DONAUWÖRTH TO RATISBON
“... the Walhalla rises, purely white;
Temple of Fame for all Germania’s great,
A splendid beacon on a leafy height,
To hearten men below to dedicate
Their service to the service of their land.”
_From the German_
From the old capital of the old dukedom to Ingoldstadt the river for
nearly forty miles finds its way through part of the Bavarian plain,
another broad-stretching Donaumoos, or marshland, which has, however,
been largely reclaimed and brought under cultivation. On the left bank
much of the ground is higher and well wooded. Near Lechsend, which is
on the left bank, the river Lechs comes in on the right--and a little
way inland in the same direction is the village of Rain, where in
March, 1632, the aged Bavarian General Tilly was mortally wounded in
seeking to stay the triumphant progress of Gustavus Adolphus. In the
following month Tilly died of his wounds at Ingoldstadt.
The village of Oberhausen on the right bank as the river nears Neuberg
is associated with the memory of a remarkable “common” soldier who fell
near there on June 21, 1800, and to whose memory a monument has there
been erected. This was La Tour d’Auvergne--presumably a member of the
family which had given France one of her most famous military leaders
in Turenne. It is said of d’Auvergne that he was “the darling of the
army, the model of modern chivalry--a second Bayard.” He refused to be
anything more than a common soldier, being satisfied with the title
granted him by Napoleon in consideration of his gallant exploits, of
“first grenadier of the French army.” “I am only proud,” said he, “of
serving my country; I care nothing for praise or honour; my reward is
in the consciousness of performing my duty; but thus to be praised to
my face, it hurts my feelings--that word ‘consideration’ will be the
torment of my life.” Having retired into private life during a period
of peace, d’Auvergne came forward when the son of one of his old
friends was drawn as a conscript, and insisted upon taking his place.
Thus it came about that he took part in the fight near Oberhausen when,
rushing ahead of his comrades to cut down the Austrian colour-bearer,
he was surrounded by the enemy and transfixed by a lancer who attacked
him from behind. “For three days the drums were covered with crape,
and on the first Vendémiaire, his sword of honour was suspended in the
Church of the Invalides at Paris. The forty-sixth demi-brigade from
that time forward carried his heart in a silver box suspended to the
colours of the regiment; and on every muster his name was recalled
in these terms--Remember La Tour d’Auvergne who died on the field of
honour!” A scrap of verses quoted by Dr. Beattie suggests that there
existed something of another romance than that of his death.
“‘Nay, heed not me,’ the hero cried,
And faintly waved his hand;
‘Back to the charge! till Austria’s pride
Be prostrate on the strand!
Cherish my fame--avenge my death;
To-day your laurels earn!
Glory survives the loss of breath--’
So died the brave d’Auvergne!
The tidings flew from line to line,
His comrades wept the while,
But what was all their grief to thine
Fair Blanche of Argentueil!”
The next place of note is Neuberg, a pleasant old town situated a few
miles below Oberhausen on hilly ground on the right. This was of old
the capital of a small principality; the handsome old castle rising
above the varied roofs on the lower part of the bank is now partly
used as a barracks, while the newer western portion erected in the
early part of the sixteenth century is utilised for housing the local
archives. The town is picturesquely placed, and has many antiquities
of interest. Beyond lie further stretches of the Donaumoos, the next
point with a history being the old and interesting town of Ingoldstadt
which was at one time a place of considerable importance as the seat
of a large university, founded in the latter half of the fifteenth
century. At the beginning of the nineteenth the university was removed
to Landshut and some years later to Munich. There are a number of
interesting old buildings in the town and in the Ober-Pfarr-Kirche
(1439) are to be seen monuments to Tilly and to Dr. Johann Eck,
the great controversial opponent of Martin Luther. I have seen it
recorded somewhere that the Duke of Marlborough, visiting Ingoldstadt
was presented with a portion of the skull of Oliver Cromwell. If the
incident be true, and the relic genuine, it would seem as though the
whole skull which was a few years ago much discussed as Cromwell’s
could scarcely have been his.
Below Ingoldstadt we have Mehring on the right bank and then on the
left Vohenburg, with a large ruined castle, at one time the seat of a
Margravate where the tragic marriage of Albert and Agnes, of which we
shall learn more at Straubing, took place. Then comes Pförring on the
left, and Neustadt on the right. At Pförring, Kriemhilda, bound for
the kingdom of the Huns and her marriage with Etzel, took leave of her
brothers:
“They rode as far as Pförring upon the Danube strand
Then of the queen began they kind quittance to demand
Since homeward they returning unto the Rhine would ride;
Nor might this without weeping ’twixt loving friends betide.”
