Lewis Spence - Hero Tales and Legends of the Rhine

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HERO TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE RHINE

By Lewis Spence (1874-1955)

Originally published: Hero tales & legends of the Rhine.

London; New York:

George C. Harrap, 1915.

CONTENTS:

INTRODUCTION
I TOPOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL
II THE RHINE IN FOLKLORE AND LITERATURE
III CLEVES TO THE LOeWENBURG
IV DRACHENFELS TO RHEINSTEIN
V FALKENBURG TO AUERBACH
VI WORMS AND THE NIBELUNGENLIED
VII HEIDELBERG TO SAeCKINGEN

INTRODUCTION

An abundance of literature exists on the subject of the Rhine and its
legends, but with few exceptions the works on it which are accessible
to English-speaking peoples are antiquated in spirit and verbiage, and
their authors have been content to accept the first version of such
legends and traditions as came their way without submitting them to
any critical examination. It is claimed for this book that much of its
matter was collected on the spot, or that at least most of the
tales here presented were perused in other works at the scene of the
occurrences related. This volume is thus something more than a
mere compilation, and when it is further stated that only the most
characteristic and original versions and variants of the many tales here
given have gained admittance to the collection, its value will become
apparent.

It is, of course, no easy task to infuse a spirit of originality into
matter which has already achieved such a measure of celebrity as have
these wild and wondrous tales of Rhineland. But it is hoped that the
treatment to which these stories have been subjected is not without a
novelty of its own. One circumstance may be alluded to as characteristic
of the manner of their treatment in this work. In most English books
on Rhine legend the tales themselves are presented in a form so brief,
succinct, and uninspiring as to rob them entirely of that mysterious
glamour lacking which they become mere material by which to add to and
illustrate the guide-book. The absence of the romantic spirit in most
English and American compilations dealing with the Rhine legends is
noteworthy, and in writing this book the author's intention has been to
supply this striking defect by retaining as much of the atmosphere
of mystery so dear to the German heart as will convey to the
English-speaking reader a true conception of the spirit of German
legend.

But it is not contended that because greater space and freedom of
narrative scope than is usual has been taken by the author the volume
would not prove itself an acceptable companion upon a voyage on Rhine
waters undertaken in holiday times of peace. Indeed, every attempt has
been made so to arrange the legends that they will illustrate a Rhine
journey from sea to source--the manner in which the majority of visitors
to Germany will make the voyage--and to this end the tales have been
marshalled in such form that a reader sitting on the deck of a Rhine
steamer may be able to peruse the legends relating to the various
localities in their proper order as he passes them. There are included,
however, several tales relating to places which cannot be viewed from
the deck of a steamer, but which may be visited at the cost of a short
inland excursion. These are such as from their celebrity could not be
omitted from any work on the legends of Rhineland, but they are few in
number.

The historical development, folklore, poetry, and art of the
Rhine-country have been dealt with in a special introductory chapter.
The history of the Rhine basin is a complicated and uneven one, chiefly
consisting in the rapid and perplexing rise and fall of dynasties and
the alternate confiscation of one or both banks of the devoted stream
to the empires of France or Germany. But the evolution of a reasoned
narrative has been attempted from this chaotic material, and, so far
as the author is aware, it is the only one existing in English. The
folklore and romance elements in Rhine legend have been carefully
examined, and the best poetic material upon the storied river has been
critically collected and reviewed. To those who may one day visit the
Rhine it is hoped that the volume may afford a suitable introduction to
a fascinating field of travel, while to such as have already viewed
its glories it may serve to renew old associations and awaken cherished
memories of a river without peer or parallel in its wealth of story, its
boundless mystery, and the hold which it has exercised upon all who
have lingered by the hero-trodden paths that wind among its mysterious
promontories and song-haunted strands.

--L.S.

CHAPTER I--TOPOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL

There are many rivers whose celebrity is of much greater antiquity than
that of the Rhine. The Nile and the Ganges are intimately associated
with the early history of civilization and the mysterious beginnings
of wisdom; the Tiber is eloquent of that vanished Empire which was
the first to carry the torch of advancement into the dark places of
barbarian Europe; the name of the Jordan is sacred to thousands as that
first heard in infancy and linked with lives and memories divine. But,
universal as is the fame of these rivers, none of them has awakened in
the breasts of the dwellers on their banks such a fervent devotion,
such intense enthusiasm, or such a powerful patriotic appeal as has the
Rhine, at once the river, the frontier, and the palladium of the German
folk.

