve had broken her marriage vow, and had stooped 
 to a low intrigue with Draco, her cook. 
 
 Siegfried, upon hearing these accusations, flew into a 
 passion, declared he would not enter the city as long as 
 such a base criminal lived, and bade Golo ride ahead and 
 have her immediately executed, for she had deserved death. 
 Hard-hearted as he was, Golo could not bear to witness the 
 death of the beautiful Genevieve, so he summoned the 
 executioner, bade him' lead her out into the forest, and not 
 return until he had duly beheaded her. 
 
 This man, touched by the young creature's beauty and 
 tears, could not take her life, but let her go, after obtaining 
 a solemn promise that she would hide in the depths of the 
 woods, and never appear in Andernach again. Genevieve, 
 alone and quite destitute, now withdrew into a cave, where 
 a white hind supplied the milk necessary for her sustenance, 
 and here, in the forest solitude, she gave birth to Siegfried's 
 little son, whom she called by his father's beloved name. 
 
 The child was strong and beautiful, and Genevieve spent 
 all her time in caring for him, in gathering berries, herbs, 
 and roots for food, and in ceaseless prayer, for, in spite of 
 her trials, she had not lost her faith in God, whom she 
 served as devoutly as ever. 
 
 Several years thus were spent in comparative peace by 
 Genevieve and her child, while Siegfried knew no rest, and 
 was sorely troubled by remorse. During the long sleepless 
 nights and companionless days, he continually thought of 
 the beautiful Genevieve, and bitterly regretted having con- 
 demned her unheard, for now that his first anger was 
 
 SAYN, 
 
 151 
 
 passed, he could not believe such a pure, virtuous woman 
 guilty of any heinous crime. 
 
 To divert his mind from this constant thought, Sieg- 
 fried rode out of Andernach one day, and went into the 
 forest accompanied by a large and merry hunting party. 
 In the course of the day he became separated from his suite 
 and hotly pursued a snow-white hind. To his surprise, it 
 took refuge in a cave, behind a beautiful woman, who, gar- 
 mentless, but completely veiled in her long golden 'hair, 
 was caressing a lovely child. 
 
 As soon as he glanced at the face turned in sudden terror 
 toward him, Siegfried recognized his long lost wife, and 
 clasping her in his arms passionately entreated her to for- 
 give him for the cruel suspicions, which he was sure she in 
 no wise deserved. An explanation ensued, and when Sieg- 
 fried knew all, he wrapped his wife and child in the ample 
 folds of his cloak, and winding his hunting horn soon roused 
 the echoes of the dim old forest. His attendants, rushing 
 to answer his summons, improvised a litter upon which 
 they bore Genevieve back to Andernach in triumph. Golo 
 then confessed his crimes, and would have been put to 
 death had not Genevieve interceded in his behalf. The 
 people of Andernach, touched by the story of Genevieve's 
 sufferings, and by her simple faith in the love and goodness 
 of God, honored her as long as she lived, and canonized 
 and worshiped her as a saint after her death. 
 
 SAYN. 
 an f nterrupteD TOeODlng^ 
 
 Frederick of Sayn, founder of the ruined castle near the 
 new building of the same name, after fighting for years in 
 Spain against the Moors, returned home and married a 
 beautiful wife with whom he was perfectly happy. But, a 
 
^52 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 short time after his marriage an angel of the Lord appeared 
 to him in a dream, and bade him leave castle and wife, 
 and hasten off to Palestine to defend the Holy Sepulcher 
 from the infidels. Almost broken-hearted at the thought 
 of parting from his beloved, newly won wife, the Knight 
 of Sayn nevertheless obeyed the summons, and after seven 
 long ye^irs spent in constant warfare the same angel 
 appeared to him again, bidding him return to the Rhine, as 
 his wife had need of him. With the same unquestioning 
 faith as before, Frederick left all and returned home, enter- 
 ing his castle gates disgliised as a pilgrim, only to learn that 
 his wife, believing him dead, was even then in the chapel 
 plighting her troth to his dearest friend, to whose care he 
 had committed her when he departed. 
 
 Maintaining his incognito, the pilgrim hastened into the 
 chapel, where, concealed behind one of the great stone 
 pillars, he softly began a peculiar little love song. At this 
 sound the bride, standing at the altar, fainted away, for she 
 recognized an air which she had composed during her honey- 
 moon, and which was known only to her husband and 
 to herself. 
 
 The marriage ceremony, thus interrupted, was postponed 
 to the following day, and the guests invited to take part in 
 the banquet, at which the fair chatelaine presided with her 
 usual grace as soon as she had recovered from her swoon 
 She paid no heed to the pilgrim, who was seated with the 
 servants at the end of the board. 
 
 The pilgrim, however, had been watching her attentively, 
 and toward the end of the meal took a cup which he filled 
 with wine, and after secretly dropped something into it, he 
 bade a servant carry it to the Countess of Sayn, asking her 
 to pledge a poor pilgrim for the Lord's sake. 
 
 The lady received the cup, bowed to the sender without 
 looking closely at him, drank the wine, and then, perceiv- 
 ing the signet ring at the bottom and recognizing it, she 
 started from her seat, ran to the pilgrim, threw herself in 
 
 NIEDERWERTH. 
 
 153 
 
 his arms sobbing for joy and crying, '* My husband ! my 
 beloved husband ! " 
 
 An explanation ensued, and the pilgrim, learning that 
 a lying rumor had proclaimed him dead shortly after his 
 departure, and that no tidings had been received from him 
 since, freely forgave his friend and the wife who had never 
 ceased to mourn for him, and who had been drawn together 
 by their common affection for him. 
 
 NIEDERWERTH. 
 
 On the long and beautiful island of Niederwerth, almost 
 on the spot where the village of the same name now stands, 
 there once rose a small convent, which was inhabited by an 
 abbess and twelve nuns, remarkably holy women, who spent 
 all their time in prayer. 
 
 The sisters, who lived there in perfect peace, were greatly 
 terrified when they heard that Attila, the Scourge of God, 
 was drawing near, with his wild bands of Huns, who, being 
 heathens, had no respect for their vows and treated all women 
 with the most revolting cruelty. As there were no means 
 of defense, and as their convent was remote from any settle- 
 ment, the poor nuns could rely on no human aid, and prayed 
 more fervently than ever that Christ would have mercy upon 
 them, and dehver them from the hands of their oppressors. 
 One evening when the midnight prayers were ended, the 
 poor nuns were greatly startled by a noise at the door; but 
 when they discovered that it was only a poor pilgrim, they 
 bade him welcome in the Lord's name, tenderly washed his 
 weary feet, and compassionately gave him food and drink. 
 When he was somewhat rested and refreshed, the pilgrim 
 inquired why the nuns were thus prolonging their vigils, 
 and when he heard of the threatened invasion he exclaimed: 
 
154 
 
 LEGEN-DS OF THE RHTNE. 
 
 **You have helped me, now let me advise you. Prepare 
 thirteen coffins within the chapel, and when the foe 
 approaches let each sister commend her soul and body to 
 God, and lie down in her coffin. I will be responsible for 
 the rest." 
 
 The nuns, finding the advice good, immediately prepared 
 their coffins, and on the morrow, when the wild Huns 
 appeared on the river bank, they withdrew to the chapel, 
 recited the prescribed prayer, and calmly crossing their 
 hands on their breasts, lay down in their biers. As the outer 
 doors fell in under the assailants ruthless blows, the aged 
 pilgrim suddenly appeared in their midst, and stretched out 
 his hands in blessing over them. Their eyes closed, they 
 assumed a livid, corpse-like hue, and soon appeared wan and 
 shrunken like persons long dead. 
 
 Two angels then came, lighted all the candles on the 
 altar, and when the Huns burst into the chapel they drew 
 back appalled at the sight of the angelic host, attending our 
 Lord, who, under the guise of an aged pilgrim, had come to 
 defend the helpless nuns who had put all their trust in him. 
 Filled with nameless dread, the Huns immediately re-em- 
 barked in their frail skiffs, and were overtaken by a storm, 
 in which so many perished that the Rhine is said to have 
 rolled corpses for many a day. When the Hun's army had 
 swept onward, some of the people visiting the island to find 
 how the nuns had fared, found dormitory, refectory, and 
 chapel empty. Passing through the little churchyard, they 
 found thirteen new graves within it, each bearing the name 
 of one of the nuns, and the same date of decease. But 
 '' how they died, who carried them there, and who buried 
 them " remains a complete mystery to this day. 
 
 COBLENTZ, 155 
 
 COBLENTZ. 
 St. •R(t3a. 
 
 Louis L, the Ddbonnaire, the unworthy son of Charle- 
 magne, is said to have lived in Coblentz where his fair 
 daughter Ritza was born and brought up. This maiden 
 from early youth spent almost all her time in prayer. 
 As soon as she was old enough to leave home, she obtained 
 her father's permission to retire to a little hermitage 
 on the other side of the Rhine, on the spot where the 
 Ehrenbreitstein fortress now stands. To attend church, 
 Ritza daily crossed the river, and as her faith was as pure 
 as that of St. Peter, she fearlessly walked across the waters, 
 using no support except a slender little willow twig, which 
 she generally carried. Of course, the rumor of this daily 
 repeated miracle soon attracted great attention. The holy 
 hermit was daily watched on her passage to and fro across 
 the river by a breathless multitude, who, when the journey 
 was safely accomplished, loudly extolled her virtues and 
 called her the saint. 
 
 The church bells were ringing loudly one stormy day, and 
 every wave was crested with a line of foam, when Ritza 
 came down to the shore as usual. For the first time the 
 loud wind and dashing spray daunted her, and seeing a 
 heavy staff lying near, the maiden took it, instead of her 
 willow wand, which appeared too slender to offer any sup- 
 port in the face of such a terrible gale. 
 
 Somewhat hesitatingly she now began her journey, and 
 when she reached the middle of the river, frightened by the 
 threatening appearance of the white-capped waves, she 
 leaned heavily upon her staff, and immediately began to 
 sink. A moment later faith conquered ; she flung the 
 treacherous prop aside, then clasped her hands, and uttering 
 a fervent prayer found herself able to stand upright once 
 more in the midst of the heaving and tossing billows, 
 
 i\ 
 
156 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 COBLENTZ. 
 
 157 
 
 through which she safely made her way to the opposite 
 shore. 
 
 In gratitude for the timely aid she had received, Ritza 
 declared her resolution to place all her reliance from hence- 
 forth in God alone, and daily crossed the tide without either 
 wand or staff. When she died, the people reverently bore 
 her to St. Castor's church. There her tomb can still be 
 seen ; the people continue to revere her as a saint, and 
 the Roman Catholics still lay offerings upon her shrine, 
 imploring her aid in all cases of dire need. 
 
 HoMe l>eatb0. 
 
 The legends relate that Napoleon, closely pursued by the 
 Cossacks, was once sorely defeated at Coblentz on the 
 Rhine, where, surrounded by the enemy, he would have 
 been made prisoner had he not been saved by the presence 
 of mind of Corporal Spohn. 
 
 Seeing at a glance that there was no other means of escape, 
 the corporal implored the emperor to exchange hats and 
 steeds with him. The change was effected ere the battle 
 smoke had rolled away, and while Napoleon mounted on 
 an inferior steed, and with the corporal's hat on his head, 
 was allowed to escape unhindered, the Cossacks pressed 
 closely around the pretended Napoleon, whom they made 
 prisoner, and proudly conducted to the Russian general. 
 
 There, the fraud was soon discovered, and the Cossacks, 
 enraged at being deceived, slew the brave corporal, who 
 thus lost his life to save his master. According to the 
 Coblentz legend. Napoleon, in remembrance of his narrow 
 escape and Corporal Spohn's brave self-sacrifice, preferred 
 the uniform of a corporal to any other, and wore it so fre- 
 quently that all the army were wont to speak of him with 
 affectionate familiarity as Le petit Caporal. 
 
 Another historical souvenir connected with this city, is 
 
 es 
 
 the death of the brave young General Marceau, who li 
 buried here, and whose grave is mentioned by Byron in 
 **Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," thus; 
 
 ** By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground, 
 There is a small and simple pyramid, 
 Crowning the summit of the verdant mound ; 
 Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid 
 Our enemy's— but let not that forbid ! 
 Honor to Marceau .' o'er whose early tomb 
 Tears, big tears, gushed from the rough soldier's lid. 
 Lamenting and yet envying such a doom. 
 Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume. 
 
 Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career, 
 
 His mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes ; 
 
 And fitly may the stranger, lingering here. 
 
 Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose ; 
 
 For he was Freedom's champion, one of those. 
 
 The few in number, who had not o'erstept 
 
 The charter to chastise which she bestows 
 
 On such as wield her weapons ; he had kept. 
 
 The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept. 
 
 — Byron, 
 
 Heinrich and Bertha were lovers. They were separated 
 by the swift Moselle, flowing into the Rhine, as well as by 
 their cruel parents, who did not favor an alliance between 
 them. Heinrich often took up his post on the Moselle bridge 
 to obtain a glimpse of the fair face of his beloved, and gazed 
 with eager eyes at the little house she inhabited, wishing 
 that he might visit her once more. 
 
 One spring morning, while he was thus musing, paying no 
 heed to the sullen waters beneath him which were seething 
 and hissing as they wildly rushed along, he saw Bertha leave 
 her dwelling and step into the ferryboat to cross to Coblentz. 
 His fixed gaze must have had magnetic powers, for the girl 
 
'58 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 looked up, and, perceiving her lover, uttered an exclamation 
 of pleasure, as she sprang up and stretched out her longing 
 arms toward him. 
 
 Startled by the sudden movement and exclamation the 
 ferryman dropped his oars, and the vessel, no longer 
 guided, was whirled rapidly along by the current and dashed 
 to pieces against one of the stone piers. When Heinrich 
 saw h.s beloved Bertha in danger of drowning, he immedi- 
 ately sprang into the water, and, after almost incredible 
 efforts, succeeded in saving her from a watery grave 
 
 The respective parents, only too glad to recover their 
 children alive, no longer refused to sanction the wedding 
 It was witnessed by all the inhabitants of Coblentz who 
 accompanied the newly married couple to their home, shout- 
 ■ng for joy, and wishing them all manner of happiness and 
 prosperity. 
 
 THE MOSELLE VALLEY. 
 St. Peter's tTbfrst. 
 
 The valley of the Moselle, along whose winding course arc 
 dotted many medieval castles, is the scene of many of the 
 same legends told of places along the Rhine, and also of 
 two Christian traditions which we will recount here 
 
 Discouraged by the lack of faith shown by the Jews, 
 Christ IS said to have often wandered away among the 
 Gentiles, who gladly received the good tidings He bore On 
 one occasion He came to the banks of the Moselle where 
 weary with His efforts, and panting with the heat, He sat 
 down by the roadside with His disciples, bidding St Peter 
 hasten on to the neighboring city of Coblentz and purchase 
 a measure of wine for their refreshment 
 
 JTI ^'''l"'"^'^ '° "'^ "''y- ''°"^'^* '^^ ^5"^' which was 
 handed to him in a deep wooden measure such as they use 
 
 m that part of the country, and immediately set out to return 
 
 O 
 (/) 
 
 n 
 
 o 
 
 03 ►:; 
 
 •1 
 
 r 
 
 H 
 
 N 
 
THE MOSELLE VALLEY, 
 
 159 
 
 He had not gone far, however, ere the wine began to run 
 down over the sides of the vessel, which had been generously 
 filled to the brim. 
 
 ** Oh, dear! " exclaimed St. Peter, "this will never, never 
 do. It is a pity to lose any of this good wine. I had better 
 drmk a little, so 1 can carry the measure without spilling 
 any of its contents." 
 
 Peter, therefore, began to drink; but as he was hot and 
 very thirsty, he took more than the sip he intended, and 
 when he raised his head, he perceived with dismay that the 
 measure no longer seemed full. Fearing lest he should be 
 reproved for helping himself first, he quickly drew his knife 
 out of his pocket and pared off a piece of the rim, so that 
 the measure appeared as full as before; then he resumed 
 his walk. 
 
 But soon the wine again began to overflow. He took 
 another sip, which, being also too prolonged, forced him to 
 have recourse to his knife for a second time. Sipping and 
 whittling, Peter thus continued his way, and when he at last 
 ^ came to the place where the Master and disciples were wait- 
 ' ing for him, the measure, greatly reduced, contained barely 
 enough wine to moisten their lips. 
 
 Silently the Master gazed upon Peter and then remarked: 
 *' Peter, next time you drink wine, be sure and wipe the drops 
 away from your beard. But tell me, don't you think the 
 people of this country must be very mean to sell their vin- 
 tage in such miserable little things as these .> " and He 
 tapped the little wooden measure. 
 
 Peter hung his head and did not reply, but ever since 
 then the wine measures along the Moselle, which are very 
 small indeed, have been known as ^* Miserabelchen " or 
 miserable little things. 
 
x6o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 COCHEM. 
 
 St, Cbrletopber* 
 
 On the banks of the Moselle rises the recently restored 
 castle of Cochem, where is found a notable old mosaic 
 representation of St. Christopher, whose legend is a favorite 
 among the neighboring peasantry, and is as follows: 
 
 There was once a giant by the name of Offero, who had 
 proudly vowed to serve the mightiest monarch, and no one 
 else. With that purpose in view he journeyed about until 
 he reached the court of a king, whom all designated as 
 the most powerful sovereign on earth. This ruler gladly 
 accepted Offero's proffered services and for a while the giant 
 was very happy indeed. 
 
 But one day a courtier mentioned Satan's name, and the 
 king, seated upon his throne, shuddered. Surprised at this 
 demonstration, Offero questioned his master, and learned 
 that Satan was king of the Infernal Regions. 
 
 **Is he more powerful than you, oh, king?" thundered 
 the giant. 
 
 ** Alas! yes," replied the king. 
 
 **Then I shall leave your service, and go in search of 
 him, for I have vowed to use my prodigious strength only 
 for the greatest of all monarchs." 
 
 Offero departed; he had not gone far before he began 
 to inquire his way, and was delighted to find that everyone 
 he met could indicate an easy mode to *'go to the devil." 
 
 This being the case, you can readily imagine that it did 
 not take him long to get there. He tendered his services to 
 Satan, who gladly accepted him, and found plenty of work 
 for him to do. One day Satan bade the giant accompany 
 him to the surface of the earth, where there was enough 
 to occupy them both, and as they passed along a highway, 
 Offero saw his dauntless master tremble and gaze fearfully 
 
 ST. CHRISTOPHER. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
COCHEM, 
 
 i6i 
 
 to the right and left. In answer to Offero's blunt question, 
 why he acted thus, Satan timorously confessed that he 
 was afraid. 
 
 ** Afraid," exclaimed the giant, **and of what, pray?" 
 
 **0f that," said Satan, pointing to a rude wooden cross, 
 erected by the roadside. 
 
 The giant's surprise increased, but when Satan gradually 
 proceeded to inform him that he was so afraid only because 
 Christ had died on a similar cross, he imperiously demanded 
 who Christ might be, and insisted upon knowing whether 
 He was more powerful than the master he served. 
 
 Satan shuffled, hesitated, and finally replied that Christ 
 was king of Heaven, and reluctantly admitted that none was 
 as powerful as He. 
 
 **Very well," exclaimed Oifero, *'as I have sworn to 
 serve the mightiest only, I will go and seek Christ," and he 
 then and there left Satan, and started out in search of the 
 new Master, who was not as easy to find as the one he had 
 just left. 
 
 After much journeying to and fro, Offero was finally 
 told to seek a holy hermit, who would be sure to point 
 out the best way to find Christ, and after questioning this 
 man concerning the power and importance of the Lord 
 he acknowledged, he inquired how he might best serve him: 
 *Do as I do," replied the hermit, **fast and pray without 
 ceasing, mortify your flesh, and you will serve Him." 
 
 *' What! I, a giant, spend my time in praying," exclaimed 
 Offero; **that would be absurd. Were I to fast, I would 
 soon lose the great strength which is my proudest boast, 
 and that would never do. As you say there are many 
 ways of serving Him, I will try and find another." 
 
 Once more Offero started out upon his travels, and ere 
 long fell in with a band of pilgrims, all bound for the 
 heavenly land. Joining them, he learned that Christ's 
 Kingdom was on the other side of a deep river, which none 
 could cross until invited to do so by one of the King's white- 
 
l62 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 winged messengers. Ere long the little band came to the 
 banks of this stream, and all gazed with awe at the dark 
 rushing tide which was spanned by no bridge, crossed by no 
 boat, and over which each traveler was forced to make his 
 way as best he could. 
 
 While they were standing there, a white-winged mes- 
 senger suddenly appeared in their midst, to inform an aged 
 and feeble woman that the Lord required her presence on 
 the other side. The poor old woman, who had longed for 
 the summons, v/ent bravely down to the river brink, but 
 when she saw the rushing tide, and felt the coldness of its 
 waters, she recoiled wailing, for she was afraid to venture 
 further in. Offero, hearing this pitiful cry, then strode 
 boldly forward, raised her in his powderful arms, and bade 
 her have no fear, for he would bear her safely to the other 
 side. 
 
 True to his promise, he carefully carried her across the 
 river, and as he set her gently down on the bank, he bade 
 her tell Christ that Offero, the giant, was anxious to serve 
 Him, and that until he was summoned he would make use of 
 his strength to help poor travelers over the river. Then he 
 turned round and went back. Day by day, he now helped 
 the pilgrims over, often marveling at the different ways in 
 which the Lord's summons were received, for while some 
 herrd them with joy, others lingered, as if they would fain 
 have waited a little longer. 
 
 In order to be near at hand night and day, the giant took 
 up his abode in a little hut by the river's edge. One night, 
 when a fierce storm was raging, and the darkness was almost 
 impenetrable, he was greatly surprised to hear a plantive 
 call. He went out with staff and lantern, and soon found a 
 little child, who declared he must pass over the river that 
 very night. The compassionate giant immediately lifted 
 the little creature upon his shoulder, and, staff in hand, 
 stepped unhesitatingly down into the cold and stormy waters. 
 
 In spite of all his strength, his stout oaken staff, and the 
 
 THURANT. 163 
 
 small size of his burden, Offero stumbled, struggled, and 
 almost fell. At every step the child seemed to grow heavier 
 and heavier, until he could scarcely stand up beneath its 
 weight, and was forced to use every effort to reach the 
 opposite shore, where he thankfully set his burden down. 
 
 Then he looked up to examine the heavy child more 
 closely, and suddenly saw, instead of an infant, a tall and 
 gracious figure before him, and heard a gentle voice address 
 him saying: 
 
 "Offero, I am the Christ, whom thou hast borne over the 
 river of death this stormy night. Marvel not that thou didst 
 stumble and almost fall beneath my weight, for I have taken 
 upon me all the sins of the world. Thou hast served me 
 well; and henceforth thou shalt be known as Christoffero, 
 the Christ bearer. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 
 
 Because of this beautiful legend, St. Christopher is 
 always invoked in time of death to lend a helping hand to 
 struggling mortals, whose favorite saint he is said to be. 
 
 THURANT. 
 B Carousing armi?. 
 
 The ruins of the ancient fortress of Thurant, which was 
 first built in 1200, tower above the Moselle, and serve to 
 remind travelers of the many sieges which the castle endured 
 during the Middle Ages. 
 
 On one occasion, the united forces of the bishops of Trier 
 and Cologne surrounded the stronghold, which was nobly 
 defended by its owner. He and his brave garrison suffered 
 much from hunger and thirst, while his foes drank their fill 
 of Moselle wine, declaring they hoped the castle would hold 
 out until they had emptied barrels enough to erect as im- 
 posing a building as the one they besieged. 
 
 This was before the days of gunpowder. Arrows and 
 swords were of no avail when it was a question of seizing a 
 
x64 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 well-defended castle, perched upon such almost inaccessible 
 heights, where battering rams and other ponderous war 
 engines could not be used. 
 
 To beguile the time, therefore, the hosts of Trier and 
 Cologne drank morning, noon, and night, sang jolly songs, 
 and kept up a perpetual carousal. This greatly exasperated 
 the garrison at Thurant, who, however, held out bravely for 
 two whole years, during which time the enemy drained no 
 less than three thousand casks of Moselle wine. The gate- 
 keeper, weary of this long siege, and longing to join in the 
 noisy orgies which he daily saw and heard, finally made 
 secret arrangements to open the castle gates, and deliver 
 it into the enemy's hands. His treachery was discovered, 
 however, and, in punishment, his master ordered him to be 
 tossed la a blanket from the top of the castle tower into the 
 midst of the enemy's camp, where he was so anxious to be. 
 Strange to relate, the gate-keeper landed unharmed in the 
 midst of his foes, drank a long draught of wine, and in 
 gratitude for his narrow escape built the chapel on the 
 Bleidenberof, from whence such a beautiful view can be 
 obtained. 
 
 GARDEN. 
 
 A CRUSADER once fell into the hands of Saracens. They 
 chained him fast in a tower near the sea, where, through 
 the bars of his prison, he could see the white-sailed ships 
 passing to and fro. The sight of these vessels only made 
 his captivity harder to bear, and he often prayed that he 
 might fly, like those white-winged vessels, to the western 
 shores, and again be permitted to see his native land. 
 
 One night, while sleeping on the hard stones of his prison 
 floor, the knight suddenly heard the flutter of wings, saw 
 his prison door open, and heard a divine voice bidding him 
 
 NIEDERLA HNS TETN. 
 
 165 
 
 arise and depart. A moment later he was out of the 
 dungeon, and, still obeying divine commands, he sprang 
 on the back of a waiting swan, which, spreading its broad 
 pinions, bore him rapidly over land and sea. When it 
 began to sink he gazed downward, and recognized his native 
 place on the banks of the Moselle. 
 
 A moment later, the knight awoke, and feeling hard 
 stones beneath him, turned over in despair, thinking he had 
 again been deluded by a tantalizing dream. 
 
 The perfume of flowers and the ripple of water made 
 him suddenly open his eyes, however, and then he saw with 
 rapture that he was lying on the hillside, near his old home, 
 and humbly returned thanks for his escape from captivity. 
 
 In gratitude for his miraculous deliverance, the knight 
 founded the lately restored church still known as the Swan 
 Church, which is yearly visited by many pilgrims. 
 
 NIEDERLAHNSTEIN. 
 
 A TRAGIC Story is connected with the stretch of land near 
 the junction of the Lahn and Rhine. This ground was 
 set apart as the burial place of unrepentant sinners, and 
 malefactors of every kind. 
 
 Near this spot there once dwelt a noble couple who rejoiced 
 greatly at the birth of beautiful twin children, a boy and 
 girl. These little ones were carefully guarded during 
 their infancy by their tender mother. Her heart was there- 
 fore torn with anguish, when called upon to leave them for 
 a short time to go and nurse her husband, who had been 
 mortally wounded in war. The servants received strict 
 instructions to watch over the children night and day, but, 
 although the nurse at first faithfully discharged her duties, 
 she soon allowed herself to be enticed to forsake her little 
 charges while they slept, and take part in the merriment in 
 
i66 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 which the other servants indulged, now that they were le/t 
 to their own devices. 
 
 One evening some gypsies entered the castle court, and 
 the servants soon began to dance to the merry tunes they 
 played. The nurse, attracted by the alluring tones, soon 
 joined them, leaving the children asleep in their room. In 
 her excitement she entirely forgot the flight of time, and it 
 was only when the gypsies had gone, and the fun had been 
 duly talked over, that sfie hastened back to the nursery. 
 There she found everything turned topsy-turvy, and no 
 trace of the little girl. Her shrieks of distress soon brought 
 the other servants, who discovered that while they were in 
 the court dancing, someone had entered the room and had 
 stolen the child and many objects of considerable value. 
 
 All search for the little girl proved fruitless, and when 
 the widowed lady returned from her husband's death-bed, 
 it was only to learn that one of her treasures had disap- 
 peared. The other child was safe only because his pres- 
 ence had not been noticed as he had slipped entirely under 
 the bedclothes in his sleep. 
 
 Many years passed by. The boy became a man, and 
 wooed and married the adopted daughter of a noble widowed 
 lady farther up the Rhine. As soon as the wedding cere- 
 mony was ended, the youthful bridegroom hurried his 
 beautiful wife home, where his mother was waiting to 
 receive them and gently led her new daughter to her room. 
 
 There she lingered with her for a while, questioning 
 the bride about her parentage, and inquiring whether there 
 was no mark on her body by which she might have been 
 recognized. 
 
 The newly wedded wife immediately revealed that she 
 bore on her bosom a tiny birthmark like a rose, and the 
 elder woman, clasping her joyfully to her heart, declared 
 she was her long lost daughter, for whom she had mourned 
 so deeply. 
 
 The little bride gladly responded to all her caresses, but, 
 
 LAHNECK. 
 
 167 
 
 when she suddenly realized that she had just plighted her 
 troth to her only brother, she fell down upon the floor 
 dead. The bridegroom entering the apartment at that 
 moment, also learned the truth, rushed out of the house 
 like a madman, and never returned. On the morrow, his 
 body was found cold and dead on the hillside, and as there 
 were no marks of violence upon it none ever knew how he 
 had perished. 
 
 The twins who had slept together in one cradle, were 
 now laid to rest in the same grave, but as they had, although 
 unconsciously, infringed the lav/s of the church, the priest 
 would not allow them to be buried in holy ground, but had 
 them laid near Niederlahnstein, among the outcasts. 
 
 " But why with their kind 
 Rest they not ? Say, the grave is surely blind— 
 And the dark mold which covers corpses in 
 Presents a front impenetrable to sin. 
 Alas ! alas ! the virtuous of our race 
 Had thrust them rudely from their resting place. 
 In yonder churchyard — consecrated earth — 
 As though one clay to all did not give birth. 
 Oh, hypocrites ! and to this shying shore 
 Consigned their cold remains for ever, ever more." 
 
 — Snowe, 
 
 LAHNECK. 
 trbc Xaet of tbc ZTemplarg. 
 
 Near the spot where the Lahn flows into the Rhine, rises 
 the now restored castle of Lahneck, which was probably 
 first built in the tenth century. This fortress was the last 
 refuge of the Knights Templar in Germany, for their leader 
 was then the aged and white-haired Count of Lahneck. 
 Pope Clement V. and Philip IV. of France, coveting the vast 
 wealth which the order of the Templars had amassed 
 during many years of warfare, accused the knights of 
 
i68 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 fraud. Next they condemned Jacques Molay, Great Master 
 of the order, to death, and confiscated all the Templar 
 property. 
 
 Peter, archbishop of Mayence, also instigated by the Pope, 
 then tried to secure the wealth of the German Templars and 
 to force them to dissolve their order, but threats and 
 decrees were alike unavailing, as far as the old Lord of 
 Lahneck and twelve gf his bravest companions were 
 
 concerned. 
 
 Resolved to remain true to their vows at any cost, and to 
 defend the property of their order as long as strength 
 endured, this handful of men entrenched themselves in the 
 castle of Lahneck, where they fought so bravely that they 
 succeeded in holding a force of two thousand men at bay for 
 
 several months. 
 
 Finally, however, the heavy battering rams broke down 
 the castle ramparts. The enemy, forcing their way through 
 the breach and scaling the walls on all sides at once, 
 poured into the fortress, bidding the knights surrender. 
 The old Count of Lahneck, who now had only four com- 
 panions left, beat a retreat toward the inner fortress, 
 sternly declaring that he would never yield, but would sell 
 
 his life dearly. 
 
 Step by step he and his little band retreated, but ere they 
 reached the drawbridge all had fallen except the Count of 
 Lahneck. He grimly hewed right and left, calling out: 
 <* Honor and Right " at every blow, and answering all the 
 summons to surrender by an unflinching '' Never!" 
 
 The young and brave leader of the opposite party, wish- 
 ing to end the fray, suddenly threw aside his weapon. He 
 darted forward, caught the old man in his strong arms, and 
 vainly tried to drag him away from his dangerous position. 
 
 ** Surrender," he cried once more, as he made a desperate 
 effort to pull him off the drawbridge. 
 
 '' Never!" reiterated the old lord. Then, finding he could 
 no longer resist the strong grasp laid upon him, he suddenly 
 
 > 
 
 :?: 
 
 o 
 
 n 
 > 
 
 M 
 
STOLZENFELS. 
 
 169 
 
 flung himself over the drawbridge, dragging his captor with 
 him. Both fell upon the jagged rocks below, where they 
 were dashed to pieces. It was thus that the last of the 
 Knights Templar in Germany fell, having kept to the end 
 his vow to remain true to his order. 
 
 This castle, which was destroyed by the French, and long 
 left in a sad state of ruin, was eventually purchased by an 
 Englishman who intended to restore it. One morning his 
 only daughter, Bessie, went alone to the top of the rmned 
 tower. She had no sooner cUmbed up there than the stone 
 staircase fell into ruin, with a crash which shook the whole 
 tower. The poor girl fainted in terror, and remained uncon- 
 scious during several hours, while her father vainly sought 
 her, calling her name repeatedly yet receiving no response. 
 
 The bereaved father left the place in despair. Several 
 years later the maiden's body was found by some of her 
 countrymen, who had purchased the ruins and climbed to 
 the top of the ruined tower by means of a ladder. The lost 
 girl lay under a stone bench, still clutching in her dead 
 hand a fragment of paper upon which her last words could 
 plainly be seen. 
 
 STOLZENFELS. 
 
 tibe pet "Rarcn. 
 
 The beautiful castle of Stolzenfels, which is now entirely 
 restored, was founded in the middle of the thirteenth cen- 
 tury by Arnold von Isenbourg, the archbishop of Cleves. 
 It was once inhabited by Othmar and WiUeswind, a brother 
 and sister, who, having lost their parents, were devoted 
 to each other, and to the care of their numerous retainers, 
 who idolized them both. 
 
 The brother and sister were always together, so WiUes- 
 wind grieved sorely when her brother was obliged to go off 
 to war. He took all the able-bodied men with him, and left 
 
lyo 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 none but the old men, women, and children at homq. As 
 there were many lawless robber-knights along the Rhine in 
 those days, Willeswind prudently ordered that the castle 
 gates should remain constantly closed, and only sallied forth 
 at midday, to visit a few of her pensioners in the village, 
 and carry them the alms she was wont to bestow. 
 
 One evening, while she was sitting in the hall with all her 
 retainers, keeping tjie women busily at work spinning and 
 watching the men as they burnished their arms, the warder 
 suddenly came to announce the presence of a pilgrim, beg- 
 ging for shelter. Willeswind immediately gave orders that 
 he should be admitted; but, in spite of his worn garments, 
 he inspired her with a vague feeling of fear, for his face was 
 cunning and cruel, and his roving glances seemed to take 
 note oi the castle defenses, and of the small number of her 
 aged retainers. 
 
 Her suspicions, which were shared by the warder, were 
 only too soon justified, for although the pilgrim departed 
 peaceably on the morrow, he came back three days later, in 
 full armor, coolly demanding her hand in marriage, and 
 threatening to take her by force if she did not consent to 
 his proposal within three days' time. 
 
 Willeswind, knowing it would be impossible for her aged 
 retainers to hold out against the robber knight's well- 
 appointed forces until her brother, to whom she dispatched 
 a message, could come to her rescue, finally decided to take 
 the warder's advice and withdraw into a neighboring convent. 
 
 On her way thither with a small escort, she fell into an 
 ambush laid by the treacherous knight. He soon overcame 
 her retainers' brave but feeble resistance, made her captive, 
 and carried her off with her maid to a lonely tower in the 
 woods. There he locked them both in, declaring he would 
 come in three days' time to receive a favorable answer to 
 his suit. 
 
 As soon as he had departed, Willeswind and her maid 
 began to inspect the premises, but could devise no means of 
 
 t 
 
 STOLZENFELS CASTLE. 
 
STOLZENFELS. 
 
 171 
 
 escape, for the walls were thick, doors and windows heavily 
 barred, and, in spite of careful search, they could find 
 neither water nor food. While the unhappy captives were 
 peering anxiously through the barred windows, and con- 
 vincing themselves that the tower lay in the wilderness 
 where no passer-by would come to lend them aid, Willeswind 
 suddenly perceived her pet raven, which she whistled to 
 ber side. 
 
 She and Othmar had trained this bird to bring them 
 berries at a sign, and she now resolved to make good use of 
 the faithful raven. It journeyed busily to and fro, bring- 
 ing so many luscious berries that Willeswind and her maid 
 did not suffer acutely from either hunger or thirst. Three 
 days later the robber knight appeared, seemed greatly sur- 
 prised when Willeswind rejected his addresses as haughtily 
 as ever, and departed, declaring he would return in three 
 days, when she would probably prove more amenable. 
 Time passed very slowly in that gloomy prison. In spite of 
 the faithful raven's incessant visits, the girls were very 
 faint and weak, and on the sixth day, while eagerly watching 
 for the bird's return, Willeswind suddenly saw a knight 
 emerge from the thicket and ride by. Judging by his 
 horse and armor that it could not be her ravisher, she 
 called aloud for aid, and wildly waved her handkerchief 
 
 through the bars. 
 
 A moment later the knight had turned, and Willeswind 
 with a cry of rapture recognized Othmar, who, to reach 
 home sooner, was riding through the forest. Before he 
 could take any measures to deliver her, however, the robber 
 knight came riding up the overgrown path, and seeing him, 
 challenged him to fight. Othmar, furious at the man's 
 insolent behavior, and at the treatment he had made poor 
 Willeswind endure, fought so bravely that he soon stretched 
 his antagonist lifeless on the ground. Then he seized the 
 keys at his belt, and freed the captives who had languished 
 in the lonely tower six days. 
 
172 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 As he and Willeswind slowly rode away, the raven, 
 returning with a host of its companions, swooped down 
 upon the robber knight's corpse and pecked out its eyes. 
 Willeswind, safe home once more in her beloved Stolzenfels, 
 now recounted all her adventures to her brother, who 
 ordered an effigy of the raven to be placed above the gate- 
 way, to commemorate the fidelity of the pet bird whose 
 exertions had preseryed two human lives. 
 
 ZTbc Blcbemiet, 
 
 This same castle of Stolzenfels, which commands such a 
 magnificent view of the Rhine, was the scene of another 
 romantic story. One of the lords of the castle once left 
 home, intrusting all his- wealth and the administration of 
 his property to a steward whose fidelity he had often tested. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, this man began the study of 
 alchemy, and practicing daily in a turret chamber which he 
 had fitted up as a laboratory, he became convinced that he 
 could discover the secret which would transmute all base 
 metals into gold. In the vain hope of discovering the process, 
 he used up all his own slender store, and, borrowing gold, 
 piece by piece, from his master's strong box, he used that 
 too. At last, hearing his master would return in a few days' 
 time, he examined the treasury and found it nearly empty. 
 
 Terrified at the account he would have to render, the 
 steward was brooding gloomily over his situation one even- 
 ing, when a pilgrim, who had taken shelter in the castle, 
 wrung from him a confession of the cause of his despond- 
 ency. This confession was overheard by the steward's 
 lovely young daughter Mina. Horrified at the thought 
 that her father had robbed his master, she stole sadly off to 
 bed, w^ondering how she might save his honor. She little 
 suspected that the pretended pilgrim was the alchemist 
 Maso, who, by promises of unlimited wealth, was inducing 
 
 STOLZENFELS, 
 
 173 
 
 her unhappy father to furnish him with all the gold left in 
 the house, and to lend him his retorts and alembics. 
 
 The pilgrim, having obtained all he required, worked inde- 
 fatigably all the next day. But when the steward entered 
 the tower toward evening, he declared that he had missed the 
 exact combination only because the stars were not in the right 
 position, and that he was sure of discovering the secret on 
 the morrow, when the planets would be in conjunction, if 
 the steward would only procure him a little more gold. 
 
 Mina, who had stolen silently up into the tower, and was 
 standing behind the door, heard her father declare there 
 was not a particle of gold left. Then the pilgrim gradually 
 revealed the fact that a pure maiden's blood was an excellent 
 substitute for gold, and that if he would only sacrifice his 
 daughter, his honor would be saved. The maiden heard her 
 father indignantly refuse, and saw him rush away in despair. 
 Prompted by filial affection and the spirit of self-sacri- 
 fice, she entered the laboratory, where she offered to die to 
 save her beloved father from disgrace. This generous pro- 
 posal was unhesitatingly accepted by the pilgrim, who bade 
 her come at midnight, on the morrow, when the favorable 
 hour would have struck. 
 
 At eventide on the morrow, the lord of Stolzenfels rode 
 into his castle, attended by many followers, one of whom no 
 sooner beheld the fair Mina, than he fell desperately in love 
 with her. Standing at his bedroom window that night, this 
 young man sentimentally watched the light in her casement, 
 and near midnight was surprised to see her take up the can- 
 dle and leave the room. 
 
 By the sudden illumination of sundry windows, he soon 
 discovered that she was coming toward his side of the house, 
 then, listening intently, he heard her pass his door, and 
 creeping noiselessly after her, he mounted the winding 
 turret stairs, and hid behind the door after she had passed 
 into the laboratory. 
 
 In the deep silence he heard her tearfully inquire whether 
 
174 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 nothing else could save her father from disgrace on , the 
 morrow, heard the pilgrim assure her that the sacrifice 
 must take place, and through a crack in the door saw the 
 glittering dagger raised to strike her to the heart. 
 
 One bound brought the young man to her rescue, and a 
 moment later the pretended pilgrim, flung aside by a strong 
 arm, fell among the retorts and alembics with a crash which 
 awakened the whole household, and brought them in haste 
 upon the scene. There an explanation took place, the 
 guilty steward confessed his crime, and the lord of Stol- 
 zenfels, touched by his repentance as well as by Mina's 
 devotion, freely forgave him. As for the noble youth, he 
 soon won Mina's affections, and she became his wife, 
 all the people of Stolzenfels dancing merrily at the wed- 
 ding, and wishing the newly married couple a long life of 
 unbroken prosperity. 
 
 RHENSE. 
 
 Bti Sxcbandc. 
 
 On a wooded height, very near Rhense on the Rhine; 
 stands the peculiar little octagon building known as the 
 Konigsstuhl, or seat of the king. Erected in 1376 by the 
 Emperor Charles IV., on the spot where the boundaries of the 
 four great electorates meet, it became the trysting place of 
 the seven influential princes, who there discussed matters 
 of state and elected the rulers of Germany. 
 
 These noblemen caused seven stone seats to be placed 
 upon the flat roof of the little building. It fell into 
 decay at the end of the last century, but is now exactly 
 restored. The legend relates that when Wenceslaus was 
 emperor of Germany, finding the cares of state too burden- 
 some to endure, he often came here to forget them in drink- 
 ing the delicious Rhine wines. 
 
 BREY. 
 
 175 
 
 On one occasion he is reported to have openly declared 
 that he would gladly exchange his crown for a generous 
 yearly supply of the best Bacharach vintage. Prince Rupert 
 of the Rhine, who coveted the imperial power, immediately 
 declared his readiness to furnish Wenceslaus with four 
 butts of wine every year, in exchange for which he received 
 all the imperial insignia. 
 
 Wencelaus, it is said, never regretted his bargain, but 
 the time came when Rupert understood that the cares of 
 state far outweigh the pleasures and honors which may accrue 
 from being sovereign of the whole land. 
 
 BREY. 
 
 The villagers were all dancing merrily on the green, to 
 celebrate the harvest home, when they suddenly became 
 aware of the presence of three beautiful young damsels, 
 clad in flowing white garments, and crowned with garlands 
 of peculiar waxy-looking flowers. Although the maidens 
 were total strangers, three village youths soon stepped 
 forward to invite them to dance, and they heartily entered 
 into the spirit of the merry-making. 
 
 When the night was already pretty far advanced, and the 
 silvery moonbeams flooded the landscape, the maidens pre- 
 pared to depart, refusing the escort of the enamoured youths, 
 who followed them as closely as they dared, hoping to dis- 
 cover where the beautiful maidens lived. 
 
 Imagine their surprise, however, when they saw the girls 
 step unconcernedly down from the bank into the river, and 
 trip lightly from one silvery-tipped wave to another. When 
 they reached the center of the stream, the maidens suddenly 
 paused, and holding out their lily-white arms, called to the 
 youths to join them. 
 