Neustadt is a good railway centre for a beautiful and interesting
stretch of the river. A little below it on the same bank is Eining, a
small place at one time of great importance as having been for nearly
five centuries a frontier station of the Roman Empire, under the name
of Abrisina, and now worth visiting for its remains of that station.
Here was the junction of the military roads which connected the Roman
territory along the Danube with the Rhine and Gaul. On the opposite
side of the river is Hienheim from near which starts up the steep
hillside the great Limes Romanus--the wall which was built by the
Emperor Probus from the Danube to the Rhine, a wall according to Gibbon
nearly two hundred miles, and according to another authority nearly
three hundred and fifty miles in length. Says Gibbon:
“The country which now forms the circle of Swabia, had been left desert
in the age of Augustus by the emigration of its ancient inhabitants.
The fertility of the soil soon attracted a new colony from the adjacent
provinces of Gaul. Crowds of adventurers, of a roving temper and of
desperate fortunes, occupied the doubtful possession, and acknowledged
by the payment of tithes the majesty of the Empire. To protect these
new subjects a line of frontier garrisons was gradually extended from
the Rhine to the Danube. About the reign of Hadrian, when that mode
of defence began to be practised, these garrisons were connected and
covered by a strong entrenchment of trees and palisades. In place of
so rude a bulwark, the Emperor Probus constructed a stone wall of
a considerable height, and strengthened it by towers at convenient
distances. From the neighbourhood of Neustadt and Ratisbon on the
Danube, it stretched across hills, valleys, rivers and morasses, as far
as Wimpfen on the Neckar and at length terminated on the banks of the
Rhine after a winding course of near two hundred miles. This barrier,
uniting the two mighty streams that protected the provinces of Europe,
seemed to fill up the vacant space through which the barbarians, and
particularly the Allemanni, could penetrate with the greatest facility
into the heart of the Empire. But the experience of the world, from
China to Britain, has exposed the vain attempt of fortifying an
extensive tract of country. An active enemy who can select and vary
his points of attack must, in the end, discover some feeble spot, or
some unguarded moment. The strength as well as the attention of the
defenders is divided; and such are the blind effects of terror on
the firmest troops, that a line broken in a single place is almost
instantly deserted. The fate of the wall which Probus erected may
confirm the general observation. Within a few years after his death,
it was overthrown by the Allemanni. Its scattered ruins, universally
ascribed to the power of the dæmon, now serve only to excite the wonder
of the Swabian peasant.”[2]
The remains of this great wall where it started from the Danube, known
in German as the Pfahl-Graben, and sometimes as the Devil’s Wall, are
to be seen little more than a mile below Hienheim. From here we have
for some miles a lovely bit of the Danube, with grand forest-covered
hills in the immediate neighbourhood, and the river following a
winding course through them--part of the way between precipitous rocks
rising ruggedly three or four hundred feet above the water. A short
distance down on the right bank and close to the shore is the extensive
Benedictine Monastery of Weltenburg dating from the eighth century,
but turned in the middle of the nineteenth into a brewery. Dr. Beattie
describes how, after some one had expatiated on the past glory of the
place, a bystander said “It is written that Weltenburg shall rise again
like a phœnix from its ashes; that the pilgrim shall again bow at its
altar; that the abbot shall preside at its chapter; and----”
He was interrupted by a Bavarian sitting by with “Never! your abbots
were mere men--sinners like others, and if they possessed any fervour,
it was but the natural warmth of the grape. I have listened with much
patience to what you have heard about the crusades, and so forth; but I
also know a little of the history of the place; for, as ‘successor to
the abbots,’ several documents have fallen into my hands, which assure
me that they will never resume their old quarters; and one of the
strongest reasons is, that the old cellars are empty; the old vineyard
uprooted, and that our Bavarian beer is too cold for their stomachs....
Depend upon it, sir, if the abbots of old had restricted themselves to
such virtuous potations, and been a little more chary of politics, I
had not this day been the ‘brewing abbot of Weltenburg.’ These abbots,
sir, were jovial fellows; most of them had worn casques in early life,
and, although afterwards taking shelter under the cowl, ended with the
_cask_ at last. In my early days, one of their drinking songs was a
special favourite at the Wirthshaus, and seems almost prophetic of the
brewery that was to come. It is still a favourite.
“‘Brothers, life is frail as grass!
Dry clay is apt to moulder,
But moistened with a cheerful glass
Good wine’s the best of solder;
Then, brothers, drink and shout the while,
Waesheil! Waesheil!