The Magic of the Rhine

But the appeal is wider, for the Rhine is peculiarly the home of a
legendary mysticism almost unique. Those whose lives are spent in their
creation and interpretation know that song and legend have a particular
affinity for water. Hogg, the friend of Shelley, was wont to tell how
the bright eyes of his comrade would dilate at the sight of even a
puddle by the roadside. Has water a hypnotic attraction for certain
minds? Be that as it may, there has crystallized round the great
waterways of the world a traditionary lore which preserves the thought
and feeling of the past, and retains many a circumstance of wonder and
marvel from olden epochs which the modern world could ill have spared.

Varied and valuable as are the traditional tales of other streams, none
possess that colour of intensity and mystery, that spell of ancient
profundity which belong to the legends of the Rhine. In perusing these
we feel our very souls plunged in darkness as that of the carven gloom
of some Gothic cathedral or the Cimmerian depths of some ancient forest
unpierced by sun-shafts. It is the Teutonic mystery which has us in
its grip, a thing as readily recognizable as the Celtic glamour or the
Egyptian gloom--a thing of the shadows of eld, stern, ancient, of a
ponderous fantasy, instinct with the spirit of nature, of dwarfs,
elves, kobolds, erlkings, the wraiths and shades of forest and flood, of
mountain and mere, of castled height and swift whirlpool, the denizens
of the deep valleys and mines, the bergs and heaths of this great
province of romance, this rich satrapy of Faery.

A Land of Legend

Nowhere is legend so thickly strewn as on the banks of the Rhine. Each
step is eloquent of tradition, each town, village, and valley. No hill,
no castle but has its story, true or legendary. The Teuton is easily the
world's master in the art of conserving local lore. As one speeds down
the broad breast of this wondrous river, gay with summer and flushed
with the laughter of early vineyards, so close is the network of legend
that the swiftly read or spoken tale of one locality is scarce over ere
the traveller is confronted by another. It is a surfeit of romance, an
inexhaustible hoard of the matter of marvel.

This noble stream with its wealth of tradition has made such a powerful
impression upon the national imagination that it has become intimate in
the soul of the people and commands a reverence and affection which
is not given by any other modern nation to its greatest and most
characteristic river. The Englishman has only a mitigated pride in the
Thames, as a great commercial asset or, its metropolitan borders once
passed, a river of peculiarly restful character; the Frenchman evinces
no very great enthusiasm toward the Seine; and if there are many Spanish
songs about the "chainless Guadalquivir," the dons have been content
to retain its Arabic name. But what German heart does not thrill at the
name of the Rhine? What German cheek does not flush at the sound of that
mighty thunder-hymn which tells of his determination to preserve the
river of his fathers at the cost of his best blood? Nay, what man of
patriotic temperament but feels a responsive chord awake within him
at the thought of that majestic song, so stern, so strong, "clad in
armour," vibrant with the clang of swords, instinct with the universal
accord of a united people? To those who have heard it sung by
multitudinous voices to the accompaniment of golden harps and silver
trumpets it is a thing which can never be forgotten, this world-song
that is at once a hymn of union, a song of the deepest love of country,
a defiance and an intimation of resistance to the death.

The Song of the 'Iron Chancellor'

How potent Die Wacht am Rhein is to stir the hearts of the children of
the Fatherland is proven abundantly by an apposite story regarding the
great Bismarck, the 'man of blood and iron.' The scene is the German
Reichstag, and the time is that curious juncture in history when the
Germans, having realized that union is strength, were beginning to weld
together the petty kingdoms and duchies of which their mighty empire
was once composed. Gradually this task was becoming accomplished, and
meanwhile Germany grew eager to assert her power in Europe, wherefore
her rulers commenced to create a vast army. But Bismarck was not
satisfied, and in his eyes Germany's safety was still unassured; so
he appealed to the Reichstag to augment largely their armaments. The
deputies looked at him askance, for a vast army meant ruinous taxation;
even von Moltke and von Roon shook their heads, well aware though they
were that a great European conflict might break out at any time; and,
in short, Bismarck's proposal was met by a determined negative from
the whole House. "Ach, mein Gott!" he cried, holding out his hands in a
superb gesture of despair. "Ach, mein Gott! but these soldiers we must
have." His hearers still demurred, reminding him that the people far and
near were groaning under the weight of taxation, and assuring him that
this could not possibly be increased, when he suddenly changed his
despairing gesture for a martial attitude, and with sublime eloquence
recited the lines:

"Es braust ein Ruf wie Donnerhall,
Wie Schwertgeklirr und Wogenprall;
Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutschen Rhein,
Wer will die Stroemes Hueter sein?
Lieb Vaterland, magst ruhig sein,
Fest steht und treu die Wacht am Rhein."