 Bewitched by their beauty and alluring gestures, the three 
 
176 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 youths, forgetful of all danger, rushed blindly forward, but 
 instead of embracing the maidens, who suddenly disappeared, 
 they sank down into the moonlit river forever. At the 
 first stroke of midnight, three crimson, blood-like streaks 
 were seen stretching from the shore to the center of the 
 river. These appeared for many centuries, on the anniver- 
 sary of the youths' death, and after showing vividly for a 
 short time, always vanished as suddenly and mysteriously as 
 they had come. 
 
 tTbelMsfe* 
 
 On the left bank of the Rhine, almost smothered by the 
 luxuriant shade of fruit trees, is the little village of Brey, 
 celebrated because it was* one of the favorite haunts of the 
 Nixie, a water nymph of the Rhine. Many stories are there- 
 fore told about her, and the villagers still declare that she 
 has been seen at a distance. 
 
 Two young huntsmen once started out from Brey at dawn, 
 and entering a skiff, proceeded to cross the Rhine. While 
 one diligently plied the oars, the other gazed fixedly down 
 in the flood, and suddenly exclaimed that he saw the Nixie 
 combing out her golden hair. A moment later he seized 
 his gun, and aiming at the water sprite in wanton mischief, 
 he pulled the trigger and shot, ere his companion could 
 hinder him from doing so. 
 
 Before they reached the opposite shore, however, a strange 
 look had come into his eyes, and his companion rowed faster 
 and faster, nervously gazing at him from time to time. All 
 at once he muttered that the beautiful white-armed Nixie 
 was beckoning to him and plunged down into the river. 
 
 Three days later his body was washed ashore, and the 
 people gathering about their former companion in awe- 
 stricken silence, noticed that his gun was still clasped close 
 to his breast. But, as a beautiful smile hovered over his 
 
 MARKSBURG. 
 
 177 
 
 rigid lips, they all whispered that the Nixie had evidently 
 forgiven him for his attempt to injure her. 
 
 MARKSBURG. 
 
 The fortress of Marksburg, which is the ^ ♦- old fortress 
 along the Rhine which has remained in a perfect state of 
 preservation to our day, is almost impregnable, and has long 
 been used as a state prison. 
 
 This castle once belonged to Ludwig the Cruel, Lord of 
 Braubach, who married a young and beautiful, but weak- 
 minded woman, called Maria. As she found it impossible 
 to love her husband, this faithless wife began a flirtation 
 with a steward called Henry, who was passionately in love 
 
 with her. 
 
 The husband, however, soon discovered this state of 
 affairs, and being obliged to leave home suddenly, bade the 
 steward accompany him, taking sundry precautions to pre- 
 vent any clandestine correspondence. But, in spite of all 
 his vigilance, Maria and Henry managed to exchange many 
 a letter, and they would have escaped detection, had not 
 Maria once made the mistake of directing the letter in- 
 tended for her lover to her husband. 
 
 Ludwig the Cruel, finding he had been outwitted, was so 
 furious that he rode straight home, where he was not 
 expected, and flung the maid who had acted as go-between 
 out of the window on the rocks beneath the castle. Then, 
 accompanied by two executioners, he entered unexpectedly 
 into his wife's room and had her beheaded without further 
 
 ado. 
 
 This summary mode of avenging his wrongs was greatly 
 
 resented by his people, who would doubtless have punished 
 
 him for his cruelty had they not been afraid of him. But 
 
178 
 
 LECkNDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 although avenged, Ludwig was far from happy. He was 
 soon tormented by such keen remorse, that he did penance 
 for his sins, and founded a nunnery which was named in 
 honor of the wife whom he had so mercilessly slain. 
 
 DINKHOLD FOUNTAIN. 
 
 Zhc Spectral Jfoot 
 
 In a little valley, not far from Braubach, are the mineral 
 springs known as the Dinkhold, the favorite haunt of a maid 
 named ^gle, daughter of old Father Rhine. 
 
 Many years ago a young knight lived at the head of this 
 little valley, and daily rode down it with his mounted train 
 on his way to the Rhine or to the chase. On one occasion 
 he was detained, and sending his followers ahead of him, he 
 presently rode down the familiar valley alone. He started 
 with surprise when he saw a limpid fountain, in a spot which 
 had hitherto been dry and arid. His surprise was further 
 increased at the sight of a beautiful ethereal creature, bend- 
 ing gracefully over the fountain. This creature proved so 
 attractive that he immediately dismounted, and going to 
 her, began to converse with her. He soon learned who she 
 was, declared the love which had been kindled at the first 
 sight of her, and was overjoyed when she confessed that she 
 had long loved him, and had only waited for him to pass by 
 alone to reveal herself to him. 
 
 ^gle, the beautiful nymph, in spite of her protestations 
 of affection was very shy indeed, and ere long told her lover 
 she must depart, bade him meet her there on the morrow, 
 and vanished before he could utter a protest or try to 
 detain her. 
 
 The knight was, of course, faithful to his appointment on 
 the morrow, but when he would fain have embraced the 
 timid i^gle, she shrank back, exclaiming that she would 
 
 DINKHOLD FOUNTAIN. 
 
 179 
 
 again meet him on the morrow, but that if by that time he 
 had not learned to behave as a true and loyal knight, she 
 would never see him again. As she vanished as soon as this 
 speech was ended, the knight cudgeled his brain to find 
 out what her mysterious words might mean, and it was only 
 after several hours' reflection that he remembered that 
 while he had uttered countless words of love, he had never 
 mentioned the subject of marriage. 
 
 His first words on the morrow therefore were to ask JEgXt 
 when she would become his wife, and to persuade her to 
 meet him in his castle chapel that evening and plight her 
 troth to him there at the altar. ^:gle, whose beautiful face 
 grew radiant at these words, promised to do so, warning 
 him, however, that a marriage with a nymph was rather 
 dangerous, as he would lose his life should he ever prove 
 faithless. But the knight, sure of his love, led her to the 
 altar, and lived seven years with the beautiful .*:gle, who 
 was a devoted wife and bore him several lovely children. 
 
 The happiness of this married couple, which was simply 
 ideal, was troubled at last by rumors of war, and /Egle 
 shed her first tears when her husband was obliged to join 
 the imperial army. Then she clung to him imploring him 
 not to forget her for a moment, as faithlessness would be 
 punished by death. They parted bey,ide the fountain where 
 they had first met, and Mg\Q returned home to watch for 
 her beloved's return. 
 
 After many months of warfare, peace was concluded, and 
 the Emperor Henry, wishing to reward the knight for his 
 bravery, summoned him into his presence and proposed to 
 give him the hand of his beautiful niece, Agnes, who had 
 long loved him in secret. The knight, with much dignity, 
 declared the honor was far too great for so humble a subject 
 as he, and added that being already married, he could more- 
 over enter into no other alliance. 
 
 Angry and disappointed at this refusal, Henry questioned 
 him closely. When he heard that he had married a nymph. 
 
i8o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 he crossed himself, summoned the bishop of Bamberg, 
 implored him to convince the knight of the sin of lovfng a 
 demon, and tried to prevail upon him to annul the unholy- 
 contract by an immediate marriage with his niece. 
 
 The bishop of Bamberg, who was a subtle reasoner, argued 
 with the knight, and so bewildered him that he finally pre- 
 vailed upon him to consent to an immediate marriage with 
 the fair Agnes. Btit, when the ceremony was over, and 
 the wedding guests were seated around the festal board, the 
 knight's eyes suddenly dilated with horror, for there, before 
 him, appeared a small, white, naked foot, which, in the 
 presence of all the guests, spurned him ere it vanished. 
 
 With a cry of **yEgle ! " the knight fell down unconscious, 
 and after vainly trying to restore him, the bishop of Bam- 
 berg, who was versed in magic, declared he must be carried 
 over the Rhine, as the evij spirits would not relinquish their 
 hold upon him until he had passed over running water. 
 
 The attendants immediately bore him down to a boat, 
 where many of the guests followed him, but when they 
 reached the middle of the river, a great wave swept suddenly 
 down upon them and dashing over the vessel carried off the 
 knight's body, which was never seen again. One of the 
 boatmen, however, declared that he saw a little white foot 
 thrusting it down under the waters, and heard the unhappy 
 knight again cry ^*^gle." 
 
 The emperor's niece Agnes, having lost her bridegroom, 
 withdrew to a neighboring convent, where she spent the 
 remainder of her life as a nun, but on the very day when 
 the knight perished, ^gle and her children vanished. At 
 the same time the waters of the Dinkhold fountain sud- 
 denly turned bitter to the taste, and have never again been 
 sweet as at first, although they are considered a sure cure 
 for every complaint except a broken heart. 
 
 BOP PART, 
 
 i8i 
 
 BOPPART. 
 
 C! c Empcror'0 DucWn^^ 
 
 Rudolf of Hapsburg came to the little town of Boppart, 
 in the year 1288, to hold an imperial diet, for he was very 
 anxious to obtain subsidies to continue the war in which he 
 was engaged. As was his custom, he strolled about the 
 streets alone early in the morning, and entering a bakery, 
 asked the old woman who kept it for permission to warm 
 
 himself by her fire. 
 
 No sooner did the old woman perceive his uniform, how- 
 ever, than she became very abusive, declaring she hated all 
 soldiers, for the emperor had quartered so many upon her 
 that she was reduced to want. She finally grew so excited 
 over her wrongs, that she took a pailful of water and flung 
 it angrily over her visitor, as he was anxiously beating a 
 
 retreat. 
 
 Rudolf, having returned home unseen, quickly changed his 
 wet garments and met his councilors. But, when they 
 proposed as usual to tax the people to obtain money to 
 supply his demand, he utterly refused to take their advice. 
 To prove how bitterly the people resented taxation he sum- 
 moned the old woman, who, at his bidding, repeated her 
 assertions and accusations as fearlessly as in her own little 
 
 shop. 
 
 When she had finished all she had to say, the emperor left 
 the hall, bidding her await his return, and soon reappeared 
 in the garments he had worn in the morning. When the old 
 woman caught sight of him she again began to abuse him, 
 to the councilors' speechless horror, for they immediately 
 recognized him. 
 
 As her victim paid no heed to her angry vituperation, 
 the old woman then threatened a second dousing; but when 
 she suddenly became aware of her mistake she was sorely 
 frightened, and humbly begged the emperor's pardon. 
 
l82 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Rudolf, who was a magnanimous ruler, did not at all resent 
 her conduct, but dismissed her with a generous sum of 
 money, and then, turning to his advisors, remarked that it 
 was seldom that princes thus heard the voice of the people. 
 The old woman's speech had been so convincing, that 
 never again did the councilors venture to suggest an increase 
 of the burdens which already rested so heavily upon the 
 shoulders of the common people, and devised other means to 
 raise the necessary funds for the maintenance of the army. 
 
 ZTbe De0erte^ HClfte* 
 
 Conrad, one of the lords of Boppart, once courted and 
 secretly married a poor but beautiful lady, of whom he grew 
 very weary after they had lived together a few years. As 
 all the witnesses of their marriage were dead, and she had 
 no male relatives to defend her, he one day informed her 
 that he was about to leave for Palestine to fight in the 
 crusade. He also declared that his marriage was annulled, 
 and that he would never recognize its validity. His poor 
 wife, who could show no proof of her marriage, and could 
 only oppose his word by hers, was almost broken-hearted at 
 the thought of her unmerited disgrace, and vainly implored 
 him to do her justice ere he went away. He would not 
 listen, however, and she soon ceased pleading and let him 
 depart. 
 
 As he was gayly riding along on the morrow, Conrad was 
 overtaken by a young knight, fully armed, and with lowered 
 vizor, who challenged him to fight. Such a challenge was 
 never refused in that martial age, and Conrad, closing in 
 with his opponent, soon dealt him a mortal blow. 
 
 While loosening the helmet to give the dying knight air, 
 he suddenly became aware that he had slain his own deserted 
 wife, who, having none to defend her rights, had preferred 
 death at his hands to public disgrace. Tortured by remorse, 
 
 LIEBENSTEIN AND STERRENBERG, 
 
 i«S 
 
 now that it was too late, the knight tenderly laid her to rest, 
 and in her honor founded the convent of Marienberg, which 
 is now transformed into a much-frequented sanitarium. 
 
 He then proceeded to Acre, where he fought bravely, and 
 when he fell at last, pierced by a Saracen arrow, he breathed 
 a prayer that he might be forgiven, and permitted to meet 
 his wronged wife in heaven. 
 
 LIEBENSTEIN AND STERRENBERG. 
 ^bc f)Odtilc :t6t:otbcr6. 
 
 The two castles on the right bank of the Rhine, which 
 owing to their similarity and proximity are always called the 
 *' Brothers," were founded in the beginning of the Middle 
 Ages. They both belonged at one time to a noble lord 
 named Dietrich, who, in dying, left a castle to each of his 
 sons. He also bid them share his treasure with their only 
 sister, who, unfortunately, was blind. 
 
 The youths, who were notoriously unscrupulous, imme- 
 diately resolved to take advantage of their sister's infirmity 
 to increase their own wealth, and leading her into the strong 
 room, proceeded to divide the gold by the measureful. But, 
 while they carefully kept the measure right side up when they 
 were dealing out their own shares, they invariably turned it 
 upside down when the turn of their blind sister came, and 
 laying a single layer of coin on the upturned bottom, bade 
 her ascertain by touch that her measure was full. 
 
 This unjust division ended, the poor girl took refuge in 
 the neighboring convent of Bornhofen, for her fortune was 
 not sufficient to enable her to dwell elsewhere, while the 
 avaricious brothers each took possession of his own castle, 
 and reveled in wealth. 
 
 The ill-gotten gold, however, did not long suffice to make 
 them happy. They soon both fell in love with a lady who 
 
184 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 would not choose between them, so they determined to 
 settle the affair in a duel. Meeting at midnight on one of 
 the moonlit peaks of the mountain, they crossed swords, 
 and after a fierce encounter both fell mortally wounded. 
 
 Ever since then, the ghosts of the hostile brothers — whose 
 feud has been immortalized in one of Heine's poems — 
 haunt the spot, and-at midnight the clash of their swords 
 can still be heard, for they are condemned ever to renew 
 that fatal duel. 
 
 ** Many a century has departed, 
 Many a race has found a tomb. 
 Yet from yonder rocky summits 
 From those moss-grown towers of gloom, 
 
 •* And within the dreary valley, 
 Fearful sights ate seen by night ; 
 There, as midnight strikes, the brothers 
 Still renew the ghastly fight." 
 
 — Heine, 
 
 According to another version of the legend, the two 
 brothers were sole survivors of their race and both fell in 
 love with Laura, their father's ward. As she preferred 
 Heinrich the younger, Conrad, a noble-minded man, imme- 
 diately withdrew his suit and retired to his own castle, that 
 the sight of his unhappiness should not trouble their bliss. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, the favored suitor was very 
 fickle indeed, and before the marriage could take place, he 
 suddenly decided to join a crusade and departed, intrusting 
 his fair betrothed to his brother's care. Conrad honorably 
 discharged this duty, carefully suppressing every sign of 
 the love he could not overcome, but his heart was rent with 
 anguish when he heard that his brother had broken his 
 promise, and was about to return with a beautiful Greek 
 bride. 
 
 Laura at first refused to believe the report, but when 
 the newly-married pair actually arrived, she grew so pale 
 
RANKENBERG, 
 
 1^5 
 
 and wan that Conrad began to fear for her life. One day 
 he met his junior, whom he had carefully avoided, on 
 the hillside, and could not refrain from administering a 
 scathing rebuke. Heinrich, incensed, drew his sword 
 and impetuously began to fight. While Conrad was ward- 
 ing off his fierce blows, and watching for an occasion 
 to disarm him without doing him any harm, Laura sud- 
 denly came rushing between them, imploring them not to 
 quarrel for her sake, and declaring that she intended to take 
 the veil in Bornhofen convent, but could not depart until 
 they promised to fight no more. Her prayers prevailed, 
 but Conrad's sense of honor was too deep to forgive his 
 brother right away, and he withdrew to his castle, erecting 
 a heavy wall between them which was known throughout the 
 land as ** the wall of strife." 
 
 A few years later, Heinrich's Greek wife suddenly forsook 
 him in favor of another lover more to her taste. Left 
 alone, the deserted husband had ample opportunity to 
 regret the lack of honesty which had deprived him of all his 
 friends. Conrad, however, hearing he was forsaken by all, 
 now nobly sought and forgave him, and became his truest 
 friend, although he never forgot the pale nun, who was 
 spending her life in penance and prayer within the somber 
 walls of the Bornhofen convent. 
 
 RANKENBERG. 
 
 XTbe (5fant0' |>ot. 
 
 Three huge giants once lived in a cave on the Ranken- 
 berg near the Rhine. Their appetites were fully as great 
 as their size, and as they ate nothing but oatmeal, they bade 
 a neighboring founder make them the biggest pot ever seen. 
 After cooking their porridge for the first time in this colossal 
 new pot, the giants sat round it, dipping their spoons with 
 
1 86 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 military precision into the center of the mass, drawing 
 them out very full, opening their mouths, shutting their 
 eyes, and gulping down each spoonful in concert. When 
 the last spoonfuls had thus been disposed of, and no por- 
 ridge remained in the bottom of the vessel, each giant care- 
 fully licked his spoon clean, and, running it through his 
 belt, exclaimed that the pot was just the right size to 
 satisfy his appetite. 
 
 Time passed on, but, although the pot remained un- 
 changed, and the giants grew no larger, it seemed as if, 
 little by little, they had less and less to eat, and they daily 
 drew their belts tighter, to prevent their spoons from fall- 
 ing through. Finally, one of them declared he knew the 
 the pot was bewitched, for every day his portion grew less. 
 His brothers agreeing with him, they angrily invaded the 
 founder's shop, threatening all manner of evil if he did not 
 remove the baleful spell from their pot. The poor man, 
 bewildered by their threats and accusations, vainly tried to 
 defend himself, and to disarm their anger finally bade them 
 bring the pot to him, so that he could carefully examine it 
 and see where the fault lay. 
 
 The giants immediately went in search of their porridge 
 vessel, and tipped it upon one side so the founder could 
 walk in, for it was so large that he could not look over the 
 brim when it stood upright on the floor. The giants 
 gloomily watched him walk in, and were greatly surprised 
 to hear him burst into prolonged peals of laughter. Then, 
 setting aside their eager questions, he ran into his shop' 
 came out again with a hoe, and in a very few moments had 
 scraped out a great heap of dried porridge which had 
 gradually formed a thick crust all around the edge. 
 
 His work finished, he turned to the astonished giants and 
 coolly said: ** Gentlemen, if you scrape your pot clean, you 
 will find that it will always contain the same amount of 
 porridge." 
 
 The giants took this advice to heart and taught their 
 
 HIRZENA CH. 
 
 187 
 
 descendants, and all the people around Rankenberg, that 
 one of the most important maxims of life was, to *' scrape 
 their pots clean." 
 
 HIRZENACH. 
 
 tTbe fnnfteeper'd Wine* 
 
 A TRAVELER oncc Came to Hirzenach, entered the village 
 inn, and bade the host bring him a jug of wine, that he might 
 quench his ardent thirst. The innkeeper, Hans Teuerlich, 
 a thrifty man, seized his crock, and marched down into his 
 cellar where were two faucets. He turned the first very 
 gingerly, indeed, and partly filled the jug with sour wine. 
 Then, rushing to the other faucet, which was set in the wall, 
 he turned it full cock, and allowed the water from the 
 Rhine to flow freely until the jug was quite full. 
 
 Hans Teuerlich then marched upstairs again, and filled his 
 guest's tumbler, declaring that nowhere would he find such 
 good, unadulterated Rhine wine. The guest drank eagerly, 
 but made somewhat of a face when he tasted the sour drink, 
 and setting his empty tumbler down again asked whether 
 the host were quite sure that no water had been mixed with 
 the wine. 
 
 The innkeeper now swore more emphatically than ever 
 that his wine was undiluted, and himself poured out a 
 second glassful. But as he did so, three little fishes passed 
 from the jug into the tumbler, where they swam merrily 
 round and round, convicting the innkeeper of fraud. Of 
 course the traveler saw the little fishes, made fun of the 
 host, and duly advised him to use a strainer next time he 
 attempted to make Rhine wine out of Rhine water. This 
 piece of advice Hans Teuerlich took to heart, and faith- 
 fully impressed upon his numerous descendants, who are 
 all innkeepers along the Rhine, and who still occasionally 
 eke out their wine with plenty of water. 
 
i88 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 EHRENTHAL. 
 
 The Ehrenthal with its rich mines was the property of 
 the lords of Thurnberg, who, loving war, were seldom at 
 home, and left the care of their serfs and estates to an able 
 steward. One of these men was noted for hi« cruelty and 
 tyranny, for he forced the miners to work incessantly, gave 
 them remarkably small wages, and ill treated even the castle 
 servants, who were ill clad and ill fed. 
 
 The foreman of the mine, a young man by the name of 
 Benno, had fallen deeply in love with one of the castle 
 maids, Clara, and the young people were very anxious indeed 
 to marry. But, as they were serfs, they could not do so 
 without the consent of their master, who was absent, or at 
 least the sanction of his steward, to whom he had tempo- 
 rarily delegated all his authority. They therefore trem- 
 blingly ventured into the surly man's presence to ask his 
 permission to marry. 
 
 After considering the matter for a moment, the steward 
 maliciously declared that they might be united as soon as 
 Clara had woven a bridal garment for herself, and a shroud 
 for him, out of thread taken from nettles which she must 
 sow upon her parents' graves. He added that the garments 
 must be ready in three weeks' time, and that she must be 
 very careful not to have a bit of thread left over. The 
 steward departed, laughing at the young people's utter 
 dismay, and bade them go to work. Clara and Benno tear- 
 fully parted, the former pausing for a moment to weep over 
 her parents' grave, ere she returned to the castle. While she 
 knelt there, in tears, she suddenly felt a little hand laid upon 
 her shoulder, and looking up beheld a tiny female gnome. 
 She bade her be comforted, for she would help her to fulfill 
 all the cruel steward's conditions. Then the gnome waved 
 her staff over the grave, bade the maiden meet her here at 
 
 EHRENTHAL, 
 
 ?89 
 
 sundown on the morrow, and vanished. Comforted by the 
 assurance the tiny creature had given her, Clara resumed 
 her work, and at sundown on the next day hastened to her 
 parents' graves, which she found covered with tall stalks of 
 nettles. These she hastily pulled up and bound into sheaves, 
 as the gnome bade her, for she could not bear to see the 
 noxious weeds growing over the remains of those she loved. 
 
 When the last stalk had been bound into the sheaves, the 
 little old woman took charge of the nettles, and departed, 
 promising that the girl would see her again ere the three 
 weeks were ended. She withdrew to the entrance of an 
 abandoned mine, and there began to prepare the nettles 
 exactly as if they had been flax. 
 
 A few days later the steward, passing near there, became 
 aware of her presence, and grimly asked what she was spin- 
 ning. '' A bride's garment for Clara and a shroud for you, 
 wretch ! " replied the old woman, with such utter conviction 
 of the truth of her assertion, that the cruel steward could 
 not help shuddering with fear. 
 
 When the three weeks were ended, Clara appeared before 
 the steward with the bridal garment and shroud, both 
 woven from nettles grown on her parents' grave, and the 
 steward was obliged to consent to her immediate union with 
 Benno. But as soon as the merry marriage peal was ended 
 which proclaimed that Benno and Clara were happily united, 
 the village church bells began to toll loudly, for the cruel 
 steward had died suddenly, and the people openly rejoiced 
 to hear that he would trouble them no more, and that his 
 shroud had been ready just in time. 
 
190 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 WERLAU. 
 
 trbc 
 
 .ii3cunivlvD t\hmc 
 
 Dagobert, the ancient and renowned Merovingian king, 
 was said to derive his almost fabulous wealth from a very 
 productive silver mine, situated in the mountains back of 
 Werlau. All at once, however, the revenue from the mine 
 ceased, and the directors reported that the work could not 
 be continued, as invisible hands caught and cruelly buffeted 
 any man who attempted to go down the shaft. 
 
 Seized by superstitious dread, the miners finally refused 
 to make any further attempt to descend, and Dagobert, 
 finding his coffers empty, resolved to visit Werlau, and see 
 what could be done to induce the miners to resume their 
 wonted labors. Accompanied by St. Eloi, his prime minister, 
 his fair daughter Beatrix, and a goodly retinue, the king rode 
 out of Andernach and soon came to Werlau. There the 
 royal cavalcade was joined by a handsome youth, who 
 declared he too would fain visit the mine, but whose chief 
 interest seemed to be centered on the fair princess. 
 
 Dagobert, arriving at the shaft, dismounted, and would 
 have descended himself, had not his courtiers restrained 
 him, and his daughter implored him to desist. His proffers 
 of reward to the man who would venture down into the 
 mine were not taken up. He was about to try some 
 other means, when the stranger suddenly sprang for- 
 ward, volunteering to descend, not to obtain the reward, 
 but to please the fair princess who seemed so anxious about 
 her father. A moment later he had sprung into the bucket, 
 and was rapidly lowered into the shaft, but although the 
 spectators watched eagerly for any signs or sounds, they 
 heard and saw nothing, and the youth did not reappear. 
 When half an hour had elapsed and the bucket came up 
 empty, one of the courtiers declared the youth must be 
 dead, and at these words the princess fainted away. 
 
 WERLA U, 
 
 191 
 
 While all were bending over her, trying to restore her, 
 a littie dwarf appeared in their midst, and touched the 
 princess, who immediately opened her eyes. 
 
 Before he could vanish, the king seized him and inquired 
 what he wanted, and as he refused to answer, ordered him 
 flung headlong into the shaft of the mine. The men were 
 about to carry out this order, when Beatrix, falling upon her 
 knees before the king, interceded so eloquently for the little 
 creature's life that it was granted to her. 
 
 As soon as the gnome was released he vowed that the 
 princess should never repent having helped him, snatched 
 the golden necklace from her neck, and springing into the 
 empty bucket, dropped down the shaft like a stone. The 
 people, in breathless wonder, were still gazing at the shaft 
 where he had disappeared, when they suddenly saw the 
 bucket reappear, and in it lay the gallant youth, bound and 
 unconscious. 
 
 Dagobert gave orders that he should be lifted out and 
 released, and, as he still gave no signs of returning conscious- 
 ness, had him carried into the royal tent. There Beatrix, 
 bending solicitously over him, discovered that he wore her 
 necklace, over which his fingers were so convulsively clasped 
 that she could not remove it. All day long she watched 
 over him, and when night came on, and she was left alone 
 with him, the gnome appeared before her, telling her he 
 could restore the youth to life providing someone were 
 willing to die to save him. 
 
 As Beatrix heard these words, she realized for the first 
 time that she loved the unconscious youth dearly enough to 
 die for him, and straightway informed the gnome of the fact. 
 To test the truth of her assertion, which he appeared to 
 doubt, the dwarf produced two delicate little flowers, which 
 he told her bloomed simultaneously, with the birth of a new 
 love. He laid one on her breast, saying that if her love were 
 pure, the flower would fall into ashes at her seventh heart- 
 beat. 
 
192 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Fearlessly Beatrix submitted to the test, and at the sev- 
 enth heartbeat the flowers fell into ashes and she 'dropped 
 
 asleep. 
 
 As in a trance, however, she saw the gnome take the sec- 
 ond flower and lay it on the youth's breast, where it also fell 
 into ashes, touch his eyes with them, and recall him to life. 
 The dwarf then vanished, and the doctors entering just 
 then, awakened Beatrix and announced that her patient was 
 restored to consciousness and perfectly well once more. 
 
 Early the next morning the youth, wandering alone in 
 the forest, met the tiny dwarf, who promised to help him 
 secure the princess' hand in marriage if he would only act 
 a passive part. A moment later the youth saw a royal train 
 appear. An old servant paused before him, called him duke, 
 bade him mount, and led him back to Dagobert's court, 
 where he announced .him as the young Duke of Suabia, who 
 had come to marry Beatrix. 
 
 Dagobert, pleased with this alliance, immediately gave 
 orders that all should be prepared for a speedy marriage. 
 All would have taken place as the dwarf had planned, had 
 not the youth been too honest to take advantage of the 
 king's credulity and revealed the fraud. 
 
 Incensed at his presumption, Dagob^srt now ordered that 
 the stranger should be beheaded early the next day, and all 
 Beatrix' tears and entreaties could not move him. In de- 
 spair the princess then rushed off to the shaft, and called 
 aloud for the friendly gnome, whose help she implored, 
 bathing his hands with tears. 
 
 These drops were immediately changed into sparkling 
 jewels, and the gnome joyfully exclaimed: ** Fair Princess, 
 weep no more. I will save your beloved, for you have 
 released me from a cruel spell, which banished me from my 
 kingdom until I could p-oduce the priceless gems which 
 
 I now hold." 
 
 The gnome then explained to the princess that in his rage 
 at being exiled he had cursed the mine, but that he would 
 
 ST, GOAR. 
 
 193 
 
 remove the curse if she were given in marriage to the 
 youth. 
 
 These tidings, skillfully conveyed to Dagobert, made him 
 consent to the marriage, which was celebrated on the 
 morrow with all due pomp. After the festivities were 
 ended, the miners returned unmolested to their work, and 
 continued to dig silver enough to supply the king with all 
 the money he needed for many a year. 
 
 ST. GOAR. 
 Aitaclee and Sbcine* 
 
 The little town of St. Goar is situated on the very spot 
 once occupied by the hermitage of the saint whose name it 
 bears. This holy man came thither as a missionary, and 
 took up his abode near the whirlpool and sandbank, intend- 
 ing not only to preach the gospel to the barbarians, but also 
 to lend a helping hand to all those who came to grief on their 
 way either up or down the river. 
 
 As he rescued them from danger, he invariably inquired 
 whether they were Christians or heathens. If they denied 
 the Redeemer he plunged them back into the tide, holding 
 them under the water until they changed their faith. Then, 
 having forcibly baptized them, he bore them off to his cell 
 and duly fed and dried them. 
 
 The rumor of St. Goar's good works finally came to the 
 ears of the Austrasian Prince Sigebert, who summoned him 
 to court, and offered him the bishopric of Treves. But the 
 good man humbly refused this honor. To amuse the king, 
 and show him that he had won God's approval, he hung his 
 mantle on a sunbeam as on a peg, and leaving it there until 
 he was ready to resume it, won permission to hasten back to 
 his chosen abode. 
 
 After founding a monastery there, and attaining extreme 
 
194 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 old age, St. Goar died and was buried in the monastery 
 church. There his tombstone can still be seen, bearing his 
 name and the date of his decease, which occurred in 6ii. 
 His tomb very soon became the favorite resort of the lame, 
 deaf, and blind, who were perfectly cured after a pilgrimage 
 to his shrine, and gradually enriched it by their grateful 
 
 offerings. 
 
 This saint also became the special patron of the Rhine 
 boatmen, who were sure to escape all danger, providing 
 they paused to pray at his shrine on their way up and down 
 the river. If they failed to pay him the customary respect, 
 however, misfortune, and sometimes shipwreck, was sure to 
 
 be their lot. 
 
 Charlemagne, on his way from Ingelheim to Cologne, once 
 passed the town without disembarking, but no sooner had 
 he done so than a terrible storm overtook him, threatening 
 his boat with destruction and greatly alarming the boatmen, 
 who declared they had grievously offended St. Goar. 
 
 The emperor hearing this, immediately vowed to return 
 and pray at the shrine, so the storm abated as suddenly as 
 it had arisen, to permit him to keep his promise without 
 delay. In gratitude for this narrow escape, Charlemagne 
 gave the monastery a grant of land and a butt of wine, 
 which the saint evidently took under his special protection, 
 for it was soon discovered that it possessed the admirable 
 property of always remaining full. 
 
 Trusting to this miracle, the cellarman once carelessly 
 left the faucet open, thus allowing the precious wine to 
 escape. St. Goar, who was evidently very thrifty, must 
 have immediately become aware of this oversight, for it is 
 said he sent a spider, which so quickly wove a thick web 
 across the opening that very little wine was lost. 
 
 Charlemagne also gave the town of St. Goar the famous 
 silver collar, which was fastened to the toll house, and 
 which, until the days of steam navigation, was secured 
 around the neck of every boatman and traveler on his first 
 
 KA TZENELLENBOCEN, 
 
 195 
 
 visit to the place. To obtain release the victim was obliged 
 to select between the wine and water baptism offered him. 
 If he declared his preference for the former, he was set free 
 after drinking a brimming beaker of Rhine wine» but, in 
 case he selected the latter, he was dismissed onlv after a 
 great pailful of cold water had been emptied over his head. 
 
 Thanks to all the offerings made by pilgrims and travelers, 
 the monastery of St. Goar soon became very rich indeed, and 
 on sundry occasions this excited the cupidity of the bold 
 robber knights of the Rhine, who ventured to attack it to 
 secure this vast wealth. After defending the convent bravely 
 on one occasion, the abbot, seeing he would soon be forced to 
 yield, but hoping to awe the assailants, held a crucifix up 
 at the window, loudly commanding the assailants to forbear. 
 
 His commands were received with derision, however, and 
 one robber knight, drawing his cross-bow, sent an arrow, 
 which pierced the image on the cross. To the amazement 
 of monks and soldiers, who were horrified at this sacrilege, 
 the blood suddenly began to flow from the sacred emblem. 
 
 This miracle so terrified the besiegers that they fled in 
 haste, and never dared return, while the monks gave hearty 
 thanks for the preservation of their property and lives. 
 The robber knight who had shot the arrow was converted 
 by what he had seen, and in atonement for his sins he 
 hastened off to Palestine, where he fought bravely and fell 
 gloriously defending the Holy Sepulcher against the 
 Saracens. 
 
 KATZENELLENBOGEN. 
 
 The castle of Katzenellenbogen, which is generally known 
 as the Cat, was built in the fourteenth century. It was 
 once occupied by a very popular lord and his equally un- 
 popular wife, who was greatly disliked on account of her 
 irascible temper. 
 
196 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Worn out by her constant recriminations, her husband 
 finally obtained a divorce, and as he had no chiWren to 
 inherit his vast possessions, he soon married again, choosing 
 this time a lady as lovable, gentle, and good as she was 
 pretty. In the course of his wedding journey he led his 
 bride to his castle of Rheinfels, where a priest, hired by his 
 divorced wife to kill her hated rival, administered a subtle 
 poison to her in the communion cup. 
 
 The countess, noticing the powder on the wine, called the 
 priest's attention to it, but he bade her drink without fear, 
 as it was nothing but a little dust which had fallen from the 
 ceiling. The young bride obeyed, but was soon seized with 
 convulsions, and although she did not die, her health was 
 permanently impaired. 
 
 Soon after, the Count of Katzenellenbogen also became 
 mysteriously ill, and died, leaving all his possessions to the 
 noble house of Hesse, for he had no direct heir. 
 
 The priest's crimes were, however, eventually discovered, 
 and after a public ceremony, in which all the emblems of his 
 sacred office were solemnly taken from him, he was deposed 
 from the priestly office, and hanged, amid the loud execra- 
 tions of the assembled people. 
 
 THURNBERG. 
 
 197 
 
 THURNBERG. 
 TTbe 1bal!!1te^ Caette. 
 
 The ruins of the ancient castle of Thurnberg tower 
 above the little village of Welmich, not very far from St. 
 Goar. This castle was contemptuously called the Mouse by 
 the haughty lords of Katzenellenbogen, for their strong- 
 hold was known as the Katze (Cat), and they openly boasted 
 far and wide that their cat would soon devour the mouse. 
 But for all their boasting, it never did so, and the little 
 mouse ever kept them at bay. 
 
 Above the ruins lurid lights are often seen after sunset. 
 
 The people declare they are the reflections of the fire in 
 which a former owner, an unbeliever, is slowly burning in the 
 Infernal Regions. Tradition further relates that, irritated 
 by the ringing of the village church bell beneath him, which 
 on Sunday mornings always roused him from his prolonged 
 nap, this arbitrary nobleman once coolly confiscated it. 
 When the priest came to claim it, and expostulated about 
 his impious conduct, the Lord of Thurnberg had the bell 
 bound firmly round his neck, and ordered him flung into a 
 very deep well in his courtyard. 
 
 The clang of the bell was not silenced, however, by this 
 crime, for the deeper it fell the louder it pealed, waking all 
 the echoes with its deafening sound. In vain the lord of the 
 castle had the well filled up, the bell rang loudly night and 
 day, driving him mad and causing him to die at last of 
 insomnia. But the moment he had breathed his last, the 
 bell suddenly ceased ringing, and since then it has been 
 heard for a few moments only, at midnight, on the i8th of 
 January, the anniversary of the wicked Lord of Thurnberg's 
 death. 
 
 The ruins are further said to be haunted also by a lovely 
 maiden, all dressed in white. She once appeared to bring a 
 drink to a young nobleman, who had thrown himself down 
 near the ruins to rest and mockingly called for a beaker of 
 wine. This rash youth, who had thus ventured to summon a 
 spirit from the tomb, was sorely punished, for he fell in love 
 with the lady, and remained there, pining for her return until 
 he died from inanition. The legend tells, however, that as 
 he passed away, she appeared once more, and bending to 
 kiss him, claimed him for her own. This legend resembles 
 the story of the lady of Vindeck, versified by Chamisso and 
 translated by Byrant, and which ends as follows: 
 
 ** And ever from that moment 
 He haunted the ruins there, 
 A sleepless, restless wanderer, 
 A watcher with despair. 
 
lUO 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ** Ghost-like and pale he wandered. 
 With a dreamy, haggard eye ; 
 He seemed not one of the living. 
 And yet he could not die. 
 
 Tis said that the lady met him 
 When many years had passed, 
 Ai^i, kissinLi; his lips, released him 
 From the burden of life at last." 
 
 (( > 
 
 REICHENBERG. 
 
 Frederick Barbarossa, emperor of Germany, was the 
 owner of a magnificent, fiery red beard. This the devil 
 coveted sorely, as he fancied such an ornament would be 
 particularly becoming to a gentleman of his complexion, 
 and delicately suggestive of his avocation. 
 
 As he could grow no beard of his own, he finally resolved 
 to steal the emperor's, and as he did not understand the art 
 of shaving, he proceeded to the little town of Bacharach, 
 and engaged the service of one of the numerous barbers 
 living there. It was duly agreed between them that, for a 
 certain consideration, the barber would shave off the impe- 
 rial beard, providing Satan conveyed him safely to and from 
 the palace, and caused such a deep sleep to fall upon the 
 victim that he would never discover the delinquent. 
 
 A Wisperthal fairy, overhearing this plot, and knowing 
 that Frederick would visit the town a few days later, wished 
 to protect him, for he had once done her a good turn. So 
 she went in search of a giant, and coaxed him to lend her 
 his great bag. The giant, seeing her diminutive size, and 
 fearing lest she should be crushed by the sack's weight, 
 gallantly offered to carry it for her wherever she wished, and 
 walking beside her came to the entrance of Bacharach, just 
 as the town clocks were striking twelve. The fairy bade 
 
 LORELEI, 
 
 199 
 
 him sit down on a stone and await her return, then cleverly 
 caught all the barbers while they were asleep, and without 
 waking them, spirited them into the bag, which she then 
 fastened securely. 
 
 She next awoke the giant, who had fallen into a doze, and 
 bade him carry the bag far away, and dump its contents 
 into the river at early dawn. Good-naturedly, the giant 
 shouldered his burden and tramped off. The barbers, 
 awakened by the jolting, kicked and struggled to get out, 
 frightening their bearer to such an extent that he began to 
 run, and with one leap cleared the castle of Reichenberg. 
 At that selfsame moment one of the barbers, quicker-witted 
 than the rest, ripped open the bag with his sharp razor, and 
 he and his companions rolled down into the castle moat, 
 where they were all drowned. 
 
 Frederick Barbarossa came to Bacharach on the morrow, 
 but the devil failed to secure his fiery red beard, for there 
 was not a single barber left in town to do his bidding. 
 
 LORELEI. 
 
 The bed of the Rhine grows suddenly narrow and almost 
 fathomless after St. Goar, while great masses of rock shut 
 out the pleasant light of the sun. On the right bank, a 
 huge basaltic cliff towers above the Rhine. This is the 
 famous Loreleiberg, noted for its magnificent prospect and 
 sevenfold echo, no less than for the numerous romantic 
 legends connected with it. 
 
 A maiden of wondrous beauty, called Lorelei, dwelt at 
 Bacharach on the Rhine, in the beginning of the eleventh 
 century. Suitors without end came to woo her, and as she 
 was as tender-hearted as she was beautiful, she regretfully 
 saw the misery her loveliness inflicted, and would gladly 
 
200 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHmE, 
 
 have consented to lose all her charms could she have sav,ed 
 anyone from pain. 
 
 Ill-natured people, however, vowed that she was quite 
 heartless, a statement which was soon refuted by her ac- 
 ceptance of and response to the suit of a handsome young 
 knight of the neighborhood. As the young people had 
 always met in secret,' no one at first knew of their love, but 
 a short time after they were betrothed the knight went of] 
 to war, declaring he would win honor and glory before he 
 claimed the beautiful Lorelei as his bride. Vainly she en- 
 treated him to remain by her side; vainly she pictured the 
 dangers and possible death which awaited him, he refused to 
 listen to aught but the promptings of his ambition and 
 departed. 
 
 Lorelei, bathed in tears, and oppressed by nameless 
 fears, no longer took any pleasure in life. In spite of 
 her openly announced engagement, new suitors constantly 
 crowded around her, trying to win her from her allegiance 
 to her absent lover. But, although no tidings of the rover 
 reached her, and she feared he had either perished or turned 
 faithless, Lorelei still refused to console herself with the 
 love of another. Every day some new suitor appeared, and 
 every day the village gossips whispered that some rejected 
 lover had drowned himself in the Rhine, pined to death, or 
 left the country to find an honorable end on the battlefield. 
 Only a few youths were now left in the country, and every 
 one knew they were well and happy only because they had 
 never seen the beautiful Lorelei, and that as soon as their 
 eyes rested upon her they too would fall victims to her 
 charms. Mothers with marriageable daughters were spe- 
 cially anxious to get rid of Lorelei, and, little by little, spread 
 the dark report that it was not only the maiden's beauty 
 which won the hearts of men, but her magic arts, spells, and 
 incantations. The rumor, as rumors will, spread so rapidly 
 that Lorelei was finally summoned to appear before the 
 criminal court of the archbishop of Cologne. 
 
 LORELEI, 
 
 20I 
 
 There, in spite of all accusations made by virulent gossips, 
 judge and jury alike agreed that such a beautiful, innocent 
 face could not belong to a guilty person, and acquitted her. 
 Lorelei, feeling that life had no charms for her, and weary 
 of persecution, now flung herself at the archbishop's feet 
 crying : 
 
 ** I'm not a witch, but let me die. I'm so unhappy. My 
 lover has forsaken me, and his silence has lasted so long 
 that I am sure he is either faithless or dead. Life is a 
 burden to me, for the young men of the neighborhood 
 constantly annoy me by pleading for a love which I cannot 
 give, as my heart is in my lover's keeping. Let me die !" 
 
 The aged prelate kindly raised the tearful supplicant and 
 said : 
 
 **My child, I see no cause to credit the accusations 
 brought against you of practicing magic arts, but perceive 
 only too plainly the natural charms which have done so 
 much harm. I cannot let you die ; but, if you wish to 
 mourn in peace, you may enter a convent, where none will 
 ever again molest you." 
 
 Lorelei accepted this proposal with joy. Two old knights 
 were summoned to escort her to her future home, and the 
 little cavalcade wended its way along the Rhine, and crossed 
 it at St. Goar. Soon after they drew near a huge mass of 
 basaltic rock, which Lorelei expressed a desire to climb, 
 that she might from thence view her home once more. 
 
 The old knights immediately acceded to this innocent 
 recjuest, and the maiden, bounding lightly ahead, climbed 
 until she reached the highest point and stood directly 
 above the dark stream. Her tearful eyes rested for a 
 moment upon her native town,' then upon the towers of her 
 lover's home, and lastly fell upon a bark slowly floating down 
 the stream. At the sight of a mailed figure standing at the 
 helm, she suddenly uttered a loud cry of joy, for she recog- 
 nized the lover whom she had long believed dead. Her 
 sudden exclamation, rousing the echoes, attracted the atten- 
 
202 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 tion of the knight, who, still faithful, forgot all else at the 
 sight of his beloved standing far above him with outstretched 
 
 arms. 
 
 The little boat, no longer guided by the helm, was seized 
 by the current, whirled against the dangerous rock, and 
 dashed to pieces. Lorelei, seeing her lover's danger, made 
 an impetuous motion, as if to save him, lost her balance, and 
 fell over the precipice into the Rhine, where she perished by 
 his side, at the foot of the rock which still bears her name. 
 