Brothers! if the journey’s rough,
And needs some small concession,
To-morrow will be time enough
For penance and confession.
Meantime, we’ll drink and shout the while,
Waesheil! Waesheil!
Brothers, prayer is vastly good,
So (after meals) is fasting
’Tis well to watch beside the rood;
But, while there’s liquor lasting
We’ll chant thro’ sacristy and aisle,
Waesheil! Waesheil!’”
As we near Kelheim a striking building takes the eye; this is the fine
dome of the Befreiungshalle, which rises from woodland on the summit of
the Michaelsberg on the rocky left bank. This grand classical edifice
(the “complement” of the Walhalla which we shall see below Ratisbon)
was built for Louis the First, of Bavaria. It was founded in 1842 and
opened just twenty-one years later, on the fiftieth anniversary of the
Battle of Leipzig. Its name, the Hall of Liberation, indicates the
purpose for which it was erected--to commemorate the freeing of the
country from foreign domination by the final overthrow of Napoleon. On
the columned outer walls great female figures each nearly twenty feet
high stand as emblems of eighteen German provinces, while within the
great marble rotunda are thirty-four representations in Carrara marble
of the Genius of Victory designed by Schwanthaler, between each pair
being a bronze shield made from captured French guns and inscribed with
the names of battles won. Other inscriptions include the names of
great generals and of captured fortresses. From the external gallery
is to be had a grand view up and down this lovely bit of the Danube,
over the town of Kelheim and the valley of the river Altmühl which here
joins the Danube.
Between Weltenburg and Kelheim the abruptly rising rocks topped with
trees that border the river have been given various names owing to
their fancied resemblance to the thing from which they are named--the
“Lion,” the “Bishop,” the “Crocodile,” the “Pulpit,” “Peter and Paul,”
and so forth. This part of the river can only be explored by boat,
which should be taken from Hienheim to Kelheim, and not in the reverse
direction owing to the slowness with which boats can go up-stream. As
there is no pathway by the river-side owing to the precipitous nature
of much of the limestone cliffs which rise sheer from the water, the
boatmen going up-stream through the Lange Wand, as the defile is named,
have to pull themselves along by the aid of rings, fastened for that
purpose in the rocky walls. There have not been wanting enthusiasts who
describe this as the finest part of the river from its source to the
Black Sea.
Kelheim, backed by the forest, is on the low land at the foot of the
hill on which the Befreiungshalle stands, and at the junction of the
Altmühl with the Danube. Here too the Ludwig Canal which joins the
Main with the Danube, reaches the latter river, thus, as it were,
enislanding the town. Kelheim is an old place with remains of an old
Roman tower, a castle of the Dukes of Bavaria, now used for government
offices, and other visible evidences of its one-time importance. From
Kelheim to Ratisbon is about twenty miles--the railway keeps fairly
close to the river for most of the distance--of pleasant scenery
along the winding stream. The first half of the journey is flat, the
second between low hills. Opposite Kapfelberg with its limestone
quarries on the left bank--whence was taken the stone of which Ratisbon
cathedral and bridge are built--is the Teufelsfelsen. Shortly before
reaching Abbach on the right is to be seen the memorial erected in
1794 to commemorate the making of the road along the river here. This
memorial takes the form of a large tablet inscription on the rock
face, with in front, on the bank raised upon massive pedestals, two
large couchant lions carved in stone, “one looking into the river, the
other apparently trying to make out the inscription.” Abbach itself is
an attractive village amid greenery dominated by its slender-spired
church, with the remains of an ancient castle--one of the “common
objects” of a long Danube journey. This is Heinrichsburg, or King
Henry’s Castle and is interesting as the birthplace of Henry the Second
(canonized for his many benefactions to the Church) and as one of the
seats of his splendour as King of Germany and Holy Roman Emperor.
In his age the monarch turned to the consolations of religion, in
expiation it is suggested in the following lines of earlier crimes:
“With guilt and grief oppressed, to soothe his pain,
The leech prescribed--but he prescribed in vain.
Then came the priest. ‘Arise,’ quoth he, ‘unshod
In pilgrim weeds approach the house of God!
There, prostrate to St. Emmeram, confess
How thou hast revelled in unrighteousness--
Denied thy heart nought that thy heart could crave!
And ask his help to snatch thee from the wave
Of heavenly wrath! Nor grudge, if he demands
Some small accession to our Abbey lands;
That gift alone shall purge away thy crimes,
Blessed in thy life, renowned through after times,
_If for each crime one acre thou wilt pay_.’
‘An acre! saidst thou? By our lady, nay!