The effect was magical; the entire House resounded with cheers, and the
most unbounded enthusiasm prevailed. And ere the members dispersed
they had told Bismarck he might have, not ten thousand, but a hundred
thousand soldiers, such was the power of association awakened by this
famous hymn, such the spell it is capable of exercising on German
hearers.

Topography of the Rhine

Ere we set sail upon the dark sea of legend before us it is necessary
that, like prudent mariners, we should know whence and whither we are
faring. To this end it will be well that we should glance briefly at
the topography of the great river we are about to explore, and that we
should sketch rapidly the most salient occurrences in the strange
and varied pageant of its history, in order that we may the better
appreciate the wondrous tales of worldwide renown which have found birth
on its banks.

Although the most German of rivers, the Rhine does not run its entire
course through German territory, but takes its rise in Switzerland and
finds the sea in Holland. For no less than 233 miles it flows through
Swiss country, rising in the mountains of the canton of Grisons, and
irrigates every canton of the Alpine republic save that of Geneva.
Indeed, it waters over 14,000 square miles of Swiss territory in the
flow of its two main branches, the Nearer Rhine and the Farther Rhine,
which unite at Reichenau, near Coire. The Nearer Rhine issues at the
height of over 7000 feet from the glaciers of the Rheinwaldhorn
group, and flows for some thirty-five miles, first in a north-easterly
direction through the Rheinwald Valley, then northward through the
Schams Valley, by way of the Via Mala gorge, and Tomleschg Valley, and
so to Reichenau, where it is joined by its sister stream, the Farther
Rhine. The latter, rising in the little Alpine lake of Toma near the
Pass of St. Gotthard, flows in a north-easterly direction to Reichenau.
The Nearer Rhine is generally considered to be the more important
branch, though the Farther Rhine is the longer by some seven miles. From
Reichenau the Rhine flows north-eastward to Coire, and thence northward
to the Lake of Constance, receiving on its way two tributaries, the
Landquart and the Ill, both on the right bank. Indeed, from source to
sea the Rhine receives a vast number of tributaries, amounting, with
their branches, to over 12,000. Leaving the Lake of Constance at the
town of that name, the river flows westward to Basel, having as
the principal towns on its banks Constance, Schaffhausen, Waldshut,
Laufenburg, Saeckingen, Rheinfelden, and Basel.

Not far from the town of Schaffhausen the river precipitates itself from
a height of 60 feet, in three leaps, forming the famous Falls of the
Rhine. At Coblentz a strange thing happens, for at this place the river
receives the waters of the Aar, swollen by the Reuss and the Limmat, and
of greater volume than the stream in which it loses itself.

It is at Basel that the Rhine, taking a northward trend, enters
Germany. By this time it has made a descent of nearly 7000 feet, and has
traversed about a third of its course. Between Basel and Mainz it flows
between the mountains of the Black Forest and the Vosges, the distance
between which forms a shallow valley of some width. Here and there it is
islanded, and its expanse averages about 1200 feet. The Taunus Mountains
divert it at Mainz, where it widens, and it flows westward for about
twenty miles, but at Bingen it once more takes its course northward, and
enters a narrow valley where the enclosing hills look down sheer upon
the water.