 CTe ifigberman. 
 
 Another tradition of the Lorelei which, although equally 
 tragical, differs widely in many points from the first, has 
 inspired Heine's immortal song, and is generally told as 
 
 follows : 
 
 Long years ago, whenever the moonlight flooded moun- 
 tains and river, a beautiful maiden was seen seated upon 
 the top of the Lorelei rock. There she sang sweet and 
 entrancing melodies, while she combed her long golden hair 
 with a jeweled comb, her pure white draperies fluttering in 
 the night winds as she made her toilet under the blue vault 
 of heaven and by the witching light of the moon. 
 
 ** And yonder sits a maiden, 
 
 The fairest of the fair ; 
 With gold in her garment glittering, 
 
 And she combs the golden hair : 
 With a golden comb she combs it ; 
 
 And a wild song singeth she, 
 
 That meets the heart with a wondrous 
 
 And powerful melody." 
 
 — Heine. 
 
 This fair creature, whom all called Lorelei, was an im- 
 mortal, a water nymph, daughter of old Father Rhine. 
 During the day she lingered in the cool depths of the river 
 bed, but late at night she sat aloft where travelers and boat- 
 
 O 
 r 
 
 C 
 
 n 
 
202 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 tion of the knight, who, still faithful, forgot all else at the 
 sight of his beloved standing far above him with outstretched 
 
 arms. 
 
 The little boat, no longer guided by the helm, was seized 
 by the current, whirled against the dangerous rock, and 
 dashed to pieces. Lorelei, seeing her lover's danger, made 
 an impetuous motion, as if to save him, lost her balance, and 
 fell over the precipice into the Rhine, where she perished by 
 his side, at the foot of the rock which still bears her name. 
 
 Wdz ifigberman. 
 
 Another tradition of the Lorelei which, although equally 
 tragical, differs widely in many points from the first, has 
 inspired Heine's immortal song, and is generally told as 
 
 follows : 
 
 Long years ago, whenever the moonlight flooded moun- 
 tains and river, a beautiful maiden was seen seated upon 
 the top of the Lorelei rock. There she sang sweet and 
 entrancing melodies, while she combed her long golden hair 
 with a jeweled comb, her pure white draperies fluttering in 
 the night winds as she made her toilet under the blue vault 
 of heaven and by the witching light of the moon. 
 
 ** And yonder sits a maiden, 
 
 The fairest of the fair ; 
 With gold in her garment glittering, 
 
 And she combs the golden hair : 
 With a golden comb she combs it ; 
 
 And a wild song singeth she, 
 
 That meets the heart with a wondrous 
 
 And powerful melody." 
 
 — Heine. 
 
 This fair creature, whom all called Lorelei, was an im- 
 mortal, a water nymph, daughter of old Father Rhine. 
 During the day she lingered in the cool depths of the river 
 bed, but late at night she sat aloft where travelers and boat- 
 
 r 
 
 c 
 
 r 
 
 PC 
 
 C 
 
 n 
 
LORELEI. 
 
 203 
 
 men could easily see her. But woe unto them if the even- 
 ing breeze wafted the notes of her song to their ears, for 
 the entrancing melody made them forget time and place, 
 until their vessels, no longer guided along the dangerous 
 pass, were whirled against the rocks, where they were 
 dashed to pieces, and all on board perished. One person 
 only is said to have been favored with a near view of the 
 charming Lorelei, a handsome young fisherman from Ober- 
 wesel, who climbed the rocks every evening to spend a few 
 delightful hours, his head pillowed in the nymph's lap, his 
 eyes drinking in her beauty, while his ears were charmed by 
 the melody of her song. 
 
 Tradition further relates that ere they parted the Lorelei 
 Invariably pointed out the places where he was to cast his 
 nets on the morrow, and as he always implicitly carried 
 out her instructions he never came home with an empty 
 creel. 
 
 One moonlight night the fisherman was seen as usual 
 boldly scaling the rocks to keep his tryst, but he never 
 came down the cliff again. The river was dragged, the 
 rock was searched, but no trace of him was found, so the 
 peasants of the neighorhood invariably declare that Lorelei 
 dragged him down into her crystal palace beneath the flood 
 to enjoy his society undisturbed forever.* 
 
 B ^aaic SpcU. . 
 
 Count Ludwig, the only son of the Prince Palatine, once 
 left his father's castle at Stahleck to sail down the Rhine, 
 hoping to catch a glimpse of the Siren Lorelei, of whom he 
 had often heard such marvelous tales. It was evening — the 
 stars were twinkling softly overhead, and the bark slowly 
 drifted down the river. Darker and darker grew the waters 
 as the bed of the Rhine grew narrower, but the young count 
 
 * Sec " Myths of Northern Lands," by the author. 
 
204 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 paid no heed to that; his eyes were fixed on the rocks far 
 above, where he hoped to see the beautiful nymph. 
 
 Suddenly he perceived a glimmer of white drapery and 
 golden hair, and heard the faint, sweet sound of an alluring 
 song. As he drew nearer, the melody became more dis- 
 tinct, and the moonbeams, falling upon the maiden, seemed 
 to enhance her marvelous beauty, as she bent over the 
 rocky ledge beckoning to him to draw near. The count 
 and boatmen, spellbound by the vision above them, paid no 
 heed to their vessel, which, striking suddenly against the 
 rocks, sunk with all on board, one man only escaping to tell 
 of the young count's cruel fate. 
 
 The bereaved father, thirsting for revenge, issued immedi- 
 ate orders for the capture of the siren who had caused so 
 much woe, and a few tried ^Y^rriors set out at the head of an 
 armed band, which they posted all around the rock, with 
 strict orders not to let the nymph escape. 
 
 Then, climbing noiselessly up the moonlit cliff, the cap- 
 tain and three of his men suddenly presented themselves 
 before the matchless Lorelei. She was, as usual, combing her 
 hair and crooning her song. The men hemmed her in so 
 securely that no mode of escape remained except by the pre- 
 cipitous descent to the river. Then they loudly bade her 
 surrender. Quite unmoved, however, the nymph gracefully 
 waved her white hands, and the grim old warriors suddenly 
 felt as if rooted to the spot, and were utterly incapable of 
 moving hand or foot or of uttering the slightest sound. 
 
 With dilated eyes fixed upon the Lorelei, they saw her 
 divest herself of her jewels, which she dropped one by one 
 into the Rhine at her feet, then whirl about in mystic dance, 
 muttering some strange spell, wherein they could only dis- 
 tinguish some words about white-maned steeds and pearl 
 shell chariots. When dance and song were ended, the waters 
 of the Rhine suddenly began to bubble and seethe, and rose 
 higher and higher, until they reached the top of the cliff, and 
 the petrified warriors felt the cold tide surge about their 
 
 LORELEI. 
 
 205 
 
 feet. Suddenly they saw a great white-crested wave rolling 
 rapidly toward them, and in its green depths they beheld a 
 chariot, drawn by white-maned steeds. Lorelei sprang into 
 this car, and quickly vanished over the edge of the cliff, into 
 the river. 
 
 A few moments later the angry waters had subsided to 
 their wonted level, the men recovered the power of motion, 
 and, when they bent down over the cliff, no trace of the 
 sudden rise could be seen, except the water drops along the 
 face of the cliff, shining in the moonlight like diamonds. 
 
 The next morning Count Ludwig's body was found washed 
 ashore near the Pfalz, '' whither it had come contrary to the 
 course of the current," doubtless borne thither by the 
 Lorelei, who has never since then reappeared on the cliff, 
 although boatmen and belated travelers have often heard the 
 faint sweet echo of her alluring song, wafted toward them 
 on the summer breeze at midnight. 
 
 XSbc Devil'd f mprfnt 
 
 The Devil one day made up his mind to take a trip along 
 the Rhine, and, to be fashionable, he thought he would go 
 up, rather than down the stream. He enjoyed his journey 
 pretty well until he came to the great rock, which barred 
 the course of the river, causing it to make a sudden bend, 
 and seeing that the cliff impressed strangers, and made 
 them marvel at the power of God, he angrily resolved to 
 move it away. 
 
 The Devil had just sunk his claws into the stone, and was 
 about to lift and throw it aside, when the Lorelei's marvel- 
 ous tone fell upon his ear. While leaning spellbound against 
 the stone, he heard her sing of deathless love, of the charms 
 of her crystal palace, of rippling waves and silvery moonlight, 
 and, realizing that they all helped to make the charm of the 
 spot complete, he relinquished his plan of removing the 
 
2o6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 rock, and hastened away. His red-hot body had, however, 
 softened the stone against which he leaned, and ever since 
 then the fishermen have pointed out his effigy in the rock 
 when they relate his attempt to remove it. 
 
 OBERWESEL. 
 
 TOe Xittle /ISatt^t. 
 
 In the thirteenth century, one of the burghers of the little 
 town of Oberwesel incurred the wrath of a wicked old 
 woman, who in revenge stole his only son and sold him to 
 the Jews. This people had endured so many cruel perse- 
 cutions at the Christians' hands, that they were much 
 embittered, and now sought to avenge themselves by merci- 
 lessly torturing the innocent little lad. 
 
 But in spite of all persecutions, the brave child persistently 
 refused to deny Christ, and patiently allowed himself to be 
 scourged and finally crucified. When he was quite dead 
 and they could no longer torture him, the Jews cast his 
 corpse into the river, where early the next morning a 
 fisherman found it, the little dead hand pointing fixedly up 
 the river, and the body remaining motionless in spite of the 
 strong current. 
 
 Frightened by this phenomenon, the fisherman hastened to 
 summon all his companions, and while they were all gazing 
 upon the poor little mutilated corpse, it began to move 
 slowly up the river. It finally ran ashore at the very feet of 
 the wicked old woman, who had come to see what was the 
 cause of the general excitement. As the little dead hand 
 pointed fixedly at her, she was suddenly seized by remorse, 
 and with many tears confessed how she had kidnapped him 
 and sold him to the Jews. The marks on the child's body 
 revealed only too plainly all he had endured, so the people 
 of Oberwesel, wishing to discover the real perpetrators of 
 
 schOnberg. 
 
 207 
 
 the crime, forced all the Israelites to appear and lay their 
 hands upon the corpse. At the mere contact of one of the 
 criminals' hands the wounds began to bleed afresh, and the 
 guilty men, after confessing all their cruelty, were imme- 
 diately sentenced to death and summarily hung.* 
 
 As for the poor child, whose name was Werner, he was duly 
 canonized for his faith and martyrdom, and a church was 
 erected at Bacharach over his remains. In this building 
 the people have carefully preserved the pillar to which he 
 was bound when scourged, ere the Jews finally put him to 
 death, in the same manner as they had slain his Redeemer 
 so many years before. 
 
 SCHONBERG. 
 ^be Seven Sietera. 
 
 In the castle of Schonberg, whose ruins tower above the 
 little town of Oberwesel, there once dwelt seven beautiful 
 girls. They were sisters, and as they had no living relatives 
 they exercised full control over their persons, lands, and 
 fortunes. 
 
 As these young ladies were so very attractive, they were 
 wooed by knights of every degree, but although they de- 
 lighted in receiving attention, they would never consent to 
 bind themselves by any vows. They favored a suitor for a 
 short time, merely for the pleasure of watching his impotent 
 wrath when discarded to make room for a rival. One knight 
 after another thus left the castle in despair, but for one who 
 departed discouraged, two arrived full of hope, confident in 
 their powers to please and hold the capricious fair. One 
 day a Minnesinger arrived at Schonberg, and fell desperately 
 in love with Adelgunde, the youngest sister, for whom he 
 composed his sweetest lays, which he sang to his own 
 accompaniment on the guitar. Day after day the maiden 
 
 ♦ See Note 14 in Appendix. 
 
208 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 led him on, making him believe her heart was all his own, 
 but in reality caring nothing for him, and taking mental 
 note of all his passionate speeches merely to report them to 
 her sisters and make fun of the enamored youth. 
 
 Anxious to witness one of the love scenes she described 
 so vividly, the six other sisters once concealed themselves 
 in various parts of the apartment, leaving Adelgunde appar- 
 ently alone. A few moments later the Minnesinger appeared, 
 and, finding his lady love alone, fell upon his knees before 
 her and eloquently declared his love. 
 
 While he was still in this position, pleading with eager 
 eyes and trembling lips for the love he had a right to think 
 he had won, the sisters simultaneously rushed out of their 
 hiding places. They then all began to mimic him, while 
 Adelgunde, whom he had fancied so gentle, noble, and 
 refined, laughed louder than all the rest at his discomfiture. 
 
 Enraged at this heartless treatment, the Minnesinger 
 rushed out of the castle, sprang on his horse, galloped madly 
 down the steep hill, and, beside himself with grief, plunged 
 into the Rhine. There tradition relates that the water 
 nymphs laid him on a soft couch in their crystal palace, 
 and bade him confide all his sorrows to their queen, the 
 matchless golden-haired Lorelei. 
 
 When he had told her the whole story of his love and 
 despair, she exclaimed: ** Many are the complaints which 
 have reached me about those cold-hearted maidens, and the 
 just punishment for their crimes will soon overtake them. 
 As for you, sweet minstrel, sorrow and care shall never 
 again approach your poetic soul. Tune your guitar and 
 forget you were once unhappy." 
 
 The Lorelei then gently waved her fairy wand. At the 
 same moment the pain in the Minnesinger's heart vanished, 
 his sorrows were forgotten, his eye beamed with happiness, 
 and his guitar awoke to a joyful lay beneath the touch of his 
 inspired fingers. When she saw him happy once more, with 
 a bliss which would never cease, the Lorelei left her crystal 
 
 GUTENFELS. 
 
 209 
 
 palace and went in search of the cruel ladies of Schonberg, 
 whom she had resolved to punish. 
 
 It was evening, one of those matchless summer evenings 
 along the Rhine, and the sisters were idly drifting down the 
 stream, talking and laughing incessantly. While they were 
 as usual recounting their heartless triumphs, and mimick- 
 ing their unfortunate suitors, the Lorelei suddenly rose out 
 of the waves before them and solemnly warned them their 
 end was near. 
 
 In vain the frivolous sisters pleaded for mercy, in vain 
 they proffered their richest gifts, the Lorelei insisted that as 
 they had shown no compassion for the sufferings of others 
 they need expect no reprieve, and while she was still speak- 
 ing the vessel suddenly sank with all its living freight. 
 
 On the morrow, seven rocks rose out of the river in a spot 
 where none had previously stood, and the superstitious 
 peasants aver that these are the bodies of the seven sisters, 
 which have become as hard as their hearts, and that on 
 stormy evenings their drowning shrieks still rise above 
 the sound of the wind and waves. 
 
 GUTENFELS. 
 
 TCbe Bmperot^a Vllaofii0» 
 
 Above the ancient little town of Caub rises the castle of 
 Gutenfels, which was occupied in the middle of the thir- 
 teenth century by Philip, count of Falkenstein, and his only 
 sister Guda. The young people, who were orphans, lived 
 together in perfect amity, and if Philip sometimes urged 
 his sister to make a choice among her numerous suitors, 
 it was only because he was very anxious to secure her 
 happiness. 
 
 On one occasion the brother and sister attended a brilliant 
 tournament at Cologne, where Guda's beauty attracted the 
 
2IO 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 attention of a strange knight, who had won all the prizes. 
 He was known only to the bishop, who vouched for his 
 birth and general good character. 
 
 The stranger's manners and address were so polished, his 
 conversation so interesting, and his pleasure in Lord Falken- 
 stein's society so very evident, that the latter invited him to 
 visit him at Gutenfels. This invitation the knight gladly 
 accepted, as soon as he saw that his presence would be 
 welcome to Guda also. 
 
 Of course he was courteously received and duly enter- 
 tained. Day by day his love for the beautiful young 
 chatelaine increased and he often said he would fain linger 
 there forever. This could not be, however, for just then 
 all Germany was in a turmoil. Conrad IV. had died leav- 
 ing no heir, and the throne was disputed by Adolf of 
 Holland, Richard of Cornwall, brother of the English king, 
 Henry IIL, and Alfonso X. of Castile. 
 
 The seven electors supported Richard, and as most of 
 the noblemen followed their example, Philip of Falkenstein 
 soon left the castle of Gutenfels to go and fight in his behalf. 
 His guest promised to follow and fight by his side, as soon 
 as he had received a certain message for which he had been 
 
 waiting. 
 
 Two days later the message came, and the knight took 
 leave of Guda, after winning her promise to love him and 
 await his return without making any attempt to learn his 
 name or station. Left alone in the castle of Gutenfels, 
 Guda spent hours in thinking of her absent lover and in 
 longing for his return, but when the war was ended and her 
 brother came home she began to grow anxious, as she had 
 received no tidings from the strange knight. 
 
 A few weeks of suspense robbed her of all her pretty 
 color, and she withdrew weeping to her chamber, for she 
 felt sure that her betrothed was dead. She did not even wish 
 to be present when the new emperor arrived at the castle 
 as he had sent word he was about to do. 
 
 GUTENFELS, 
 
 211 
 
 Richard of Cornwall had no sooner entered the castle, 
 however, than he inquired for the fair chatelaine. He said 
 that he had often heard her beauty extolled by his courtiers, 
 and that his purpose was to sue honorably for her hand. 
 Philip, overjoyed at the prospect of such a brilliant marriage 
 for his only sister, withdrew to lay the emperor's proposal 
 before her, after again vainly entreating his imperial guest 
 to lay aside the heavy armor which he wore, or at least 
 to raise his vizor. 
 
 In a very short time he returned. In stammering accents 
 and greatly embarrassed, he now replied that his sister could 
 not accept the monarch's proposal, as she had already 
 plighted her troth to some man, whom, until then, she had 
 obstinately refused to name. 
 
 The emperor calmly listened to these excuses, and, when 
 they were ended, bade Philip lead him into the presence of 
 the lady, that he might press his suit in person, and, if 
 possible, obtain a more favorable reply. With lowered vizor, 
 and in mufifled tones, he inquired of the trembling Guda why 
 she refused to forget a lover who was either dead or faith- 
 less. The maiden replied that she would remain true to her 
 lover, living or dead, and again refused the proffered crown. 
 Then the emperor suddenly threw up his vizor, clasped her 
 in his arms, and rapturously claimed her as his bride. 
 
 Guda immediately recognized her lover, now that he 
 spoke in his natural tones. She no longer refused to listen 
 to his suit, and shortly after married Richard of Cornwall, 
 the strange knight, and became empress of Germany 
 in 1269. 
 
212 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 CAUB. 
 
 Stons of St. ^beoneat. 
 
 Theonest, the holy missionary, had been put to death in 
 Mayence. In derision the unbelievers thrust his remains 
 in a tub and set them afloat upon the river which he had 
 admired so openly, and along which he had hoped to secure 
 so many converts. 
 
 The tub, bobbing up and down on the waters, was carried 
 on by the swift current until it finally ran aground at Caub, 
 where the saint, miraculously restored to life, stepped 
 serenely ashore, and taught the gospel to the heathen. 
 While he was converting them to Christianity, he initiated 
 them also in the cultivation of the vine and the making 
 of wine, using the tub in which he had drifted down the 
 stream as his first wine press. 
 
 Ever since then the inhabitants of Caub have held his 
 name sacred, and in the month of October they never fail to 
 celebrate his festival with dance and song, drinking many a 
 hearty toast to the saint who first taught them how to make 
 the wine for which their town is famous. 
 
 PFALZ. 
 
 B Secret ASarriaae. 
 
 In the middle of the Rhine, almost directly opposite Caub, 
 is a quaint little castle known as the Pfalz, or Pfalzgrafenstein. 
 Its numerous turrets, central dungeon, ramparts, and eight 
 towers, adorned with the Palatine arms, all conspire to add 
 to the picturesque appearance of this building, which was 
 erected in the fourteenth century. 
 
 History claims that the Pfalz was built to serve as toll 
 house that the nobles might levy a certain tax upon the 
 numerous vessels constantly sailing up and down the Rhine, 
 
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 k* i 
 
PFALZ, 
 
 
 but tradition ascribes its foundation to a far more romantic 
 cause. The principality of the Pfalz was given by the 
 emperor of Germany, Frederick Barbarossa, to Conrad of 
 Staufen, when his half brother died leaving no heirs. This 
 new elector had only one daughter, the fair young Agnes, 
 who dwelt with her mother at Stahleck, and as she was a 
 beauty as well as an heiress, she soon had plenty of suitors. 
 Prince, knight-errant, and minstrel seemed equally anxious 
 to secure her favor, but she dismissed them all gently, for 
 her heart was quite free until Henry, duke of Brunswick, 
 appeared. 
 
 Favored by the young lady's mother, the lovers spent 
 many a happy hour together, talking of the day when Con- 
 rad, returning from war, would give his consent to their 
 speedy marriage. What was their dismay, therefore, when 
 a messenger suddenly appeared, saying that Conrad had 
 promised his only daughter's hand to a member of the 
 imperial family, and would soon appear with the bridegroom 
 he had chosen, to celebrate the wedding. 
 
 Agnes wept, Henry fumed, but knowing the arbitrary 
 character of Conrad they both realized that he would insist 
 upon having his own way, and that neither tears nor remon- 
 strances would be of any avail. The young people were in 
 despair, until the mother suggested a secret marriage. 
 Then Henry and Agnes were hurriedly made husband and 
 
 wife. 
 
 Shortly after their marriage Conrad appeared, and when 
 he heard that his daughter had plighted her troth he 
 angrily declared the marriage invalid, locked her up in her 
 apartments, and drove Henry of Brunswick ignominiously 
 away. Then, fearing lest the young people should manage 
 to communicate in spite of all his watchfulness, he hastened 
 the completion of the castle he was building in the middle 
 of the Rhine, and transferred Agnes thither. There he 
 declared that she should remain a prisoner until she con- 
 sented to marry the husband he had chosen for her, 
 
214 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 refusing to see or speak to her until she submitted to 
 
 ' One day, however, several months after Agnes had been 
 locked up in the Pfalz, he heard that she had given birth 
 to a little son. He bitterly regretted that he had refused 
 to recognize the marriage, and hastened to court to 
 inform the emperor, for the first time, that the marriage 
 they had projected could now never take place. The 
 emperor who had been very anxious to secure the fair 
 Agnes and her fortune for his own family, was very angry 
 indeed and vowed that the child which she had just borne 
 would never be recognized as heir to the Palatinate, unless 
 every formality had been observed at her marriage, and he 
 saw the contract was correctly drawn up. 
 
 Conrad then sadly returned home, for he felt sure that a 
 love-sick youth and two women would have overlooked a 
 marriage contract, but when he saw the great parchment, 
 and ascertained that every legal formality had been duly 
 observed, he joyfully hastened back to court. 
 
 The young couple were forgiven, Henry was again 
 allowed to visit his wife, and the little babe born in the 
 Pfalz lived to grow up and inherit all their property. Ever 
 since then, it has been customary for the Princess Palatine 
 to await her first confinement in this little fortress, and the 
 birth chamber is still shown to the inquisitive public. 
 
 They are also allowed to gaze upon the exact spot in the 
 turret where Blucher took up his post on New Year's Day, 
 1814 to watch his army cross the Rhine, for he was then on 
 the way to encounter Napoleon, and finally defeat him a 
 few months later at Waterloo. 
 
 BACHARACH. 
 
 Old House. 
 
BACHARACH, 
 
 215 
 
 BACHARACH. 
 
 Xffb^ Bltat of J9accbtt0. 
 
 The picturesque little town of Bacharach was once visited 
 by Bacchus, in whose honor it is named, who is said to have 
 planted the vines which produce a vintage which has won a 
 world-wide reputation. 
 
 "At Klingenberg on the xMain, 
 At WUrzbiirg by the Stein, 
 At Bacharach on the Rhine, 
 There grows the best of wine " 
 
 ^Old Rhyme. 
 
 The Romans, who had a military post here, erected a 
 great stone altar in honor of the god of wine, on an island 
 in the river. This island has now sunk and only one stone 
 of the ponderous altar is at times visible. The people use 
 this stone as an omen, for when it is visible at a certain 
 epoch of the year they declare the vintage will be good, but 
 if it remains submerged they always predict a bad year. The 
 imposing ruins of Stahleck castle rise directly above the 
 village, and now belong to the Prince of Prussia, while in 
 the center of the town is the church of St. Werner, erected 
 over the mortal remains of the child-martyr of Oberwesel, 
 who was so cruelly murdered by the Jews. 
 
 FURSTENBERG. 
 Ube tTenDer Aotben 
 
 In the thirteenth century the castle of Furstenberg was 
 occupied by Franz von Ftirst, who, after a youth of reckless 
 dissipation, fell suddenly and dangerously ill. Terrified by 
 his condition, he vowed that in case he recovered he would 
 
3l6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 lead an exemplary life, and, rising from his sick bed shortly 
 after, married the beautiful Cunigunde of Florsheim, with 
 whom he lived very happily indeed. 
 
 She was so sweet and virtuous that for a while she suc- 
 ceeded in interesting him in doing good, but just as this 
 quiet life was beginning to pall upon him, his wife's cousin, 
 Amina, a handsome but utterly unprincipled girl, came to 
 visit them. She soon began a lively flirtation with Franz, 
 which was easily carried on while Cunigunde was occupied 
 in watching over her infant son Hugo. 
 
 Little by little the flirtation ripened into passion, and 
 soon the guilty couple began to wish that Cunigunde were 
 out of the way, so that they might marry. Prompted by 
 Amina, Franz finally poisoned his lovely wife. No one sus- 
 pected the cause of the young countess' death, although 
 many people commented upon the heartlessness of a husband 
 who could contract a second alliance a week after his wife's 
 death, and soon the matter seemed forgotten. Poor little 
 Hugo alone seemed to miss his dead mother, for he had 
 been intrusted to the care of a selfish old woman who 
 neglected him sorely. She awoke one night to hear the 
 child moaning as if in pain, and angrily turned over and 
 tried to go to sleep, for she did not wish to be disturbed 
 by the cries of a sickly babe. 
 
 All at once, however, it seemed to her as if someone had 
 entered the room ; the cradle began to rock, and soon the 
 infant's cries ceased. Looking in the direction of her little 
 charge, the careless nurse started in terror, for there in 
 the silvery moonlight stood the wraith of her dead mistress, 
 tenderly stooping over her ailing child. 
 
 A few moments later, the child having fallen asleep, the 
 ghost noiselessly glided from the room, and as soon as day 
 dawned and she dared venture to creep out of the protecting 
 bedclothes, the nurse rushed off to the countess' apartments 
 to report the spectral visitation. 
 
 Amina first laughed her to scorn, but finally said she 
 
 fOrstenberg. 
 
 SI7 
 
 would spend the next night in the room herself, for she sud- 
 denly thought that perhaps the poison had not been effective 
 enough, and that the dead woman had risen from a trance, 
 and must be more surely disposed of if she would remain in 
 her present place. 
 
 That night the child again proved very restless, and as 
 Amina paid no heed to its cries, the dead countess, urged 
 by true mother love, again returned to earth to soothe it to 
 sleep. Springing from the bed, Amina plunged her dagger 
 again and again into the spectral form, but as her blows met 
 with no resistance, she suddenly became aware that she had 
 to deal with a spirit, and fainted away in terror. 
 
 When she recovered consciousness toward morning, the 
 nightly vision was gone, and all seemed as before. Amina, 
 urged by acute remorse, then sought her husband's pres- 
 ence and announced her decision to retire into a convent, 
 to spend the rest of her life there in doing penance for 
 her sins. 
 
 Franz also repented, and after having committed little 
 Hugo to the watchful care of the priest of Rheindiebach, 
 he withdrew into an hermitage, where he, too, incessantly 
 implored divine forgiveness. 
 
 Cunigunde's spirit now ceased to haunt little Hugo's bed- 
 side, for he was tended by a gentle, motherly woman, who 
 watched over him as lovingly as if he had been her own. 
 But she often told him of his mother in heaven, who had 
 left the celestial mansion merely to still his infant cries, 
 and enable him to sleep in peace. 
 
2l8 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 LORCH. 
 
 On the right bank of the Rhine, near the entrance of the 
 little valley known as the Wisperthal (the whispering 
 valley), stands the little town of Lorch, one of the most 
 ancient places along the river. Three young men, stoppmg 
 at the inn, once asked their host whether there were any 
 places of interest to visit in the neighborhood, and hearmg 
 that the Wisperthal was haunted, immediately resolved to 
 
 explore it. 
 
 They had not gone very far before their attention was 
 
 attracted by soft, sibilant sounds, and looking in the direc- 
 tion whence they came they beheld a huge rock-like wall, 
 which they had first taken for the side of a precipice. It 
 was evidently a castle, for near the top were three small 
 windows, whence protruded three beautiful female heads. 
 The sibilant sounds were made by the ladies, who were 
 thus trying to attract the young men's attention, and who 
 now invitingly beckoned to them to come up and join them. 
 The impressionable youths immediately sought some mode 
 of ingress. After groping their way through the underbrush, 
 they reached a door, which opened at their touch, and led 
 them into a mirror-lined hall, magnificently illumined, where 
 the three lovely ladies graciously advanced to receive them. 
 
 But, when the dazzled youths would fain have kissed the 
 beautiful hands stretched out in welcome, they found them- 
 selves stopped by a wall of glass, and discovered that what 
 they had taken for a reality was nothing but a reflection. 
 Bewildered they turned around, only to be again deluded, 
 and as every mirror in the hall reflected the same gracious 
 figures, they soon stood still in amazement. 
 
 Their embarrassment was soon dispelled, however, by the 
 appearance of a peculiar-looking old man, who said the fair 
 
 LORCH. 
 
 319 
 
 maidens were his own daughters. He promised to give 
 them in marriage to the youths, with dowries of a thou- 
 sand gold pieces each. Then he led them to the maidens, 
 allowed them to kiss their hands, and, under pretext of 
 testing their complaisance, bade them go in search of his 
 daughters' pets, who had escaped that very morn. 
 
 These pets were a raven, which sang a song; a riddle- 
 repeating starling, and a story-telling magpie. The old man 
 further assured them that the birds would be found on the 
 same tree as they never parted company. Anxious to prove 
 their devotion, the three young men rushed out of the hall, 
 and after seeking in the thicket, finally descried the three 
 pets. They recognized them readily, for the raven sang his 
 song, the starling propounded his riddle, and the magpie 
 told his story. The youths, having each secured one of the 
 birds, retraced their steps, and, opening the door in the 
 rocky wall, were surprised to find themselves in a damp and 
 ruined hall, instead of in the resplendent mirror-lined apart- 
 ment which they had left a short time before. Instead of 
 three beautiful damsels, three toothless and palsied hags 
 now came to meet them, clasped them in their bony arms, 
 and claimed them as bridegrooms. 
 
 Disgusted, dismayed, and wofully disappointed, the youths 
 finally yielded to their invitation, sat down to the well-spread 
 board, but no sooner had they tasted the wine which the old 
 women offered them than they sank unconscious on the 
 floor. When they recovered their senses, they found 
 themselves lying on the marshy ground in a dense thicket, 
 the fair maidens, mysterious birds, and old hags had all 
 vanished, and springing to their feet they hurried away. 
 
 In spite of the repetition of the sibilant sounds which had 
 once deluded them, they rushed out of the valley, and 
 solemnly vowed they would never return there again, lest 
 worse adventures should befall them. 
 
2 20 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 HEIMBURG. 
 
 B Cnic! jfatber. 
 
 The recently restored castle of Heimburg, or Hoheneck, 
 situated above Niederheimbach, is built on the site of an old 
 Frankish keep, often visited by Pharamond the first of the 
 Merovingian kings, who often rode thither from Worms. 
 The attraction was Ida, daughter of Sueno the castle owner. 
 Sueno was utterly unconscious of the king's love for his 
 daughter, and fancied that Pharamond hastened thither only 
 to enjoy the beautiful situation and the pleasures of the 
 chase, for even when he was absent the king sometimes 
 came to Heimburg. 
 
 After a prolonged absejice, Sueno once returned to fmd 
 his daughter the mother of a beautiful babe, and when he 
 angrily demanded who had made her forget her duty, she 
 wept and told him that she was married, but had promised 
 not to reveal her husband's name. As entreaties were of 
 no avail, Sueno ordered that Ida should be scourged, and 
 persisted in his cruel treatment of her until she died. 
 
 Two days after she had breathed her last, Pharamond, the 
 hing, came to Heimburg, and as he entered the castle he 
 asked for Ida, his wife. Then he heard how she had 
 
 perished. 
 
 A few minutes later he rode down the hill again, bearing 
 his infant son in his arms, and leaving Sueno lifeless in the 
 castle, for, upon hearing how cruelly he had treated poor 
 Ida, the barbarian king had drawn his sword and laid him 
 dead at his feet ! 
 
 SONNECK, 
 
 
 SONNECK, 
 
 The castle of Sonneck, with its tall tower, was first built 
 in 1015, and was the ancestral home of a noble family of the 
 same name. All the men of this race was remarkably fond 
 of hunting in their wide forests, and the castle eventually 
 fell into the hands of Prince Heinrich, who loved the chase 
 so dearly that it absorbed all his time and thoughts. 
 
 To be perfectly free to indulge in his favorite pastime, 
 the young lord of Sonneck intrusted all his business to the 
 care of a steward. This man sorely oppressed all the poor 
 people, but Heinrich always exclaimed that he had no time 
 to hear their complaints, as he must go out into the woods 
 and hunt. 
 
 One day, however, he could start no game. So he gayly 
 proposed that he and his companions should separate and 
 scour the forest in different directions, returning at nightfall 
 to a trysting spot, which he indicated. This plan was immedi- 
 ately acted upon, and Prince Heinrich soon started a stag 
 which he hotly pursued, only to see it vanish mysteriously 
 after a long run. 
 
 Then only he looked about him to find his bearings, and 
 was greatly surprised to find himself in a strange place. 
 Although he repeatedly blew his horn, no answering sound 
 was heard. He was about to ride on, when he suddenly 
 saw a gaunt, cadaverous-looking form rise before him, 
 and heard a voice command him, in sepulchral tones, to 
 follow. 
 
 Involuntarily Prince Heinrich obeyed, and as he passed on 
 he noticed with awe that the garments of his guide seemed 
 covered with mold, and that he exhaled an ancient and 
 earth-like smell. A few moments later they came before 
 a building which Heinrich had never seen, and, still implicitly 
 
aaa legends of the riiine. 
 
 obeying his guide, he dismounted and entered the hall in 
 
 silence 
 
 There he saw a long table, on either side of which were 
 seated many ghastly-looking guests, who silently devoured 
 the rich food set before them. They seemed to swallow it 
 with contortions of pain. When he had gazed for several 
 minutes upon this strange feast, the guide made Heinrich a 
 sign to leave the hall and remount, and led him back to the 
 place where he had first seen him. 
 
 There the cadaverous man paused for a moment, ere he 
 informed Heinrich that the silent guests were his ancestors, 
 condemned to eat the rich food which, in spite of its inviting 
 appearance, was as bitter as the apples of Sodom. This was 
 the punishment inflicted upon them for their selfish absorb- 
 
 tion in their own pleasures. 
 
 -Be warned, therefore, oh, prince," he concluded, '* for 
 our life is unbearable and our hearts constantly burn hot 
 
 within us.** 
 
 With these words, the specter pushed aside the damp 
 folds of his moldy garments, and there, between his 
 whitening ribs, the count perceived a glowing ball of fire. 
 A moment later the apparition had vanished, and Heinrich, 
 looking in the direction of the palace, saw only a raging sea 
 of flames, which slowly sank down to the earth, while heart- 
 rending cries and groans fairiy made his hair stand up on 
 
 end with horror. 
 
 When the count of Sonneck arrived home that evening, 
 his servants were surprised to find that his coal black hair 
 and beard were as white as snow. He was as much altered 
 in character as in appearance, and his first care ever 
 after was to discharge every duty with the utmost con- 
 scientiousness, and to use only his leisure moments to 
 indulge in his favorite pastime, the chase. 
 
 < 
 
 o 
 
 in 
 
RHEINSTEIN', 
 
 ** j> 
 
 RHEINSTEIN. 
 
 The castles of the Rheinstein and Reichenstein, which 
 rise on neighboring hills, were once inhabited by a youth 
 and maiden. Having grown up together, these young 
 people learned to love each other so dearly that when they 
 reached maturity they were very anxious indeed to marry. 
 Kuno, the young lord of Reichenstein, daily visited his 
 beloved Gerda, and on her birthday offered her a magnifi- 
 cent steed, which he had carefully trained for her use. 
 Then, longing to possess her, he begged her permission to 
 reveal their mutual affection to her grim and avaricious old 
 father, and win his consent to a speedy union. 
 
 As a suitor in those days seldom approached the father 
 of his beloved on such a subject, and generally made his 
 proposals through an older person, Kuno sought a bachelor 
 uncle and entreated him to bear his message. The uncle 
 immediately departed, presented himself before the lord of 
 Rheinstein, made known his nephew's wishes, and after 
 casually mentioning that as he was unmarried the youth 
 would also inherit his vast estates, he obtained a favorable 
 reply. 
 
 These preliminaries settled, the uncle, who was a baron, 
 requested permission to see his future niece, whom he com- 
 plimented greatly, making no mention of his errand, how- 
 ever, and carefully avoiding his nephew's name. When she 
 had left the apartment, the baron suddenly turned to her 
 father and declared that if he would give his daughter to 
 him instead of to his nephew, he would accept her without 
 dowry, and even, if necessary, give him a large sum of 
 money in exchange. 
 
 As the Lord of Rheinstein was very avaricious indeed, he 
 joyfully acceded to this new proposal, promising that the 
 marriage should take place on the morrow, in the little 
 
224 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 chapel of St. Clement, which stood in the valley between 
 the two castles. Delighted with the success of Hiis inter- 
 view, for he secretly hated his nephew, the baron rode away, 
 and when Kuno met him he took grim pleasure in telling 
 him how he had won the promise of Gerda's hand. 
 
 Poor Kuno, almost mad with rage and despair, rode home 
 and made a bold plan to carry Gerda off by night. But 
 alas! this plan was never carried out, for the Lord of Rhein- 
 stein, mistrusting the lovers, guarded his daughter so care- 
 fully that her suitor was driven away by a force of armed men. 
 
 Day dawned and gentle Gerda, who dared not openly 
 resist her father's authority, was arrayed in bridal finery, 
 and placed upon her handsome steed. Then escorted by 
 her father, the baron, and all their retainers she slowly 
 rode down the hill to St. Clement's Chapel, in lull view of 
 Kuno, who, from the top of his turret, sadly watched the 
 girl he loved. 
 
 The procession halted at the church door, and all dis- 
 mounted except Gerda, who sat passively upon her steed 
 imploring St. Clement to deliver her from a hated mar- 
 riage. At that moment a gadfly stung her horse, and he, 
 goaded to madness, rushed off, galloping madly up the 
 road which led to his former home at Reichenstein. 
 
 Gerda clung helplessly to the saddle, and heard her father 
 and bridegroom loudly calling to her to draw rein, while 
 they prepared to pursue her. But as death seemed prefer- 
 able to a hated marriage, she did not obey. A sudden cry 
 of joy above her made her raise her head, however, and 
 she soon descried Kuno making frantic signs to her to 
 hurry, while he lowered the drawbridge which led into his 
 yard. This sight immediately gave the almost fainting 
 maiden courage, and she urged her steed on faster and 
 faster. She was closely pursued by the baron, who, better 
 mounted than she, overtook her, and was about to seize 
 the bridle of her steed when his horse stumbled and fell, 
 throwing and killing him instantly. 
 
 RHEINSTEIN CASTLE. 
 
FALKENBURG, 
 
 a«S 
 
 Without pausing to see what had happened, Gerda rode 
 rapidly on and crossed the drawbridge, which was immedi- 
 ately drawn up behind her. Then she was lifted from her 
 panting steed by the triumphant Kuno, who rapturously 
 pressed her to his heart. Their raptures were interrupted 
 at last by the angry father without, so Kuno led the fair 
 maiden upon the rampart, where they stood in full view of 
 the wedding company below. There he flatly refused to 
 let Gerda go, but proclaimed that his own chaplain should 
 marry them in presence of the whole assembly. 
 
 Before this plan could be carried out, however, the 
 baron's retainers came to report their master's death, 
 and to pay their respects to Kuno, who, as heir at law, was 
 now owner of all his uncle's vast wealth. The lord of 
 Rheinstein, hearing this, loudly declared he would no lon- 
 ger oppose his daughter's wishes, and implored the young 
 people to come down and be married in St. Clement's Chapel, 
 where all was ready for the wedding. At a whispered 
 word from Gerda, Kuno consented, and a few moments 
 later a bridal cavalcade passed slowly down the hill, and 
 again paused at the church door. This time, however, 
 the bride uttered no frantic prayer to be saved from the 
 marriage, the steed did not run away, and all passed off as 
 merrily as the traditional wedding bells, for no one cared 
 for the old baron, who was entirely forgotten. 
 
 FALKENBURa 
 
 ttbe Specter 36rlOe» 
 
 The ruins of the castle of Falkenburg, which is also 
 know as Reichenstein, are picturesquely situated near the 
 chapel dedicated to St. Clement, and are connected with 
 another very romantic mediaeval legend. This states that 
 
226 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Liba, daughter of the Lord of Falkenburg, plighted her 
 troth to Guntram, a brave and handsome young knight.' 
 
 The young people were obliged to defer their marriage 
 for six months, however, as the emperor had selected the 
 youth for an important mission. So the lovers parted with 
 many repeated vows that they would think incessantly of 
 each other, and that nothing would ever make them forget 
 the promises they had exchanged. 
 
 His mission safely accomplished, Guntram prepared to 
 return to Falkenburg, and finding the pace too slow, soon 
 left his suite behind him and impatiently urged his steed 
 onward. He was overtaken by a storm toward nightfall, 
 and took refuge in an old castle, which appeared in a 
 sad state of ruin and decay. The castle servants, who 
 seemed as decrepit as the building, led him into a hall, 
 where they bade him await their master's coming, and 
 to beguile the time Guntram examined the antique paint- 
 ings on the wall. He soon noticed that a curtain hung 
 over one of these pictures, and absently pushing it aside, 
 was startled by the sight of the portrait of a beautiful 
 woman, seated beside an open grave. 
 
 A few moments later, the old master of the castle 
 appeared and made him welcome. When bedtime came, an 
 old servant led him along dismantled halls and cobwebby 
 corridors to a wing of the castle where, he explained, the 
 only inhabitable apartment was to be found. Tlicn they 
 entered a chamber which had apparently once belonged to a 
 lady, and the servant bade Guntram good-night, warning 
 him to say his prayers and pay no heed if he heard mysteri- 
 ous sounds during the night, for, although the castle was 
 haunted, no harm befell those who had a clear conscience. 
 
 Somewhat excited by this warning, Guntram did not fall 
 asleep as readily as usual, and when midnight struck he 
 heard a noise in the adjoining chamber. Through the 
 half open door he now beheld the lady whose veiled 
 portrait had attracted his attention in the great hall, and 
 
 FALKENBURG, 
 
 927 
 
 heard her softly singing to herself. The maiden was so 
 beautiful, that Guntram would fain have spoken to her, but 
 the thought of the waiting Liba restrained him from holding 
 any intercourse with this strangely fascinating person, 
 whom he in no wise took for a ghost, but for a bona fide 
 girl, whose presence the aged servant had cleverly tried to 
 keep secret. 
 
 Guntram slept, and when he awoke the girl had vanished 
 and the sun was high in the heavens. When he joined his 
 host he was courteously invited to tarry a few days, so he 
 forgot his haste to join his beloved and resolved, if possible, 
 to find out who the fair lady might be. He wandered idly 
 about the ruins during the afternoon, came to the chapel, 
 and amused himself by reading the inscriptions on the 
 tombs, on one of which stood the words: " Pray for me, 
 but beware of my glances." 
 
 But, in spite of diligent search, he caught no glimpse of 
 the maiden who had so excited his curiosity. It was only 
 when he had returned to his room, and midnight had again 
 struck, that a light shone in the adjoining chamber and he 
 again saw the golden-haired lady sitting before the table 
 crooning her song. 
 
 This time Guntram approached and addressed her, 
 marveling because she answered him only by gestures, but 
 in a few moments a lively pantomime flirtation was begun. 
 The young man, forgetting Liba, and allured by the beauti- 
 ful maiden's glances, finally threw his arms around the girl 
 her and kissed her. 
 