If thus I pay--priest! Where were my domains!
Thy cowl, methinks, might cover what remains!’”
Oberndorf, a little distance below Abbach, is chiefly to be recalled
for a tragic act of vengeance and its remarkable consequences. Hither
Count Otto of Wittelsbach, who in 1208 had murdered the Emperor
Philip at Bamberg, fled, and here he was overtaken and slain. The
long story of the subsequent marvels may be summarized as follows.
The murderer being killed, his head was cut off and thrown into the
Danube, but either the river refused to accept the grisly object or
Count Otto’s passion, strong in death, still animated the severed head,
for “refusing to sink or move down with the current, it continued to
gnash its teeth, and to fix its glaring eyes on the spectators with
a menacing look, which none but the ‘black friar of Ebrach’ could
withstand.” The friar, holding in his hand a black cross (which had
been brought by an eagle from Calvary!) went to the river bank and
addressed the floating head in the following awful words: “Dus.
milabundus. Dom. infernis. presto, diabolorum!” on hearing which the
head whirled round, shook its clotted locks, and sank, plump to the
bottom of the river! The good people of Oberndorf fell upon their knees
at the miracle, in thankfulness at having got rid of the uncomfortable
spectacle. That night and the following day, however, blue flames were
observed playing over the surface of the water where the head had
unwillingly disappeared. The black friar of Ebrach was, however, again
equal to the occasion, for he planted the black cross on the river bank
opposite the manifestation, and in seven days the flames had entirely
disappeared! The head having thus been finally disposed of, the body
of the Count Otto was left exposed on a bare rock--thenceforward to be
known as “the Murder Stone”--to pass into decay, the spot being duly
respected as a haunted one:
“Where oft ye may hear the voice of death,
And oft ye may see dark Otto’s form,
As he rides on the silver mists of the heath,
And chants a ghostly dirge in the storm.”
Through a few miles of delightful and quietly picturesque scenery, the
Danube winds on from this haunted spot towards Ratisbon. And as we near
that city, beyond the suppressed Benedictine monastery of Prüfening,
near where the railway crosses the Danube, the rapid stream passes
round several small islands. Just beyond the railway bridge, the Naab
comes in on the left from an attractive valley, and low hills on the
same bank mark the journey round the next bend which brings us within
sight of the bridges and towers of Ratisbon itself.
Most of the earlier describers of the Danube began the account of their
downward journeying at Ratisbon--except the adventurous three who
navigated the “Water Lily,” and they joined the great river by way of
the Main and Danube Canal, and so reached the latter stream at Kelheim.
If we look at the general map of Europe it is easy to recognize why
this should be so, and even now, probably, most tourists intending to
take the passenger steamers from where they start at Passau make first
for Ratisbon, and they are all well rewarded by so doing. Though it is
the many old houses and towers, the twin crocketed spires of delicate
openwork of the cathedral, the many nooks and corners and amazingly
artistic “bits” that impress us when we wander about the town, it is
here the river that claims our first attention. The wonderful “blue”
river, seen as I saw it here under heavy grey skies, shows of a warm
green colour--a green on the yellow side of greenness. Strauss’s waltz
has impressed the “blue” Danube on our minds most persistently, yet
here again and again we find ourselves commenting on its greenness and
even its greyness, and wondering why it should have got its reputation
for blueness. Inquiry of the captain of a Danube steamer settled the
matter. “If you want to see the Danube _really_ blue you must come to
it in the winter,” said he.
When we stand in autumn on the fine old twelfth century stone
bridge-built, says tradition, by the devil--or walk about the long
islands Ober Wöhrd and Unterer Wöhrd--islands which are really one,
being connected by a narrow spit of land--it is the wonderful yellowish
greenness of the rapidly swirling water that strikes us, that and the
rapidity of the current which, as it is forced into narrow channels
by the isletted piers of the bridge, whirls and swirls onwards,
breaking into white foam. The bridge rises gradually to where, about
the centre of it, there is on the western parapet the statue of the
“Brückenmännchen,” the “little bridge man,” or naked figure of a boy
seated astride a wedge of stone, and with hand shading his eyes,
looking at the cathedral spires. It is an ingenious piece of statuary,
for even as if one person pauses in the street and looks upwards, other
passers-by will inevitably do the same, having reached this point on
the bridge we almost instinctively turn to look in the direction the
“Mannchen” is ever looking, and doing so we get a beautiful view of
the old town dominated by the beautiful spires, the Golden Tower and
other high buildings rising from a grand medley of roofs, while in the
foreground is the quaint old stone gateway through which we reach the
bridge, close-neighboured by a fine steep stretch of dark tiled roof,
broken by its little dormers--presumably for ventilating purposes.
