Legends of the Rhine | Page 3

RHINE
The Last Hohenrätier
[Illustration: Der letzte Hohenrätier--Nach dem Gemälde von E.
Stückelberg]
The Domleschg valley was formerly the scene of bitter feuds, and is
mentioned in the struggle for freedom by the Swiss peasants of the
ancient Bund, some five hundred years ago. There stood the castle of
the Hohenrätier.

The last descendant of the degenerate race on the high Realt was rightly
feared in the whole district. He was the terror of the peaceful
inhabitants of the district, and harried not only them but also merchants
and pilgrims who passed along the highway below.
The wrath against this unchivalrous wickedness increased mightily.
One day this man perpetrated a daring deed of violence.
Whilst on an excursion into the valley he had discovered a charming
maid who sought berries in a lonely wood. In his wicked eagerness he
dragged the maiden on to his horse and fled. Amusing himself with her
lamentations, he carried his booty up the steep castle hill.
A poacher had observed the occurrence and alarmed the inhabitants of
the village. They carried the intelligence without delay into the
Domleschg.
The oppressed people around then rose and joining together approached
the castle that very night. Having felled giant trees they threw a bridge
over the moat, cast firebrands into the interior, and stormed into the
castle-yard through gaps in the gates and walls.
Then the baron appeared mounted on his war-horse, driven out of his
abode by tongues of flame.
Before him he held the captured maiden, and in the light of the
conflagration his naked sword glittered in his right hand.
Dealing mighty blows on both sides he forced his horse forward (the
eyes of which had been bound), intending to make a way down the hill.
But the living wall of peasants was impenetrable.
Quickly making his resolution the knight rushed to the side where the
wall of rock fell some seven hundred feet sheer into the youthful Rhine.
The foaming steed stood trembling in front of the yawning abyss. The
shout of the multitude echoed into the night. Thousands of arms were
instantly stretched towards the river and one of them at the last moment

succeeded in snatching his prey from the robber, just as the steed
tortured and bleeding from sword and spur hurled itself with a mighty
spring into the depths below. So ended the last of the Hohenrätiers.
In the dawn only the smoking ruins of the proud castle remained, and
the morning bells announced to the peasants that their long desired
freedom had been won.
These ruins are situated on the Hinter Rhine above Thusis, and it is said
that the last Hohenrätier, like many others of the former tyrants of the
Rätigau, yearly on St. John's Eve (when this event occurred) may be
seen riding round the fallen walls of his castle, clad in black armour
which emits glowing sparks.

BODENSEE
The Island of Mainau
For many hundreds of years the names of the Masters of Bodmann
have been very closely connected with the island in the lake of Boden.
At first the island was in the possession of this noble race, but later on,
in the thirteenth century, it passed into the hands of an order of German
Knights. A legend relates the story to us of how this change came to
pass.
About this time the whole of this magnificent property was held in
possession by a youthful maiden, who had inherited this beautiful
island with all its many charms. As may be supposed, the wooers for
the lovely maiden's hand and inheritance became very numerous. She,
however, had made her own choice, and it had fallen upon a nobleman
from Langenstein.
Every evening when the sun was sinking down into the golden waters,
this maiden walked along the strand watching and listening for some
longed-for sound. Then the measured splash of an oar would be heard
approaching in the twilight, and a little boat would be drawn up on the
shore, a youthful boatman would spring joyfully forth, and lovingly

greet the maiden. There this pair of lovers wove dreams about the time
from which only a short period now separated them, when they should
belong openly to each other before the world.
The nobleman landed one evening as usual, but this time his heart was
depressed and sorrowful; he informed his betrothed mournfully that his
father, who was then suffering agony from gout, had once taken a vow
to God and to the emperor that he would go on a crusade to the Holy
Land, but being unable to fulfil his oath, he laid it to his son's charge to
carry it out as he meant to have done.
The maiden wept bitterly on hearing these unexpected tidings.
"Trust me and the Powers on high, I