 To his surprise she then drew a ring from her finger, 
 placed it on his, returned his kiss, and then suddenly 
 vanished, leaving^ him bewildered and alone. When morn- 
 ing dawned, Guntram, ashamed of his conduct, took leave 
 of his host, and rode away. He paused only at the foot of 
 the hill to ask a peasant why the castle was all in ruins and 
 the people so old and sad. 
 
 In answer to this inquiry the peasant informed him that 
 
228 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 CLEMENSKA PELLE, 
 
 229 
 
 the castle had once been strong and handsome, the favorite 
 resort of many knights, who came to woo Etelinda, the fair 
 young chatelaine. She, however, was coquettish and 
 capricious, and wearied them all by her exactions, until at 
 last a youth presented himself vowing he was ready to 
 stand every test, providing she would honor him with her 
 love. 
 
 Etelinda laughingly bade this suitor stand unarmed at 
 the crossroads on Walpiirgisnacht, and report what he saw; 
 but, although he fearlessly started out to do her bidding, 
 he never returned, and his body was found torn to pieces 
 either by the angry witches or by ravenous wolves. The 
 youth's mother, inconsolable at his loss, cursed Etelinda, 
 who sickened and died nine days after, and whose body 
 mysteriously disappeared just as it was about to be con- 
 signed to the tomb. 
 
 Since then her spirit haunted the ruins, and would only 
 be allowed to rest when someone had withstood her glances, 
 all the rest being forced to die nine days after they had seen 
 her. When Guntram heard this, he shuddered with fear, 
 and rode on. As he arrived near Falkenburg, he fancied 
 he saw men carrying a coffin over the drawbridge, and 
 knew no rest until he had clasped Liba in his arms and 
 ascertained that she was safe. 
 
 A few days later, Guntram and Liba stood side by side in 
 the chapel to be married, but when Guntram would fain 
 have claimed his bride, he felt an icy hand in his, and 
 saw that Etelinda had placed herself beside him, and con- 
 sidered him as her own. The sight of this specter and 
 the touch of her cold hand made him faint with terror, and 
 when he came to his senses again he had only time to 
 confess his sins and receive absolution before he died. 
 
 Liba, broken-hearted at his loss, died nine days after, and 
 was laid, at her own request, in the same grave as her lover, 
 whom she forgave for his temporary forgetfulness, and 
 loved as long as she lived. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 CLEMENSKAPELLE. 
 
 trbc i^obK>et ftnigbt 
 
 The knight of Rheinstein, one of the most unscrupulous 
 robbers along the Rhine, fell in love with the noble maid of 
 the Wisperthal, and when she scorned to listen to his pro- 
 posal, he angrily vowed to win her by fair means or by foul. 
 The former having soon been exhausted, in his opinion, he 
 had recourse to the latter, and one day, while the maiden 
 was gathering flowers, his attendants seized and gagged her, 
 and rapidly carried her down to the boat where their wicked 
 master was waiting for them. 
 
 When they reached the center of the stream, the robber 
 knight removed the bandage from the fair maiden's face; 
 but when she piteously implored him to let her go, he 
 smilingly curled his mustache and cried: 
 
 **Blow ye winds from the Wisperthal, and ripple faster 
 ye waves, that my bride and I may the sooner reach my 
 castle, where I shall jealously guard my own ! " 
 
 The noble maiden, seeing her entreaties were vain, 
 then fell upon her knees and began to pray, vowing she 
 would build a chapel in honor of her favorite St. Clement, 
 if he would only intercede in her behalf, and save her from 
 becoming the wife of the dishonorable knight who had 
 kidnaped her. 
 
 As she prayed, the Wisperthal winds began to rise with a 
 vengeance, the waves tumbled and tossed, and the thunder 
 crashed. While the knight and his men were frantically 
 trying to row ashore, and keep the vessel from sinking, St. 
 Clement came calmly walking over the waves, stretched out 
 his hand to the maiden, and led her safely ashore, allowing 
 the boat and all on board to perish. 
 
 The maiden, thankful for her rescue from double dansfcr, 
 built a chapel in honor of her favorite saint on the left shore 
 of the Rhine, where its ruins still remind the traveler of the 
 
230 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 fair maid of Wisperthal, and of her miraculous detiverance 
 from the cruel hands of the robber knight of Rheinsteia. 
 
 EHRENFELS. 
 trbe J3i0bop*6 c:rcacbcr^. 
 
 Opposite the Mausethurm or Rat Tower, on the right 
 bank of the Rhine, are the picturesque ruins of the old castle 
 of Ehrenfels, which was founded in the beginning of the 
 ninth century, and was demolished by the French in 1689. 
 
 In the days when Louis, the last of the Carlovingians, was 
 reigning over Germany, the lord of Ehrenfels, Adalbert, 
 seized and imprisoned his brother Conrad. In vain the 
 emperor summoned him to relinquish the captive; in vain he 
 besieged the fortress, Adalbert remained firm, until, in dis- 
 gust, the emperor withdrew with his troops to Mainz. 
 
 The bishop Hatto, hearing of the emperor's disappoint- 
 ment, sought his presence, and volunteered to deliver 
 the rebel knight into his hands. This offer was gladly 
 seized by Louis, who bade him bring the prisoner to Ingel- 
 heim, where he was about to take up his abode. Hatto 
 presented himself at Ehrenfels, with a very small retinue, 
 was admitted, and told Adalbert that the emperor longed 
 for a truce to all hostilities and had commissioned him to 
 negotiate a reconciliation. 
 
 Adalbert, very glad to end the strife, immediately ex- 
 pressed his readiness to suspend all hostilities, and even 
 declared he would go and seek the emperor, were he 
 but certain no treachery were intended and that he would 
 return home safe and sound. 
 
 Hearing these words, Hatto laid his hand upon the 
 crucifix and swore a solemn oath to the effect that he would 
 bring Adelbert back to the castle of Ehrenfels, without 
 his having been molested in any way. 
 
 THE ROBHER KNIGHT. 
 
 Schttch. 
 
BINGEI\r. 
 
 «3i 
 
 Thus reassured, the knight mounted his steed, and, riding 
 beside the bishop, started out for the court at Ingelheim. 
 They had not gone very far, however, before the bishop 
 complained that he was weary, and playfully reproached 
 Adalbert for having forgotten to offer him the usual refresh- 
 ments. Shocked at his lack of hospitality, the knight of 
 Ehrenfels implored the bishop to turn around once more, 
 and after a little persuasion the cavalcade re-entered the 
 castle of Ehrenfels where refreshments were served, and 
 where the bishop and his followers were richly entertained. 
 When the feast was ended, and Hatto duly rested, they 
 again set forth, and entered Ingelheim. There, to his utter 
 surprise, Adalbert was made prisoner and dragged in chains 
 to the foot of the imperial throne, where he was sentenced 
 to death. In vain he protested against this cruel decree, 
 and finally fell at the bishop's feet imploring him to remem- 
 ber his oath to take him back to Ehrenfels in safety. The 
 bishop turned carelessly aside, saying: '' I did take you 
 back to Ehrenfels safely. Why did you not exact a pledge 
 the second time we started out, if you wished me to 
 interfere in your behalf." 
 
 Realizing too late that he was the victim of a preconcerted 
 plot, Adalbert started to his feet and tried to cut his way 
 out, but in spite of all of his courage he was soon over- 
 powered and led away to the scaffold, where he was 
 treacherously beheaded. 
 
 BINGEN. 
 
 In the year 914, when Hatto was bishop of Mainz, a pro- 
 tracted rain entirely ruined the harvest, occasioning a terri- 
 ble famine from which the poor people suffered sorely. 
 As they were perishing with hunger, they finally applied to 
 
232 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 the bishop, whose granaries were filled to overflowing with 
 the produce of former, more favorable, years. 
 
 But Hatto was cruel and hard-hearted and utterly refused 
 to listen to them, until at last they so wearied him by their 
 constant importunity, that he bade them assemble in an 
 empty barn, where he promised to meet them on a certain 
 day and hour to quiet all their demands. 
 
 Almost beside themselves with joy at this promise, the 
 people hastened to the appointed spot, gathering there in 
 such numbers that the empty barn was soon quite full. 
 Anxiously they watched for the bishop, whom they greeted 
 with loud cries of joy as soon as he appeared. These 
 acclamations however, were soon changed into blood-curd- 
 ling cries of distress, for the cruel prelate, after bidding his 
 servants fasten doors and windows so that none could 
 escape, set fire to the moldering building and burned them 
 all, declaring they were like rats and should perish in the 
 same way. 
 
 This wholesale massacre ended, the bishop returned home, 
 sat down before his lavishly-spread table, and ate with as 
 healthy an appetite as usual. When he entered the dining 
 room on the morrow, however, he stood still in dismay, 
 for during the night the rats had gnawed his recently- 
 finished portrait out of the frame, and it now lay, an un- 
 seemly heap, upon the floor. While he was standing over it, 
 his heart filled with sudden nameless terror, for he fancied 
 it was a bad omen, a servant came rushing into the room, 
 bidding him fly for his life, as a whole army of hungry, 
 fierce looking rats were coming that way. 
 
 Without waiting for his usual escort, the bishop flung 
 himself upon the messenger's steed and rode rapidly away. 
 From time to time he nervously turned his head to mark the 
 gradual approach of a dark line, formed by thousands of 
 rats, animated by the revengeful spirits of the poor he had 
 so cruelly burned. 
 
 Faster and faster Hatto urged his panting steed, but, in 
 
 
BINGEN. 
 
 n% 
 
 sp.te of all h.s efforts, he had scarcely dismounted, entered 
 a smal sk.ff and rowed out int., the Rhine, ere an army of 
 rats fell upon his horse and devoured it. The bishop, 
 shuddering w,th fear, rowed with all his might to his towe; 
 in the middle of the Rhine, where he quickly locked him- 
 self in, fancying he had escaped from his hungry foes 
 
 But the voracious rats, having disposed of his steed, now 
 boldly swam across the Bingerloch to the tower, and 
 swarmed up its sides, seeking some crevice through which 
 they could get at their foe. As they found none, they set 
 their sharp teeth to work, and Hatto quailed with dread 
 as he heard them gnawing busily on all sides 
 
 Ina very few moments the rats had made a thousand 
 holes through which they rushed upon their victim 
 ^ Southey, who has versified this legend, which he calls 
 God s Judgment upon a Wicked Bishop," describes their 
 entrance thus : 
 
 " And in at the windows, and in at the door, 
 And through the walls, helter skelter they 'pour. 
 And down from 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 gnaw'd the flesh from every limb. 
 For they were sent to do judgment on him." 
 
 Ever since then, that building in the Rhine has been known 
 as the Rat Tower. Tradition relates that the bishop's 
 soul sank down to the nethermost hell, where it is ever 
 burning in a fire far hotter than that he kindled around the 
 starving poor. At sunset a peculiar red glow may be seen 
 over the tower, and this, the people declare, is only a faint 
 reflection of that infernal furnace, sent to warn all man- 
 kind against cruelty to God's poor.* 
 
 * See Note 15 in Appendix, 
 
234 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 RHEINGRA FENS TEIN, 
 
 ni 
 
 KREUZNACH. 
 ZTbc Jfresbet. 
 
 The little town of Kreuznach is built on the banks of the 
 Nahe, one of the principal tributaries of the Rhine, and is 
 said to have been founded many centuries ago, when that 
 part of Germany was still covered with the dense primeval 
 forests. A missionary, penetrating into these wilds to 
 preach the gospel, once erected a stone cross on a little 
 island in the river, and, encouraged by this visible emblem 
 of peace on earth, several poor fishermen built their huts 
 close by the banks of the stream. 
 
 Here they lived peaceful and happy, during the fall and 
 spring, but when the spring freshets came, the waters swept 
 away their fragile huts arid nought but the cross remained. 
 The people then crowded around the missionary, imploring 
 him to teach them how to build, so that their huts might 
 stand as fast as his cross, so he led them to a spot near it 
 and constructed solid stone dwellings, which no freshet 
 could ever sweep away and which, standing ''near the 
 cross," became the nucleus of the present town of Kreuz- 
 nach. 
 
 RHEINGRAFENSTEIN. 
 TTbe Devil an& tbe Donftei?. 
 
 A NOBLEMAN, in scarch of a site for his castle, once saw 
 the mighty porphyry rocks upon which Rheingrafenstein 
 castle is now perched, and, thinking a fortress upon such an 
 eyrie would be well-nigh impregnable, he made up his mind 
 to build upon it. In answer to all objections, he declared 
 that he would bespeak the devil's aid, if need be, to accom- 
 plish his purpose. 
 
 P 
 
 Satan, hearing himself called upon, promptly appeared 
 before the nobleman, and promised he would build the castle 
 for him in the course of a single night, if he would only 
 give him as reward the first living creature which looked 
 out of the new building's windows. The nobleman agreed 
 and withdrew, and when he reappeared on the morrow, 
 he found the castle completed. But, although he longed 
 to take possession of it, he did not dare do so, lest the 
 devil, perched upon the edge of the roof, should secure 
 him if he ventured to look out of the window. 
 
 In his perplexity, the poor man confided his troubles to his 
 wife, who, being **as wise as the serpent" as well as ''gen- 
 tle as the dove," declared she knew how she could circum- 
 vent the fiend. She therefore mounted her favorite donkey, 
 and rode up into the new castle, bidding all the men follow 
 her. Satan, well pleased, watched them file slowly into the 
 building and kept a sharp lookout upon the windows, intend- 
 ing to swoop down from above upon the first creature which 
 ventured to thrust its head out of the window, and, seizing it 
 by the nape of the neck, carry it away without further ado. 
 The countess, in the meanwhile, had brought the donkey 
 into the hall, pinned a kerchief around its neck, bound a 
 large frilled cap over its ears, and leading it to the window 
 let it thrust its head out into the open air. The devil, catch- 
 ing a glimpse of cap, ribbons, and frills, immediately concluded 
 he was about to secure the countess herself, and swooping 
 down, caught and carried away his prey, discovering his 
 mistake only when the struggling donkey gave vent to his 
 feelings by a loud bray. 
 
 Satan was so disgusted at having thus been cheated that 
 he dropped his prey on the rocks below, vanished in the 
 midst of a horrible stench of brimstone and sulphur, and 
 never again visited the banks of the Nahe, where he had been 
 so cleverly deceived. 
 
236 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 SPRENDLINGEN. 
 
 Hbc :JButcber. 
 
 A HERALD once galloped wildly into the little town of 
 Kreuznach, summoning the people to arms. The enemy 
 was threatening the neighboring town of Sponheim, which 
 their valiant lord was vainly trying to save by engaging the 
 van of the army in battle at Sprendlingen. 
 
 The people of Kreuznach rushed for their weapons 
 and began to muster, but the butcher, Michel Mort, 
 hearing his master was in danger, caught up his sharpest 
 cleaver, rushed out of his shop, and hastened to Sprend- 
 lingen as fast as he could run. There he plunged into the 
 very midst of the fray, hewing ruthlessly right and left, and 
 shouted encouraging words to his master, who was entirely 
 surrounded by the foe,- and about to give up in despair. 
 
 In a few minutes' time butcher and knight stood side by 
 side, and began their retreat, the man heroically shielding 
 and defending his master. He succeeded in saving him, 
 although at the cost of his life, for the enemy, furious 
 at the havoc he had made in their ranks, rushed simul- 
 taneously upon him and pierced him through and through 
 with their spears. 
 
 To commemorate this fight at Sprendlingen, and to honor 
 the heroic butcher, a stone has been erected upon the very 
 spot where he fell, while a carved lion on the Schlossberg 
 near Kreuznach serves still further to testify to his bravery. 
 
 SPONHEIM. 
 %\>z XTnie Cro00. 
 
 The count of Vianden, who had led a wicked and lawless 
 life, once fell in love with a noble lady. She told him she 
 could not accept him until he had proved himself worthy of 
 trust by performing a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulcher, to 
 
 SPONHEIM. 
 
 «S7 
 
 obtain the forgiveness of his sins, bringing back a holy relic 
 to bestow upon her as a wedding gift. This penance, 
 however hard, seemed none to great for the knight, who 
 immediately departed for the Holy Land, which he reached 
 after encountering countless dangers. He then secured a 
 span of the Holy Cross and placed it in a casket of gold, 
 upon which was engraved the name of the lady he loved. 
 
 Slowly and painfully, for he was greatly weakened by pri- 
 vation and fatigue, the count now wended his way home, 
 guarding the relic night and day, and finally embarked upon 
 the Rhine, thinking all dangers were over, and the goal of 
 his wishes very near. Unfortunately, however, the boat 
 capsized, and when the count recovered his senses he 
 found he had been saved by the devotion of the boatmen, 
 but that the precious relic was lost. 
 
 His despair was terrible to behold, for he felt that as he 
 now had no proof to show his lady-love that he had obeyed 
 her and obtained the forgiveness of all former sins, she 
 would again to refuse to listen to his pleadings. As he 
 wished to see her once more before he withdrew into some 
 monastery, he wended his way to her castle, and was quite 
 overcome when she rushed out to meet him with happy tears 
 coursing down her cheeks. 
 
 In broken, faltering accents he told his story, but when 
 he would fain have left her, after telling her of the loss of 
 the relic, she detained him, saying that a handsome youth 
 had passed at the gate that very morning. He had given 
 her a golden casket upon which her name was engraved and 
 which contained a piece of wood. 
 
 As the angel had delivered the precious relic into 
 the lady's hands she plighted her troth to the count of 
 Vianden. After their marriage they founded the castle, 
 church, and abbey of Sponheim, which was thus named 
 because it became the home or resting place of a span of 
 the True Cross, which miraculously reached its destination 
 and turned the penitent count's sorrow into lasting happiness. 
 
238 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 DHAUN. 
 
 ITbe Aonliei? as Vlur^e* 
 
 One of the Rheingrafs once lived in the pretty castle 
 of Dhaun, of which nothing but ruins now remain. He 
 assigned the sunniest room for the nursery of his little 
 heir, who, although motherless, was constantly watched and 
 tended by a faithful old nurse. In the castle there was also 
 a large-sized monkey, which was allowed to range about the 
 place at will, and which often came into the nursery and 
 gravely sat in a corner, watching the nurse handle the babe, 
 and amusing it by its queer antics. 
 
 One day, after putting her little charge to sleep, the 
 nurse sat down beside it, as usual, and, as usual also, was 
 soon lost in slumbers as profound. When she awoke and 
 glanced at the cradle she was terrified, for the babe was 
 missing I The poor woman, conjecturing that he had been 
 stolen by gypsies, and fearing her master's anger, ran and 
 hid in the depths of the neighboring forest. 
 
 There she heard a peculiar sound, and gazing cautiously 
 through the bushes, saw the babe seated on the moss, while 
 the monkey amused him with red apples and gay flowers, 
 imitating her gestures with the most absurd precision. In 
 a few moments, however, the child began to cry, and the 
 monkey, taking it up gently, began to dandle it, and swing- 
 ing gently backward and forward soon put it to sleep. 
 Then he laid it down on the soft moss and, still imitating 
 the old woman closely, clasped his hands in his lap and fell 
 asleep. 
 
 The nurse crept cautiously out of the thicket, recovered 
 the babe, and hastened homeward. She found the whole 
 castle in an uproar, for they had been missed, so she was 
 obliged to confess all that had occurred. 
 
 In gratitude for the recovery of his child, the Rheingraf 
 placed a carving above the gateway representing a monkey 
 
 OBERSTEIN. 
 
 239 
 
 amusing a babe with an apple, and ever since then the 
 monkey has figured on the escutcheon of that noble family. 
 
 OBERSTEIN. 
 
 B Hlfelong penance. 
 
 The castle of Oberstein, on the Nahe, a tributary of the 
 Rhine, belonged in the thirteenth century to an irascible 
 lord who had a constitutional aversion to cats. One day 
 his younger brother playfully slipped a kitten into his boot. 
 The lord of Oberstein coming in contact with the beast, 
 and discovering b)^ his brother's merriment that he had 
 been the perpetrator of the joke, flew into a violent rage, 
 and, not knowing what he was doing, caught and flung 
 the youth far over the parapet, down the rocky wall 
 into the Nahe, where he was drowned. This terrible 
 murder committed, the lord of Oberstein felt the most 
 intense remorse, and assuming a pilgrim's garb he wended 
 his way, alone and on foot, to Rome. He knelt at the 
 Pope's feet, confessed his crime, and humbly craved for- 
 giveness. But the Pope, shocked at his violence, told him 
 that he must do penance if he would obtain forgiveness for 
 his sin, and condemned him to relinquish castle and wealth, 
 reserving nothing but a hammer and chisel. These he jvas 
 to use to hew a chapel out of the rock over which he had 
 flung his only brother, and when the chapel was finished and 
 ready for consecration he was told he would obta^tn the for- 
 giveness of his sins. 
 
 The poor pilgrim slowly wended his way back to the Nahe, 
 disposed of castle and wealth, and with hammer and chisel 
 painfully scrambled up the steep rock, where he began to 
 hew at the hard stone. From early morning until late at 
 night, the incessant tapping of his hammer was heard. Day 
 after day, month after month, and year after year, the peni- 
 
240 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 tent lord of Oberstein labored on, advancing by almost im- 
 perceptible degrees, watering the hard stone with many a 
 repentant tear, and persevering in spite of weakness and 
 advancing age, in the hope of at last obtaining the forgive- 
 ness he craved. 
 
 When he was very old, when his beard was white as snow, 
 when he could scarcely hold hammer and chisel any more, a 
 tiny chapel and altar had been hewed out of the solid rock. 
 The people, who had watched its progress, went in search 
 of a priest to consecrate it, promising to return with him on 
 the morrow. As they came toward the little chapel they 
 were surprised not to see the well-known figure at the door, 
 and hurrying in to discover what had become of him, they 
 found the lord of Oberstein lying dead at the foot of the 
 altar. A beautiful smile lingered upon the face, which, fur- 
 rowed by repentant -tears, had never smiled since the day 
 when a violent outburst of anger had blasted all his life. 
 
 The peasants buried him at the foot of the altar, in the 
 chapel he had hewed out of the rock in penance for his 
 crime. This chapel, duly consecrated, was further enlarged 
 in the fourteenth century, and is now the parish church of 
 Oberstein. The traveler can still see the part which was 
 hewn by the penitent lord. 
 
 rOdesheim, 
 
 A FISHERMAN once paused at Riidesheim to pray at the 
 shrine of St. Nicholas. For the first time in his life he was 
 about to encounter the dangers of the Bingerloch, which his 
 companions had described so vividly as to fill his simple 
 heart with nameless fear. 
 
 "Oh, good St. Nicholas," he prayed, **if you will only 
 guide me safely over, I will give you a taper as tall and 
 thick as the mast of my vessel." 
 
 GERMANIA. 
 National Monument. 
 
 Niederwaid. 
 
rOdesheim, 
 
 241 
 
 Strengthened by this prayer he re-entered his vessel, 
 pushed away from the shore, trimmed his sail, and was soon 
 gliding over the dreaded waters. But the Bingerloch was 
 as smooth as the most placid lake. The boatman looked 
 around him in wonder and then exclaimed: 
 
 " Fool that I was to believe my companions' tales of the 
 Bingerloch, and to stop and pray at St. Nicholas' shrine ! I 
 won't give him the big taper I promised, but a two-penny 
 dip ! " 
 
 Scarcely had these words left his lips, however, than the 
 smooth waters became rough, and the gentle breeze changed 
 into a hurricane. The Uttle bark, caught in the terrible 
 eddy, was whirled about and suddenly sucked down into the 
 vortex with the boatman and all his crew. 
 
 Since then the vows made at St. Nicholas' shrine have 
 been scrupulously paid, for all the river boatmen are afraid 
 of suffering the fate of their sacriligious companion. 
 
 fian0 JStoentdet* 
 
 Very near the city of Rudesheim, which is principally 
 renowned for its excellent wines, are the ruins of the castle of 
 Niederburg. This place once belonged to Hans Broemser, 
 who, won by the eloquence of St. Bernard, took part in the 
 second crusade. 
 
 Broemser left his home and lovely daughter, and went 
 forth to fight the Saracens. Once he was attacked by a 
 terrible dragon, which guarded the only spring where water 
 could be obtained to quench the burning thirst of the weary 
 crusaders. Although many knights had already lost their 
 lives in trying to slay this monster, Broemser attacked him 
 boldly, and, after a fierce struggle, left him lifeless, and cut 
 out his tongue as a memento of his victory. 
 
 As he was wending his way back to camp, however, he 
 
i42 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 was surprised by a band of Saracens, who chained him fast 
 in a foul dung^eon. There he Hngered for several years, 
 praying for deliverance, and vowing that he would build a 
 convent, and make his only daughter take the veil, if he 
 were only allowed to see his native land once more. 
 
 In answer to this prayer, the Christians soon took the 
 town and delivered him. Broemser wended his way back 
 to Germany, carrying his chains and the dragon's tongue, 
 which he showed to his lovely daughter Gisella, as he 
 recounted his adventures and escape. 
 
 ** And now, my daughter," he added, ** I must tell you the 
 nature of my vow, for you are bound to fulfill it. I promised 
 to build a convent, in which you would take the veil, and 
 spend the remainder of your life in serving God." 
 
 Gisella heard this and grew pale with horror, for she loved 
 a young knight of the neighborhood, who had only waited 
 for her father's return to claim her as his wife. She now fell 
 at Broemser's feet, imploring him not to sacrifice her and 
 make her assume vows which would be so very distasteful. 
 All these entreaties were, however, of no avail, and the 
 maiden, hearing her father declare she must obey him, 
 rushed wildly out of the room and flung herself over the 
 castle ramparts into the rushing waters of the Rhine, where 
 she perished. 
 
 Early on the morrow some fishermen found her body at 
 the foot of the Rat Tower, and reverently carried it home 
 for burial. But ever since then, the maiden's uneasy spirit 
 is said to haunt the ruins, and every night, with a shriek of 
 despair, her wraith rushes up to the tower, from whence she 
 throws herself again into the Rhine. 
 
 It is said, however, that her tragic death did not produce 
 much effect upon Hans Broemser, who soon forgot his vow 
 and spent all his time in revelry. One night, however, the 
 dragon again appeared before him, but as it opened its 
 capacious jaws to devour him, Gisella's spirit drove it away. 
 At the same moment Broemser was awakened by the clank 
 
 JOHANNISBERG. 243 
 
 of his chains which had fallen from the peg upon which they 
 had long been hung. 
 
 While Hans was musing over his strange dream the next 
 morning, one of his servants came to announce that the 
 plowman, in tracing a furrow, had found an image of the 
 Saviour, which had called aloud for help as the plow 
 touched it. This miracle caused Broemser to remember his 
 vow, and he immediately began the construction of the 
 church and cloister of Noth Gottes, on the exact spot where 
 the miraculous image was found. 
 
 The church and convent are still extant, and there, among 
 many other curious relics, the traveler can see the dragon 
 tongue, the chains which Hans Broemser brought back from 
 Palestine, and the image which is considered particularly 
 sacred. 
 
 JOHANNISBERG. 
 
 tCbe (Iorh6crew0, 
 
 The beautiful castle of Johannisberg, now the property 
 of Prince Metternich, stands in the midst of the most pro- 
 ductive vineyards along the Rhine. This castle is built on 
 the site of an old monastery or abbey dedicated to St. John, 
 and if the legend is true, it is very evident that those ancient 
 monks knew how to appreciate the product of their own 
 vines. 
 
 One day the prior of the abbey invited all the brethren to 
 accompany him on an inspection tour of the monastery 
 vineyards. This invitation was accepted with very evident 
 pleasure by all. After they had walked a long while along 
 the sunny slopes, between the loaded vines, they reached 
 a shady spot. The prior then proposed that they should 
 all sit down, rest and refresh themselves morally and 
 physically by reading the afternoon prayers and drinking a 
 
»44 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 few bottles of delicious old wine which they had brought 
 with them for this purpose. 
 
 Again the monks joyfully acquiesced, but when the prior 
 asked for a breviary, they all hung their heads and shame- 
 facedly confessed that they had forgotten to bring them 
 along The jovial prior good-naturedly remarked that since 
 there was no prayer-book handy they would forego spintuaf 
 refreshment and proceed with the physical. He therefore 
 took up one of the bottles and vainly attempted to remove 
 the cork with his fingers. Suddenly turning to the assembled 
 brothers, he asked whether any of them had thought of 
 bringing a corkscrew. . 
 
 Simultaneously the monks thrust their hands into their 
 capacious pockets, and a moment later each eagerly tendered 
 a corkscrew for the prelate's use. The prelate accepted 
 one of them, uncorked- one of the bottles, and as he was 
 about to raise the goblet of sparkling wine to his thirsty lips, 
 he dryly remarked with a merry twinkle in his eye: " Not a 
 single breviary, but plenty of corkscrews. Is that a proof 
 of your zeal in serving the Lord ? " 
 
 The monks all hung their heads and quaffed the wine in 
 silence but their temporary embarrassment soon passed 
 away and ere long they were all drinking merrily, and 
 showing their loyalty by repeatedly pledging their favorite 
 saint John. 
 
 1 \MGE WINKEL. 
 Ebe 5ilv>er JSriDgc. 
 
 Opposite the hamlet of Kempten is the little village of 
 Lange Winkel, which is said to have been so dear to Charle- 
 magne, that his spirit haunts it still, as is set forth by 
 Geibel's lovely verses: 
 
 LANGE WIXKEL. 
 
 HS 
 
 THE SILVER BRmCE. 
 
 On the Rhine, — the ^reen Rhine — in the soft summer night, 
 The vineyards lie sleeping beneath the moon's light ; 
 But lo ! there's a shadow on green hill and glade, 
 Like the form of a king in grandeur arrayed. 
 
 Yes, yes ! 'tis the monarch that erst ruled this land, 
 It is old Charlemagne, with his sword in his hand, 
 And his crown on his head, and his scepter of gold. 
 And the purple imperial in many a rich fold. 
 
 Long ages have fled since he lived in this life. 
 
 Whole nations have perished by time or by strife 
 
 Since he swayed with a power never known from his birth; 
 
 What brings his great spirit to wander on earth ? 
 
 He hath come from his tomb that's in Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 He hath come to the stream which he once loved so well. 
 Not to ban nor to blight with his presence the scene. 
 But to bless the blithe vineyards by Luna's soft sheen. 
 
 The moonbeams they make a brave bridge o'er the Rhine. 
 From Winkel to Ingelheim brightly they shine. 
 Behold ! by this bridge the old monarch goes over. 
 And blesses the flood with the warmth of a lover. 
 
 He blesses each vineyard on plain and on hill ; 
 Each village, each cottage, his blessing doth fill ; 
 He blesses each spot, on the shore, on the river, 
 Which he loved in his life — which forget he can never. 
 
 • 
 And then from the house that he still loves so well, 
 He returns to his tomb that's in Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 There to slumber in peace till the old year is over, 
 And the vineyards once more woo him back like a lover. 
 
 — GeibeL Tratislated by Snowe. 
 
 Whenever the emperor's mighty shadow is thus seen to 
 cross over the moon-light bridge, the vineyards are sure to 
 be filled with rich clusters of grapes, and the wine is par- 
 
2 46 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ticularly mellow and sweet, but when he omits his j^early 
 visit the vintage is sure to be very poor. 
 
 OESTRICH. 
 
 Near the village of Oestrich once rose the renowned con- 
 vent of Gottesthal, where many a holy nun spent her life in 
 penance and prayer. 
 
 The legends relate that a neighboring knight, falling 
 desperately in love with one of the convent inmates, pre- 
 vailed upon her to forget her vows and meet him every even- 
 ing in the chapel. There he promised ever to be faithful to 
 her, even if they could never be married, owing to her vows. 
 
 The knight was a rover, however, and soon forgot the 
 pretty nun, who pined and grew pale when she heard he was 
 courting another. The rumor of these doings was soon 
 confirmed, and the perjured nun, mad with jealousy and 
 despair, hired an assassin to slay the lover who had deceived 
 and deserted her. 
 
 The knight's remains were duly interred in the Gottesthal 
 chapel, where he had come so often to make love to the little 
 nun, and when the midnight hour struck, the door opened, 
 a closely-veiled figure stole to his tomb, opened it, and 
 with muttered curses and shrieks of rage tore his base 
 heart out of his body and trampled it wildly under foot. 
 
 The veiled figure was the nun, driven insane by remorse 
 and grief, and many years after that her ghost returned 
 at midnight, dragged the knight from his tomb, tore out his 
 heart and trampled it, while her shrieks echoed through the 
 ruins. Now no trace of convent or chapel remains, and the 
 ghost is no longer seen, but her despairing cries of rage can 
 
 INGLEHEIM. 
 
 247 
 
 i 
 
 still be heard from time to time, and the people of Oestrich 
 declare she still hates her false lover. 
 
 << 
 
 Since then long time has passed but still, 
 
 Old legends say that she 
 
 Till cock crow tarries in that aisle, 
 
 Aye shrieking fearfully. 
 
 And that, when tolls the midnight bell. 
 
 She seeks his monument ; 
 
 And from it brings, with looks so fell, 
 
 A heart with blood besprent." 
 
 — Legends of the Rhine. 
 
 INGELHEIM. 
 Charlemagne aiiD J8lbeaa»t. 
 
 Charlemagne had come to inspect his new palace near the 
 Rhine. As he lay asleep in his room, the very first night, 
 he was honored by the visit of an angel, who, standing at 
 the foot of his bed, solemnly bade him arise, go forth and 
 steal. 
 
 This command, coming from an angel, seemed so incon- 
 gruous, that it had to be thrice repeated ere the emperor rose 
 noiselessly from his couch. He stole unseen to the stable, 
 saddled his horse, and rode out of the palace armed cap-a- 
 pie^ ready to attack any traveler along the highway and 
 despoil him, as the angel had commanded. He had not 
 gone very far, however, before he met a knight, apparently 
 bound on the same errand, whom he challenged, fought 
 against, and brought to the ground. There he held the 
 point of his sword to the man's throat, demanding his name 
 and standing, but when he heard it was Elbegast, a notorious 
 robber knight whom he had long been trying to secure, he 
 bade him rise and accompany him on a predatory excursion. 
 
 Nothing loath, Elbegast joined his conqueror, little sus- 
 pecting it was the renowned Charlemagne, and hearing him 
 
24^ 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 declare that he had vowed not to return home until he; had 
 robbed someone, led him to the house of one of his min- 
 isters, where, thanks to his cunning, they soon effected an 
 entrance. Bidding the emperor wait for him, Elbegast 
 glided noiselessly into the minister's bedroom, and there, 
 crouching in the darkness, overheard him confide to his 
 wife a plot for Charlemagne's assassination on the morrow. 
 
 Elbegast returned to hjs waiting companion, and implored 
 him to %o and warn the emperor of the threatened danger. 
 After they had secured a few worthless trifles, the chance 
 companions parted, one returning to his stronghold, and 
 the other wending his way back to the palace, which he 
 re-entered unheard and unseen. 
 
 Thanks to the information gleaned during the night, 
 Charlemagne cleverly outwitted and secured the conspira- 
 tors, whom he generously pardoned upon their promise of 
 future loyalty. Then having obtained an interview with 
 Elbegast, he revealed to him that his conqueror and com- 
 panion in theft was none other than Charlemagne, who owed 
 his life to the angel's warning. 
 
 Elbegast was so amazed at these tidings, and so pene- 
 trated with admiration for the only man who had ever been 
 able to disarm him, that he forsook his evil practices and be- 
 came a devoted attendant of Charlemagne, who made good 
 use of his sagacity and courage. 
 
 In commemoration of the angelic visit, received during 
 his first sojourn in his new palace, Charlemagne called it 
 Ingelheim, the angel's home. The place has borne this 
 name ever since although the palace has long fallen into 
 ruins, and the only fragments of it which now remain are 
 the columns incorporated in a part of the picturesque castle 
 of Heidelberg. 
 
 KEDRICH. 
 
 249 
 
 KEDRICH. 
 
 Above Lorch, near the entrance of the Wisperthal, stand 
 the ruins of the ancient castle of Nollich, which was once 
 inhabited by a stern and tyrannous knight, Libo von Lorch. 
 His heart was tender only toward Gerlinda, his little 
 daughter. He was so grim and discourteous that he even re- 
 fused to show common hospitality, and roughly dismissed the 
 belated travelers who paused for food and shelter at his gates. 
 
 One stormy night the lord of Lorch turned a poor old 
 man away, laughing scornfully when the trembling fist was 
 shaken in wrath, and the cracked old voice warned him 
 that he would have cause to repent of his cruelty, and 
 would rue this refusal for many a day. This prediction was 
 only too soon fulfilled, however, for early on the morrow 
 Libo von Lorcli learned that his fair little daughter had 
 been carried away by a dwarf. He had conveyed her to 
 the huge rock towering far above his castle. The father 
 rushed toward the window, and looking eagerly up to the 
 top of the rocky wall, saw that the tidings were true, for 
 there stood Gerlinda, holding out her hands to him as if to 
 implore him to come to her rescue. 
 
 In vain the frantic father made every effort to scale the 
 rock, in vain he promised large rewards to anyone who 
 would restore his daughter, the dwarf guarded her securely, 
 and defeated the efforts of all who tried to reach her, by 
 pelting them with stones. Several years passed by, and 
 although Libo von Lorch knew his daughter was well, — for 
 she appeared at the top of the rock for a moment morning 
 and evening, — he could not obtain access to her. 
 
 The poor father was so grieved at her loss that he forgot 
 his old imperious ways, entertained all travelers with lavish 
 hospitality, prayed at all the neighboring shrines, and vowed 
 to bestow rich gifts upon every saint in the calendar, if they 
 
a5o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 would only help him to recover his child. One evening 
 he entertained a returning crusader, Sir Ruthelm, who, 
 hearing the cause of his grief, vowed to rescue the captive 
 maiden or perish in the attempt. The impetuous knight 
 called for his horse and immediately rode off to try and find 
 some means of scaling the rocky wall. But all his search 
 proved vain, and he was about to postpone further efforts 
 until the morrow, when a dwarf suddenly stepped out of 
 the crevice and mockingly promised him the hand of the 
 fair Gerlinda if he would only scale the wall. 
 
 Before Sir Ruthelm could answer the dwarf had vanished. 
 A moment later another appeared, gave him a silver bell, 
 bade him hasten to the Wisperthal, summon the gnomes by 
 ringing it there, and ask them to build a ladder up the 
 Kedrich, as the rocky precipice was called, and have it 
 ready before sunrise on'the morrow. 
 
 Of course the knight implicitly carried out all these 
 instructions, and, before sunrise on the morrow he found a 
 ladder reaching to the very top of the wall. He quickly 
 climbed up, and encountering the dwarf, bade him fulfill his 
 promise and give him the fair Gerlinda as wife. The dwarf, 
 well pleased at the young man's daring, bade him return by 
 the way he had come, telling him Gerlinda would meet him at 
 the foot of the rock. And as soon as Sir Ruthelm reached 
 the bottom of the ladder the fair damsel stepped out of a 
 crevice, placed her hand in his, and allowed him to conduct 
 her to her father's castle where they were duly married and 
 lived happy for many a year. 
 
 According to another legend, a knight of Nollich once 
 left his newly-won bride to take part in a crusade, but over- 
 come with the longing to see her once more he soon 
 deserted the holy cause and rapidly made his way home. 
 On arriving at Lorch, however, he heard that his lovely 
 bride had been carried away by a robber knight, whose castle 
 was perched on top of the Kedrich and was simply inacces- 
 sible to all. 
 
 ELFELD. 
 
 «5i 
 
 The knight of Nollich, after vainly striving to scale the 
 wall, knowing that God would no longer help a man who 
 had deserted his holy cause, now wildly appealed to the 
 devil. In exchange for the knight's soul Satan enabled 
 him to ride straight up the rocky wall, where his horse's 
 hoofprints can still be seen. Then he rode into the 
 castle and rescued his lovely wife, who soon after died from 
 the results of her long imprisonment. 
 
 Inconsolable for her loss, the knight, who could no longer 
 hope to join her pure spirit in heaven, committed suicide, 
 and the devil took charge of his soul. In proof of the truth 
 of this tradition, the inhabitants of Lorch exhibit the saddle 
 upon which the knight sat as he climbed the steep precipice, 
 where they also point out the marks of his horse's hoofs. 
 
 ELFELD. 
 
 c:be "Rope ot t)alr. 
 
 A RECKLESS knight called Ferdinand once dwelt at 
 Elfcld on the Rhine. When he had duly squandered all 
 his patrimony and found himself too poor to purchase an 
 outfit to attend a tournament given in honor of the queen, 
 he vowed life was no longer worth living, and rushed out of 
 the castle to commit suicide. 
 
 He was about to cast himself headlong into the river, 
 when Satan suddenly appeared before him and offered him 
 a heavy purse of gold in exchange for a single hair. The 
 knight accepted, the exchange was made, and the devil 
 vanished, promising to return whenever the knight sum- 
 moned him, and to furnish an equal sum of pure gold for 
 every hair which he was allowed to pluck from Ferdinand's 
 head. 
 
 The sum thus furnished by Satan was quite sufificient for 
 the knight's present needs, so he spent it gayly. When it 
 
252 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 * 
 
 was exhausted he pronounced the formula taught him, ^nd in 
 exchange for another hair received another bagful of gold. 
 Little by little, however, the knight grew more reckless, the 
 devil's visits more frequent, and the knight's head soon 
 became so very bald that it attracted much playful attention 
 on the part of his friends. 
 
 Finally, after a long, dissipated life, the knight fell danger- 
 ously ill, and unwilling to bear the pain he suffered he 
 would fain have committed suicide, but had no strength left 
 to go in search of his sword to plunge it into his breast. 
 While he was bemoaning his helplessness and loudly calling 
 for someone to come and end his wretched existence, the 
 devil suddenly appeared before him, gave him a rope 
 fashioned entirely out of the hair plucked from his head, 
 and told him that, forseeing the end, he had fashioned it 
 into a noose so that he might hang himself. 
 
 When the doctors came to visit their patient on the 
 morrow they found him dead, with a hair noose drawn tight 
 around his neck, and an expression of fear upon his dead 
 face, for the devil in departing had carried away his soul. 
 
 BIBERICH. 
 
 (Tbc (5bO0tli2 ITnterview. 
 
 Near the picturesque little towns of Biberich and 
 Mosbach, which stand so close together that they form but 
 one and the same place, is the pretty castle of the Duke of 
 Nassau, surrounded by tasteful grounds, in which the ruins 
 of the ancient palace of Louis, the German, can still be seen. 
 
 The legend relates that shortly after the completion of 
 this castle the wife of the founder died. Her body was 
 duly shrouded and laid in state in the castle hall, while 
 fifty men of the duke's body guard marched to and fro 
 around the castle and along the corridors, keeping watch 
 over the mortuary chamber. They had been at their post 
 since early morn, and the night was far advanced, when the 
 
 MAINZ. 
 
 «53 
 
 1 
 
 silence was suddenly broken by the arrival of a coach. In 
 it sat the principal lady of the bedchamber, who, closely 
 veiled, stepped out, and gliding past the sentinels, would 
 fain have entered the great hall where the dead duchess 
 lay in state. 
 
 One of the sentinels challenged her, however, and it was 
 only when she had told her name — and raising her veil had 
 shown her pale and rigid countenance — that he allowed her 
 to enter and close the door. As the man was not sure he 
 had done right, however, and wondered what the principal 
 lady of the bedchamber could still have to do with her mis- 
 tress, he peeped through the keyhole. Suddenly he started 
 back in amazement, calling for the captain, who, looking 
 through the same aperture, beheld the dead duchess sitting 
 up, and talking excitedly to the principal lady of the bed- 
 chamber. 
 
 Before he could utter a word, however, the duchess sank 
 back in her former corpse-like rigidity, and the lady of the 
 bedchamber, gliding out, remounted her chariot, and drove 
 rapidly away. Captain and sentinel were so bewildered by 
 what they had seen that they kept the adventure secret, 
 but when they heard on the morrow that the principal lady 
 of the bedchamber had died of grief on hearing of the 
 duchess* decease, they concluded they had witnessed an 
 interview between the dead, and told the story to silence 
 some of their companions who asserted they did not believe 
 in ghosts. 
 
 MAINZ. 
 
 Mainz, one of the oldest cities along the Rhine, is situated 
 at the junction of the Main, and boasts of one of the oldest 
 and finest cathedrals in Germany. The present sacred edi- 
 fice, which was founded in the tenth century, has six times 
 
254 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 
 been a prey to the flames, and has repeatedly been desecrated 
 by soldiers, who have used it as barracks, stable, and even as 
 slaughter house. 
 