Looking up-stream from here, we have the Ober Wöhrd, largely covered
with buildings, and on the further side of it a pleasant tree-grown
branch of the river with low green hills and woodlands in the distance.
From the nearer of these hills, by the village of Winzer, is to be had
a beautiful general view over the whole of Ratisbon.
[Illustration: REGENSBURG]
Looking down-stream, just below the bridge is the Unterer Wöhrd, also
with many buildings on it, and a mill, the great wheel of which is
seen incessantly turning with the ever hasting stream. Both up and
down-stream the view is broken by an ugly iron bridge, for each of
these islands is thus connected with the city. At the further end of
the stone bridge is Stadtamhof, an old town which has suffered much
in the course of the warfare of which Ratisbon has been so often the
scene; it was destroyed by the Swedes during the Thirty Years’ War,
and was burned down by the Austrians in 1809. It has thus nothing
of special interest to show the visitor, though when the market of
covered booths down the broad main street is in full swing, it is a
picturesque and animated scene. Crossing the bridge one may justly
recall Napoleon’s words: “_Votre pont est très désavantageusement bâti
pour la navigation._”
While on the bridge it may be as well to repeat the full legend which
ascribes its building to the devil. It runs that the architect of the
cathedral had a particularly clever apprentice, to whom he delegated
the task of erecting a stone bridge across the Danube. The young man
set to work with great self-confidence, making a bet with his master
that the bridge which he was about to begin would be completed before
the coping-stone was laid on the cathedral which was already far
advanced. The cathedral continued to grow with such rapidity that the
bridge-builder began to despair about winning his bet, and to wish
that he had not entered into so rash an engagement. Cursing his own
slow progress he wished that the devil had the building of the bridge.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a venerable seeming
monk stood before him and offered at once to take charge of the work.
“Who and what art thou?” inquired the young architect. “A poor friar,”
responded the other, “who in his youth having learnt something of thy
craft would gladly turn his knowledge to the advantage of his convent.”
“So!” said the young architect, looking at him more particularly,
“I think I see a cloven hoof, and a whisking tail to boot! But no
matter; since thou comest in search of employment, build me those
fifteen arches before May-day, and thou shalt have a devil’s fee for
thy pains.” “And what?” inquired the fiend. “Why,” replied the young
man, “as thou hast a particular affection for the souls of men, I will
ensure thee the first two--male and female--that shall cross this
bridge.” “Say three--and done,” said the devil eagerly, and throwing
off his friar’s habit. “Three be it,” said the architect, at which the
devil set readily to work. Before nightfall the spandrels were set--the
stone came to hand ready hewn, the mortar ready mixed. The devil was
as good as his word, and on May-day morning the bridge was completed,
and the obliging fiend lay in wait under the second arch ready to
pounce upon his fee. A crowd had collected to see and try the bridge,
but before any one could set foot on it the cunning architect called
upon them to stop, saying that in the opening of the bridge there was
a solemn ceremony to be performed before it could be pronounced safe
for public use. He then called to his foreman. “Let the strangers take
precedence,” and at his words a rough wolfdog, a cock and a hen were
set at large and driven over the first arch. Instantly an awful noise
was heard from beneath the bridge, and some of the people declared
that they plainly heard the words, “Cheated! cheated, of my fee!”
Needless to say that, after such an episode, a procession of monks and
the sprinkling of holy water were necessary before the bridge could be
regarded as really safe.
The bridge-builder’s cunning in making use of the devil and then
outwitting him, according to the legend, had yet a tragic sequel for
the young architect’s master, finding himself beaten in their contest,
threw himself from one of the towers of the cathedral. Should the
incredulous want proof, one of the carven figures high on the edifice
is said to be placed there as in the act of throwing itself down in
witness to the truth of the tragedy, and, incidentally of course, also
to the diabolic origin of the beautiful bridge.
Turning from the Danube itself to this most important of the towns on
its banks that we have yet reached, it will be found that Ratisbon
is a place full, at once of present fascination and of interesting
association. The fascination can only be indicated, the associations
only glanced at where the city must necessarily be compressed within
the narrow limits of something less than a chapter. The buildings
of this city of towers, in their variety and picturesqueness, offer
an almost endless feast to the artist and the lover of old places.
The magnificent cathedral, the quaint old Rathaus, the three old
gateways--the Alte Kapelle, the Schotten Kirche, St. Emmeram’s Abbey
Church, and numerous old houses take the attention in succession, while
the narrow streets, the broad marketplaces with their animated crowds
offer much of interest. The general impression remaining in the mind
after wandering about is one of endlessly varied gables, of red-tiled
roofs broken by tiny dormers, square towers and twinned spires.