It is in this valley, probably one of the most romantic in the world,
that we find the legendary lore of the river packed in such richness
that every foot of its banks has its place in tradition. But that is not
to say that this portion of the Rhine is wanting in natural beauty. Here
are situated some of its sunniest vineyards, its most wildly romantic
heights, and its most picturesque ruins. This part of its course may be
said to end at the Siebengebirge, or 'Seven Mountains,' where the river
again widens and the banks become more bare and uninteresting. Passing
Bonn and Cologne, the bareness of the landscape is remarkable after the
variety of that from which we have just emerged, and henceforward the
river takes on what may be called a 'Dutch' appearance. After entering
Holland it divides into two branches, the Waal flowing to the west and
uniting with the Maas. The smaller branch to the right is still called
the Rhine, and throws off another branch, the Yssel, which flows into
the Zuider Zee. Once more the river bifurcates into insignificant
streams, one of which is called the Kromme Rijn, and beyond Utrecht, and
under the name of the Oude Rijn, or Old Rhine, it becomes so stagnant
that it requires the aid of a canal to drain it into the sea. Anciently
the Rhine at this part of its course was an abounding stream, but by the
ninth century the sands at Katwijk had silted it up, and it was only in
the beginning of last century that its way to the sea was made clear.

The Sunken City

More than six centuries ago Stavoren was one of the chief commercial
towns of Holland. Its merchants traded with all parts of the world, and
brought back their ships laden with rich cargoes, and the city became
ever more prosperous.

The majority of the people of Stavoren were well-to-do, and as their
wealth increased they became luxurious and dissipated, each striving to
outdo the others in the magnificence of their homes and the extravagance
of their hospitality.

Many of their houses, we are told, were like the palaces of princes,
built of white marble, furnished with the greatest sumptuousness, and
decorated with the costliest hangings and the rarest statuary.

But, says the legend, of all the Stavoren folk there was none
wealthier than young Richberta. This maiden owned a fleet of the finest
merchant-vessels of the city, and loved to ornament her palace with the
rich merchandise which these brought from foreign ports. With all her
jewels and gold and silver treasures, however, Richberta was not happy.
She gave gorgeous banquets to the other merchant-princes of the place,
each more magnificent than the last, not because she received any
pleasure from thus dispensing hospitality, but because she desired to
create envy and astonishment in the breasts of her guests.

On one occasion while such a feast was in progress Richberta was
informed that a stranger was waiting without who was desirous of
speaking with her. When she was told that the man had come all the way
from a distant land simply to admire her wonderful treasures, of which
he had heard so much, the maiden was highly flattered and gave orders
that he should be admitted without delay. An aged and decrepit man, clad
in a picturesque Eastern costume, was led into the room, and Richberta
bade him be seated at her side. He expected to receive from the young
lady the symbol of welcome--bread and salt. But no such common fare was
to be found on her table--all was rich and luxurious food.

The stranger seated himself in silence. At length he began to talk. He
had travelled in many lands, and now he told of his changing fortunes
in these far-off countries, always drawing a moral from his
adventures--that all things earthly were evanescent as the dews of
morning. The company listened attentively to the discourse of the sage;
all, that is, but their hostess, who was angry and disappointed that he
had said no word of the wealth and magnificence displayed in her palace,
the rich fare on her table, and all the signs of luxury with which he
was surrounded. At length she could conceal her chagrin no longer, and
asked the stranger directly whether he had ever seen such splendour in
his wanderings as that he now beheld.

"Tell me," she said, "is there to be found in the courts of your Eastern
kings such rare treasures as these of mine?"

"Nay," replied the sage, "they have no pearls and rich embroideries to
match thine. Nevertheless, there is one thing missing from your board,
and that the best and most valuable of all earthly gifts."

In vain Richberta begged that he would tell her what that most precious
of treasures might be. He answered all her inquiries in an evasive
manner, and at last, when her question could no longer be evaded, he
rose abruptly and left the room. And, seek as she might, Richberta could
find no trace of her mysterious visitor.

Richberta strove to discover the meaning of the old man's words. She was
rich--she possessed greater treasures than any in Stavoren, at a time
when that city was among the wealthiest in Europe--and yet she lacked
the most precious of earth's treasures. The memory of the words galled
her pride and excited her curiosity to an extraordinary pitch. In vain
she asked the wise men of her time--the priests and philosophers--to
read her the riddle of the mysterious traveller. None could name a
treasure that was not already hers.

In her anxiety to obtain the precious thing, whatever it might be,
Richberta sent all her ships to sea, telling the captain of each not
to return until he had found some treasure that she did not already
possess. The vessels were victualled for seven years, so that the
mariners might have ample time in which to pursue their quest. So their
commander sent one division of the fleet to the east, another to the
west, while he left his own vessel to the hazard of the winds, letting
it drift wheresoever the fates decreed. His ship as well as the others
was laden heavily with provisions, and during the first storm they
encountered it was necessary to cast a considerable portion of the food
overboard, so that the ship might right itself. As it was, the remaining
provisions were so damaged by the sea-water that they rotted in a few
days and became unfit for food. A pestilence would surely follow the use
of such unwholesome stuff, and consequently the entire cargo of bread
had to be cast into the sea.