 The various ravages of time have been repaired as well as 
 possible, however, and the cathedral of Mainz now stands as 
 a monument of the various styles of architecture of bygone 
 ages. Under its mighty roof are the tombs of Frastrada, 
 wife of Charlemagne, and of the great Meistersinger P'rauen- 
 lob. He was borne to his tomb by the ladies of the town, 
 one of whom is represented bending over his grave, just as 
 she stood when she died of grief at his loss. 
 
 The image of the Virgin in the cathedral is said to be 
 a miracle-working statue. The old women of Mainz 
 relate that a poor old musician, finding that no one would 
 listen to his antiquated tunes, stole starving into the cathe- 
 dral, and after praying* fervently for aid, played an air upon 
 his fiddle in honor of Heaven's queen. 
 
 The Virgin, touched by the old man's distress, daintily 
 raised her jewel-incrusted robe, and deftly kicked one of her 
 little golden slippers into the tattered hat, which the old 
 fiddler had deposited on the pavement before her. Tremul- 
 ous with gratitude at the unexpected charity, the old man 
 fervently spoke his thanks, and hastening off to a neighbor- 
 ing goldsmith, tried to sell the little golden shoe to obtain 
 bread. 
 
 The goldsmith questioned him, demurred, and finally 
 arrested him. A few hours later the poor old man, accused 
 of sacrilegious theft, was judged, sentenced to death, and 
 hurried off to the place of execution, accompanied by a 
 hooting populace. As he was dragged past the cathedral 
 door he implored permission to say a last prayer at the 
 Virgin's shrine, and was permitted to kneel before her, with 
 his hat and fiddle beside him. 
 
 Tremulously the old fiddler implored Mary to open the 
 Gates of Paradise for him, and when he had ended again 
 played his little hymn, declaring the last music he ever made 
 
 o 
 
 > 
 
 r 
 
 > 
 
 N 
 
 J 
 
 ti 
 
MAINZ. 
 
 «55 
 
 would be in honor of the Blessed Virgin. While he was 
 playing thus, his tearful eyes fixed upon the statue above 
 him, the Virgin, in the presence of the assembled multitude, 
 again lifted her robe, and deliberately kicked her second 
 golden shoe down into the tattered hat. 
 
 This second miracle, which all had seen, convinced the 
 people that the minstrel had been unjustly condemned, and 
 the priest, coming forward, offered to redeem the shoes for 
 a small pension which would give him food for the rest of 
 his life. The fiddler accepted, and the priests, having 
 recovered the precious shoes, carefully locked them up in 
 the treasury, lest the Virgin should again be tempted to 
 bestow them upon some penniless beggar who prayed for 
 her aid. 
 
 Once, when the French army occupied Mainz, and the 
 country, devastated by war, was groaning under the harsh 
 rule of the invader, the young ladies of Mainz, instigated by 
 the beautiful young Countess of Stein, solemnly vowed that 
 they would neither marry nor listen to a word of love from 
 any man until their country was entirely free. 
 
 The Frenchmen, hearing of this league, and seeing that 
 it stimulated the ardor of their foes to attack them with 
 renewed courage, angrily resolved to make an example of 
 the young Countess of Stein. They dragged her a pris- 
 oner into the city, publicly thrust a broom in her hand, and 
 bade her sweep the principal street. 
 
 Instead of bursting into tears as they expected, the noble 
 girl grasped her broom firmly, and gazing upward, prayed 
 aloud: **God of my fatherland, bless my sweeping, and 
 as I sweep the highway, grant that the enemy may be 
 swept from our land." Then she set vigorously to work, 
 sweeping very clean, and although the Frenchmen stood on 
 
256 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 either side the street, twisting their mustaches until they 
 stood straight out like needles, and waiting to hear the people 
 jeer, they saw nothing but uncovered heads and heard noth- 
 ing but low and fervent ejaculation of: **God bless the 
 sweeping!" Fired by the courage of the young countess 
 the men now fought with a will, and succeeded at last in 
 sweeping the enemy completely out of their land. 
 
 MAINZ. 
 
 •57 
 
 to heaven, and even there you dared indulge in your thiev- 
 ish propensities ! Away with you, no punishment can be too 
 severe for such a base pilferer ! " 
 
 Then the archbishop gave orders that the man should be 
 put in the stocks on the market place, near the fountain 
 where the people all collected to hear the herald read an 
 account of his crime, and hooted and jeered at him until 
 they were tired. 
 
 B TCbf et in Deavetu 
 
 An old tenth century ballad, which has been preserved in 
 the original words and meter, relates how a false prophet 
 once came to Mainz, pretending he had visited both heaven 
 and hell, and offering to teach a sure method of reaching 
 either. 
 
 The archbishop of Mainz, afraid lest this loud-spoken 
 man should exert an evil influence upon the credulous peo- 
 ple, summoned him into his presence and bade him relate 
 his visit to heaven. He added that while he could easily 
 imagine horrors enough to stock the infernal regions, his 
 fancy was utterly incapable of picturing the delights of the 
 heavenly mansions. The false prophet, somewhat embar- 
 rassed at being questioned by the archbishop himself, now 
 lamely began to tell how he had seen the Saviour and St. 
 John, seated at a richly-spread board, eating and drinking, 
 while Peter, with heated countenance, bent over the steam- 
 ing pots and kettles in the kitchen. 
 
 The archbishop quietly remarked that he had always been 
 told that St. Peter was heaven's porter and not heaven's 
 cook, and abruptly inquired where the false prophet had sat 
 to obtain such a good view of all that was going on. 
 
 * i ! " exclaimed the impostor. *'Why, I was in a corner, 
 and while St. Peter was not looking I stole a bit of meat 
 which was too delicious for words." 
 
 ** Wretch !" cried the archbishop. ** You were admitted 
 
 TTbe 0oiD»niub» 
 
 Hatto, the treacherous bishop of Mainz, was very anx- 
 ious mdeed to get rid of Heinrich, duke of Saxony As 
 he preferred cunning to open warfare, he sent him a cordial 
 mvitation to come and visit him in Mainz, on a certain day 
 adding that he had a handsome gold chain which he wished 
 to put around his neck with his own hands. 
 
 The duke of Saxony, suspecting no evil, accepted the 
 invitation, and prepared to ride into Mainz on the ap- 
 pointed day, while the bishop sent seven marks of pure gold 
 to the best goldsmith in town with orders to fashion them 
 mto a strong and handsome necklace. This order was duly 
 executed, and when the messenger came to get the finished 
 chain the goldsmith noticed with surprise that his hands 
 were trembling, and that his eyes were dimmed with tears. 
 
 When he inquired the cause of these strange demonstra- 
 tions, he learned with dismay that Hatto was planning to 
 strangle his beloved master, under pretext of laying the 
 chain around his neck. Instead of showing his feelings, how- 
 ever, the clever goldsmith said that he did not care what 
 use the bishop made of the chain, but was only anxious to 
 secure his pay for the work he had done. 
 
 Indignant with the man's apparent callousness, the mes- 
 senger paid for the work and departed. Scarcely had he 
 left than the goldsmith hastened out of town, and meeting 
 
 I 
 
2SB 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 \ 
 
 h 
 
 Heinrich, warned him of the treacherous reception awaiting 
 him. * 
 
 Heinrich turned to the bishop's messenger, who rode be- 
 side him, and bade him go back to his master and tell him that 
 he had no wish to suffer Adalbert's fate, but preferred to do 
 without the handsome golden necklace which the bishop 
 had so kindly promised to give him. Then, while the 
 bishop's servant returned alone to Mainz, Heinrich again 
 withdrew into Saxony, taking with him the honest gold- 
 smith who had so cleverly managed to warn him and had 
 thus saved his life. 
 
 flOrsheim. 
 
 OTe Sbepbcrye S>eatb. 
 
 In a pretty little castle which stood above the village of 
 Florsheim, on the banks of the Rhine, dwelt a most charm- 
 ing young lady, who, in spite of many noble suitors, fell in 
 love with a poor young shepherd. He was wont to pipe his 
 lays, gazing up admiringly at her, while he watched his 
 sheep on the green slopes which led from the castle down to 
 the river. 
 
 One day when the young shepherd lay under a tree sound 
 asleep, the lady of Florsheim, stealing softly through the 
 bushes, bent down to gaze upon him, and in a sudden out- 
 burst of love bent over and kissed him. Her touch, how- 
 ever light, immediately awoke the young shepherd, who, 
 seeing her blushing face near him, caught her in his arms 
 and repaid her kiss by a fervent embrace. 
 
 After lingering beside him for some time the pretty lady 
 of Florsheim stole away, promising to visit him again some 
 other day, and the shepherd resumed his happy day dreams 
 and waited for her coming. On the morrow, when he was 
 again lying under the selfsame tree, he suddenly heard a 
 
 FALKENSTEIN, 259 
 
 rustle in the bushes, and fancying it was his beloved who 
 might perchance again favor him with a kiss, he pretended to 
 sleep. But, instead of the expected caress, he was suddenly 
 bitten by a deadly snake, and a few moments later was cold 
 in death. The lady of Florsheim, stealing noiselessly 
 through the bushes toward evening, fancied she had again 
 caught her lover napping, but her kiss called forth no re- 
 sponse, so she soon discovered he was dead. 
 
 In her despair she flung herself over an overhanging 
 rock down into the river, and on the morrow, after vainly 
 searching for her, her parents found her drowned at the 
 foot of the rock upon which the young shepherd lay cold 
 in death. ^ 
 
 FALKENSTEIN. 
 tTbe (Bnomcs* 1Roa&* 
 
 KuNo of Sayn, one of the noble family whose ruined 
 castle still rises on one of the hills along the Rhine, once fell 
 in love with the daughter of the surly lord of Falkenstein 
 and having won her consent, formally presented himself 
 before her father to ask her hand in marriage. 
 
 He proceeded for this purpose to the castle of Falken- 
 stein, which was perched on the heights above one of the 
 tributaries of the Main. The youth made his proposal 
 which the grim old lord promised to consider, providing the 
 suitor would subscribe to one condition. The impetuous 
 lover immediately vowed to do so, without waiting to inquire 
 what the condition might be. Imagine his chagrin and dis- 
 may, therefore, when the Lord of Falkenstein told him that 
 he could wed his daughter, only if he built a convenient 
 road from the castle to the valley, over the jagged rocks, 
 and rode up thither on his war-steed before sunrise on the 
 morrow. 
 
 Sadly Kuno von Sayn scrambled down the rocks again, 
 
26o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 I 
 
 without having been able to catch a glimpse of th^ fair 
 Irmengarde, his beloved. He sat down upon a rock in the 
 valley and berated himself for his stupidity, for many work- 
 men and many months of arduous labor would scarcely 
 accomplish the task which had been appointed him. Sud- 
 denly, ho^yever, he was aroused from his abstraction by the 
 sound of a little voice calling him by name. He looked up 
 and beheld the king of the gnomes, who said there was no 
 need for him to despair, as he and his subjects would gladly 
 aid such a deserving knight. He bade Kuno hasten to the 
 inn where he had left his steed, promising that the road 
 would be ready before sunrise on the morrow. Then the 
 king of the gnomes waved his hand and caused a mist to 
 rise and shroud valley and hill with its dense vapor. 
 
 Thousands of dwarf-like creatures now crept out of the 
 ground on all sides, and began using axes, hammers, and 
 spades with great good will. All night long Kuno von 
 Sayn heard the crashing of great forest trees, the breaking 
 of stone and occasionally a long rumble like thunder. At 
 dawn he emerged from his bedroom and was greeted by the 
 innkeeper, who told him that, judging by the noise which 
 had kept him awake, a terrible storm must have raged over 
 the valley. Kuno did not pause to listen to the man's tales, 
 but loudly called for his horse, and mounting, rode rapidly 
 away to the foot of the eminence upon which rose the castle 
 of Falkenstein. True to his promise, the king of the gnomes 
 had built a broad and convenient road, and Kuno galloped 
 boldly up, exchanging radiant smiles with the kindly dwarfs, 
 who peered out at him from behind every rock and tree. 
 As he thundered over the arched bridge they were just fin- 
 ishing, he gayly waved his hand to Irmengarde, who, blush- 
 ing and happy, stood up on the castle ramparts. Then the 
 dwarfs unanimously raised a glad shout of triumph. 
 
 The knight of Falkenstein, seeing his condition had duly 
 been complied with, could no longer refuse his consent 
 to his daughter's speedy marriage with Kuno von Sayn, and 
 
 FALKENSTEIN. 
 
 261 
 
 the first sunbeam, falling upon the castle, illuminated the 
 golden hair and blushing cheeks of the maiden, who was 
 joyfully clasped close to her lover's heart. 
 
 This legend has been a suggestive theme for several 
 German poets and has also given rise to an English version, 
 which concludes as follows: 
 
 *« 
 
 it 
 
 «« 
 
 «• 
 
 And Kuno on his coal black steed 
 Came riding gallantly. 
 There was the finished road indeed, 
 A miracle to see ! 
 
 Up, up, and up he galloped gay. 
 Till, at the portal grim, 
 He saw the Ritter old and gray 
 Come out to welcome him ; 
 
 And by her white and slender hand 
 He led his daughter fair : 
 * Take her,* he cried, ' you who command 
 The powers of earth and air ! * 
 
 And Kuno looked in her sweet eyes, 
 And rapturously obeyed ; 
 And so he won his matchless prize, 
 The snow and rose bloom maid." 
 
 —5/. Nicholas Magazine^ 
 
 The castle of Falkenstein once belonged to a grim old 
 lord, who arbitrarily decided that his only daughter must 
 enter a convent, and with that purpose in view placed her 
 under the exclusive care of some nuns. When her novitiate 
 was ended, however, the priests refused to allow her to take 
 the veil until she had, as was customary, seen the gay world 
 and its attractions, and made her choice in an intelligent 
 way. 
 
 Thus forced to bring his daughter home for a few weeks, 
 the lord of Falkenstein received no visitors, and never wenf 
 
262 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 FRANKFORT, 
 
 263 
 
 'll 
 
 \^ 
 
 w 
 
 out, keeping her as strictly secluded as in a convent, in his 
 fear that she should refuse to obey his wishes and take the 
 veil. The only recreation permitted her was to walk alone 
 in a little garden, where, unbeknown to her father, she met 
 the young count of Hclfenstein. He fell deeply in love with 
 her at first sight, and lost no time in pressing his suit. 
 
 As soon as he discovered that his love was returned he 
 proposed to ask her father's consent, and it was agreed 
 between them that he should come on the next day, when 
 her father would surely be ready to give an answer, as the 
 young lady proposed enlightening him on the state of her 
 wishes in the interim. 
 
 But, when the count of Helfenstein came to Falkenstein 
 on the morrow, father and daughter had both gone, and the 
 servants reported that their master was in a terrible rage 
 when he gave the orders to prepare everything for his 
 daughter's immediate return to the convent. 
 
 The disconsolate lover now set out for the convent too, 
 and knowing he would be refused admittance, lingered out- 
 side the walls till midnight. Then, seeing only one light 
 burning, he uttered the low, familiar whistle which had been 
 wont to warn his beloved of his approach. 
 
 A moment later a fair form appeared at the convent case- 
 ment, and rapidly signing to him to keep silence, intoned a 
 church hymn, using the familiar air to convey this informa- 
 tion to her lover: 
 
 ** The convent wall is broken near the shore, 
 Climb quickly over there, my loving knight ; 
 In the convent wall is an iron door, 
 Break through its bars with giant's might.** 
 
 The \over, listening breathlessly to every word, signaled 
 that he had understood as soon as she had finished, and 
 carried out her directions so faithfully, that in a few minutes 
 he clasped her in his arms. Together now they made their 
 escape, but scarcely had they reached the other side of the 
 
 wall when the lady*s flight was discovered. The convent 
 alarm bell pealed through the quiet night, and the sounds of 
 close pursuit were heard. The count of Helfenstein, clasp- 
 ing his beloved closely, ran wildly along the banks of the 
 Rhine, and was about to drop down exhausted when he 
 saw a skiff moored to a tree. To place his treasure in the 
 stern, cleave the rope with one blow of his sword, seize the 
 oars, and propel the skiff out into the middle of the stream, 
 was the work of but a moment. Favored by the darkness 
 and the rapid current the young people evaded their 
 pursuers, and safely reached the castle of Helfenstein, where 
 they were married and lived happy ever after : 
 
 ** Rowed her o'er the rapid Rhine 
 To his castle Helfenstein, 
 Where, in wedlock's holy glow. 
 Lived and loved they long ago.** 
 
 FRANKFORT. 
 
 tTbe Croddind ot tbe #ord* 
 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main, the birthplace of Goethe, and 
 the town where the coronation of many of the German 
 emperors was celebrated with much pomp, is also noted for 
 its ancient legends, to one of which it owes its name. 
 Charlemagne, having penetrated far into the Teutonic 
 forests to wage war against the Saxons, was once defeated 
 and forced to beat a hasty retreat with his brave Franks. 
 
 The country was unknown to him, a heavy fog rested all 
 over the land, and the fugitive army, coming to the banks 
 of the Main, saw no means of escape. Knowing that his 
 small force would soon be cut to pieces if he lingered here, 
 yet not daring to attempt to ford the stream when he could 
 
264 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 \l 
 
 scarcely see a few feet ahead of him, Charlemagne in de- 
 spair had recourse to prayer. 
 
 A second later the heavy fog bank parted, and the emperor 
 saw a doe fording the river, followed by her young. He 
 called to his men to keep close beside him, took the same 
 road, and brought his army safely over. The fog bank closed 
 behind them and completely concealed them from the pur- 
 suing Saxons, who declared that if the Franks had attempted 
 to pass, they must have perished in the waters of the Main. 
 
 In commemoration of his deliverance from the hand of 
 the enemy, Charlemagne called the place where he had 
 crossed Frankfort (the ford of the Franks), which name is 
 borne by the city erected shortly after on the spot where 
 the fugitive army passed over the Main. 
 
 The beautiful red sand-stone bridge which spans the 
 Main at Frankfort, and on which stands a fine statue of 
 Charlemagne, was built in 1342. Previous to that date 
 many architects had attempted to build a bridge there, but 
 the winter ice and spring freshets invariably carried away 
 their pillars. This prevented the completion of the work, 
 and all would-be builders had given up the attempt with a 
 muttered *' Devil take the bridge." 
 
 Finally an architect, more worldly-wise than his prede- 
 cessors, fancied that the devil had probably taken them at 
 their word. So he called upon his Satanic Majesty and 
 asked his permission to begin the bridge, and bespoke his 
 help in finishing it. Satan, well pleased at this request, 
 gave full permission and promised his aid, upon condition 
 that the first living creature which crossed it on the day it 
 was opened to the public would be delivered up to his 
 tender mercies. 
 
 Mentally resolving not to cross the bridge first on the 
 
 FRANKFORT. 
 
 »<5f 
 
 opening day, the architect subscribed to the devil's con- 
 ditions. He immediately began the construction, which 
 progressed favorably, and in due time was brought to a 
 successful conclusion. 
 
 All the town magistrates then assembled to open the 
 bridge, while the people of Frankfort, in gala attire, formed 
 a long procession behind them. When he reached the head 
 of the bridge the master of ceremonies paused, and called 
 the architect, who was walking modestly in the rear. With 
 a graceful gesture he then bade him pass first and open the 
 march, as was his due. 
 
 Pale and stammering, the architect refused the honor, 
 urging that he could not think of preceding the master of 
 ceremonies, who, curled, perfumed, and as pompous as a 
 drum major, really considered the honor belonged to him. 
 He was about to ride forward, therefore, and be the first 
 upon the bridge, when an old market woman, who had a 
 live chicken in her basket, suddenly held up her hands in 
 admiration at his fine appearance. The basket lid, no 
 longer held down, opened with a bang, and a distracted 
 rooster flew out with a squawk almost directly under the 
 feet of the prancing steed. The fowl, as chickens will, 
 instead of retreating to either side of the road began zig- 
 zagging wildly in front of the horse, and then fluttered upon 
 the bridge, still uttering a frightened cackle. Suddenly, 
 however, it disappeared, and the people standing near 
 declared they saw a claw-like hand clutch it, heard some 
 angry imprecations, and caught the fumes of an almost 
 intolerable stench. 
 
 When the architect heard this report he frankly con- 
 fessed the bargain he had made with the fiend, and the 
 people were beside themselves with joy when they heard 
 how nicely an old rooster had cheated the devil. As a 
 memento of this occurrence they placed the golden efiigy of 
 a rooster upon the bridge, and they declare this miraculous 
 bird crows loudly whenever he sees a Jew cross the bridge. 
 
266 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 It is said, however, that either the numerous Jews who 
 live at Frankfort avoid the bridge from fear of hearing the 
 denouncing crow, or that the cock's eyesight must have 
 failed him, for it is many a year since he has flapped his 
 wings and uttered his shrill cry. 
 
 (Tbe Great f fte. 
 
 On the fourteenth of January, 171 1, the whole quarter of 
 the Jews in P'rankfort was reduced to ashes. This memor- 
 able conflagration is ascribed to the magic of an old rabbi, 
 who, under the pretext of showing his disciples the power 
 of the cabala, banished the spirits of water and damp, and 
 conjured up the spirits of- fire and heat. 
 
 As often happens, however, the spirits he had called upon 
 came suddenly and with a vengeance, setting fire to his house 
 and garments, singeing his hair and beard. This frightened 
 him so sorely that he entirely forgot the required cabalistic 
 formula to recall the spirits of water and damp, and restrain 
 the destructive energy of the heat and fire. The flames, 
 spreading rapidly from house to house, soon invaded all the 
 Jewish quarter. They would surely have consumed the 
 Christian dwellings also, had it not been for the presence of 
 mind of a priest. He suspected that there was magic at 
 work, and called upon the fire to pause in the name of the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, praying that water and 
 damp might prevail over the fiendish flames. At his appeal 
 the roaring flames paused in their advance, and not a single 
 Christian dwelling was injured, while the Jews lost houses 
 and all in the flames, and nothing but ashes remained in 
 the part of the town which had been set aside for their use. 
 
 FRANKFORT 
 
 96J 
 
 Clic SExccuticncv dmcbfcd. 
 
 A GRAND masked ball was once given in the town hall of 
 Frankfort, in honor of the king and queen, who, also dis- 
 guised, mingled with their guests. Her Majesty even 
 accepted partners in the dance, and twice trod a measure 
 with a tall, distinguished-looking man, whose reserved but 
 courtly manners greatly pleased her. 
 
 As none of her eager questions had elicited any answer 
 which could enable her to discover who he might be, she 
 resolved to watch him when he unmasked, and even gave 
 the signal for it by removing her own disguise a whole hour 
 earlier than usual. All the guests immediately imitated 
 her with the exception of the stranger. Only when com- 
 pelled to do so by the queen's explicit command, he tore 
 the mask away from his face, and falling down upon his 
 knees before her craved her pardon for having presumed to 
 ask her to dance. 
 
 The queen, gazing down upon a beautiful and melancholy, 
 but unknown, face, was about to ask who he was, when the 
 people suddenly shrank back with a shudder, exclaiming: 
 *^The executioner of Bergen ! " 
 
 **Yes," replied the stranger sorrowfully, **I am the 
 executioner of Bergen, and because I do the king's will I 
 am shunned and scorned by all. All flee from me and 
 loath me as if I were not of their own kind. The longing 
 to mingle with my fellow creatures once more as an equal 
 drove me hither." 
 
 The king, hearing these words, was so indignant that he 
 called for his guards, and angrily bade them lead the knave 
 away, and behead him with his own axe in punishment for 
 his audacity. 
 
 Before this order could be executed, however, the man 
 exclaimed that even were he slain the queen would none the 
 less have danced with the vilest of the commoners. Any- 
 
268 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 one could taunt her with that fact, and even blood would 
 never efface the stain. With a groan the king acknowledged 
 that this was true. Then the executioner declared himself 
 ready to defend her against any man, and vowed he would 
 even fight the greatest nobleman were he but a knight. So 
 the king concluded to ennoble him, and seizing his sword 
 gave him the wonted accolate and bade him rise, calling him 
 the Knave of Bergen. The queen then bade her champion 
 hold himself ready to defend her honor at any time, and do 
 battle for her, and the executioner was thus respited from 
 death and admitted among the nobility of the land. 
 
 TOe tKIIeatber Vane. 
 
 0:i_ f the weather vanes in Frankfort bears a number 
 nine, neatly pricked on its surface by nine holes. The 
 legend relates that a poacher, having been caught and 
 imprisoned in the tower during nine weary days and nights, 
 complained sorely of the creaking of this vane, which, he 
 declared, had prevented him from finding a moment's 
 oblivion in sleep. 
 
 **Were I only free," said he, " I would show the good 
 people of Frankfort how accurately I can aim, by shooting 
 as many holes in that accursed old weather vane as I have 
 spent nights in this tower, and what is more, those nine 
 holes would form the number nine." 
 
 The jailor reported this speech to the city councilors, 
 who, anxious to see such a proof of skill, declared the 
 poacher should be allowed to try and fulfill his vain boast. 
 They added that if he succeeded in touching the vane nine 
 times, and formed a number nine with the holes, they would 
 set him free. 
 
 The poacher, brought before them, loaded his gun, aimed 
 at the mobile vane, and shooting, punched a hole in it, 
 
 HANAU. 
 
 269 
 
 Nine times he shot, and each hole, round and near its 
 fellow, helped to form the well-shaped number nine, which 
 won him his freedom. Leaving the city, the poacher then 
 swore he would never again return to town, where such 
 creaking engines as weather vanes prevented a man from 
 sleeping. Since that day, however, the weather vane has 
 borne the number nine, and the people often point it out as 
 a proof of his good marksmanship. 
 
 HANAU. 
 
 TCbe Beatb oi tbe Innocent 
 
 An executioner's cart was slowly wending its way through 
 the crowded streets of Hanau. As it rumbled over the 
 stones it drew many groans from the woman who sat within, 
 bound hand and foot, and exposed to the jeers and insults 
 of the assembled populace. She had been tried and duly 
 sentenced to death for some heinous crime, although she 
 had persistently asserted her innocence. 
 
 She gazed at her tormentors, who were hurrying her 
 ruthlessly on to the gallows, raised her bound hands to 
 heaven, and once more solemnly declared that she had com- 
 mitted no sin. ** Heaven itself and the angels will have 
 compassion upon me," she cried. *< See, they shed tears for 
 me. 
 
 As she spoke, in spite of the cloudless blue sky above 
 great drops of rain suddenly began to fall. But, notwith- 
 standing this evident miracle, the people hurried the poor 
 woman on and put her to death. 
 
 A few weeks later the real criminal was discovered, judged, 
 and executed, and the mobile populace execrated him loudly, 
 bewailing the untimely fate of the poor woman who, in 
 spite of the miracle worked in her behalf, had been the inno- 
 cent victim of their cruelty and injustice. 
 
*70 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 DARMSTADT. 
 
 Walther von Birbach, a brave knight-errant, had vowed 
 to serve the Virgin Mary only. In her honor he went about 
 from place to place, challenging every knight, and forcing 
 them all to recognize the supremacy of the Lady he served 
 and to bend the knee at her name. 
 
 When he heard that a great tournament was about to take 
 place at Darmstadt, he wended his way thither. On the road 
 he encountered a beautiful woman, in whom he immediately 
 recognized his holy patroness. She bade him dismount 
 and give her his weapons and steed, which she promptly 
 appropriated. A moment later, arrayed in his armor, the 
 Virgin galloped away, and Walther of Birbach, bewildered 
 by this sudden apparition, sat down by the roadside to 
 collect his thoughts. 
 
 He had not entirely succeeded in doing so, however, ere 
 the Virgin returned, gave him back his horse and armor, 
 and bade him ride on. When he arrived in Darmstadt he 
 learned that the tournament was over, and that all the 
 honors of the day had been won by the Knight of Birbach. 
 A few moments later he was surrounded by the enthusi- 
 astic multitude, who, recognizing the coat of arms on his 
 shield, received him with loud applause. 
 
 A number of knights forced their way through the crowd 
 and humbly proffered ransom, declaring he had conquered 
 them in fair fight, and that they were ready to do him 
 homage. Realizing then that his fair patroness had assumed 
 his armor only to tilt in his behalf, and win a signal victory 
 for him, Walther of Birbach humbly exclaimed: 
 
 '' Do homage to Mary, the blessed Virgin, for it is owing 
 to her that you have been disarmed. Lay your ransom 
 before her shrine, serve her as long as you live, and be 
 
 AUERBACH, 
 
 I7t 
 
 ready at all times to recognize her as tne- most blessed 
 among women." 
 
 The knights obeyed these injunctions, and it is said that 
 the Virgin never had more faithful servants than the knights 
 <ihe once disarmed in the Darmstadt tournament. 
 
 AUERBACH. 
 
 The ruined castle of Auerbach, from whence a beautiful 
 view can be obtained, is said to be haunted by the spirit of 
 a lovely maiden, upon whom a magician once laid a terrible 
 spell. By mystic incantations he made her invisible to all, 
 and declared that she would haunt the ruins until the castle 
 was visited by a youth, rocked in infancy in a cradle made 
 of the wood of a cherry tree beneath whose shade she had 
 been wont to linger. 
 
 The magician had found her beneath this tree, and had 
 spirited her away, declaring she would remain invisible to 
 all until her deliverer came. He could release her from the 
 spell only by pressing a kiss upon her lips, and would then 
 become possessor of a large fortune and of a bride whom 
 all his companions would envy him. 
 
 The deliverer has not yet come, however, and the maid- 
 en's restless spirit is still said to await him in the romantic 
 ruins of Auerbach castle. 
 
 WORMS. 
 
 QDe twatd of Gold. 
 
 The city of Worms, so frequently mentioned in the 
 legendary poems of the North, is the scene of Siegfried's 
 wooing of Kriemhild, who here cultivated her beautiful 
 roses, mourned for her husband, and lost the precious 
 
J *T 2 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Nibelungen hoard, which her uncle Hagen sank in the waters 
 of the Rhine. * 
 
 This treasure has often and vainly been sought» A poet 
 once came to the Rhine, and hiring a skiff, plied around for 
 many a day, reading over the poem to discover a clew to 
 the exact spot where the hoard was sunk, and refreshing 
 himself from time to time with draughts of delicious Rhine 
 wine. 
 
 After many a day he relinquished his search, for he now 
 felt convinced that the gold had melted in the Rhine, that 
 the wines had absorbed its golden color, and that the only 
 priceless treasure now remaining was the ancient epic poem, 
 which has inspired many a modern bard. 
 
 The cathedral of Worms, one of the oldest along the 
 mighty river, is richly decorated on the southern side by 
 fourteenth century statues, representing the various charac- 
 ters of the Nibelungenlied, which is daily more admired by 
 lovers of ancient literature. 
 
 As Worms was at times the residence of the emperor, 
 many great tournaments have been held within its walls, and 
 it was here that the Diet assembled before which Luther was 
 forced to appear. In commemoration of the visit of the 
 great reformer a Luther monument has recently been 
 erected on the square bearing his name, where he stands 
 aloft, Bible in hand, while Huss, Savonarc'la, Wyclif and 
 Waldus, Philip of Hesse, Frederick of Saxony, Meianch- 
 thon and Reuchlin, his predecessors and supporters, are 
 grouped at his feet. 
 
 tTbe tlnftnown Icniflbt* 
 
 Once when Maximilian was holding a great tournament 
 at Worms, a gigantic French knight rode through the town 
 challenging any man to come forth and fight him, and pro- 
 posing that the conquered should serve the conqueror all the 
 rest of his life. 
 
 O 
 
 n 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 X 
 
 D 
 
 > 
 
WORMS. 
 
 273 
 
 
 Owing to the stranger's gigantic stature, and especially to 
 this singular condition, none of the knights assembled at 
 Worms dared accept his challenge. It was only on the 
 tenth day that an unknown knight, with blank shield and 
 lowered vizor, offered to meet him in the lists. 
 
 The people, assembled to view the jousting, were very 
 glad indeed to think that a champion had at last appeared 
 to pick up the Frenchman's gage, but owing to his much 
 slighter build feared lest he should not prove very success- 
 ful in fight. At the very first onslaught both combatants 
 were dismounted, but manfully continued the battle on foot, 
 and, thanks to his dexterity, the unknown finally disarmed 
 the boastful Frenchman. 
 
 The assembled people cheered their champion uproar- 
 iously, and insisted upon his revealing his name and station, 
 that they might remember him forever. Slowly the stranger 
 then removed his plumed helmet, and revealed to all the 
 well-known and beloved features of the Emperor Maxi- 
 milian, who declared he had been forced to defend the 
 national honor, and that he claimed the Frenchman's loyal 
 service for the rest of his life. 
 
 XTbe Greatest ismealtb. 
 
 The Emperor Maximilian once sat over his wine at 
 Worms on the Rhine, gayly challenging the nobles, his 
 guests, to reveal the source of their wealth, promising a 
 prize to the one who proved that he had the most inex- 
 haustible supply on hand. 
 
 The elector of the Rhine, speaking first, declared he 
 prided himself most upon his sunny vineyards, which, year 
 after year, produced many a barrel of priceless wine. 
 
 The Prince of Saxony declared the ores from his mines 
 were his greatest treasures, and described how the miners 
 
«74 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 daily brought them out of the bowel of the earth, where 
 they lay in immeasurable stores. • 
 
 Then the ruler of Bavaria proudly extolled the beauty of 
 his palaces and art collections, which contained the choicest 
 gems of ancient painting and sculpture. 
 
 One after another vaunted his wealth, and when all but 
 the prince of Wiirtemberg had spoken, the emperor suddenly 
 turned to him and inquired of what he was most proud. 
 
 ** Of my people's affection, most gracious majesty, for 
 well I know they would give me their houses, children, and 
 even their own lives, should I require such a sacrifice at 
 their hands." 
 
 Touched by this reply, the emperor sprang to his feet 
 and exclaimed: **Eberhart, the prize is yours, for there is 
 certainly nothing more precious to a ruler than the genuine 
 love and devotion of his subjects." 
 
 RODENSTEIN. 
 
 ^be l^agtnd f>odt 
 
 The ruined castle of Rodenstein, which is one of the 
 reputed haunts of the traditional Wild Huntsman, is sur- 
 rounded by wild forests, and stands in the midst of grim 
 mountains. This castle was once inhabited by a knight of 
 Rodenstein who declared himself the champion of the Ger- 
 man fatherland, swore to fight for it against any foe, and 
 vowed to love it forever. 
 
 To serve his country more entirely, this knight refused 
 to marry, so no one mourned him greatly when he vanished 
 from the castle one day and did not reappear. The peas- 
 antry, however, aver that he did not die in war, as was com- 
 monly reported, but withdrew into the vaults of his castle, 
 whence he issues when any special danger threatens his 
 beloved fatherland. In corroboration of this belief, they 
 
 o 
 
 
 p 
 
 
 r» 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 O 
 
 P 
 
 ?o 
 
 
 s^ 
 
 n 
 
 a- 
 
 • 
 
OGGERSHEIM, 
 
 a75 
 
 declare that whenever a war has broken out, the tramp of 
 mailed steeds is heard in the ruins, and that at nightfall a 
 shadowy army, led by the lord of Rodenstein, sweeps across 
 the sky in the direction where the danger is greatest. Just 
 before peace is proclaimed the shadowy host returns to 
 Rodenstein, and re-enters the castle with a glad song of 
 triumph, to linger there unheard and unseen until its ser- 
 vices are again required to free the beloved fatherland from 
 a hated yoke. 
 
 Some German writers further declare that Frederick 
 Barbarossa is slumbering in the castle vaults. He awakens 
 from time to time to hold grand underground receptions 
 at which the gnomes and dead knights appear. Here he 
 has amassed great treasures for future use, for like Arthur 
 the people expect he will return to rule over his kingdom 
 once more and raise it to higher glory.* 
 
 OGGERSHEIM. 
 tPbe De0erte^ citi\ 
 
 The little town of Oggersheim, besieged by the Spaniards 
 during the Thirty Years' War, held out bravely as long as 
 provisions lasted. But when the inhabitants saw they must 
 either surrender to the enemy, whom they had incensed 
 by their resistance, or perish of hunger, they were sorelv 
 dismayed. 
 
 One of the oldest councilors offered to save them, and 
 revealed the existence of a secret passage which would 
 enable them to escape in the enemy's rear. He now pro- 
 posed to lead them all out during the night and to leave the 
 enemy the doubtful glory of taking a deserted city This 
 plan was hailed with enthusiasm, and all the people left the 
 town by the secret passage, one man only remaining to care 
 for his wife and child, the latter being but a few hours old. 
 * See " Legends of the Middle Ages," in press. 
 
276 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Hie Spaniards hearing no noise on the morrow, and seeing 
 no sentinels on the ramparts, fancied the inhabitants' were 
 planning a sortie, but after waiting three whole days for an 
 attack they were surprised to see a man appear upon the 
 ramparts with a flag of truce. He promised to open the 
 gates, providing the inhabitants were allowed to escape with 
 their lives. The condition was accepted, the gates opened, 
 and the Spanish army, riding in, was surprised to find 
 streets and houses deserted. 
 
 ** Where are the inhabitants," demanded the general of 
 the man who had opened the gate. 
 
 **Here," he simply replied, pointing to his wife and babe, 
 and then he recounted how the people of Oggersheim 
 had escaped, and how he had remained alone with his wife, 
 who was only now fit to travel. The Spanish general was 
 so surprised at the unexpected termination of the siege 
 that he forbade his men to pillage or destroy the city, and 
 when the inhabitants returned shortly after, they found all 
 their possessions quite unharmed and their houses undis- 
 turbed. 
 
 HEIDELBERG. 
 
 1teaen^0 ct tbc Caetlc* 
 
 The castle of Heidelberg was founded by Count Otto of 
 Wittelsbach, who moved thither from his ancestral seat of 
 Stahleck near Bacharach on the Rhine. The castle, perched 
 up on the wooded heights near the junction of the Neckar 
 and Rhine, soon became the central point of the lands of 
 the elector of the Rhine, and it was only in 1802 that it was 
 incorporated into the State of Baden. 
 
 From the river, through the picturesque little town of the 
 same name, the road winds upward to the great castle, whose 
 beautiful site and fabled ruins are the admiration of all 
 irav tiers. They are attracted thither also by the well-known 
 
 HEIDELBERG, 
 
 277 
 
 I 
 
 4 
 
 University, which, founded in 1386, has since been frequented 
 by students from all parts of the world. This university 
 was the bulwark of Protestantism during the wars of religion, 
 and in its library are preserved many curious and interesting 
 manuscripts in Luther's own handwriting. The castle itself 
 has been so often besieged, that, in spite of much repairing, 
 many parts of the building are in ruins. Still the whole 
 construction is one of remarkable beauty and of peculiar 
 interest, as its various component parts are of different 
 styles of architecture, and were added according to the 
 whim or taste of the princes by whose order they were 
 erected. 
 
 The castle suffered particularly during the wars of Louis 
 XIV., as did most of the feudal strongholds along the Rhine, 
 and it was set on fire by order of the French general when 
 he evacuated Heidelberg in 1689. Rebuilt in 1742, the 
 castle was again burned, this fire being caused by a thunder- 
 bolt. Since then many parts have remained in ruins, which, 
 half covered with ivy, are picturesque in the extreme. 
 
 The beautiful gate of the castle was erected by the elector 
 Frederick V„ in honor of his wife Elizabeth, daughter of 
 James I- of England, and in another part of the edifice 
 can be seen two columns which once formed part of Charle- 
 magne's famous palace at Ingelheim. 
 
 Frederick, surnamed the Victorious, one of the owners 
 of this mighty pile, was once attacked by the allied knights 
 and bishops of the Rhine. Undaunted by the superior 
 number of his foes, he made a bold sally with his men 
 They were all armed with sharp daggers instead of the usual 
 weapons, and first attacked the horses instead of the riders. 
 Thus brought to the ground, the knights, unable to move in 
 their ponderous armor, were soon made prisoners and 
 marched into the castle, where Frederick invited them all 
 to partake of a sumptuous banquet. 
 
 As he sat at the richly spread board with his enemies, 
 Frederick served them bountifully. There was meat and 
 
218 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 wine In aoundance, but the guests gazed at each other in 
 surprise, for there was no bread. This strange omission 
 on the bill of fare was not an oversight, however, for when 
 one of the guests ventured to ask for a piece of bread, the 
 elector, turning to the steward, bade him bring some. The 
 man, who had received private instructions, respectfully 
 informed his master that he was very sorry but that there 
 was none. 
 
 ** Go and bake some ! " commanded Frederick. 
 ** Master, I can't. We have no flour." 
 ** Have some ground." 
 '' Master, I can't. We have no grain." 
 **Have some thrashed." 
 
 ** Master, I can't. The harvests have all been burned." 
 ''Then, go and sow grain that we may soon have bread 
 in plenty." 
 
 '' Master, I can't, for the enemy have also burned down 
 all the peasants' barns and dwellings with the grain set aside 
 for seed time." 
 
 Frederick then dryly remarked as he turned to his guests : 
 '* Gentlemen, you'll have to eat your meat without bread. 
 Moreover, you must give me the necessary funds to rebuild 
 the houses and barns you have burned down, and to buy 
 the seed for sowing. Henceforth, I advise you to remember 
 that it is not right to make war against the poor and de- 
 fenseless, and to rob the peasant of his tools and seed, his 
 only means of subsistence. If you do so, you will invari- 
 ably find, as to-day, that you too must suffer some discom- 
 fort in return for all the harm you have done." 
 
 This selfsame count of Heidelberg once made a rash 
 vow that he would never marry a noblewoman, yet soon 
 after he fell deeply in love with Princess Elizabeth. She 
 returned his affection, and would gladly have become his 
 wife, had he not felt that he could not ask for her hand in 
 marriage owing to his foolish oath. Frederick felt so 
 miserable to think he had thus forfeited his own happiness, 
 
 ELIZABETH GATE. 
 Heidelberg Castle. 
 
i 
 
 HEIDELBERG. 
 
 279 
 
 and that of his beloved, that he joined the army, hoping 
 soon to find an honorable death. 
 
 Elizabeth, discovering shortly after that nothing but her 
 rank and his unfortunate vow prevented their being happy, 
 left her princely home and title, and under the common 
 name of Clara, and in the garb of a strolling singer, cour- 
 ageously followed him. They met face to face one beauti- 
 ful evening when Frederick was wandering disconsolately 
 about, and the princess told her lover, in answer to his eager 
 inquiries, how she had renounced name and rank for his 
 sake. 
 
 The nominal barrier thus broken down between them, the 
 count was not slow in wooing the beautiful bride who had 
 forsaken home and station for him, and soon conducted her 
 to the castle of Heidelberg, where they lived together for 
 many years the happiest couple along all the Rhine. 
 
 We Dwarf an& tbe tTuru 
 
 The dwarf Perkeo, who was once court-fool of the count 
 of Heidelberg, was, although so tiny of stature, a veritable 
 giant as far as drinking was concerned. All the castle and 
 his master's wealth seemed as nothing to him compared with 
 the mighty Heidelberg tun, which he admired beyond 
 measure. He was so in love with this wine-barrel that he 
 finally refused to leave the vault where it was kept, and 
 spent all his time beside it, drawing beaker after beaker of 
 wine, and gazing upon it with anxious eyes. 
 
 During fifteen years he sat beside the tun, turning the 
 faucet, emptying his cup, and jealously guarding the wine 
 which he alone was entitled to drink. To his surprise 
 and dismay, however, he finally discovered that there was 
 not a drop of wine left within its mighty, bulging sides. 
 When he realized that he, the dwarf Perkeo, had drained 
 
28o 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 such an immense caskful of wine, he proudly compared him- 
 self to David, and declared that he too had conquered a 
 Goliath. 
 
 Then^ feeling that life was no longer worth living now 
 that the tun was empty, he lay down beside it and quietly 
 passed away, requesting that he might be buried directly 
 under the faucet he had so diligently turned, and that a 
 statue representing him might be placed where he was wont 
 
 to S't. 
 
 These recommendations were duly observed, and the 
 traveler visiting the Heidelberg tun, which has stood 
 empty for many a year, will see Perkeo's statue very near 
 it, on the spot which he occupied during his fifteen years 
 carousal. 
 