The markets round about the cathedral, and in the open space on which
the somewhat bleak-looking Neupfarrkirche stands are lively scenes
with numerous peasant women exposing, in curious boat-shaped wooden
boxes, in baskets, or on outspread sheets of newspaper, their fruit,
vegetables and other produce; then, too, there are rows of stalls with
umbrella-like awnings, and all the varied display of a continental
market. Perhaps one of the most notable features (here, and in many
other markets all along the course of the river) is the extraordinary
number of fungi, freshly gathered, and dry and wizened, which are
offered for sale. The mushroom that we know--and to which in our
ignorance or prejudice we limit ourselves--is not to be seen; but the
variety of its congeners that are shown would delight the heart of any
enthusiastic fungologist. Evidently those of the peasants who have not
fruit or vegetables, eggs or fowls, butter or cream to sell, search the
woods and fields for edible fungi, and from the quantity displayed, it
may be assumed, find a ready sale for them in the towns.
Another market that is interesting is that at the eastern end of the
Kepler Strasse, in which the fish caught in the Danube are exposed for
sale, “all alive, oh.” They are kept crowded together in oblong tubs
and long wooden troughs like feeding troughs, so crowded indeed, and
with so little of their native element, that it is surprising that they
keep alive at all. The fish I noticed included pike--up to about two
feet in length--barbel, and a deep fish, fifteen to eighteen inches
long, with curious horny-looking scales of a large size along the back
and near the gills and tail.
The Cathedral of Ratisbon--“one of the finest Gothic churches in
Germany” is a grand and beautiful pile, built between the years 1275
and 1534 (the spires were added in 1859-1869); and as the architects
employed upon it during the two and a half centuries that it was
a-building included the Roritzers, a father and two sons, the words
which Longfellow used of Strasburg Cathedral are no less appropriate
here:--
“The architect
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,
And with him toiled his children, and their lives
Were builded with his own into the walls
As offerings to God.”
It was by one of the younger Roritzers, that the peculiar feature of
the beautiful western front--the triangular porch--was designed.
Within the wonderfully proportioned building is much that is
interesting to the student of ecclesiastical architecture. Such
details, however, must be sought in the guide-books.[3] The small tower
on the north is known as the Eselsturm or Donkey’s Tower, and it is
said to have had that name given it because the winding inclined plane
by which it is ascended was used during the building of the cathedral
for donkeys to carry up loads of material required by the builders. The
tower is part of the old Romanesque edifice which the present structure
superseded and it has been suggested that it was probably the belfry of
the older cathedral.
The old Rathaus (Town Hall), now a kind of museum of national and
municipal relics, with its high-pitched tiled roof, its flower-bedecked
windows, and its ornamental doorway in the corner of the Rathausplatz
attracts attention before we learn that it is not only the old-time
centre of Ratisbon civil life, but was for nearly a century and a
half before 1806 the meeting place of the German Imperial Diet. The
wholesome admonitory inscription which those proceeding to the Diet
meetings were expected to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest ran
to the following effect: “Let every senator who enters this court to
sit in judgment, lay aside all private affections; anger, violence,
hatred, friendship and adulation! Let thy whole attention be given
to the public welfare: for as thou hast been equitable or unjust in
passing judgment on others, so mayst thou expect to stand acquitted
or condemned before the awful tribunal of God.” The wooden ceiling,
sixteenth century frescoes and old stained glass of the Diet Hall or
Reichssaal, are noteworthy features. In the Rathaus, too, are some
grand old tapestries, and--for the delectation of those who sigh
over the good old times--a very chamber of horrors in the torture
chamber, with its rack, “Spanish donkey,” “Jungfrauenschoss,” and
such-like witnesses to past manifestations of man’s inhumanity to
man. The collection of these demoniacally ingenious instruments is
a particularly good one, and should suffice to impress the least
imaginative with “the horrors.”
St. Emmeram’s Abbey--of which the church is the main part now left,
the site of the abbey being occupied by the palace of the Prince of
Thurn and Taxis--lies on the south side of the town, with one of the
four remaining town gates--the Emmeramer Tor--near by. The church is
still worth a visit from those interested in ecclesiastical art and
architecture, in older tombs and shrines of saints; here, too, they
will find the tombs of King Childeric of France and other mediæval
notables. The bridge gate we have already glanced at; the other two
left standing when the town wall was demolished about half a century
ago are the Prebrunntor on the west and the tall tile-roofed Ostentor.