The commander saw his crew ravaged by the dreaded scurvy, suffering from
the lack of bread. Then only did he begin to perceive the real meaning
of the sage's words. The most valuable of all earthly treasures was not
the pearls from the depths of the sea, gold or silver from the heart of
the mountains, nor the rich spices of the Indies. The most common of all
earth's, products, that which was to be found in every country, which
flourished in every clime, on which the lives of millions depended--this
was the greatest treasure, and its name was--bread.

Having reached this conclusion, the commander of Richberta's fleet set
sail for a Baltic port, where he took on board a cargo of corn, and
returned immediately to Stavoren.

Richberta was astonished and delighted to see that he had achieved his
purpose so soon, and bade him tell her of what the treasure consisted
which he had brought with him. The commander thereupon recounted his
adventures--the storm, the throwing overboard of their store of bread,
and the consequent sufferings of the crew--and told how he at length
discovered what was the greatest treasure on earth, the priceless
possession which the stranger had looked for in vain at her rich board.
It was bread, he said simply, and the cargo he had brought home was
corn.

Richberta was beside herself with passion. When she had recovered
herself sufficiently to speak she asked him:

"At which side of the ship did you take in the cargo?"

"At the right side," he replied.

"Then," she exclaimed angrily, "I order you to cast it into the sea from
the left side."

It was a cruel decision. Stavoren, like every other city, had its quota
of poor families, and these were in much distress at the time, many of
them dying from sheer starvation. The cargo of corn would have provided
bread for them throughout the whole winter, and the commander urged
Richberta to reconsider her decision. As a last resort he sent the
barefooted children of the city to her, thinking that their mute misery
would move her to alleviate their distress and give them the shipload
of corn. But all was in vain. Richberta remained adamantine, and in full
view of the starving multitude she had the precious cargo cast into the
sea.

But the curses of the despairing people had their effect. Far down in
the bed of the sea the grains of corn germinated, and a harvest of bare
stalks grew until it reached the surface of the water. The shifting
quicksands at the bottom of the sea were bound together by the
overspreading stalks into a mighty sand-bank which rose above the
surface in front of the town of Stavoren.

No longer were the merchant-vessels able to enter the harbour, for
it was blocked by the impassable bank. Nay, instead of finding refuge
there, many a ship was dashed to pieces by the fury of the breakers, and
Stavoren became a place of ill-fame to the mariner.

All the wealth and commerce of this proud city were at an end. Richberta
herself, whose wanton act had raised the sand-bank, had her ships
wrecked there one by one, and was reduced to begging for bread in the
city whose wealthiest inhabitant she had once been. Then, perhaps, she
could appreciate the words of the old traveller, that bread was the
greatest of earthly treasures.

At last the ocean, dashing against the huge mound with ever-increasing
fury, burst through the dyke which Richberta had raised, overwhelmed the
town, and buried it for ever under the waves.

And now the mariner, sailing on the Zuider Zee, passes above the
engulfed city and sees with wonderment the towers and spires of the
'Sunken Land.'

Historical Sketch

Like other world-rivers, the Rhine has attracted to its banks a
succession of races of widely divergent origin. Celt, Teuton, Slav, and
Roman have contested for the territories which it waters, and if the
most enduring of these races has finally achieved dominion over the
fairest river-province in Europe, who shall say that it has emerged from
the struggle as a homogeneous people, having absorbed none of the blood
of those with whom it strove for the lordship of this vine-clad valley?
He would indeed be a courageous ethnologist who would suggest a purely
Germanic origin for the Rhine race. As the historical period dawns upon
Middle Europe we find the Rhine basin in the possession of a people of
Celtic blood. As in Britain and France, this folk has left its indelible
mark upon the countryside in a wealth of place-names embodying its
characteristic titles for flood, village, and hill. In such prefixes and
terminations as magh, brig, dun, and etc we espy the influence of Celtic
occupants, and Maguntiacum, or Mainz, and Borbetomagus, or Worms, are
examples of that 'Gallic' idiom which has indelibly starred the map of
Western Europe.

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