 KAISERSLAUTERN. 
 J3arbaro00a'6 Sleep» 
 
 On the spot where the prison now stands, at Kaiserslau- 
 tern, the emperor Frederick Barbarossa once erected a 
 palace, which was destroyed during the war of the Spanish 
 succession. While history reports that this popular ruler 
 perished in the waves of a swollen torrent on his way to 
 Palestine, tradition declares that the emperor is not dead, 
 but fast asleep in the vaults of the old palace at Kaisers- 
 lautcrn, patiently awaiting the time when his country will 
 have need of him. 
 
 According to the other versions of this same tradition, 
 Barbarossa is sleeping under the Kyffhauser mountain, or 
 in the castle of Rodenstein; all, however, agree in declaring 
 lliat he sits motionless in front of a marble table, through 
 tvhich his fiery red beard has grown nearly to the floor, or 
 around which it has coiled itself nearly three times. 
 
 The emperor's enchanted slumbers are broken only every 
 hundred years, when he bids the page beside him go up on 
 
 i 
 
 FREDERICK I. Barbarossa. 
 
 Hadcr. 
 
KAISERS LA UTERN. 
 
 281 
 
 the mountain and see whether the ravens are still circling 
 overhead. , . ^ 
 
 ** O dwarf, go up this hour 
 And see if still the ravens 
 Are flying round the tower. 
 And if the ancient ravens 
 Still wheel above me here, 
 Then must I sleep enchanted 
 For many a hundred year." 
 
 —Ruckert. Translated by Tayhr, 
 
 The page obeys, and returning, reports that the ravens 
 are still flying, and his master, sighing because the 
 auspicious time has not yet come, sinks back into a slumber 
 vlHch lasts another century. When the fiery beard has 
 completed its third circle round the marble table, however, 
 the ravens will have ceased to flutter round the rums, the 
 battle trumpet will sound, and the emperor will rise from 
 his enchanted sleep, and hang his shield on a withered pear 
 tree which will blossom at his touch, while the Germans 
 rally once more around him to free their country from 
 oppression. 
 
 •♦In some dark day when Germany 
 Hath need of warriors such as he, 
 A voice to tell of her distress 
 Shall pierce the mountain's deep recess — 
 Shall ring through the dim vaults, and scare 
 The spectral ravens round his chair, 
 And from his trance the sleeper wake. 
 The solid mountain shall dispart, 
 The granite slab in splinters start 
 (Responsive to those accents weird) 
 
 And loose the Kaiser's shaggy beard. 
 
 Through all the startled air shall rise 
 
 The old Teutonic battle cries ; 
 
 The horns of war, that once could stir 
 
 The wild blood of the Berserker, 
 
 Shall fling their blare abroad, and then 
 
 The champion of his own Almain, 
 
 Shall Barbarossa come again ! " 
 
 —Appletons Magazine, November 4, 187I. 
 
282 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 The legends of Kaiserslautern further relate that the 
 emperor's servants are constantly heaping up treasures and 
 weapons in the vaults of the castle, where these vast stores 
 for future use have been seen by peasants fortunate enough 
 to pluck the mystic herb, which alone acts as "Open 
 Sesame/' 
 
 But the man who has once visited the spot is never 
 allowed to enter it again, and vainly seeks an entrance to 
 those underground regions, where he would fain gaze again 
 upon the majestic sleeping figure in martial array with its 
 long red gold beard. 
 
 SPEYEIL 
 
 Qbe Battle ot me4»0fe» 
 
 In 1813, when Napoleon was concentrating all his forces 
 at Leipsic to overwhelm the allied armies, the town of 
 Spires or Speyer was almost deserted for none but women, 
 children, and old men were left. The ferryman, weary of 
 his labors, for he had conveyed many passengers across dur- 
 ing the past few days, was nodding over his oars, when he 
 was suddenly roused by a loud call from the other side of 
 the river, where the city lay. 
 
 In the dim starlight he quickly rowed across, and as he 
 touched the landing, a tall shadowy form, closely enveloped 
 in a military cloak, silently entered the skiff. This person 
 was immediately joined by a number of others, who, emerg- 
 ing from the cathedral shadows, came rapidly and noise- 
 lessly down the street. 
 
 When the last passenger had embarked and taken his 
 place in silence, the ferryman pushed his boat from the 
 shore, but before he could bend to his oars he noticed that 
 it was speeding forward without aid, as if propelled by 
 invisible hands. 
 
 Not a word was spoken, and the poor ferryman shivered 
 
 SPE YER. 
 
 283 
 
 with fear when the tall figures silently stepped ashore as 
 soon as they reached the opposite landing place, and van- 
 ished one by one in the gloom beyond. Under the great 
 cloaks he had caught a glitter of armor and gold lace, and 
 saw murderous-looking weapons gleam. The passenger 
 who first entered the vessel left it last, and, pausing a 
 moment, bade the ferryman watch for their return, when 
 they would pay him double fare. 
 
 Three whole days passed by, and in spite of the anxious 
 lookout of the ferryman, no trace of the mysterious pas- 
 sengers was seen. The man was just beginning to wonder 
 whether he had been the victim of a hoax or of a hallucina- 
 tion, when at midnight on the third day, while he was fasten- 
 ing his boat to the landing at Spires, he suddenly heard a 
 loud halloo from the opposite shore. Rowing rapidly 
 across, he soon descried the same stalwart figures, which 
 again crossed in silence and vanished in the cathedral 
 shadow, each dropping a coin in his outstretched palm as 
 they stepped out of the ferry. 
 
 The boatman, who knew everyone in town, wondered 
 more than ever who these passengers might be, and when 
 morning dawned gazed with wonder upon the coins he had 
 received, for, instead of the usual penny, the mysterious 
 travelers had given him golden coins, each bearing a dif- 
 ferent effigy and date. 
 
 The priest to whom he showed this gold, after examining 
 it carefully, declared that the effigies were those of the 
 emperors buried in the cathedral of Spires, and silently 
 wondered wiiy they had left their tombs. 
 
 On the morrow he heard of the terrible three days' battle 
 at Leipsic, and of the defeat of the French. He saw their 
 routed army wildly beating a retreat across the Rhine, and 
 then he knew that the old legends were true, and that the 
 German emperors had risen from the tomb, and had gone 
 forth to battle to deliver the beloved fatherland when it 
 was in imminent danger. 
 
284 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 It 
 
 tTbe ITwo J8ell0* 
 
 The city of Speyer, which was founded by the Romans. 
 was very important indeed in early historical times in Ger- 
 many, and was often selected as capital by the rulers of the 
 land. In this city were once two bells, which were never 
 rung by human hands, but were said to toll of their own 
 accord. One, made of pure silver, was called the emperor's 
 bell, for it softly tolled when an imperial soul was called 
 away; the other, of iron, was the sinner's bell, and rang 
 whenever a notoriously wicked person breathed his last. 
 
 On one occasion, a poor old man lay dying on the damp 
 straw in a hovel at Spires, and as his spirit passed away, 
 the emperor's bell began to ring a mournful knell. The 
 people all rushed out in surprise, for Henry V. was per- 
 fectly well, and they loudly wondered how the generally 
 discriminating bell could make such a mistake, when they 
 heard that it was only a poor old beggar who had just died. 
 
 That selfsame night, however, in spite of the sentinel 
 watching at the palace gate, the angel of death stole in 
 and called the emperor away. Henry V., who recognized 
 no superior on earth and only followed his own sweet will, 
 was forced to obey the summons. And, as his soul reluc- 
 tantly went forth to meet his Maker, the sinner's bell began 
 to toll, and the people, turning over sleepily in their beds, 
 declared it was evident some very wicked person had passed 
 away. When they discovered the true state of affairs on 
 the morrow, they crossed themselves in awe, and whispered 
 that *^Thc last shall be first and the first last." Then 
 they added that the bells had proved to all that a virtuous 
 death amid poverty was more worthy of honor than the 
 death of an unrepentant sinner at court, and that the souls 
 of the good were imperial in God's sight. 
 
 I 
 
 PHILIPPSBURG. ^%% 
 
 PHILIPPSBURG. 
 Zhz IRaw •Recruit 
 
 A RAW recruit was once stationed upon the walls of 
 Philippsburg, which was then besieged by the French, and 
 told to mount guard there, an unimportant point being 
 assigned him, as the captain fancied he was none too quick- 
 witted. 
 
 The Frenchmen, however, who were weary of the siege, 
 had just decided to attempt a midnight surprise, and select- 
 ing this point as the most likely to further their enterprise, 
 they noiselessly brought their scaling ladder and placed it 
 against the wall. Nimble as a cat, a Frenchman climbed up 
 the ladder, reached the top, and peered over the wall just 
 as the sentinel reached that point, which was at the end of 
 the place he had been told to guard. 
 
 The raw recruit calmly raised his bayonet and thrust 
 the Frenchman back so suddenly that he lost his balance 
 and fell over, but without uttering a single cry. The senti- 
 nel resumed his walk as if no interruption had occurred, 
 but when he came back to this spot, he again saw a black, 
 pointed mustache appear above the wall. 
 
 ^* Ah," thought the raw recruit, **you want a second dose, 
 do you ?" and he again thrust back the foe, and resumed his 
 walk. Twelve times in succession the same pale face, with 
 beady black eyes and pointed mustache, peered over the 
 wall, and twelve times the raw recruit thrust it back, ere the 
 captain came on his usual rounds, and, for form's sake, care- 
 lessly inquired whether the sentinel had anything to report. 
 
 **No, captain," answered the man, ** nothing, except that 
 a black-mustached Frenchman tried to climb over the wall, 
 and I had to run my bayonet through him and push him 
 over twelve times before he would stop." 
 
 The captain first gazed at the sentinel in surprise, and 
 then contemptuously bade him point out the exact spot in 
 
a80 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 BRETTEN, 
 
 287 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 «l 
 
 the wall over which the black mustache had appeared. 
 As he glanced carelessly over the wall, he suddenly started 
 back in amazement, for at the foot of a great scaling ladder, 
 which the assaulting party had left there in their panic- 
 stricken flight, he saw twelve black-mustached Frenchmen, 
 their pale faces turned upward and a bright red spot in their 
 coats. 
 
 The captain reported the whole affair to the general, and 
 concluded by inquiring what reward should be given, for, 
 while the man only claimed that he had 'slain one enemy, 
 twelve dead men lay in the trench. 
 
 **0h," cried the general, ** give him twelve times the 
 amount promised for the death of one enemy, and Heaven 
 grant that I may have plenty more such raw recruits ! " 
 
 KARLSRUHE. 
 
 TTbc Ccuiu-jj IDfBion. 
 
 Count Karl, hunting alone in the forest one day, once 
 came to a delightful spot near the edge of the great Black 
 Forest, about one league from the Rhine, from whence he 
 could obtain a wonderful view. He flung himself down 
 upon the grass to rest, listened to the song of the birds, 
 the hum of the insects, and finally fancied that he heard 
 an angel voice bidding him admire the beauty of the scene 
 and compare its peaceful quiet with the restless bustle of his 
 court. 
 
 Seated on the soft green sward, Count Karl lent an atten- 
 tive ear to that admonishing voice, and when in conclusion 
 it bade him build a dwelling there, that he might occasion- 
 ally forget the cares of state and renew his youth by gazing 
 upon the imperishable beauty of nature, he solemnly vowed 
 to obey. 
 
 When the gathering shades of night finally roused him 
 
 from his peaceful day dreams, he rose and wended his way 
 back to the haunts of men, but soon gave orders for the 
 construction of a beautiful little hunting lodge, to which he 
 gave the suggestive name of Karlsruhe, or Karl's resting 
 place. 
 
 In the course of time this hunting lodge was transformed 
 into a palace, the primeval forest became a park, and many 
 broad alleys, branching out like the sticks of a fan from the 
 palace, have been lined with the fine houses which now form 
 the town of Karlsruhe. 
 
 BRETTEN. 
 
 Ebe ^ailleea Dog. 
 
 Over the city gate of the little town of Bretten is the 
 image of a tailless dog, with a crown above its head. This 
 effigy was placed there in honor of a dog belonging to a 
 cruel and hard-hearted man in the city, who had trained 
 the intelligent animal to do a good part of his work. 
 
 After a watchful night the poor dog of Bretten was daily 
 dispatched on various errands, and had to go to the butcher's 
 and baker's, carrying a basket containing a slip of paper on 
 which his master had written his orders. After waiting 
 patiently for the butcher's and baker's good pleasure, the 
 faithful creature wended its way home, carrying the heavy 
 basket, receiving only the most scanty meals and many a 
 blow in return for its manifold services. 
 
 This master was also an atheist, and wishing to show his 
 contempt for the church he sent the dog to the butcher's 
 on a solemn fast day, with an order for several pounds 
 of nice fresh sausages. Of course the poor dog carried the 
 message, but the butcher, who was a good Catholic, was so 
 angry at the, man's sacrilegious conduct that to punish him 
 
11 
 
 l<li 
 
 9M 
 "W 
 
 ■ 
 
 288 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 he chopped off the poor dog's tail, flung it in the basket, and 
 bade him carry it home. 
 
 The poor animal, after uttering a few pitiful howls, took 
 up his burden and returned home, leaving a bloody trail 
 behind him. Arrived in his master's presence he laid the 
 basket at his feet as usual, then, weakened by loss of blood, 
 he fell down beside it, dead. The people of Bretten, touched 
 by the dog's fidelity, placed his effigy over their gateway, 
 with the martyr's crown above it, and thus the dog, like 
 many a hero, received the honors due him only after death. 
 
 ALT-EBERSTEIN. 
 
 XTbe Court JSalL 
 
 The castle of Alt-Eberstein, from which a magnificent 
 view can be obtained, not only of the Rhine but also of the 
 Vosges and the Black Forest, belonged for many years to 
 the family whose name it still bears. 
 
 It seems that one of the castle owners once fell deeply 
 in love with the daughter of the emperor Otto I., and, 
 although he and his imperial master were not on the best of 
 terms, he was invited to be present at one of the court balls 
 at Spires. As he hoped to tread a measure with his beloved, 
 Eberstein hastened joyfully thither, and was warmly wel- 
 comed by the princess. She, having overheard her father 
 give orders to surprise the castle of Eberstein and take its 
 lord prisoner on his return from the ball, was very anxious 
 indeed to warn her lover of the threatening danger. While 
 they were dancing together, she managed to whisper ere the 
 waltz was ended: *^ Love, take care; your castle is to be 
 surprised and you will be made prisoner." 
 
 For a moment Eberstein gazed at her in amazement, then, 
 suddenly understanding the warning, he made his way 
 unseen out of the ballroom, vaulted upon his horse, reached 
 
 I 
 
 NE U-EBERS TEIN, 
 
 289 
 
 home before the attacking party, and cleverly disposing an 
 ambush, he made them all prisoners without any bloodshed. 
 Early the next morning Otto rode into Eberstein castle, 
 which he expected to find occupied by his own men, and 
 found himself face to face with its owner! Whether the 
 latter made use of this opportunity to force the emperor to 
 grant his consent to his suit, or whether Otto, admiring his 
 courage, consented to the marriage of his own free will, 
 remains to this day a matter of conjecture. 
 
 What is certain, however, is that a merry wedding took 
 place shortly after, and that as Lord Eberstein danced with 
 his bride he softly whispered: '' Love, take care; you will be 
 made prisoner ! " The princess, in spite of this warning, 
 made no attempt to escape, but blushing rosy red, declared 
 she felt no fear of a jailor whose only bonds were love. 
 
 NEU-EBERSTEIN. 
 
 ! 1 »„ 
 
 :ount'6 Xcap. 
 
 The castle of Neu-Eberstein, which towers above the 
 Murg, a tributary of the Rhine, was once closely surrounded 
 by the Wurtemburgers, who, in anger, had solemnly vowed 
 to remain there until they had starved Wolf von Eberstein to 
 death. Aware that nothing would induce them to rescind 
 this vow, and anxious to save his garrison from slow death 
 by famine and to effect his escape, the daring lord of Eber- 
 stein mounted his favorite steed, and galloping wildly along 
 the ramparts suddenly made it leap down into the swollen 
 river below. 
 
 The enemy, who had viewed this rash leap, rushed to the 
 steep banks of the river, and saw master and steed rise safely, 
 breast the tide, and vanish in the forest on the opposite 
 side. The prisoner having flown, the Wurtemburgers raised 
 the siege, but the account of this prowess reaching the 
 
I 
 
 290 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHTNE, 
 
 emperor, so excited his admiration that he pardoned the 
 count of Neu-Eberstein and permitted him to return to his 
 fortress, where tourists can still see the famous spot, known 
 as '*the Count's Leap," from which he sprang into the 
 river. 
 
 BADEN. 
 
 TTbe I>evfrd Diil|»it 
 
 Not very far from the ruins of Alt-Eberstein, and on the 
 road to the castle of Neu-Eberstein, are two great rocks, 
 popularly designated as the angel's and the devil's pulpits. 
 The legend concerning them relates that the devil once left 
 the red-hot regions of the nether world, and came upon 
 the surface of the earth through the springs of Baden, which 
 have since retained a peculiar sulphurous taste. 
 
 His Satanic Majesty was in search of new victims to roast 
 in his everlasting fires, and as there were then no gaming 
 tables at Baden, and the place offered less scope for the 
 exercise of his talents than it has done since, he posted him- 
 self on the edge of the highway, and began to preach with 
 
 great eloquence. 
 
 Either because they wished to judge of the devil's theo- 
 logy, or because they were anxious to obtain a near view of 
 the preacher, priest, knight, and peasant turned aside to 
 hear what he had to say, and, fascinated by his eloquence, 
 allowed him to prove in the most plausible way that black 
 was white, and white was black, and that wickedness and 
 virtue were synonymous terms. 
 
 Just as the devil fancied he had fully convinced his hearers, 
 the heavens suddenly opened, and a radiant angel, palm in 
 hand, floated down upon snowy pinions, and taking up his 
 station on a rock directly opposite him began to preach also, 
 but in a far different strain. 
 
 The devil raised his voice louder and louder to drown the 
 
 I 
 
 OBERACHERI^, 
 
 •91 
 
 sound of the angel's gentle admonitions, and preached faster 
 and faster, redoubling his proofs and arguments, but one 
 by one his hearers left him to gather around the angelic 
 preacher, and listen to every word from his lips. Before 
 long, therefore, Satan found himself entirely deserted. In a 
 fit of ungovernable rage the devil then tore up grass, trees, 
 and shrubs by the roots, stamped his red-hot feet on the 
 rock until he left their imprint there, and finally vanished in 
 an abominable atmosphere of curses, sulphur, and brimstone. 
 The traveler passing by can still see the two pulpits, but 
 the diabolical and aitgelic preachers, instead of remaining 
 there, are both wandering incessantly around the world still 
 trying to win proselytes. 
 
 OBERACHERN. 
 
 Wo^t^ 
 
 
 .^ Cburcb* 
 
 A WILD troop of Huns once came to Oberachern, where 
 they knew they would find a convent and seven lovely nuns, 
 whom they had determined to torture in everyway to compel 
 them to renounce their vows. The poor nuns, hearing of 
 the barbarians' invasion and unable to defend themselves, 
 took refuge in the church, bolted the heavy oaken doors, 
 and, kneeling before the altar, began singing with all their 
 might, *' Good Lord deliver us ! " 
 
 The Huns soon came up and tried to force open the doors, 
 which resisted their first onslaught, but the pious nuns con- 
 tinued their fervent prayer, singing as loud as they could. 
 Then, seeing their hands were not strong enough to break 
 in the oaken doors, the barbarians rushed into the neighbor- 
 ing forest to cut down trees to serve as battering rams. 
 
 But, when they would fain have made use of them, they 
 found the church had been changed into an impenetrable 
 rock, and although they could still hear the pious nuns 
 
 \ 
 
 u 
 
11 
 
 I 
 
 
 ll 
 
 411 
 
 2p2 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Chanting loudly " Good Lord deliver us!" they were not 
 able to get at them, and were obliged to withdraw entirely 
 baffled The nuns are said to inhabit this rock still, and 
 to be occupied in praising God forever, and many a peasant, 
 passing near the stone church at nightfall, avers he has 
 caught the sound of their pious hymns. 
 
 TRIFELS. 
 
 «93 
 
 MUMMELSEE. 
 
 dbc inaatct Spritco. 
 
 The almost circular sheet of water known as the Mum- 
 melsee, surrounded by rocky, pine-covered slopes, is said to 
 be haunted by a water god, called Miimmel, and by his 
 numerous daughters, the beautiful nymphs, named MUmmel- 
 chen. No fish are found in these waters, which generally He 
 smooth and unruffled in their dark bed. 
 
 The le<^ends relate that a desperate poacher once slew the 
 gamekeeper of the neighboring forest, and flung the body 
 into the Mummelsee, thinking it would keep the secret of 
 his crime Before he could extricate his garments from the 
 thorn bush near the water brink, however, and escape up 
 the hillside, the irascible water god, who would not even 
 allow a pebble to be cast into his domain, rose up out of the 
 waters, caught him by the ankles, and drew him irresistibly 
 down to the bottom of the lake, where he was drowned in 
 punishment for his crime. 
 
 The daughters of old Mummel are said to rise up out ot 
 the lake on moonlight nights, to dance on the green sward, 
 clad all in white, with glistening pearls and diamonds in 
 their long golden hair. During the daytime these maidens 
 in the form of water lilies, rock gently upon the smooth 
 waters, and, as they are weary with the night's exertions, 
 they fall sound asleep soon after the rising of the sun. 1 heir 
 grim old father, Mummel, is said to keep close watch over 
 
 II 
 
 them and when the first glimmer of dawn appears, he slowly 
 rises' out of the flood, beckons sternly to his dancing 
 daughters, and imperiously commands them to return to 
 their native element, and resume the flower-like form which 
 serves to delude mortals and conceals their true nature. 
 
 
 TRIFELS. 
 
 TTbe f aitbfnl Ainattel. 
 
 Battered walls and a ruined tower are all that now 
 remain of the castle of Trifels, famous in history and legend 
 as the prison of Richard, the lion-hearted king. During 
 the third crusade Richard and Leopold of Austria were 
 engaged in besieging the stronghold of Acre. As both 
 were noted for their courage, they vied with one another in 
 performing many valiant deeds of arms, and little by little 
 
 became rivals. . , 
 
 Leopold of Austria, jealous of Richard's superior glory, 
 finally gave up the siege and returned home, vowing in his 
 heart that should the opportunity ever present 'tself he 
 would make the king of England rue the day when he had 
 outdone him. This chance occurred only too soon, for 
 Richard on his way home shortly after suffered shipwreck 
 on the coast of lUyria, and found himself obliged to work 
 his way back to England alone and on foot. 
 
 Disposing of his garments, the only thing he had saved, 
 for a pilgrim's robe and scrip, Richard proceeded on his way, 
 passing safely through the greater part of Austria. Finally 
 he found himself obliged to pawn his signet ring at an inn 
 to obtain food. This ring, being shown to Leopold, revealed 
 the pilgrim's identity. Richard was therefore seized by his 
 enemy, who imprisoned him in the Fortress of Durrenstein, 
 where he detained him prisoner until Henry IV. of Germany 
 took him into custody, and transferred him to the castle of 
 Trifels on the Rhine. 
 
 I 
 
 \\ 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 294 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 While Richard was languishing thus in prison, wondering 
 why his faithful subjects made no attempt to find him; his 
 brother, John Lackland, usurped the throne and was reign- 
 ing in England according to his own sweet will. The Eng- 
 lish hated his rule and longed for Richard's return, but only 
 one of them, Blondel, the king's minstrel, ventured to set 
 
 out in search of him. 
 
 Shrewdly conjecturing that his master must be detained 
 prisoner by the emperor of Germany, in one of his many 
 strongholds, Blondel wandered from place to place, ques- 
 tioning all he met, and playing a peculiar air known to him 
 and the king only at the foot of every dungeon where he 
 fancied Richard might be detained. 
 
 After many weary months of wandering, Blondel came at 
 last to Trifels, where he as usual played his lay. Imagine 
 his delight when he suddenly heard a voice within take up 
 the strain and sing the second verse. Richard, his long lost 
 master, was found, and his weary search was ended at last. 
 
 Of course the poor minstrel could not deliver the king; 
 but he hastened back to England, told the English noble- 
 men the result of his journey, and soon prevailed upon them 
 to negotiate for his master's release. Richard came home in 
 triumph as soon as the required ransom had been paid, 
 ousted the traitor, John Lackland, and ruled over England 
 until 1 199, when he died and was buried in the principal 
 church of Rouen, where his tomb can still be seen. 
 
 ZABERN. 
 TOe 5ealou6 Dusban^ 
 
 The haughty Lord of Zabern, or Saverne, was proud of his 
 castle, proud of his wealth, and particularly proud of his 
 beautiful young wife, who was as virtuous as she was pretty. 
 Unfortunately for her, the Lord of Saverne was of a jealous, 
 suspicious disposition, and listened only too often to the 
 
 ZABERN. 
 
 •95 
 
 advice of Robert, his huntsman, who by skillful flattery 
 had won great influence over him. 
 
 Robert having discovered the count's jealousy, and wish- 
 in^ to get rid of the fair countess' young page, tridolin, 
 whose position he envied, gradually managed to convey to 
 his master, by sly innuendo, that his mistress took more 
 interest in the page than was seemly, as he was deeply in 
 love with her. The count of Saverne flew into a terrible 
 passion when he heard this, and vowed he would take a 
 terrible revenge if the tidings were true. As they came 
 home from the hunt one day, Robert mahciously directed 
 his master's attention to Fridolin, who was gratefully kiss- 
 ing the countess' hand as was then customary when a favor 
 had been received. The count, willfully misconstruing this 
 simple action, rode off in hot haste to his f--!^^^^; J^//; 
 he bade his men kindle a great fire and roast alive the first 
 person who came to inquire whether his orders had been 
 
 fulfilled. , „ . , ,. J 
 
 This done, he returned home, summoned Fndolin, and 
 bade him hasten off to the foundry and ask whether his 
 orders had been carried out. The young page, remem- 
 bering that he was specially in the countess' service, sought 
 her presence ere he departed to inquire whether she had 
 any commands for him. He found her anxiously bend.ng 
 over her sick child, and she told him to enter the church on 
 his way and pray for her babe's recovery, adding that God 
 would surely grant the prayers of one as innocent and 
 
 dutiful as he. •„ i. t, 
 
 Fridolin immediately set out, entered the village church, 
 and finding the priest embarrassed because his acolyte was 
 not there to serve the mass, the page offered his services. 
 He rang the little bell, made the responses, and carefully set 
 aside the holy vessels, hastening on to the foundry only 
 when all his pious duties had been accomplished, and the 
 prayer for the child's recovery duly said. In the mean- 
 while Robert, to whom the count had confided his plan, 
 
296 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 anxious to make sure that Fridolin was dead, had hurried 
 secretly to the foundry. As he did not enter the church 
 he reached the goal first, and inquired whether the count's 
 orders had been fulfilled. 
 
 ** Not yet," answered the grim founders, **but they soon 
 will be," and before he could utter a protest they seized 
 and flung him into the furnace, where he was soon burned to 
 a crisp. Fridolin, coming up a few minutes later with his 
 question, was gleefully told to look into the flames, where 
 he saw a blackened corpse, and he hurried back to his 
 master, who was greatly amazed when he saw him appear. 
 
 In the course of a few minutes, however, the count of 
 Saverne had learned the whole story, and realizing now how 
 foolish had been his jealousy, he declared that God had 
 taken the judgment into his own hands and punished the 
 real criminal. Then, leading Fridolin to the countess, 
 whose child was now peacefully asleep, he commended him 
 to her good graces, telling her how greatly he had mis- 
 judged them both, and how happy he was to find he had 
 been needlessly jealous. 
 
 STRASBURG. 
 CatbcDral XedenD0. 
 
 The first cathedral of Strasburg, founded by Clovis in 
 510, almost immediately after the conversion at Zulpich, was 
 almost entirely destroyed by fire a few centuries later, and 
 replaced by the present building, which, although begun in 
 the twelfth century, rose very slowly and still remains 
 unfinished. 
 
 Various architects have had a share in erecting this 
 magnificent building, but the chief legendary interest is con- 
 centrated around the name of Edwin of Steinbach, who 
 after laboring at it for many a year, left the continuation oC 
 his task to his children. 
 
 li 
 
 i 
 
 •f 
 
 \ 
 
 STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 
 Side Portal. 
 
 'lii 
 
 <:tj? /i ^RTTPn 
 
STRASBURG. 
 
 297 
 
 This architect, wandering about in search of stone suit- 
 able for the construction of the cathedral tower, once found 
 a quarry near the banks of the Rhine, where the stone was 
 enriched by tiny veins of gold. He decided to use this 
 material, and then began to think about the plan which the 
 bishop, Werner of Hapsburg, had bidden him design. 
 
 On his way home from the quarry, Steinbach lost his 
 way and accidentally came to a little chapel in the woods, 
 built on the plan of the manger. It was the first rudely- 
 fashioned sanctuary which the pious missionaries had erected 
 on the banks of the Rhine. While kneeling at the altar 
 there, the architect was suddenly inspired with the general 
 design of the cathedral he was to build. He hastened 
 home and informed the bishop that he was ready to begin 
 the construction. A day was appointed for the laying of 
 the corner stone, and as the bishop had promised full abso- 
 lution instead of money to all those who labored diligently 
 at the erection of the cathedral, he soon found plenty of 
 
 workmen. 
 
 Werner of Hapsburg, in full pontifical array, lowered the 
 great corner stone, and blessed it, while the people all 
 eagerly pressed forward to touch it. Two brothers, stand- 
 ing in the first rank, accidentally jostled each other. The 
 elder, who was irascible, resented being pushed. In anger, 
 he then and there slew his junior, whose blood defaced the 
 purity of the priestly garments and of the corner stone. 
 
 The murderer was immediately seized and condemned to 
 die, but ere he was led away to be hung, he fell at the bishop's 
 feet and repentantly exclaimed: 
 
 ** My lord, I acknowledge that I deserve to die, but let 
 not my death be entirely in vain. Directly under the corner 
 stone, which you have just lowered, are living springs which 
 will in time undermine the foundations and prevent their 
 enduring for ages as you hope. But, if you bury me, a 
 murderer, beneath that stone, the waters, pure and unde- 
 filed, shrinking from contact with my polluted bones, will 
 
 rte 
 
 k 
 
 'r 
 
 'It H 
 
 >l If] 
 
298 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 STRASBURG. 
 
 299 
 
 work their way to the surface elsewhere, and my body will 
 serve as a protection to the cathedral." 
 
 Strange to relate, the murderer's suggestion was 
 adopted, the ponderous stone again raised, and the man of 
 his own free will stepped down into the hollow prepared for 
 it, and gave the signal for its descent. The stone thus 
 lowered upon a living man forms the corner of the Stras- 
 burg cathedral tower, and as it still stands firm, popular 
 superstition avers that the murderer's bones had the desired 
 effect. 
 
 Edwin of Steinbach, as already stated, dying before the 
 cathedral was finished, implored his son and daughter, 
 Jean and Sabine, to continue his work, and bitterly regretted 
 that he had never committed to paper the complete de- 
 sign. When he had been duly laid to rest in the unfinished 
 cathedral, where his monument can still be seen, the magis- 
 trates of Strasburg decreed they would intrust the com- 
 pletion of the work to the artist who furnished the best 
 design, and soon all the architects in town were drawing 
 diligently. 
 
 Jean of Steinbach, in his feverish eagerness to fulfill his 
 father's last request, overworked himself and fell seriously 
 ill before his plan was finished. In his delirium he con- 
 stantly murmured that another would wear his father's 
 laurels. These ravings greatly troubled his sister Sabine, 
 especially when Polydore, a young architect who had long 
 sued for her hand in vain, proudly exhibited his plan, which 
 was very beautiful indeed. 
 
 The maiden could not restrain her tears at the thought 
 of her brother's bitter disappointment, so Polydore offered 
 to suppress his plan, and finish Jean's, providing Sabine 
 would promise to marry him. But the girl, who had plighted 
 her troth to another young architect, called Bernard, vir- 
 tuously refused to break faith, even to save her brother's 
 Hfe and secure the fulfillment of her father's last wish. 
 
 That selfsame night, as she sat before her brother's draw- 
 
 ing table, upon which a great sheet of parchment was spread, 
 she idly seized a pencil, and, overcome by the weariness pro- 
 duced by several night's watching, fell asleep still holding it 
 in her hand. When she awoke she gazed at the sheet in 
 wonder, for it was no longer blank, but covered with a 
 wonderful design. She appended her brother's name to this 
 plan and hastened to carry it to the city hall, where she 
 arrived a few minutes only before the contest was closed. 
 When the judges had seen it, they all decided that Jean of 
 Steinbach should finish the work and gave him the prize. 
 
 This news proved far better than any medicine to the sick 
 man, who was soon cured, and took up his abode with 
 Sabine in a little house very near the cathedral, that they 
 might both be near their work, for the girl, who was a skill- 
 ful sculptor, was busy carving the statues for the cathedral 
 portal. 
 
 To her great surprise, however, the work planned in the 
 evening was already far advanced when morning dawned. 
 Bernard, her lover, soon noticed that the people began to 
 look askance at her, and to whisper about magic and witch- 
 craft, evil insinuations made by Polydore in his jealous 
 anger at having failed to secure either the girl or the prize. 
 
 One morning on reaching her work, however, Sabine was 
 greatly dismayed to find that one statue had been sadly dis- 
 figured during the night, and she tearfully showed it to her 
 brother and lover, who also lived in full view of the rapidly 
 advancing cathedral tower. 
 
 That night Bernard stood at his window, thinking of his 
 beloved, and wondering how he could silence the evil 
 reports, when the sound of hammer and chisel suddenly fell 
 upon his ear. He glanced hastily up at the cathedral tower, 
 whence the sound seemed to proceed, and saw, by the silvery 
 light of the moon, his betrothed, Sabine, clad all in white, 
 with flowing hair, carving as busily as if it were broad 
 noonday. 
 
 A moment later he heard another sound, and looking ott 
 
 ! f 
 
 ' 1 
 
300 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 STRASBURG. 
 
 301 
 
 the other side of the tower he beheld Polydore, rapidly 
 defacing the delicate carving finished the day before. 
 Trembling with fear for his beloved, Bernard hastened 
 across the square and up the tower, and emerged noiselessly 
 on the scaffold beside Sabine, who, to his utter amazement, 
 was sound asleep. The mystery was now explained, the 
 fragile girl, haunted by the thought of her work, had become 
 a somnambulist, and continued to labor even in her sleep. 
 As he feared to startle her, Bernard stood motionless be- 
 hind her. All at once she paused in her work, and then, 
 as if disturbed by the louder hammering on the other side 
 of the tower, glided suddenly round the corner. 
 
 Polydore, terrified by this apparition in white, stepped 
 back into space, and with a blood-curdling cry fell to the foot 
 of the tower, a mangled corpse. This cry awakened Sabine, 
 and she would have fallen too had she not been caught by 
 Bernard. He clasped her close, and gently revealed to her 
 the secret of her somnambulism and the death of Polydore, 
 and prevailed upon her to consent to a marriage on the fol- 
 lowing day, that he might be privileged to watch over her 
 even in sleep. 
 
 The cathedral tower, which is entirely finished, is adorned 
 by many a statue from the fair Sabine's hand, and the only 
 part of the edifice which now remains to be finished is the 
 
 second spire. 
 
 In the south transept of the cathedral is the world- 
 renowned astronomical clock, which has replaced a some- 
 what similar construction of great anticiuity. 
 
 This clock, which boasts of a complete calendar and 
 planetary, regulates itself at midnight on the 31st of 
 December, and is calculated to run on for an indefinite space 
 of time. The quarter hours are marked by the successive 
 appearance of a boy, youth, man, and old man, and tlie days 
 of the week by their symbolical gods: Apollo, Diana, Mars, 
 Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn. 
 
 At twelve o'clock Christ and his disciples appear, the 
 
 latter marching gravely around their Lord, and a cock, 
 perched aloft, stretches out its neck, flaps its wings, and 
 lustily crows. A man who turns an hourglass every sixty 
 minutes, and an angel who strikes the quarter hour bell, 
 complete the number of movable figures, w^hose constant 
 performance is a source of never-failing wonder and delight 
 to the spectators crowding around it. 
 
 The first clock is said to have been the work of one Isaac 
 Habrecht. While he was engaged in its construction, a 
 little old man continually haunted the spot, leaning against 
 the wall near by, and deriding all his efforts to make it go. 
 Isaac, however, paid but little heed to the mocker, but when 
 the clock began to run and the little old man vanished, he 
 set up an efiigy of him on the very spot where he had been 
 wont to stand. Angry at this, the devil, for it was he, now 
 slyly whispered to the councilors that Isaac was about to 
 construct similar clocks for all the other cathedral cities, 
 and so excited their jealousy that they determined to blind 
 the poor clockmaker, so as to hinder him most effectually 
 from ever duplicating his masterpiece. 
 
 In vain poor Isaac protested his innocence, and promised 
 to bind himself by solemn oath to work for them alone. 
 They would not listen to aught he said, and only allowed 
 him a few hours reprieve because he declared there was a 
 little piece of mechanism in the clock which still required a 
 finishing touch. 
 
 This last thing being finished, they led Isaac away and 
 put out his eyes ; but just as the barbarous deed had been 
 committed, the sexton of the cathedral rushed into the 
 council hall to announce that the wonderful clock had 
 stopped. The councilors angrily demanded of Isaac what 
 he had done ; but after answering that he had cursed it, and 
 that they would never again succeed in making it go, the 
 poor man breathed his last. 
 
 The cathedral annals declare, however, that the clock 
 ran on until 1789, when it stopped because the wooden 
 
 i \ 
 
 \ '• 
 
 1 1 
 
 > I 
 
302 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 works were worn out, although the legends report that it 
 stopped when the light was quenched in Isaac's eyes, and 
 that no watchmaker ever succeeded in making it go after he 
 had cursed it. 
 
 The present timepiece, which is deservedly considered a 
 masterpiece of the clockmaker's art, was finished and began 
 running in 1842, since when it has excited the admiration of 
 visitors from every clime. 
 
 tTbe flow of ^!>eWence» 
 
 Before the present cathedral was erected in Strasburg, 
 Henry of Bavaria, surnamed the Holy, once entered the 
 church which occupied this site, and falling on his knees 
 before the bishop, confessed that he was weary and would 
 fain be made a priest also, that he might spend all his time 
 in serving the Lord. 
 
 His courtiers and attendants, hearing this request, began 
 to wail and protest, imploring him on bended knee to con- 
 tinue to govern them, and reminding him that the country 
 needed him. The only reply which the emperor made to 
 these remonstrances and prayers, however, was to lay his 
 crown and scepter on the altar, and to fling his purple and 
 ermine robes at the bishop's feet, renewing his request to 
 be accepted as a priest. 
 
 The bishop, seeing he was in earnest, immediately signified 
 his consent, and without further ado, began the ceremony of 
 ordination. He made the emperor take all the vows, and 
 paid no heed to the tears and groans of the assembly, who 
 regretfully witnessed the sacrament which was to rob them 
 forever of a beloved master. 
 
 When all was ended, the bishop said: '' My son, you have 
 nuw taken the solemn vows of the church, and have prom- 
 ised to obey me, your ecclesiastical superior. It is therefore 
 incumbent upon you to accept, without murmur, the charge* 
 
 STRASBURG. 
 
 303 
 
 which I am about to give you. Be a priest of the Lord 
 Almighty, serve him in word and deed, but erect your altar 
 near the throne, and by your wise administration of the 
 government constantly show forth the glory of God. 
 Resume your crown, which I trust is only the perishing 
 symbol of the immortal diadem awaiting you in heaven, and 
 serve God so faithfully that you will one day hear the 
 grateful words, ' Well done, thou good and faithful servant; 
 enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' " 
 
 Seldom has a charge been received with more humility by 
 the recipient, and with more enthusiasm by the bystanders, 
 overjoyed to find that they would not lose their beloved 
 master, who courageously took up the burden he had thought 
 to lay aside forever, and ruled faithfully unto the end. 
 
 V 
 
 II 
 
 Conflicting Cuatoma. 
 
 In the days when Strasburg still belonged to the French, 
 a German once came there to pay a visit, and gladly 
 accepted a Frenchman's invitation to enter an inn and take 
 a drink. 
 
 ''Why should not the French and Germans agree and be 
 good friends?" argued these two men. **Itis high time 
 that the long feud between our nations should come to 
 an end." 
 
 *'Let us drink to future good fellowship ! " exclaimed the 
 Frenchman, courteously filling his guest's glass. 
 
 The German, who had been carefully trained in his coun- 
 try's etiquette, immediately emptied his glass, which the 
 Frenchman wonderingly refilled ere he touched his own wine. 
 The German promptly emptied it again, only to see it 
 refilled before he could catch his breath. 
 
 Prevented from quenching his own thirst by the rapidity 
 with which the German emptied the contents of his glass, 
 
 i f 
 
 li 
 
 STJ?A<:FiTTT?n 
 
3^4 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 STRASBURG, 
 
 
 the Frenchman began to get wrathy, and poured faster 
 and faster, while the German rapidly became apoplectic in 
 hue, and finally exclaimed: 
 
 **Donner Wetter, mine freund, what do you mean by tax- 
 ing my politeness so sorely ? " 
 
 '' Tonnerre de mille bombes ! " sputtered the Frenchman, 
 ** it is you who are taxing my politeness." 
 
 '*Bah!" answered the German, ** every beardless lad in 
 Germany knows that a guest is in common courtesy bound 
 to drink immediately, and without flinching, any stuff his 
 host chooses to set before him, but no human being could 
 be expected to drain glass after glass as fast as a man can 
 pour." 
 
 ^* Ah!" said the Frenchman, ''every schoolboy in France 
 knows that a guest's glass should never remain empty, 
 even for a moment." 
 
 From argument to dispute, the Frenchman and German 
 soon came to blows, and only when weary did they part, 
 exclaiming that people who could not even agree in such 
 a simple matter as drinking could never be good friends, 
 and that it was quite evident that the two nations would 
 never long remain at peace. 
 
 The little town of Zurich, in Switzerland, once sought the 
 alliance of Strasburg, but the magistrates of the larger city, 
 thinking so small an ally of no importance, rudely declared 
 that Zurich was too far away to lend them any assistance in 
 case of need and bluntly refused the honor. 
 
 When the councilors of Zurich read the Strasbur<rers' 
 answer they were very indignant indeed, and talked of 
 challenging them, but the youngest among them declared he 
 would make them eat their words, and pledged his honor to 
 bring a different answer ere long. 
 
 The other councilors agreed to let him arrange the matter 
 as he pleased, and leisurely returned to their dwellings, 
 while this man went home in a great hurry, selected the 
 biggest pot in his kitchen, and calling his wife, bade her 
 cook as much oatmeal as it would contain. Wondering 
 greatly at this command, the woman quickly bade her serv- 
 ants build a roaring fire, and stirred and cooked the oatmeal 
 while her husband rushed down to the quay, prepared his 
 swiftest vessel, collected a number of the best oarsmen, and 
 when all was ready, bade two of them accompany him home. 
 He sprang breathless into the kitchen, and learned that the 
 oatmeal was ready. So he bade the youths lift the pot from 
 the fire, and run down to the boat with it. He followed 
 them quickly, saw it placed in the stern, and turning to his 
 men, exclaimed: 
 
 '* Now lads, row with all your might, for we are bound to 
 prove to those stupid old Strasburgers that we are near 
 enough to serve them a hot supper in case of need." 
 
 Inspired by these words the youths bent to their oars, and 
 the vessel shot down the Limmat, Aar, and Rhine, leaving 
 town, village, and farm in its wake, and only stopping when 
 it reached the quay at Strasburg. The councilor sprang 
 ashore, bade the two youths follow with the huge pot, and 
 striding into the council hall, had it set before the assembled 
 magistrates, and exclaimed; 
 
 ''Gentleman, Zurich sends a warm answer to your cold 
 refusal." 
 
 With gaping mouths the Strasburgers gazed at the still 
 steaming pot, and when the young Zuricher explained how 
 it got there, they were so amused by the wit and prompti- 
 tude which their would-be allies had displayed, that they 
 unanimously voted for the alliance. It was duly signed and 
 sealed ere they called for spoons, and laughing heartily, ate 
 every bit of the oatmeal, which was declared excellent, and 
 proved hot enough to burn more than one councilor's mouth. 
 
 Ever since then this huge iron pot, which is known as 
 
 I f 
 
 306 
 
 LEGENDS OF THF RHThTP 
 
3o6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 the **pot of alliance,'* has been carefully preserved in the 
 town hall of Strasburg, where it can still be seen. 
 
 HASLACH. 
 
 B aiatiteaa" |>Iitetb(tt00. 
 
 In mythical ages there dwelt at Nideck, in Alsace, a 
 mighty and gigantic race. The daughter of the Nideck 
 giant, a damsel of colossal size, in spite of her tender years, 
 once started out for a walk. As her mode of locomotion 
 consisted in clearing with a bound all intervening valleys, 
 she soon arrived at Haslach, where for the first time in her 
 life she suddenly beheld a peasant plowing his field. 
 
 Delighted with the marvelous activity of these, to her, 
 wonderful and tiny beings, she clasped her hands in rapture^ 
 then snatched up peasant, plow, and team, and bundling 
 them into her apron, ran home as fast as her legs could 
 carry her. 
 
 ' 1 ather, see the pretty playthings I found yonder in the 
 valley," and she opened her apron to let him see the new 
 found treasure. 
 
 ** My daughter," said the giant gravely, ** these are no 
 playthings, but living creatures as well as we. Carry them 
 quickly back to the place where you found them, and hence- 
 forth forbear to lay a finger upon them, for those tiny crea- 
 inrcs are destined to be our supplanters." 
 
 Sorrowfully the giant maiden carried peasant, plow, 
 and team back to the field, set them down in the unfinished 
 iurruw, and returned home, mourning the loss of the cun- 
 ning playthings which she had not been permitted to retain. 
 
 I 
 
 ECKHARDTSBERG, 307 
 
 ECKHARDTSBERG. 
 
 trannbau^eu 
 
 The eminence known as the Eckhardtsberg is one of the 
 favorite haunts of the faithful German mentor, Eckhardt 
 who IS supposed still to linger near there. His object is to 
 prevent rash mortals from listening to the alluring strains 
 of Venus, who has taken refuge within this mountain, in 
 order to entice travelers thither to enjoy all manner of 
 sensual pleasures in her company. 
 
 Tannhauser, the master-singer, wandering near there, 
 once heard her alluring song, and wending his way into the 
 mountain, forgot the lovely maiden to whom he had been 
 betrothed, and yielding to Venus* witching spells, spent 
 some time in her company. After a while, however, the 
 carnal pleasures offered him palled upon his taste, the long- 
 mg for the pure, disinterested love of his betrothed returned 
 to him, and forcibly wrenching himself out of Venus' detain- 
 ing arms, he hastened out of the mountain and into the 
 neighboring valley. 
 
 He would fain have returned into the presence of his 
 betrothed, but the recollection of the time he had spent in 
 the Venus mountain filled him with such loathing, and the 
 sense of his sin was so oppressive, that he hastened off to 
 Rome to confess all to the Pope, and implore him to grant 
 him absolution for his sins. 
 
 When Pope Urban had heard his confession he recoiled 
 with horror, and told the heartbroken Tannhauser that since 
 he had visited the heathen goddess, he could no more hope 
 for forgiveness of his sins than he could expect the papal 
 staff to become green again and bear leaves. 
 
 Sadly now Tannhauser wended his way home once more, 
 and, disowned by all, a moral outcast, he finally resolved to 
 return to Venus, and taste, to the dregs, the only joys now 
 allowed him. In vain the faithful Eckhardt sought to detain 
 
 
 M I 
 
3oS 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ECKHARD T SB ERG, 
 
 309 
 
 him, Tannhauser vanished in the Venus hill, whence he 
 never again emerged. A few moments after he had vanished, 
 a messenger of the Pope came in search of him, for the papal 
 staff had budded and borne leaves, thus proving to Urban 
 that the minstrel's sin was not as unpardonable as he had 
 declared, and that absolution should be granted to all truly 
 repentant sinners. 
 
 The news had come too late, however, for Tannhauser 
 had returned to Venus, with whom, tradition declares, he 
 will remain until the judgment day. 
 
 This legend, which is also told of the Horselberg in 
 Thuringia, has further been connected with the Wartburg 
 and the fair mistress thereof, who, loving Tannhauser, is 
 said to have died of grief when he returned unforgiven from 
 Rome. Wagner has made use of this beautiful tradition, and 
 has founded upon it his immortal opera of ** Tannhauser,'* 
 wiucii is always heard with new delight.* 
 
 Che 
 
 Bumb plaintiff. 
 
 The story of '*The Bell of Atri," which Longfellow has 
 so charmingly told in his ** Tales of a Wayside Inn," is 
 said to have originated in Eckhardtsberg near Breisach. 
 
 In early days, when the ruins now crowning the hill were 
 part of a strong fortress, the lord of Eckhardtsberg, wishing 
 to render justice to all men, placed a bell in his tower. He 
 fastened to it a long piece of rope which hung outside the 
 gate, within easy reach of every hand, and bade all those who 
 wished redress to ring it loudly, promising to grant them 
 an immediate hearing. 
 
 One day the bell pealed loudly, and when in answer to its 
 call the lord of Eckhardtsberg, followed by all his retainers, 
 came out to hear the complaint, he was surprised to find a 
 poor old horse, which, urged by hunger, was trying to chew 
 the end of the hempen rope. One of the bystanders im- 
 ♦See '* Stories of the Wagner Operas," by the author. 
 
 mediately recognized the horse as belonging to a neighbor- 
 ing knight. For many a year the horse had been his favorite 
 steed, had borne him safely through many a fight, but now 
 that it was old and useless the cruel master had turned it 
 out to seek pasture along the highway, where it found but 
 scant subsistence. 
 
 The lord of Eckhardtsberg, seeing the animal's sorry 
 plight, and hearing how faithfully it had served its master in 
 the days of its youth, declared that in return for its former 
 services it should now be treated with respect, and con- 
 demned the unfeeling, avaricious owner to give it a place in 
 his stable and plenty of food as long as it lived. Long- 
 fellow closes his version of this legend thus: 
 
 " And thereupon the Syndic gravely read 
 The proclamation of the king ; then said : 
 * Pride goeth forth on horseback, grand and gay. 
 But Cometh back on foot, and begs its way ; 
 Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds, 
 Of flowers of chivalry and not of weeds ! 
 These are familiar proverbs ; but I fear 
 They never yet have reached your knightly ear. 
 What fair renown, what honor, what repute 
 Can come to you from starving this poor brute ? 
 He who serves well and speaks not, merits more 
 Than they who clamor loudest at the door. 
 Therefore the law decrees that as this steed 
 Served you in youth, henceforth you shall take heed 
 To comfort his old age, and to provide 
 Shelter in stall, and food and field beside.' 
 The knight withdrew abashed, the people all 
 Led home the steed in triumph to his stall. 
 The King heard and approved, and laughed in glee, 
 And cried aloud : * Right well it pleaseth me I 
 Church-bells at best but ring us to the door ; 
 They go not in to mass ; my bell doth more : 
 It Cometh into court and pleads the cause 
 Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws; 
 And this shall make in every Christian clime, 
 The Bell of Atri famous for all time." 
 
 — Tales of a Wayside Inn. — Longfellow. 
 
 i.( 
 
 ^ fl 
 

 310 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 BASEL. 
 
 ' . » • 
 
 The people of Basel, however antiquated and behind the 
 times they may be in other matters, are nevertheless an 
 hour ahead of all the other Swiss cities. The legends 
 account for this fact by reporting that once, during the 
 Middle Ages, some traitors within the city walls promised 
 to open the gates and deliver the town into the hands of the 
 enemy as soon as the clock struck the midnight hour. 
 
 This plan, discussed 'and agreed upon in secret, was 
 detected by the warder of the gate. It was too late to give 
 the alarm or warn the magistrates, for he knew that he was 
 closely watched and would be murdered if he attempted to 
 slip away and reveal the treacherous design. As the old 
 man was also bell ringer, he quickly devised a way to out- 
 wit the enemy, and creeping noiselessly up to the tower, he 
 carefully manipulated the clock, which, instead of striking 
 twelve, slowly and solemnly tolled out one. 
 
 The conspirators within awakened at this sound, for they 
 had fallen into a doze while waiting for the agreed signal. 
 They immediately concluded that they had either missed the 
 time or been discovered, and stole cautiously away, while the 
 enemy without, equally surprised at hearing but one stroke, 
 vainly waited for the gates to be opened, and were obliged 
 to steal away angry and crestfallen in the gray dawn. 
 
 When the mayor inquired on the morrow why the clock 
 was an hour ahead of time, the warder revealed the conspiracy, 
 and the means which he had used to save the town. The 
 city council, quickly convened, disposed of the traitors, 
 praised the warder, and decreed that the clock should 
 ever after remain an hour ahead of time, to remind the 
 inhabitants of Basel of their narrow escape. 
 
 To mock their would-be assailants, the Baslers also placed 
 upon the tower a mechanical figure called the *' Lallenkonig," 
 
 f* 
 
 f ! 
 
 I 
 
 i II 
 
 BASLE. 
 Old City Gate. 
 
BASEL, 
 
 6' 
 
 which derisively stuck out its tongue every few seconds. 
 In time this curious statue was transferred to the bridge, 
 and from thence to the city museum, where it can still be 
 seen, although the mechanism is now out of order and it no 
 longer protrudes its tongue. 
 
 Basel, which is situated at the great bend in the Rhine 
 where it suddenly turns northward, was founded by the 
 Romans, but soon became a free city and entered the Swiss 
 confederacy in 1501. Its most remarkable building is the 
 cathedral, built by Henry II. in loio, on the site of a former 
 church erected by Charlemagne and almost destroyed by a 
 terrible earthquake in 1336. In this cathedral lie buried 
 the learned Erasmus and the empress Anna, wife of Rudolf 
 of Hapsburg. In the Basel museum are fragments of Hol- 
 bein's famous ** Dance of Death," curious articles of ancient 
 household furniture, a collection of musical instruments, 
 and the armor of Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy. 
 
 ytom Castle to Cot 
 
 Not far from Basel rose the castle of Christopher of 
 Ramstein, who, having inherited it from spendthrift ances- 
 tors, soon found that he would be obliged to sell it in order 
 to satisfy the claims of old creditors. Honorable in all 
 things, Christopher sold all, reserving nothing for himself, 
 and when the bargain was concluded, he divided the money 
 among the assembled creditors, paying every debt in full. 
 
 Although not a penny was over when he had ended, and 
 although he and his lovely young wife were homeless and 
 destitute, Christopher of Ramstein stood proudly in their 
 midst, thankful to know that no stain rested upon his name. 
 The creditors, touched by his brave bearing, now crowded 
 around him, offering him aid. But he refused it, saying he 
 had hired a little dwelling, was about to till the soil for a rich 
 
3" 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 'I 
 
 farmer, and was sure that by the sweat of his brow he would 
 be able to secure daily bread for himself and his wife, who 
 had nobly encouraged him to do his duty. 
 
 The creditors insisted upon giving him something, how- 
 ever, so he begged them to procure for his wife a silken dress, 
 as he could not bear to see her attired in the rough gar- 
 ments they had assumed, for they had even sold their clothes 
 to clear their debts. The silken garment was immediately 
 ordered, and the Basel merchants furnished such good mate- 
 rial that the dress lasted for many a year. Christopher, 
 returning home from his work in the fields had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing his lovely* wife, clad as richly as of old, stand- 
 ing in the doorway of their humble cottage to welcome him 
 home with the loving kiss which made him forget toil and 
 privation, and their mutual love enabled them to remain 
 happy, though poor, as long as they lived. 
 
 
 f" TT^ .■'* '^ t" F^ 
 
 Some fragments of the celebrated fresco painted in the 
 fifteenth century, and generally known as '^The Dance of 
 Death," are still to be seen in the cathedral of Basel, in the 
 St. Nicholas chapel. These peculiar figures inspired Goethe 
 to write a poem upon them which has been translated into 
 English and is added here ; 
 
 '* The warder looks down at the mid hour of night 
 On the tombs that lie scattered below ; 
 The moon fills the place with her silvery light, 
 And the churchyard like day seems to glow. 
 When see ! first one grave, then another opes wide, 
 And women and men stepping forth are descried. 
 In cerements snow-white and trailing. 
 
 •* In haste for the sport soon their ankles they twitch, 
 And whirl round in dances so gay ; 
 The young and the old, and the poor, and the rich. 
 
 C 
 
 n 
 
 •-I 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 D 
 
 a 
 O 
 
 
 > 
 
 in 
 
 r 
 
f 
 
 BASEL, 
 
 But the cerements stands in their way ; 
 
 And as modesty cannot avail tliem aught here 
 
 They shake themselves all, and the shrouds soon appear, 
 
 Scattered over the tombs in confusion. 
 
 •* X w waggles the leg and wiggles the thigh, 
 As the troop with strange gestures advance, 
 And a rattle and clatter anon rises high, 
 As of one beating time to the dance. 
 The sight of the warder seems monstrously queer, 
 When the villainous tempter speaks thus in his ear ; 
 * Seize one of the shrouds that lie yonder I * 
 
 •* Quick as thought it was done ! and for safety he fled 
 Behind the church door with all speed ; 
 The moon still continues her dear light to shed 
 On the dance that they fearfully lead. 
 But the dancers at length disappear one by one, 
 And their shrouds, ere they vanish, they carefully don. 
 And under the turf all is quiet. 
 
 ** But one of them stumbles and shuffles there still, 
 And gropes at the graves in despair. 
 Yet 'tis by no comrade he's treated so ill ;— 
 The shroud he soon scents in the air. 
 So he rattles the door — for the warder 'tis well 
 That 'tis blessed, and so able the foe to repel, 
 All cover'd with crosses in metal. 
 
 *' 1 nc shroud he must have, and no rest will allow. 
 There remains for reflection no time ; 
 On the ornaments Gothic the wight seizes now, 
 And from point on to point hastes to climb, 
 Alas for the warder ! his doom is decreed. 
 Like a long-legged spider, with ne'er changing speed. 
 Advances the dreaded pursuer, 
 
 ** The warder he quakes, and the warder turns pale, 
 The shroud to restore fain had sought ; 
 When the end — now can nothing to save him avail- 
 In a tooth formed of iron is caught, 
 With vanishing luster the moon's race is run 
 When the bell thunders loudly a powerful One, 
 And the skeleton falls, crush 'd to atoms." 
 
 — Goethe, 
 
 % 'J 3 
 
vf 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 AUGST. 
 
 TTbe 5naF?c ladt*. 
 
 At a short distance from Basel is the picturesque little 
 town of Augst, and near here, according to the legend, is a 
 hollow mountain, in which a mysterious creature has taken 
 up her abode. This creature, half woman and half snake, 
 is detained there by a horrible spell, from which she can be 
 released only if a pure youth voluntarily kisses her thrice. 
 As the legend declares she will reward her deliverer by 
 giving him a great treasure, which she is guarding with the 
 help of two baying hell hounds, several youths have been 
 anxious to find her.* 
 
 A youth of Augst, named Leonard, who was somewhat 
 of a simpleton, being told of this wonderful creature, was 
 desirous to see her. He therefore armed himself with a 
 taper, which had been duly blessed by the priest, and ven- 
 turing alone into the legendary valley, soon discovered an 
 iron door in the mountain side. He quickly passed through 
 It, along a corridor, and came at last to a beautiful cave, 
 wiiere he saw a lovely woman beckoning to him to draw 
 near. 
 
 Beside her was a great chest, on either side of which sat 
 two fierce hounds, whose wild barking the lady stilled with 
 a gentle wave of her hand. Then, taking a key from the 
 bunch at her belt, she unlocked the chest, and the dazzled 
 youth saw gold, silver, and precious stones in untold pro- 
 fusion. 
 
 **A11 these treasures will be yours, good youth, if you 
 will only thrice kiss my lips," replied the lady, advancing 
 toward him, and then Leonard noticed, for the first time, 
 that although the upper part of her body was lovely indeed,' 
 the lower was formed of the repulsive coils of a snake! 
 After a moment's hesitation, however, he drew near and 
 twice kissed the snake lady's lips, but, frightened by the 
 
 * See Note i6 in Appendix. 
 
 SAKINGEN. 
 
 315 
 
 swishing of her tail, he fled ere the last kiss had been 
 given. 
 
 In his terror he rushed out of the cave and into the 
 town, where some youths, under pretext of helping him 
 recover his senses, made him drunk, while extracting the 
 particulars of his tale. 
 
 Un the morrow, sober once more and longing to release 
 the lady from the loathesome spell which bound her, and to 
 secure his reward, Leonard again set out, 1 at, as he was no 
 longer perfectly pure, he could not find the entrance to the 
 cave. Since then many a youth has tried to find it and win 
 the treasure, but as these young men had some time in their 
 life, lied or stolen, drunk or sworn, they were not allowed 
 to find the mysterious door, and the snake lady is still 
 waiting for her deliverer. 
 
 sXkingen. 
 
 St. #nDolin. 
 
 St. Fridolin, the holy hermit who had taken up his 
 abode near Sakingen on the Rhine, that he might preach 
 the gospel and at the same time save the people from a 
 watery grave, was present at the death of Count Urso, who 
 promised him all his lands and wealth for the newly- 
 founded monastery. 
 
 But, when Count Urso had duly been laid to rest in his 
 grave at Claris, his only brother Landolf seized all his in- 
 heritance, utterly refusing to give it up to Fridolin when 
 he came to claim it. To end the saint's importunities, he 
 finally declared that if his statement were true, he need only 
 summon his dead brother to appear in Rankwyl, where he 
 was about in du s;)ense justice, and there personally declare 
 that he wished the property to go to the monastery, or he 
 would never relinquish it. 
 
3i6 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 SAKINGEN, 
 
 3 * I 
 
 Without wasting another word, Fridolin, though old and 
 feeble, wended his way over the mountains to Claris, sum- 
 moned Urso to rise from the tomb, and leading the dead 
 man to Rankwyl, and into the courtroom, bade him speak 
 aloud and declare his last wishes. 
 
 In sepulchral tones Urso now addressed his brother, 
 stated he had willed all his wealth to the monastery, and, 
 still led by Fridolin, retraced his steps to Claris, when he 
 resumed his place in the tomb. As for Landolf, convinced 
 by this miracle of the truth of Fridolin's words, he not 
 only relinquished all claims to his brother's wealth but also 
 willed his own property to the monastery, dying peacefully 
 a few days later, and being laid to rest beside his brother. 
 
 tTbe Cntmpetet ot SSfifttdetu 
 
 The little town of Sakingen, with its picturesque castle, 
 is famous principally on account of Scheffel's delightful poem 
 **The Trumpeter of Sakingen," which forms also the basis 
 of a pretty modern opera by Nessler. The outline of the 
 poem, which is one of the Cerman classics, and which has 
 inspired several artists, is as follows: 
 
 Late in March, when the snow still lay thick upon the 
 wuuded paths of the Black Forest, a handsome young man 
 rode briskly along, peering right and left in search of a 
 village or farm where he might take shelter during the 
 rapidly approaching night. The wind, blowing his wide 
 cavalry cloak aside from time to time, revealed a bright 
 bugle, which the young man tried to guard iiom the fine 
 snow which came powdering down from the ilr ir inches on 
 either side of the narrow path. Ere l(jn£( the youth 
 emerged from the dark pine forest, and drawing rein at 
 the top of a hill saw the Rhine at his feet, a iilLle town on 
 the opposite shore, in the midst of sheltered meadows, 
 
 where the grass was already growing green, and in tiie 
 background the long range of snowy mountain tops, 
 illumined by the setting sun and flashing beneath its last 
 rays. Standing there, he watched the light glow and dis- 
 appear, saw the gray shadows slowly creep upward until 
 they reached the topmost peaks, then, seizing his bugle, he 
 played a merry tune which roused all the neighboring 
 echoes. 
 
 This gay music attracted the attention of a village priest, 
 slowly climbing the hill. As he turned the bend in the 
 road he came face to face with the trumpeter, entered into 
 conversation with him, and hospitably invited him to 
 accompany him to the parsonage, where he promised him 
 a hearty welcome. The trumpeter gladly accepted the 
 priest's cordial invitation, accompanied him home, and after 
 supper began to tell the good old man his story. 
 
 Young Werner, for such was the trumpeter's name, came 
 from Heidelberg, where he had paid but scanty attention to 
 the learned discourses of his professors, but had diligently 
 taken music lessons from an old army trumpeter, who was 
 troubled by chronic thirst, which could only be quenched 
 by many a glass of beer. When Werner was eighteen his 
 guardian strongly advised him to study law, but after vainly 
 trying to concentrate his attention upon the various codes, 
 the youth pawned his books, and, joining a noisy band of 
 students, led a merry life. He serenaded the pretty Heidel- 
 berg girls by moonlight, fought countless harmless duels, 
 and led such a generally reckless life that he was finally 
 expelled by the college faculty. 
 
 After paying his debts — for in spite of all his high spirits, 
 the young man was honorable to a fault — Werner enlisted 
 in a cavalry corps, and after the end of the Thirty Years' 
 War found himself the owner of a fine young steed and of 
 his beloved bugle, with the whole world open to him su tliat 
 he could range about it at will. 
 
 The village priest, in answer to his inquiries, told him 
 
3iS 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 that the neighborinor town, which he had seen from the 
 heights, was Sakingen, where the holy missionary St. Fridolin 
 had once established his hermitage, set up a cross, and 
 daily tolled a bell for morning and evening prayers, which 
 at first he alone attended. 
 
 Little by little, however, the good saint had preached to 
 the Alemans, converted them, and so won their good graces 
 that he was soon able to build and endow the monastery of 
 Sakingen— thanks to their gifts. Dying at last in the odor 
 of sanctity, St. Fridolin was buried in the church he had 
 founded, and, as he was considered the patron saint of the 
 town, all the inhabitants were wont to celebrate his festival 
 by a solemn yearly procession, which was to take place on 
 the morrow. 
 
 Werner, attending this festival, saw and fell in love with 
 a beautiful young lady who headed the detachment of girls, 
 and, feeling sentimentally inclined, he entered a boat at 
 nightfall and rowed slowly down the Rhine. Suddenly the 
 young god of the Rhine— the same who further down the 
 stream is called old Father Rhine— slowly rose up out of the 
 water, told him how many lovers he had seen since he had 
 taken up his abode in that stream, and how clearly he could 
 recognize all the symptoms of dawning passion. 
 
 Then, pointing slyly to a neighboring castle, he told 
 Werner that the lady of his dreams dwelt there, and hinted 
 that if he could not devise some way of attracting her atten- 
 tion, he was not worthy of being called a lover. Thus 
 encouraged, Werner rowed down to the castle landing, 
 sprang ashore, and, seeing a light up at the window, put his 
 bugle to his lips and breathed forth the sweetest and tender- 
 est of love songs. 
 
 These liquid, eloquent notes fell not only upon the ear of 
 the young lady, but also attracted the attention of her 
 gouty old father, who was just then telling her how, when 
 young, and prisoner of war in France, he had fallen in love 
 with and won the affections of her sainted mother. Leaning 
 
 SAKINGEN, 
 
 3'9 
 
 upon his daughter's arm, the old man limped to the window, 
 hoping to catch a glimpse of the musician, who, standing in 
 the shadow of the trees, could not be seen from above. 
 
 The old lord then summoned a servant, bidding him 
 hasten down, present his compliments to the musician, and 
 invite him to enter the castle, unless perchance the music 
 was produced by the ghost of the old trumpeter of Sakingen 
 who, after repeated potations, had been drowned in the 
 Rhine the year before. The old servant's movements were 
 in no wise accelerated by these last words, and Werner had 
 re-embarked and rowed out into midstream ere he reached 
 the garden. Forced to pursue his search for the musician 
 in the streets of Sakingen on the morrow, old Anton found 
 him in the city inn, and invited him to the castle, where 
 Werner hastened with joyful alacrity. There he gladly 
 accepted the post of cornetist in the old lord's band, as well 
 as of music teacher to the lady of his dreams. 
 
 A new life now began for Werner, who, admitted in the 
 bosom of the gouty old lord's family, daily saw the fair 
 Margaretha, listened to the old man's tales, took his place in 
 the village band, and spent all his spare moments in com- 
 posing charming love songs, which he played and sang to 
 his pupil to cultivate her musical taste. 
 
 Week after week passed by all too swiftly, and on the ist 
 of May the old lord organized a grand picnic in the Black 
 Forest, inviting the ladies of a neighboring sisterhood, the 
 chief dignitaries of Sakingen, and all the members of his 
 band, who, enticed by the prospect of fishing and of partak- 
 ing of the celebrated Mai Trank, hastened thither joyfully. 
 
 The al fresco feast ended, the schoolmaster sang a song 
 of his own composition to the accompaniment of Werner's 
 bugle, and the performance won such rapturous applause 
 that Margaretha laughingly proposed to crown the poet 
 with the dainty wreath she had just been weaving. Her 
 old father approved of the idea ; still, knowing the old 
 schoolmaster would prefer a more substantial prize. 
 
320 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 sAkingen, 
 
 3«i 
 
 bestowed upon him the largest fish they had secured, and 
 bade Margaretha crown W crner instead, as his performance 
 also deserved a reward. The lovely maiden blushingly com- 
 plied with her father's request, and crowned the proud 
 young head which bowed so humbly before her alone. 
 
 The poem then goes on to relate how Werner and Mar- 
 garetha organized a birthday party for the old man, the 
 former training the village band to play a grand symphony, 
 while the latter hired an artist to decorate the walls of a 
 garden pavilion. When the birthday came, Margaretha 
 triumphantly led her old father thither, and while his ears 
 were delighted with the music of his band, his eyes rested 
 admiringly upon the scantily attired Loves and goddesses 
 which he admired greatly, although he acknowledged that 
 in times to come it might prove necessary to paint a little 
 extra drapery over the walls to satisfy the prudish demands 
 of modern taste. 
 
 Of course all these plans only drew the young people 
 closer together, and Margaretha, wandering aimlessly in the 
 garden on the morrow, entered the arbor, and, seeing 
 Werner's trumpet on the table, could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to try whether she too could draw sweet tones from it. 
 She was quite unskilled, however, and only blew such harsh, 
 discordant sounds, that her cat began to howl, and Werner, 
 roused from a day dream, stole noiselessly up to the arbor 
 intending to chastise the impudent lad who had dared to 
 touch his favorite instrument. 
 
 But when he saw Margaretha with cheeks distended like 
 a musical cherub, his raised hand fell, his anger vanished, 
 and he then and there taught her a simple bugle call, which 
 she readily learned to execute properly. Needless to add, 
 that after that the enamoured youth guarded the trumpet 
 her rosy lips had pressed with the most jealous care, con- 
 sidering it his choicest treasure. 
 
 A few weeks after this occurrence the Sakingen magis- 
 trates promulgated a new law, whereby the peasants were 
 
 taxed a little more heavily than usual, and this decree so 
 enraged the people that a riot ensued. The old lord, hear- 
 ing the town was in danger, immediately set out to defend 
 it, intrusting the care of his castle and daughter to Werner, 
 who, discovering a midnight attempt to seize and burn the 
 castle, routed the foe with much bravery but received a 
 wound in the fray. 
 
 Margaretha, seeing him fall and fearing lest he should 
 be slain, caught up his trumpet and blew a shrill call, which 
 made her father hasten home in time to drive away the few 
 remaining foes, gather up the wounded, and secure a physi- 
 cian's service for Werner's wound. 
 
 The young hero, duly taken care of, soon sank into a pro- 
 found sleep, during which Margaretha softly tip-toed into 
 his room with the physician's permission, to assure herself 
 that the youth was still alive and that she need have no 
 further fears for his safety. Two days later Werner was 
 so far recovered that he could sun himself upon the castle 
 terrace, where Margaretha, coming accidentally upon him, 
 showed so much joy at his recovery that he forgot he was 
 only a musician and she a lady of noble birth, caught her 
 in his arms, and rapturously kissed her. 
 
 After a delightful hour spent together, exchanging vows 
 and confessions of love, Werner returned to his chamber, 
 and only on the morrow sought the old lord's presence to 
 make known his love. Before he could open his lips, how- 
 ever, the baron informed him that he had just received a 
 letter from an old army friend, who proposed to send his 
 only son to visit him in hopes that their children might fall 
 in love with each other, and eventually marry. This letter 
 the baron asked Werner to answer, giving a full description 
 of Margaretha's charms, and extending a cordial invitation 
 to the young man, but this Werner refused to do, manfully 
 confessing that he would fain claim the young lady's hand 
 
 for himself. 
 
 The old baron, who had vowed his child should never 
 
 li 
 
 ( 
 
 i 
 
S^9 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 marry any except a nobleman, now sadly dismissed Werner, 
 who, without daring to see his beloved again, mounted his 
 steed and rode away, pausing only on the opposite side of 
 the river to breathe a last farewell upon his bugle, while 
 gazing mournfully at the tower where dwelt the maiden 
 whom he loved so dearly and could never forget. 
 
 Several years now passed by, during which Werner roamed 
 from place to place, ever faithful to Margaretha, who, mourn- 
 ing his departure, gazed across the Rhine in the direction 
 in which he had vanished, dismissed her suitors without 
 vouchsafing them a glance, and finally grew so pale and thin 
 that her father sent her to Italy in charge of his sister, an 
 abbess, thinking a change of air would do her good. 
 
 One Easter Sunday in St. Peter's Church at Rome, Mar- 
 garetha fainted at the sight of Werner, who, somber and 
 melancholy, headed the papal choir, for his musical talent 
 had won for him the post of chapel master and the favor of 
 ihe Pope. Noticing the confusion of the young musician 
 and the sudden swoon of the beautiful stranger, the Pope 
 suspected the existence of an unhappy love affair, and hav- 
 ing cleverly learned the whole story, benevolently took upon 
 himself to make the young people happy. 
 
 He summoned Margaretha and Werner into his presence, 
 made the latter Marquis of Campo Santo, and then, aver- 
 ring that he knew nothing but the lack of a title had hindered 
 their union, he proposed to marry them right away, a plan 
 which the young people hailed with rapture. 
 
 Their wedding journey back to Sakingen was a dream 
 of bliss, and the old baron, delighted to see them both, 
 welcomed them so heartily that their measure of happiness 
 was full. Werner now breathed only the gayest tunes in his 
 trumpet, which seemed incapable of producing the heart- 
 rending tones which he had played during the past years 
 while he was separated from his beloved, with whom he now 
 lived blissfully all the rest of his life. 
 
 > 
 
 PC 
 
 w 
 r 
 r 
 
 H 
 
 O 
 
 > 
 
 n 
 
 >—* 
 A 
 
 O 
 
 w 
 2: 
 
 
 
 i:i 
 
KdNlGSFELDEN. 
 
 323 
 
 KONIGSFELDEN. 
 
 Ube Autdec. 
 
 Not far from Hapsburg castle are the remains of the 
 ancient Roman settlement of Vindonissa, the rapids o 
 HoUenhaken, the Rhine salt works, and the town and 
 abbey of Konigsfelden. The latter was founded in 1310 by 
 the Empress Elizabeth and her dau-hter Queen Agnes of 
 Hungary, on the spot where Albert of Austria, husband of 
 the former, had been murdered two years bef<jre. 
 
 The Emperor of Germany and Duke of Austria A ber, 
 or Albrecht, after long fighting against the Pope Holland, 
 Zealand, Friesland, Hungary, Bohemia, and Thunngia, 
 heard in 1308 that a rebellion had broken out among the 
 Swiss in the Cantons of Unterwalden, Schweitz, and Un, 
 and' hastened thither to suppress it. Before he could do 
 so, however, his nephew, John of Suabia, whom he had 
 defrauded of his rights, finding there was no hope of 
 redress, formed a conspiracy against him. 
 
 Albert, having embarked with John and three of hs 
 accomplices in a little bark which was to carry him to 
 Rheinfelden, was murdered by these conspirators in the 
 
 ''ffis wound, although mortal, did not immediately prove 
 fatal, and the emperor, forsaken by the --/--J ;^; 
 pushed ashore and hastened to seek a place of safety 
 breathed his last in the arms of a passing beggar woman 
 
 who alone took pity upon him. winiam 
 
 This death, magnificently rendered in Schiller s ^^ ilham 
 
 Tell," where it forms an effective scene of the play was fear- 
 fuli; avenged by Agnes of Hungary, w"^"- ^r of 'the old 
 pict'ed on the -ined glass windows in ^^^^^^^^^ 
 Konigsfelden Abbey Church. Here are also tne p 
 various of the heroes who fell at Sempach, but as the church 
 is in ruins these works of art are sadly damaged. 
 
334 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 HAPSBURG. 
 
 ^be JSeet lS>ticxiQz. 
 
 The ancient castle of Hapsburg, which overlooks the 
 Rhine in the Canton of Aargau, is the cradle of the imperial 
 dynasty bearing the same name, and was founded in 1020. 
 According to the legend the founder built no ramparts 
 around it. A neighboring bishop, coming to visit him, so 
 loudly deplored the absence of all the usual defenses that 
 the owner, somewhat piqued, boldly declared that ere sunrise 
 on the morrow he would have surrounded his castle with 
 impregnable walls. 
 
 Of course the bishop smiled incredulously at this state- 
 ment, but he was awakened on the morrow by the count's 
 Voice at his bedside, bidding him look forth and satisfy him- 
 self that his promise had been duly kept. The bishop ran 
 hastily to the window, and saw, to his utter surprise, that 
 the castle was completely surrounded by th^ count's fol- 
 lowers, all in martial array. The men looked so strong 
 and faithful that he could not but recognize, what has ever 
 since been the family's proudest boast, that the arms and 
 hearts of their devoted subjects are their principal defense 
 in all times of imminent danger. 
 
 SCHAFFHAUSEN. 
 rails ot tbe 'Rbtne. 
 
 The falls of the Rhine, very near Schaffhausen, are in 
 point of volume the grandest in Europe, for the river, after 
 passing through the Lake of Constance, descends here over 
 a mighty ledge of rock about one hundred feet high. 
 
 In June and July, when the river is greatly swollen by the 
 
 EL 
 
 XT 
 rs 
 
 XT 
 f6 
 
 C/5 
 
 n 
 > 
 
 > 
 2: 
 
MAIN A U, 
 
 325 
 
 melting of the snow on the Alps, the volume of water is very 
 great indeed, and early in the morning and late in the after- 
 noon the position of the sun is such that countless rainbow 
 reflections can be seen, formed by the sunlight and the 
 silvery spray. The scene is particularly impressive by moon- 
 light, and the feeling of awe is increased by the roaring 
 sound of the waters, whose force continually causes the 
 rocks to tremble. 
 
 The earliest recorded mention made of these falls is in 
 the year 960, and since then the channel has apparently been 
 gradually deepened by erosion. Immediately above the 
 cataract rise the tall rocks upon which is perched the pic- 
 turesque little castle of Laufen, now used as a hotel, from 
 which a beautiful view of falls and river can be obtained. 
 Oil an island in the middle of the stream, directly opposite 
 the falls, is another little castle called Worth, which is a 
 favorite place of resort for travelers, as they can from there 
 gain the best idea of the volume of water and of tne height 
 of the rocky ledge, down which they plunge with their con- 
 tinuous deafening roar. 
 
 ^\ 
 
 MAINAU. 
 
 Hugo of Langenstein, forced to leave home to redeem a 
 vow made by his father and go and fight the Saracens, came 
 to the island of Mainau, in the Lake of CoHstance, where 
 his betrothed dwelt. He sadly took leave of her, promising 
 to return when the war was over and to live nn the island 
 with her, eat the fruit of the trees they had planted and drink 
 the wine pressed from the grapes of the vine forming a 
 lovely bower over their heads. The lovers' plans were 
 brought to nought, however, for Hugo soon fell into the 
 hands of the Saracens, who detained him prisoner many 
 a year. Although he prayed for deliverance and his 
 
3^ 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 betrothed longed for iiis return, month after month passed 
 by without bringing any answer to their petition. 
 
 One night Hugo of Langenstein was favored by a vision, 
 in which an anjrel of the Lord bade him dedicate the 
 remainder iA his life to God if he would be free. In obedi- 
 ence to this command, the knight, although sorely troubled 
 at having to renounce the hope of eventually marrying the 
 fair maid of AT inau, solemnly vowed to dedicate his life to 
 the service of God, and enter the Teutonic order of knights, 
 if he were only allowed to see his native land once more. 
 Two days later he was miraculously set free, steered his 
 course by the stars across the burning Syrian plains, made 
 his way home, and, sending a friend to Mainau to explain 
 the nature of his vow, he sadly sought the headquarters of 
 the Teutonic order and enlisted in their band. 
 
 The fair maid of Mainau, hearing that her lover would 
 never return to her, yet anxious to have him know every 
 comfort, also journeyed to the same place. She gave her 
 lovely island to the knights upon condition that her lover 
 should be stationed upon it as head of that branch of the 
 order, and would thus be able to eat the fruit of her trees 
 and taste the juice of her vines. 
 
 AVhen this was arranged to her satisfaction, and all her 
 rights over Mainau had been transferred to the Teutonic 
 (fii r, the maiden vanished and was seen no more. Some 
 s IV siie built a hermitage, others that she entered a convent, 
 lit, however that may be, Hugo of Langenstein was soon 
 Si it to Mainau, where he spent many a year, but never 
 I J mourn for his beloved. 
 
 K. Wi.i»JV,, 
 
 bvchhorn: 327 
 
 BUCHHORN. 
 
 Count Ulrich of Buchhorn had gone away from home to 
 fight in Hungary, and soon the sad tidings of his death 
 reached his wife. She assumed a widow's garb, and spent 
 all her time in doing good to the poor, distributing special 
 largesses on the anniversary of her dear husband's death, 
 when she implored all the recipients of her bounty to pray 
 for the rest of his soul. 
 
 Four years had passed thus, and when the fourth anni- 
 versary came around a pilgrim presented himself among 
 the beggars, imploring her to give him a new garment to 
 replace his tattered robe. The gentle lady immediately 
 bestowed the coveted raiment, but, instead of the usual 
 thanks, the pilgrim caught her in his arms, and passion- 
 ately embraced her. 
 
 The terrified lady called for her servants to protect her, 
 sobbing that if her husband were only living none would 
 dare thus insult her. But, when the pilgrim threw back his 
 cowl, she clung closely to him, for she now recognized her 
 beloved husband, who was not dead, but had come home to 
 part from her no more. 
 
 BISCHOFSZELL. 
 
 The small town of Bischofszell, at the confluence of the 
 Thur and Sitter, boasts of an arched stone bridge about 
 which the following tale is told: 
 
 Many years ago a castle stood on one side of the river 
 Thur, which was then spanned by no bridge and could riiy 
 be crossed by means of a small boat. The lady of the castle, 
 
t ? 
 
 3^» 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 standing at the window to watch for her sons' return from 
 the chase, one fine spring day, saw them jump merrily into 
 the skiff on the opposite side and begin to row across. 
 
 Before they had reached the middle of the stream, how- 
 ever, a sudden freshet overturned the boat, and both youths, 
 after a momentary struggle, sank forever beneath the flood 
 under their distracted mother's eyes. Fearing lest some 
 other mother should suffer as sorely as she, the poor lady 
 knew no rest until she had built this solid bridge, and saw 
 little children skipping merrily to and fro over it, no matter 
 how rapidly the waters rushed beneath it. 
 
 ST. GALL. 
 
 C nc 
 
 %" 
 
 
 The emperor once rode past the monastery of St. Gall. 
 As he was sorely oppressed with the cares of state he 
 was so vexed to see the plump and well-fed abbot taking 
 his lasc, that he maliciously resolved to try and disturb his 
 equanimity. 
 
 *'.ibbot," cried he, *'l .mi going to give you three iiuLb 
 to crack ! You must have the answers all ready three 
 months hence, under penalty of losing your place and - f 
 riding through the town, mounted upon a donkey, with your 
 face turned toward its tail, aiuJ holding that appendage 
 instead of a bridle. The first question I wish you to answer 
 is this: How much time, within a second, would I require to 
 journey all around the wM on horseback? The second is: 
 How much ami \ i a penny, when 1 have my 
 
 imperial crown or i, y scepter in my hand, and am 
 
 attired in all my court robes ? And as third riddle you will 
 ha\ • ti rruess my thought, but remember you must prove 
 that thought is not true ! " 
 
 Laughing immoderately at the abbot's comical look of 
 
 % 
 
1 
 
 ST. GALL, 
 
 3*9 
 
 blank dismay, the emperor galloped off, delighted at having 
 so cleverly attained his purpose, and so eifectually troubled 
 the poor man's peace of mind. 
 
 In vain the abbot questioned all the brethren, wrote to 
 all the universities and learned men, in vain he burned the 
 midnight oil and turned over his long-neglected books. He 
 could not find the least clew to the answers of those three 
 tantalizing questions, which haunted him day and night, 
 deprived him of his natural rest, and utterly spoiled his once 
 so flourishing appetite. 
 
 The three months were nearly over, and the abbot, thin 
 and careworn, wandered pensively through the monastery 
 meadows, thinking how soon he would be forced to leave 
 them forever, to be exposed to the hooting and jeering of 
 the populace, iiis reverie was suddenly interrupted by an 
 exclamation of dismay on the part of one of his herdsmen, 
 who anxiously inquired whether he had been ill. 
 
 Full of his grievance, and touched by the man's evident 
 sympathy, the abbot confided the whole story to him, glibly 
 repeating the three perplexing questions over which he had 
 pondered so long, and ending with a sigh of utter despair. 
 The herdsman, who had listened attentively to all his master 
 had to say, then slowly remarked that if the abbot would 
 only lend him his gown, miter, and crozier, he woulf] will- 
 ingly go to court and answer the questions in his stead. 
 
 Rapidly reasoning that in case of failure the man would 
 have to endure the public disgrace from which he shrank, 
 the abbot gladly gave him the articles he asked for and dis- 
 missed him with a fervent blessing and a great sigh of relief. 
 The pretended abbot reached the imperial court at the 
 appointed time, and (^dy presented himself before his 
 sovereign, who exclaimed with mock sympathy : 
 
 "Why, my dear abbot, huw you have changed ! You iie 
 no longer as ruddy and plump as you were three months 
 ago. Have my nuts disagreed with you ? Pay strict atten- 
 tior w, and remember that upon your answers depend 
 
33© 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 TOGGENBURG. 
 
 J j 
 
 your weal or woe. How much time would I require to jour- 
 ney all around the world on horseback ?" 
 
 '*If your majesty were to mount your steed at the very 
 second when the sun appears above the horizon, and to 
 travel just as fast as that luminary, it is certain your majesty 
 would ride all around the world in exactly twenty-four hours, 
 neither one second more or less," replied the false abbot. 
 
 A murmur of amusement was heard in the assembly, and 
 the emperor, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected 
 answer, continued: 
 
 ** Although I might refuse to accept an answer depending 
 upon an ij\ 1 will waive .my right to do so, providing you 
 aiibvver the next question correctly; How much am I worth 
 when I have my imperial crown upon my head, my scepter 
 in my hand, and am attired in all my court robes? " 
 
 ** Your majesty," replied the shepherd in disguise, ** can- 
 not surely pretend to be worth more than the Saviour of the 
 world, in spite of all your jewels. He was sold for thirty 
 pieces of silver, so the very highest figure which I can set 
 upon you is twenty-nine pieces of silver." 
 
 ** Well," exclaimed the emperor abashed, yet not daring 
 to claim he was worth more than Christ. *' I am sure I 
 never rated myself as low as that. But now, abbot, comes 
 the last question of all, and if you fail to answer it, remember, 
 you must straddle that donkey. What is my present thought, 
 and why is it not true?" 
 
 **Your majesty thinks I am the abbot of St. Gall," 
 answered the man slowly. 
 
 *' Why, of course I do," interposed the emperor 
 triumphantly. 
 
 *' But your majesty is greatly mistaken, however," con- 
 tinued the man, unmoved, **for I am only his shepherd." 
 
 The emperor was so amused by the man's shrewdness and 
 ready wit, that he swore he would grant him any favor he 
 cared to ask, and even proposed to make him abbot in his 
 master's place. 
 
 But the herdsman simply said that, since the emperor 
 kindly allowed him to choose his own reward, he would 
 prefer to see his master remain unmolested, while he received 
 an increase of wages sufficient to enable him to have meat 
 for dinner every day. This unselfish request was duly 
 granted, but the abbot never again relapsed into the sloth- 
 fulness which had once so sorely irritated his imperial 
 master.* 
 
 TOGGENBURG. 
 
 fTbe Couitte00 f tiNU 
 
 An old Toggenburg legend relates that a jealous knight 
 of that name once married a fair wife by the name of Itha, 
 to whom he gave a magnificent diamond ring. The lady, 
 having laid it on her table one day, left the apartment, and 
 when she returned could find no trace of it, and all search 
 
 proved vain. 
 
 A few weeks later, however, the knight of Toggenburg 
 met a handsome young huntsman, and seeing his wife's 
 diamond ring upon his hand immediately concluded she 
 was faithless. He dashed home, and in an ungovernable fit 
 of rage flung her out of the window, without even waiting 
 to hear whether she could clear herself of the accusation 
 he hurled against her. 
 
 The countess of Toggenburg was not slain, however, as 
 everybody supposed, but had fallen over the precipice, where 
 her fall had been broken by angelic power or by the slender 
 fir branches by which she lowered herself to the ground. 
 Fearing her husband's further violence she thereupon fled 
 into the woods, where she lived for many a year the life of a 
 
 recluse. 
 
 The knight of Toggenburg having disposed forever, as he 
 thought, of his guilty wife, now sought the young huntsman, 
 who was dragged to death by wild horses, his master learn- 
 
 * See Note 17 in Appendix. 
 
 i.' '{ 
 
33« 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 NIDBERG, 
 
 ing only after his death that the youth had found the glitter- 
 ing ring in a magpie's nest, where it had been carried by the 
 thievish birds. 
 
 Full of remorse, the knight of Toggenburg now sought 
 for his wife's remains to bury them properly, at least, but 
 could find no trace of them. Years passed by and every 
 iLiy his sorrow for her loss became deeper. Hoping to find 
 some relief from torturing thouirht in active exercise, he 
 finally set out for the chase, and, penetrating deep into the 
 forest, came upon the hermitage of his pious wife, whom he 
 immediately recognized and would fain have carried home. 
 
 But Itha had taken a solemn vow to serve God only, and 
 prevailed upon her husband to build Liie convent of St. Mary 
 of the ^nirels, in honor of her rescue from certain death. 
 There she spent the remainder of her life in prayer, and her 
 husband, having given all his wealth to the poor, followed 
 her example, and withdrew into a neighboring monastery 
 to pray for the forgiveness of his sins. 
 
 Sbe yaftbfnl %m€t. 
 
 The knight of Toggenburg, having fallen in love with a 
 fair lady who could not return his affections, sadly bade her 
 farewell and went to fight in the Holy Land, whence he 
 returned only after many a year. He had not forgotten 
 the lady he loved, however, and hearing she had taken the 
 veil and was now a nun in the convent of St. Mary of the 
 Angels, he disposed of all his wealth, assumed a pilgrim's 
 garb, and, building a little hermitage in the valley, spent 
 his days in penance and prayer. Early every morning he 
 sat in the door of his hut, gazing fixedly up at the convent, 
 and never moving until a certain lattice window flew open 
 and a lovely face looked down into the valley. 
 
 Day after day the knight of Toggenburg waited thus, 
 but when many years had gone, and he was old and feeble. 
 
 1S5 
 
 e of 
 
 1 !-)t 
 
 he glanced up for the last time, caught a last glimps 
 the face of his beloved, and peacefully breathed his last. 
 
 Schiller has given us a beautiful poetical version of . . 
 legend which has been translated and concludes with these 
 words: 
 
 ** 'Till her lovely looks entrancing 
 All his sense the while, 
 Calm, adown the vale were glancing, 
 Sweet as angel's smile. 
 And so sate he, there, one morning 
 Lifeless— witliout fail. 
 To that lattice loved still turning 
 His cold face so pale." 
 
 — Schiller, 
 
 NIDBERG. 
 
 TiTE knight of Nidberg, whose castle was perched up on 
 one of the picturesque rocks near Sargans, defended himself 
 so bravely against his enemy that the latter was about ready 
 to give up the attempt to secure him. As the besiegers 
 were preparing to steal silently away, a pale-faced woman 
 suddenly appeared before the leader, and, declaring ^r\w 
 hated the knight, offered to show him how he might slay 
 him. 
 
 The enemy immediately signified his pleasure at the 
 proposal and silently followed the woman, who led him up 
 a rocky path and brought him to a cliff directly opposite 
 the castle, whence he could look straight down into the 
 room where the weary knight lay fast asleep near the open 
 window. 
 
 The woman pointed to the sleeping foe, and motioned to 
 him to shoot. A moment later an arrow whizzed through 
 the air and struck the sleeping knight, who never woke 
 again. But, while his enemy departed in triumph, the pale- 
 
 i I. 
 
334 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. 
 
 faced woman stood there gazing fixedly at the lifeless body, 
 and she was never known to smile again. 
 
 PFAFERS. 
 
 'ZxK stolen 5acramciii. 
 
 The devil once took up his abode in the narrow ravine 
 whence the hot springs of Ffafers rise, and lying in wait 
 there, soon saw Anna Vogtli pass by. He knew that she 
 was a witch, and that she delighted in seeking herbs at mid- 
 night on the mountain side, so he promised her all manner 
 of luck in her search if she would only steal into the neigh- 
 boring church and throw away the holy wafer resting on 
 the altar. 
 
 The girl, who had long ago given up going to mass, and 
 who had already sold her soul to Satan, immediately obeyed. 
 But, no sooner had she laid her hand upon the sacred 
 host than the ground shook, the lightning played, the 
 thunder rolled, and the mountain echoes began to awaken. 
 Terrified at the sudden commotion, Anna Vogtli threw 
 away the wafer, which fell on a thorn bush, whence sprang 
 a silvery rose, which curled its petals all around it to pro- 
 tect it from all harm. 
 
 Some sheep passing by there reverently bent the knee, and 
 a wolf, springing out of the thicket to devour them, lay down 
 like a lamb among them. The people, attracted by these 
 miracles, plucked the silvery rose, and laid it upon the altar 
 of the church of Ettes Wyl, where it can still be seen, and 
 is said to have very blessed and miraculous properties. 
 
 ST. GOTTHARD 
 Cascade of Wvler. 
 
COIRE. 
 
 J .'i , 
 
 COIRE. 
 
 A KNIGHT was once riding through the fields accompanied 
 by his page. All at once he noticed a babe lying alone by 
 the roadside, and charitably bade his attendant pick it up 
 and carry it home. The page stooped to raise the infant, 
 but, in spite of all his efforts, it was too heavy for him to lift! 
 
 The knight dismounted to help him, but all his strength 
 could not suffice to raise the child. In vain he called squire 
 and peasant to help him, in vain they strained every muscle, 
 the babe still lay smiling on the grass. All at once the 
 babe opened its mouth and predicted that they would have 
 a very fruitful and prosperous year, and then it vanished. 
 
 The babe's prediction was verified, for the grain fields 
 bore a hundredfold, the barns and granaries were full, all 
 the poor had plenty to eat that year, and none knew want. 
 
 There are many picturesque and interesting spots along 
 the Rhine below Coire. Many of them are easy of access, 
 for the railroad follows the river for some distance further. 
 Among the many more or less direct tributaries which come 
 down from the mountains to swell the tide of this river, 
 there is the Reuss, which takes its source in the St. Gott- 
 hard Mountain and forms a beautiful cascade at Wasen. 
 
 yarewell to tbe IRbine. 
 
 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 somber, nor too gay, 
 Wild, but not rude, awful, yet not austere. 
 Is to the mellow earth as autumn to the year. 
 
 Ml 
 
 il! 
 
33^ 
 
 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Adieu to thee again ! a vain adieu ! 
 
 There can be no farewell to scene like thine, 
 
 The mind is colored by thy every hue ; 
 
 And, if reluctantly the eyes resign 
 
 Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine ! 
 
 *Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise. 
 
 More mighty spots may rise — more glaring shine. 
 
 But none unite in one attaching maze 
 
 The brilliant, fair, and soft — the glory 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 thee fall. 
 
 — Byron, 
 
 APPETJDIX. 
 
 Note i. The fish-and-ring episode -.n thi. 1 -send has 
 many counterparts in the ancient annals of sundry nations. 
 In the Indian drama of Sakuntala the heroine loses her 
 ring on her way to join her husband. As the ring possesses 
 Ji.c powers, he fails to recognize her without it ; it is on^y 
 when the mystic circlet has been found in a fish that the 
 memory of his marriage returns to him. In the Jewish 
 legends, Solomon owes all his power u. a uiagic ring. In 
 punishment for worshiping idols during forty davs, the 
 Tvil spirit takes possession of his ring for an equal spac 
 of time, assumes his form, and reigns in his stead. The 
 forty days ended, the Evil One is forced tu relinquish h, 
 power, a'nd casts the ring into the sea of Gahlee. where , 
 \ immediately swallowed by a fish. Solomon, wau,!.r,ng 
 discTsolate Jong the beach, begs food of a fisherman wo 
 eives him the fish he has just caught. In .i. stomach 
 Solomon finds the ring, which enables him to remount the 
 
 'Tancient history, Polycrates. king of S-osJ^oa^ts of 
 his wealth and prosperity to Amasis, king of EgYP^ . ^^ 
 latter advises birr, voluntarily to -cnfie his dearest 
 treasure lest he should incur tiie vvratn .1 n.e -ods. in 
 rplia;': with this advice, i'olycrates cas.s ';-;««-" n 
 into the sea Shortly after, a remarkably fine fish j^ bron.ut 
 to him a. a. ,nt, and in it he finds the magic ring. 
 
 There are nuu.eroas example, ui magic rings "Ot only m 
 an^e^ht, ra.ere, .be.e Gyges is mentioned, but also m 
 meXval literature, where the Nibelungen nng a. the 
 
338 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 339 
 
 great German epic, and the ring of Titania, which Oberon 
 gives to Rezia, in the romance of Huon of Bordeaux, are 
 the most famous specimens. 
 
 Note 2 The northern people were wont to drink certain 
 toasts in honor of their gods on all solemn occasions. This 
 custom was so popular that the Christian missionaries 
 deemed it wisest not to attempt to suppress it entirely. 
 Instead of ih inking to the twelve principal Asa^, the people 
 were then fun ta u ht to pledge Christ and his disciples. 
 
 Saint ( ; r i ur the Virgin, was at the same time 
 substituted for 1 whose honor a cup of mead was 
 
 drained ai nui. . .4^. iv5 »als and all great national feast 
 days. 
 
 As for magic potions, they are very common in the folk- 
 lore K){ all nations. Circe and Gudrun (Kriemhild) both 
 detain their lovers by their means, but while they are 
 generally supposed to induce love, as is seen in the story of 
 Tristan and Isolde, Liicy arc also often iniciitltd to preserve 
 the drinker from harm, as in this ease. 
 
 r ;. The denouement of this story recalls the classic 
 tale of Cleobis and Biton, related at length in the author's 
 
 M) I > of Greece and Rome," p. 54. 
 
 Note 4 
 great 
 version 
 myth p 
 Psv( ■ 
 
 The story (A I 
 
 'A cveit,: (if t 
 
 :ie 
 
 f ITU 11:1 
 
 1 !'' 
 i\ (.J 
 
 myth 
 
 A 
 
 nirriri^ vvincii is a part of the 
 H n ^'! '^, i^ also a northern 
 a ni Cupid and Psyche. The 
 ne peculiar marriage custom. 
 J not being allowed to see her 
 losini' {III : Elsa's by refraining 
 
 - intimately connected with 
 ...J in the author's work on the 
 
 - the Middle .l^.::.. " 
 
 F 5. There are countless variations of this beautiful 
 ill X rthriai literature. The oldest now extant is 
 that contained in the heroic poems of the Elder Edda. This 
 version was enlarged in the well-known Volsunga saga» where 
 
 the principal characters are Sigurd, Gudrun, Grimhild, 
 Gunnar, Hogni, and Atli. An outline of this famous saga 
 is given in the author's ** Myths of Northern Lands," and it 
 forms the basis of William Morris' epic poem, ** Sigurd the 
 Volsung." The Nibelungenlied, the great German epic, is 
 a later version of the same tale, and according to Lachmann 
 is made up from five different cycles of northern myths. 
 The third version is the most popular one, and is given 
 here in full. 
 
 Nhtf 6. The old northern belief in Liosalfar, or Light 
 Is is here embodied. These beneficent creatures were 
 osed to aid mankind. With the introduction of 
 '.hristianity, these helpful beings were called angels, and 
 the worship previously given to them was transferred to 
 the heavenly host. As in the myth of Lohengrin, any ques- 
 tion concerning their origin entailed their departure ; and, 
 as their services were voluntary, the mention of a reward 
 was an insult. 
 
 Note 7. The story of St. Ursula, which has prompted 
 many noted works of art, especially in the Italian and Ger- 
 man schools, has been identified by some folk-lorists with 
 that of Diana, the moon maiden. Ursula is supposed to 
 represent the orb of night, while her eleven thousand vir- 
 gins are emblems of the manifold stars, which seem to fol- 
 low in her train. This story, however, has given rise to 
 much speculation, and noted writers have declared that 
 Ursula really existed, and that she and eleven virgins were 
 martyred by the Huns at Cologne. They claim that 
 ** eleven thousand " is a mistaken reading of an old inscrip- 
 tion. For further details concerning this legend, see Mrs. 
 Jameson's '* Sacred and Legendary Art." 
 
 Notes. The Heinzelmannchen, Hke the Brownies in Scot- 
 land, were supposed to be helpful beings, who continued 
 their ministrations as long as they remained unseen. This 
 is a remains of the old Northern belief in dwarfs and elves. 
 There are countless similar tales told all along the Rhine, 
 
 1! 
 
340 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 .3'+ 
 
 for the Heinzelmannchen play a prominent part in German 
 folk-lore. 
 
 Note 9. The blooming of a withered staff is a feature 
 \\ iiiuii often reappears in sacred and mediaeval literature. 
 The first instance is, of course, the rod of Aaron, long pre- 
 served in the holy ark. In the legeiins <f the Virgin we 
 are told that the high priest was warned in a dream to give 
 Mary in marriage to one of the widowers m Israel. Sum- 
 moned by the High Priest, the widowers all laid tlicir rods 
 or staffs upon the altar Joseph's bloomed, and, according 
 to some authorities, a dove came and perched upon it. In 
 paintings depicting the marriage of the Virgin, Joseph is, 
 therefore, always represented with a blooming rod, on 
 which a dove is sometimes perched. In mediaeval literature 
 the most noted example of t miracie is related in the 
 story of Tannhauser, which is given in this volume. 
 
 Note 10. The way in which Arnold obtained a large 
 ?{rant of land from the emperor is a parallel to the story uf 
 ::3i lAiitliiide. Stratagems in such matters were consid- 
 ered praiseworthy, and are not without their counterparts 
 in more ancient literature. In the Greek myths we find 
 Dido resorting to the stratagem of the oxhide to obtain a 
 grauL uf land from the Carthaginians. Gefjon also avails 
 herself of a rnse to secure land from Gylfi, the northern 
 king, and Ragnar Lodbrog's sons thus obtain the spot where 
 they founded London. 
 
 Note ii. Charlemagne's miracnlons ride from the far 
 East Lu ua I Chapelle, in the space of a few hours, has 
 its counterpart in manv fairy tales. One of the favorite 
 modes of transportation in mediaeval literature was by 
 means of an enchanted steed, and most mediaeval heroes 
 luivc (J lie at their disposal, like Renaud of Montauban. 
 
 Note 12. The monk of Heisterbach is the German ver- 
 sion of the old myth, which, as the Seven Sleepers of 
 Ephesus, Epimenides (the Sleeper of Athens), Brunhild, 
 and the Sleeping Beauty, is always reappearing in litera- 
 
 ture. It has found one of its latest, and certainly its niuht 
 beautiful setting at the hands of Washington Irving, in his 
 legend of Rip Van Winkle. 
 
 Note 13. Roland is the principal hero of the great cycle 
 of Carolingian myths. He is also the most famous warrior 
 in the great French epic, '' La Chanson de Roland." A full 
 account of this cycle will be found in the author's '' Legends 
 of the M idle Ages." The story of the Drachenfels is 
 merely a later version of the episode of Lady Alda. 
 Ariosto and Boiardo, the Italian poets, have written long 
 and beautiful works about this hero, who is admirably de- 
 picted in James Baldwin's '' Story of Roland." 
 
 Note 14. Early in the Middle Ages it was popularly 
 believed that the blood would flow from the wounds of a 
 murdered man at the touch of his assassin. This belief is 
 exemplified in the Nibelungenlied, where Siegfried's body is 
 laid in state in the Worms Cathedral, and the huntsmen are 
 all summoned by Kriemhild to submit to the test. The 
 blood flows al iiagen's touch, and Kriemhild vehemently 
 denounces him. After she has thus discovered his guilt 
 she knows no rest until she has avenged her husband, 
 although this revenge entails the death of all the Burgun- 
 
 dian knights. 
 
 The episode related in this legend forms the basis also of 
 
 Chaucer's charming *' Prioress' Tale." 
 
 Note 15. In the *' Heimskringla," or Chronicle of the 
 ancient kings of Norway, where the historical Odin is 
 described, we are told that his soul often left his body m 
 the shape of a mouse. This superstition was a common 
 one in the north. In the tale of the Pied Piper of Ham- 
 elin, the mice are the souls of the dead, and the Piper is 
 Odin, the northern Psychopompus. In the tale of the 
 Mausethurm the rats and mice are also human souls ani- 
 mated by a burning spirit of revenge. ^ , . , 
 
 Note i 6 This is the German version of the myth which 
 reappears in ail works on demonology. The Snake Lady is 
 
 % 
 
342 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 a counterpart of the Greek Lamia, and of the Hebrew 
 Lilith, the first wife of Adam. 
 
 Note 17. The story here related is told with many varia- 
 tions. There is one version of it in Percy's **Reliques," 
 where King John and the Abbot of Canterbury play the 
 principal parts. The story is, in all other points, the same. 
 The love of riddles is common to all nations, and many 
 early specimens have been preserved. Besides the riddle 
 propounded by the Sphinx to CEdipus, the riddle which 
 Samson asked the ■ Philistines, the one concerning Odin 
 and his steed, there are such as the one on the wind, 
 '*What flies forever and^ rests never?" which are of great 
 antiquity. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Aar (Switzerland), 305 
 
 Aarberg, Lord of, 130-132 
 
 Aargau, Canton of, 324 
 
 Acre, 183, 293 
 
 Adalbert, 258 
 
 Adalbert of Ehrenfels, 230-231 
 
 Adam, 56-57 
 
 Adelgunde, 207-208 
 
 Adelheid. 99, 127 
 
 Adelheid von Slotterfoth, 100 
 
 Adolph of Holland, 210 
 
 ^gle, 178-180 
 
 vEsir, 29 
 
 Agnes, 179-180, 213-214 
 
 Agnes of Hungary, 323 
 
 Agrippinus, 58 
 
 Ahr (German), 134, I37 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, 81-96, 245 
 
 Alberich, 35 
 
 Albert of Austria, 323 
 
 Albertus Magnus, 62-63 
 
 Alcuin, 88 
 
 Alemans, 318 
 
 Alfonso X. of Castile, 210 
 
 Alfus, 112-115 
 
 All-father, 33 
 
 Almain, 281 
 
 Alps, 60, 325 
 
 Alt Eberstein, 288-289, 290 
 
 Altenabr, 137-138 
 
 Alsace, 306 
 
 Amiens, 49 
 
 Amilias, 26-28 
 
 Amina, 216-217 
 
 Andemach, 145. I47-I5I. 19° 
 
 Andrew, St., 62 
 
 Andvari, 30, 35 
 
 Angel of Death, 70, 7^ 
 
 Anglia, 61 
 
 Anna (Empress), 31I 
 
 Anna Vogtli, 334 
 
 Anno, 70 
 
 Anthony, 114 
 
 Anton, 319 
 
 Apollinaris, St., 129 
 
 Apollinarisberg, St., 12^132 
 
 Apollo, 300 
 
 Apostles, Church of the, 67-68 
 
 Arabia, 43 
 
 Ardennes, 93-94 
 
 Argenfels, 11 8-1 20 
 
 Arnold, 70, 78 
 
 Arnold von Isenburg, 169 
 
 Arnoldsweiler, 78-79 
 
 Arthur, 275 
 
 Attila, 41, 153 
 
 Atri, 308 
 
 Auerbach, 271 
 
 Augst, 314-315 
 
 Austrasia, 149, I93 
 
 Austria, 293 
 
 Ave Maria, 63 
 
 B 
 
 Bacchus, 215 , 
 
 Bacharach, 175, iqS-IQQ. 207, 215, 276 
 Bacon, 62 
 
 Baden, 276, 290-291 
 Balmung, 27, 28, 32, 33, 35 
 Balther von Bassenich, 1 21, 122 
 Bamberg, Bishop of, 180 
 Barbarossa, see Frederick Barbarossa. 
 
 Basel, 59-^' 310-313 
 
 Basina, T47-148 
 
 Bavaria, 274 
 
 Beatrix, 72-73» I90-I93 
 
 Beethoven, loi 
 
 Benno, 188-189 
 
 Bergen, the Knave of, 267 253 
 
 54 j 
 
 W 
 
 % 
 
o^^ 
 
 IxVDEX. 
 
 ri^TDEX. 
 
 '45 
 
 Bernard, St., ii8, 241 
 Berserker, 281 
 Bertha, 118-120, 157-158 
 Bessie, 169 
 
 Bethesda, 57 
 
 Biberich, 252-253 
 
 Bingen, 231-233 
 
 Bingerloch, 233. 240-241 
 
 Bischofszell, 327-328 
 
 Black Forest, 286-287, 288. 316, 319 
 
 Bleidenberg, 164 
 
 Blondel, 294 
 
 Blucher, 214 
 
 Bohemia, 323 
 
 Bonn, 100-107, 108, 109 
 
 Boppart, 18 1 -1 83 
 
 Bornhofen, 183-185 
 
 Bowring, 16 
 
 Brabant, Duke of, 16, I49 
 
 Bragi, 33, 34 
 
 Braubach, 177, 178 
 
 Brauweiler, 75-77 
 
 Breisach, 308, 309 
 
 Bretten, 287-288 
 
 Brey, 175-177 
 
 Brittany, 58, 59 
 
 Brocken, 143 
 
 Broemser, Hans, 241-243 
 
 Brothers, The, 183. 185 
 
 Brunhild, 33-41 
 
 Bruno, 70 
 
 Bryant, 197-198 
 
 Buchhorn, 327 
 
 Btirgelwald, 78 
 
 Burgundy, 26, 27, 36, 37, 38, 39. 40, 
 
 4« , 62, 311 
 Burgundy, Duke of, 62 
 Byron, 1 57, 336 
 
 Cain. ^1 
 
 Canton of Aargtii. 324 
 Capitol, 64 
 
 !'*■.♦ 
 
 Caporal, 1 
 Carden, K;4, -' 
 Carlovingian 
 Castor, St. , « 
 Cat, The, I 
 Caub, 209, 
 Cecilia, St., 41 
 
 ft it 
 
 .. 156 
 
 t \\ 
 
 Cedron, 57 
 Chamisso, 197 
 
 Charlemagne, 78, 81-85, ^7, 88, 89, 
 90, 91, (;2, 93, 94, 99, 124, 125, 
 I55» 194. 244-246, 247-248, 2C4, 
 263-264, 277, 311 
 
 Charles M artel. 64 
 
 Charles the Bold, 62, 311 
 
 Charles IV., 174 
 
 "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," 157 
 
 Chilperic, 147-148 
 
 Chosroes, 58 
 
 Christoffero, 163 
 
 Christopher, St., 160-163 
 
 Christopher of Ramstein, 311-312 
 
 Clara, 188-189, 279 
 
 Clement V., 167 
 
 Clement, St., 229 
 
 Clement, St., Chapel of, 224-225 
 
 Clemenskapelle, 229-230 
 
 Cleves, 16-25, 169 
 
 Clothilde, 98 
 
 Clovis, 98, 296 
 
 Coblentz, 155-158 
 
 Cochem, 160-162 
 
 Coire, 335 
 
 C6llen, see Cologne. 
 
 Cologne, 14-15, 47-77, no, 121, 144, 
 
 163, 164, 194, 200, 209 
 Colonia, 61 
 Conon, 58-61 
 Conrad, 230 
 
 Conrad, Archbishop of Cologne, 139 
 Conrad of Boppart, 1 81-183 
 Conrad of Tiebenstein, 184-185 
 Conrad IV., 210 
 Conrad of Staufen, 213-214 
 Constance, Lake of, 324-325 
 Constantine, 57, 100, 138 
 Constantinople, 56 
 Cordula, 60 
 Cossacks, 156 
 Crucifixion, 57 
 Crusades, 108, 118 
 Cunigunde of FlOrsheim, 316-317 
 Curse of Gold, 29 
 Cyriacus, 60 
 
 Dagobert. VJf^Vjf^ 
 Dantzic, 2 
 
 l)an;i, 58 
 
 I 
 
 Darmstadt, 270-271 
 
 Dattenburg, 140-141 
 
 David, 57, 280 
 
 Day of Judgment, 57-58 
 
 Devil's Stone, 54 
 
 Dhaun, 238-239 
 
 Diana, 300 
 
 Dietrich, 183 
 
 Dinkhold, 178 
 
 Diocletian, 67 
 
 Dominicans, 62 
 
 Drachenburg, 124 
 
 Drachenfels, 37, 41, 108, 109, 123- 
 
 127, 149 
 Draco, 150 
 Dragon Rock, 123 
 Drusus, 147 
 Duns Scotus, 6i-6a 
 DUrrenstein, 293 
 DUsscldorf, 45-47 
 
 Eberfaart,374 
 
 Eberstein, 288-289 
 Eckhardt, 307-308 
 Eckhardtsberg, 307-309 
 Eden, 56 
 
 Edwin of Steinbach, 296-300 
 Egidius, St., 90-91 
 Eginhard, 88-89 
 Ehrenbrcitstein, 155 
 Ehrenfels, 230-231 
 Ehrenthal, 188-189 
 Flhegast, 247-248 
 Eiberfeld, 41-45 
 Elfcld, 251-252 
 Elijah, 115, 136 
 Elizabeth, 7, 277-279 
 Elizabeth, Empress, 323 
 Eloi, St., 190 
 Fl^a of Brabant. 16-21 
 1 . 88-89 
 
 ■ '■ ' ;; t'te H:>h% 47^52, 74 
 
 
 . . , , , . 238 
 
 ', 75-77 
 
 Fafnir, 29-33 i! 
 
 Falkenburg, .. :B 
 
 Falkenstein, 25</-2D3 
 
 Father Rhine, 79-80, 178, 202, 318 
 
 Ferdinand, 251-252 
 
 Fl6rsheim, 258-259 
 
 Frankenpforte, 47, 50 
 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main, 119, 2* t 269 
 
 France, 81, 125, 318 
 
 Franks, 98, 263-264 
 
 Frastrada, 81-82, 254 
 
 Frauenlob, 254 
 
 Frederick Barbarossa, 118, 198-199, 
 
 213, 275, 280-282 
 Frederick V., 277-279 
 Frederick of Germany, 96 
 Frederick of Saxony, 272 
 Frederick of Sayn, 1 51-153 
 Frederick of Telramund, 16-21 
 Frederick the Victorious, 277-279 
 Freyerwahl, Lord of, lOO-ioi 
 Fridolin, 295-296 
 Fridolin, St., 315-316, 318 
 Friesland, 8-9, 323 
 FUrstenberg, 215-217 
 
 Gabnei Gnipello, 45-47 
 
 Gall, St., 328-331 
 
 Gallia, 61 
 
 Gebhard, no 
 
 Genevieve, St., 149*151 
 
 George, St., 25-26 
 
 Gereon, St., 67 
 
 Gerda, 223-225 
 
 Geriinda, 249-250 
 
 Germany, 95. 9^, i". ^*7< ^9^ 
 
 Gertruidenbei^, 9-13 
 
 Gertrude, St., 9-13 
 
 Gisella, 242-243 
 
 Claris, 315-316 
 
 Glittering Heath, 31, 3«» S3. 35 4^ 
 
 Goar, St., 193-195. 196, 199* 201 
 
 Godesberg. io8~iio 
 
 Godorf, 80 
 
 Goethe, 263, 31a 
 
 Goliath, 280 
 
 Golo. 149-151 
 
 Gottesthal, 246 
 
 Gotthard, St., mountain, 335 
 
3«6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 f a r r^ t: y 
 
 54t 
 
 Gretchen, 14 15 
 
 Greyfell, 29, 32, 33. 34 
 Gripir, 29 
 Gnipello, 45-47 
 Gryn, Hermann, 74-75 
 Guda, 209-211 
 Gunther, 36, 41 
 Guntram, 226-228 
 Gutenfels, 209-211 
 
 H 
 
 Habrecht, Isaac, 301-302 
 
 Hagan, 36-41, 61, 272 
 
 Hague, 5-7 
 
 Hahnenthor. 74 
 
 Hammerstein, 144-145 
 
 Hanau, 269 
 
 Hapsburg, 95, 323, 324 
 
 Haslach, 306 
 
 Hatto, Bishop, 230-233, 257-95S 
 
 Hei lelberg, 248, 276-280, 317 
 
 Heimburg, 220 
 
 Heine, 16, 202 
 
 Heinrich, 157-158, 184-185 
 
 Heinrich of Saxony, 257-258 
 
 Heinrich of Sonneck, 221-222 
 
 Heinzelmannchen, 71-72 
 
 Heisterbach, 112-118, 120 
 
 Helena, 57, 67 
 
 Helena, St., Convent of, 141 
 
 Helfenstein, 262-263 
 
 Henneberg, Count and Countess of, 
 
 5-7 
 Henry, 177-178, 179 
 Henry T , the Fowler, lo 
 Henrv if 311 
 I1 .of England, 210 
 
 1 • u, 293-294 
 
 \ 
 1 ■ ■ , 213-214 
 
 )2-303 
 
 livr 
 
 It 
 
 :'7 
 
 Hoheneck, 220 
 
 Holbein, 311-313 
 
 Holland, 323 
 
 HOllenhaken, 323 
 
 Holy Grail, 17-21 
 
 Holy Land, 119, 237, 332 
 
 Holy Sepulcher, 118, 152, 195 
 
 Homberg, Count of, 23, 25 
 
 H6rselberg, 308 
 
 Hreidmar, 29-31 
 
 Hugo, 216-217 
 
 Hugo of Langenstein, 325-326 
 
 Hunaland, 31 
 
 Hungary, 323, 327 
 
 Huns, 41, 59. 60, 153, 154, 291-292 
 
 Huss, 272 
 
 Ida, 320 
 
 Illyria, 293 
 
 Ingelheim, 83, 194, 230, 231, 245, 
 
 247-248, 277 
 Inquisition, 100 
 Irmengarde, 260-261 
 Isenland, 33-38 
 Isenstein, 34 
 Italy, 322 
 
 Itha of Toggenburg, 331-333 
 Ittenbach, 129 
 
 J 
 
 James I. of England, 277 
 Jan, 5 
 
 Jean of Steinbach, 298-300 
 "crusalem, 57-58 
 
 esuits, 105-107 
 
 ohannisberg, 243, 244 
 ^ohn, 7 
 
 John, St., 12, 2^j, 244, 256 
 John Lackland, 294 
 John William T It tor, 45 
 John of Suabia, 323 
 Jordan, 8 
 
 Jost von Buhl, 67-68 
 Joyeuse, 88, 90 
 Julian, 109 
 Jupiter, 109, 300 
 
 K 
 
 Kaiscrsiautern, 280-282 
 Karl, Count, 286-287 
 Karlsnihe, 286-287 
 
 Katze. 196 
 
 Katzenellenbogen, 195-196 
 Kedrich, 249-250 
 Kempten, 244 
 Kevlaar, 13-16 
 Klingenberg, 215 
 Knebel, 66 
 
 Knights Templar, 167-169 
 Konigsfelden, 323 
 Kdnigsstuhl, 174-175 
 Konigswinter, 118 
 Kreuzberg, 107-108 
 Kreuznach, 234, 236 
 Kriemhild, 36-41, 271 
 Kunibert, 61, 70 
 Kuno of Reichenstein, 223-225 
 Kuno of Sayn, 259-261 
 Kurt von Stein, 140-141 
 Kyffhauser, 280 
 
 Laach, 145-147 
 
 Lady's Sand, 3 
 
 Lahn, 165-167 
 
 Lahneck, 167-169 
 
 Lallenkonig, 310-311 
 
 Landolf, 315-316 
 
 Landskrone, 134-136 
 
 Lange Winkel, 244-246 
 
 Laufen, 325 
 
 Laura, 184-185 
 
 Leipsic, 282 
 
 Leonard, 314 
 
 Leopold of Austria, 293-294 
 
 Leyden, 87 
 
 Liba, 121-122, 226-228 
 
 Libo von Lorch, 249-251 
 
 Liebenstein, 183-'*' 5 
 
 Limmat, 305 
 
 Linz, 132, 148 
 
 Lochheim, 40-41 
 
 Lohengrin, 17-21 
 
 Loki, 29-31 
 
 Longfellow, 89, 309 
 
 Lorch, 218-219, 249, 250-251 
 
 Lorelei, 199-206, 208, 209 
 
 Loreleiberg, 199 
 
 Louis L, the Debonnaire, 155 
 
 Louis the German, 252 
 
 Louis XIV., 277 
 
 Louis v., 230 
 
 Lousberg, 87 
 
 L6wenberg, 11 1, 122 
 Ludwig, Count, 203 
 Ludwig the Cruel, 177 
 Luftelberg, 98-99 
 LUfthilde, 98-99 
 Ltilsdorf, 96-98 
 Luneburg, 16 
 Luther, 272-277 
 LUttich, 25-26 
 
 Magi, 56 
 
 Main, 215, 253, 259, 263-265 
 
 Mainau, 325-326 
 
 Mainz, 48, 82, 139, 144, 168, 313, 
 
 230, 253-258 
 Mai Trank, 319 
 Marceau, General, 157 
 Margaretha, 319-322 
 Maria, 177-178 
 Marienberg, 183 
 Market Place, Bonn, 105- 107 
 Marksburg, 177-178 
 Marquis of Campo Santo, 322 
 Mars, 300 
 
 Martyrs, Church of the, 67 
 Mary the Virgin, 14-16, 65, 68, 72, 
 
 73, 254-255, 270-271 
 Maso, 172-174 
 Maternus, 67, 70 
 Mathilda, 75-77 
 Mausethurm, 230 
 Maxentius, 138 
 Maximilian, 96, 272- 274 
 Mayence, see Mainz. 
 Meister Hammerling, 128 
 Melanchthon, 272 
 Memory, 34 
 
 Mengis von Aducht, 6S-69 
 Mercury, 300 
 Merovig, 147 
 
 Merovingians, 148, 190, 220 
 Metternich, 241-244 
 Milan, 56 
 Milon, 93, 94 
 Mimer, 26-31 
 Mina, 1 18-120, 1 72-1 74 
 Minorites, Church of the. 61 
 Miserabelchen, 159 
 Molay, Jacques, 168 
 Montsalvat, 17, 21 
 Mort, Michel, 236 
 
34^ 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mosbach, 252 
 
 Moselle, 157, 158, 159, 160, 163, 164, 
 
 165 
 Moses, 57 
 Mouse, the, 196 
 MUller, 129 
 Mtimmel, 292-293 
 Mlimmelchen, 292, 293 
 MUmmelsee, 292-293 
 Murg, 289 
 
 N 
 
 Nalie, 234, 239, 255 
 
 Napoleon, 156, 214, 282 
 
 Neckar, 276 
 
 Nessler, 316 
 
 Netherlands, 9, 12, 26, 27, 41 
 
 Neu-Eberstein, 289-290 
 
 Neuenahr, no, 134-137 
 
 Niblung, 35 
 
 Nibelungen hoard, 272 
 
 Nibelungen land, 34-41 
 
 Nibelungenlied, 41, 272 
 
 Nicholas, St., 312, 240-241 
 
 Nidberg, 333-334 
 
 N'ldeck, 306 
 
 Niederburg, 241 
 
 ^ !' rheimbach, 220 
 
 '^'5 stein, 165-167 
 
 H. 153-154 
 /alley, 124 
 
 ObeiMlMni, agiHigt 
 
 Obcrstein, 239 
 
 Oberwesel, 203, 206-207, 215 
 
 Ockenfels, 132, 133 
 
 ^Id. 40-41 
 * ^ ■'. ~ ^ - 32, 33. 34, 35. 36, 133 
 
 ' 'fc,b<^r^^**-'*"j ' .- ^'^ 
 
 Othmar, 169-172 
 Otter, 29-30 
 Otto, 22-25 
 Otto I., 288, 289 
 Otto III.. 75-77, 88 
 Otto of Hammerstein, 144 
 Otto of Wittelsbach, 276 
 
 Palatine, 203, 212 
 
 Palestine, 72. 152. 182, 195, 243 
 
 Paradise, 57, 60, 66, H2, 115 
 
 Parsifal, 17, 2 1 
 
 Pepin the Short, 148 
 
 Perkeo, 279-280 
 
 Persia, 58 
 
 Peter, St., 25-26, 67, 119-120, 
 
 158-159, 256 
 Peter, Archbishop of Mainz, 168 
 Pfafers, 334 
 Pfaffenthor, 74-75 
 Pfalz, 205, 212-214 
 Pfalzgrafenstein, 212 
 Pharamond, 220 
 Philip IV., 167 
 
 Philip of Falkenstein, 209-2II 
 Philip of Hesse, 272 
 Philippsburg, 285-286 
 Planche, 109 
 Plectrude, 64 
 Polydore, 298-300 
 
 O 
 
 . >^*^ 
 
 15^ 
 
 Queen of Shcba, 57 
 
 Radbod,8-9 
 Raging Host, 123 
 Ramersdorf, ill 
 Ran, 30 
 
 Rankenbcrg, I 85-187 
 Rankwyl, 315, 316 
 Rat Tower, 230, 233, 242 
 Regin, 28-33 
 Reichenberg, 198-199 
 Reichenstein, 223-225 
 Rcmagen, 129 
 Remi, St., 98 
 Rcuchlin, 27a 
 Reuss, 335 
 
 INDEX, 
 
 349 
 
 Rheidt, 79 
 
 Rheims, 98 
 
 R heinbreitbach, 127-129 
 
 Rheincronik, 61 
 
 Kheindiebach, 217 
 
 Rheineck, 142-143 
 
 Rheinfelden, 323 
 
 Rheinfels, 196 
 
 Rheingrafenstein, 234-235 
 
 Rheinhard von Renneberg, 132-133 
 
 Rheinhold, 118 
 
 Rheinstein, 223-225, 229-230 
 
 Rhense, 174-175 
 
 Richard of Cornwall, 2IO-2II 
 
 Richard, Lion Heart, 293-294 
 
 Richmodis, 68-69 
 
 Ritza, St., 155-156 
 
 Robert, 295, 296 
 
 Rodenkirchen, 63, 80 
 
 Rodenstein, 274-275, 280 
 
 Roland, 93, 94, 123-127 
 
 Rolandseck, 127 
 
 Rome, 59-61, 67, 139, 143, 239, 307- 
 
 308, 322 
 Roncevaux, 125 
 Rose Garden, 41 
 Rouen, 294 
 Rlidesheim, 240-243 
 Rudo-lf of Linz, 132-133 
 Rudolph of Hapsburg, 181-182, 31 1 
 Rupert, Prince, 175 
 Ruthelm, Sir, 250 
 
 Sabine, 130-132 
 
 Sabine of Stcinbach, 298-300 
 
 Sakingen, 315-322 
 
 Saracens, I18-I19, 125, 149, 164, 183, 
 
 195, 241, 242, 325 
 Sargans, 333 
 Saturn, 300 
 Saveme, see Zabem. 
 Savonarola, 272 
 Saxons, 263-264 
 Saxony, 273 
 Sayn, 151-153 
 Schaffhausen, 324-325 
 Scheffel, 316 
 Schiller, 323, 333 
 Schlossberg, 236 
 Sch6nberg, 207-209 
 Schott von GrUnstein, 122 
 
 Schweitz, 323 
 
 Scot, 62 
 
 Scotia, 61 
 
 Seidl, 56 
 
 Sempach, 323 
 
 Seth, 56-57 
 
 Seven Mountains, 54, 117-^123 
 
 Severinus, 70 
 
 Shiblung, 35 
 
 Siebengebirge, see Seven Mountains. 
 
 Siegfried, 26-41, 123, 271 
 
 Siegfried of Austrasi a, T49-151 
 
 Sigcbert, 193 
 
 Sigelind, 26 
 
 Sigmund, 26 
 
 Sinzig, 138-139 
 
 Sitter, 327 
 
 Sonneck, 221-222 
 
 Snowe, 97 
 
 Solomon, 57 
 
 Spain, 100, loi 
 
 Spcyer, 118, 282-284, 288 
 
 Spires, see Speyer. 
 
 Spohn, Corporal, 156 
 
 Sponheim, 236-238 
 
 Sprendlingen, 234 
 
 Stahleck, 203, 215, 276 
 
 St. ApoUinarisberg, 129-132 
 
 Stavoren, 1-4 
 
 Stein, Countess of, 215, 255-256 
 
 Stcrrenberj^, 183-185 
 
 St. Gall, 328-331 
 
 St. Mary of the Angels, 332 
 
 St. Mary of the Capitol, 64 
 
 St. Peter's Church, 322 
 
 Stolzenfcls, 169-174 
 
 Strasburg, 48, 296-306 
 
 Suabia, Duke of, 192 
 
 Sueno, 220 
 
 Swan Knight, 1 8-21 
 
 Switzerland, 60, 304-306 
 
 TannhSoser, 307-308 
 
 Tarnkappe, 35-3^ 
 Temple, 57 
 Teuerlich, Hans, 187 
 leutons, 98 
 Teutonic Knights, 326 
 Thebaid Legion. 67 
 Theonest, St., 212 
 Thionetus, 58 
 
35© 
 
 rN'DEX. 
 
 Thought, 54 
 1 hur, 327 
 Thuiant, 163-164 
 Thunngia, 308, 323 
 Thurnberg, 188, 196-198 
 Toggenburg, 331-333 
 Tolbiac, 98 
 Treuenfels, 121 
 Treves, 53, 163, 164, 193 
 Trier, see Treves 
 Trifels, 293-294 
 Turpin. 82-85 
 
 IJ 
 
 Ulrich, 139 
 
 Ulrich of Rheineck, 142-143 
 
 Ulrich of Buchhom, 327 
 Undine, 79-80 
 Unterwalden, 323 
 Urban, Pope, 307-308 
 Uri, 323 
 
 Urso, Count, 315-316 
 Ursula, St., 58-61 
 Ute, 37 
 
 •I j> 
 
 -too, 307-308 
 ^^ount of, 236-238 
 Vienna, 88 
 
 Villich, 99-100, 109, 120 
 Vindeck, 197 
 Vindonissa, 323 
 Vionetus, 58 
 Volsung country, 32 
 Vosges, 288 
 
 W 
 
 Waal, 9 
 Wagner, 308 
 Waldus, 272 
 
 WalpUrgisnacht, 142, 228 
 
 Walther von Birbach, 270-1^ 
 
 Wartburg, 308 
 
 Wasen, 335 
 
 Waterloo, 214 
 
 Welmich, 196 
 
 Wenceslaus. 174-175 
 
 Werlau, 190-193 
 
 Werner, 207 
 
 Werner, St., 215 
 
 Werner of Hapsburg, 297-298 
 
 Werner of Sakingen, 317-322 
 
 Wild Hunt, 123 
 
 Wild Huntsman, 274-275 
 
 Willeswind, 169-172 
 
 William, 13 
 
 William of Holland, 62-63 
 
 William Tell, 323 
 
 Will-o'-the-Wisp, 80-81 
 
 Wind, 102-107 
 
 Wisperthal, 198, 218-219, 229, 249 
 
 250 
 Woden, 9 
 Wolf, 55 
 
 Wolf von Eberstein, 289 
 Wolkenberg, 11 9- 120 
 Wolkenburg, 11 9- 120 
 Wonder Bridge, 134-136 
 Worms, 36, 41, 70, 220, 271-274 
 WCrth, 325 
 WUrtemberg, 274 
 Wiirzburg, 215 
 Wyclif, 272 
 
 Xanten, 26-41 
 
 
 Zabem, 294-296 
 Zeeland, 323 
 Ztilpich, 98, 20 
 ZUndorf, 79-80 
 Zurich, 304-306 
 Zuyder Zee, 1-4 
 
 THE END. 
 
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