The Schottenkirche (or St. Jacob’s Church) has a fine pillared doorway
chiefly remarkable for the number of quaintly carven figures of men and
beasts about it. The many square towers that rise above the surrounding
roofs on many of the streets are survivals, peculiar I believe to
Ratisbon, of the old days when every nobleman had to be prepared
to defend his house. And the story of Ratisbon suggests that such
preparation was necessary, for in the course of nine hundred years the
city had to withstand a siege fourteen times.
The highest of these towers, the Goldene Turm in the Wahlenstrasse,
rises one hundred and seventy feet above the pavement; another is on
the Haidplatz, and yet another not far from the bridge, attached
to a house on which is a gigantic mural painting of David attacking
Goliath. It may well be that this subject arises from an episode in the
history of Ratisbon, also made the subject of a house-wall painting.
This episode was a fight between one of the citizens of the place and
a giant. The story runs that in the year 930 a terrible combat was
fought on the Haidplatz between a gigantic Hun, Craco by name, and Hans
Dollinger, a valiant burgher of Ratisbon. The Hun had already flung
forty knights out of the saddle when, in the presence of the Emperor,
he was confronted by the dauntless Dollinger. The Emperor marked the
champion twice over the mouth with the sign of the cross it is said,
and to the virtue of the holy sign was attributed the final overthrow
of the mighty pagan. Craco’s sword, nearly eight feet in length, was
removed some centuries later to Vienna, and Ratisbon lost a remarkable
relic.
On the wall of the house adjoining the tower on the Haidplatz the
inn “zum Goldenen Kreuz” is a medallion of Ludwig the First with
ornate decoration, and on the wall of the tower is another medallion
with twenty-four lines of verse about a certain royal romance. The
inscription appears to have been painted up recently, but whether
replacing an older one I cannot say. It was to the charms of one
Barbara Blomberg--who is said variously to have been landlady of
the Golden Cross, a washerwoman and the daughter of a well-to-do
citizen, that the Emperor Charles the Fifth succumbed during one of
his visits to this part of his vast dominions. The story runs that
Barbara was introduced to the Emperor that her singing might lessen
the melancholy from which he suffered. On 24 February, 1545 the lady
bore a son--tradition says in a room in this inn--who was to become
known to fame as Don John of Austria, and the victor of Lepanto. In the
following year the Emperor closed the incident by marrying Barbara
to one of his courtiers, and carried off the child to be brought up
as befitted his high (but for some years unacknowledged) paternal
origin. Among the other features are the many fountains in street and
platz, notably the one in the Moltkeplatz, and the flower-decorated
one opposite the western end of the cathedral. Just west of the bridge
gate is another old stone fountain dated 1610. But of these details
the interesting old city has much to show to the wanderer about its
by-ways. Another thing which strikes the visitor is the way in which
the chemists’ shops retain such old signs as were at one time familiar
features of our London streets, but which with us only survive on inns.
In Ratisbon the “Apotheken” are duly named the “Elephant,” the “Lion,”
the “Eagle,” and so on.
Mention has been made of Kepler Strasse, and it should be added
that the famous astronomer, John Kepler, was doubly associated with
Ratisbon. Hither he came in 1613 to appear before the Diet as the
advocate of the introduction of the Gregorian Calendar into Germany--an
introduction which was, however, delayed owing to anti-papal prejudice.
Seventeen years later Kepler journeyed from Sagan in Silesia on
horseback that he might appeal to the Diet for arrears of payment due
to him. But, reaching Ratisbon, he fell ill of a fever, and died there
on 15 November, 1630. We shall hear something of the astronomer again
lower down the river at Linz.
In this city of many ecclesiastical foundations the very horses are
said to have been taken to church in past times, though, it is true,
only once a year. On St. Leonard’s Day--6 November--the peasants from
the surrounding country used to bring their horses, gaily bedecked,
into the city and take them one at a time to peep into St. Leonard’s
church--“a pious precaution which was supposed to preserve them the
year round from the staggers, and, indeed, every other disorder that
horseflesh is heir to.”
When Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was here in 1716, she described Ratisbon
as being full of “Envoys from different States,” and said that it might
have been a very pleasant place but for the “important _piques_, which
divide the town almost into as many parties as there are families
... the foundation of these everlasting disputes turns entirely upon
rank, place, and the title of Excellency, which they all pretend to,
and, what is very hard, will give it to nobody. For my part I could
not forbear advising them (for the public good) to give the title of
Excellency to everybody, which would include the receiving it from
everybody; but the very mention of such a dishonourable peace was
received with as much indignation, as Mrs. Blackaire did the motion of
a reference.” In some of the churches--she does not specify which--Lady
Mary was shown some curious relics, for she says: “I have been to see
the churches here and had the permission of touching the relics, which
was never suffered in places where I was not known. I had, by this
privilege, the opportunity of making an observation, which I doubt not
might have been made in all the other churches, that the emeralds and
rubies which they show round their relics and images are most of them
false; though they tell you that many of the Crosses and Madonnas, set
round with these stones, have been the gifts of Emperors and other
great Princes. I don’t doubt indeed but they were at first jewels of
value; but the good fathers have found it convenient to apply them to
other uses, and the people are just as well satisfied with pieces of
glass amongst these relics. They showed me a prodigious claw set in
gold, which they called the claw of a Griffin, and I could not forbear
asking the Reverend Priest that showed it whether the Griffin was a
Saint. The question almost put him beside his gravity; but he answered
they only kept it as a curiosity. I was much scandalized at a large
silver image of the _Trinity_, where the _Father_ is represented under
the figure of a decrepit old man, holding in his arms the Son, fixed on
the Cross, and the _Holy Ghost_, in the shape of a dove, hovering over
him.”
History has so much to say of Ratisbon that here we can but glance at
some of the details of a place which we are told has been known by
twenty different names. In Germany it is Regensburg, the town situated
at the point where the Regen joins the Danube, while we still know it
by its old latinized name which has been said to indicate that it was
recognized as a good landing place. This point is explained in some
Latin lines quoted by Planché:--
“Inde Ratisbonæ vetus ex hoc nomen habenti
Quod _bona_ sit _ratibus_, vel quod consuevit in illa
_Ponere_ nauta _rates_.”
In Roman times the town was known as Regina Castra and was probably one
of the more important of the places along the frontier of Illyricum or
those provinces of the Danube which, says Gibbon, were esteemed the
most warlike of the empire. According to tradition it was the port at
which many of the Western Crusaders commenced their voyage to the Holy
Land, in evidence of which we have ballad testimony:--
“There came a bold crusader
With fifty harnessed men,
And he’s embarked at Ratisbon
To fight the Saracen.
This gallant knight, Sir Gottfried hight,
Leads forth a noble band,
Whose flag shall wave triumphantly
In Judah’s hallowed land.”
After the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, Ratisbon was by no
means allowed to fall back into a centre of peace, for history tells
us, as has been said, that fourteen times was it besieged during
something less than a thousand years. In the Thirty Years’ War its
position made it a frequent storm centre, and thrice within eight years
did it undergo bombardment. The wonder is that so much of the old place
survives after such a record. The last of the fourteen attacks on it
(21 April, 1809) is probably the best known, thanks to the mnemonic
value of poetry, for it was then that the “Incident of the French
Camp,” of which Robert Browning wrote, is supposed to have occurred.
“You know we French stormed Ratisbon:
A mile or so away
On a little mound, Napoleon
Stood on our storming day....
Out ’twixt the battery smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew
Until he reached the mound....
‘Well,’ cried he, ‘Emperor, by God’s grace
We’ve got you Ratisbon!
The Marshal’s in the market place,
And you’ll be there anon
To see your flag-bird flap his vans
Where I, to heart’s desire,
Perched him!’ The chief’s eyes flashed; his plans
Soared up again like fire.
The chief’s eye flashed; but presently
Softened itself, as sheathes
A film the mother-eagle’s eye
When her bruised eaglet breathes:
‘You’re wounded!’ ‘Nay,’ his soldier’s pride
Touched to the quick, he said:
‘I’m killed, Sire!’ And his chief beside,
Smiling the boy fell dead.”
Before leaving Ratisbon it may be recalled that it was here that
Richard Cœur de Lion was sent as captive to the Emperor Henry the
Sixth to be re-delivered to his captor and arch-foe Duke Leopold of
Austria, who duly incarcerated him in a lonely Danube castle more than
two hundred miles further down the river.
Between six and seven miles below Ratisbon is the Walhalla, a modern
building which no visitor to the ancient city should fail to see. It
may be reached by the river, by the road which more or less closely
follows the low right bank through the little village of Barbing, or
by the light railway, the Valhallabahn, which starts in one of the
Stadtamhof streets, crosses the Regen and runs between the low hills
and the left bank of the river. The railway goes on to the Walhalla and
beyond, but the temple can easily be reached from Donaustauf, a small
town at the foot of the hill, on which stand the remains of a castle
of the same name--ruins which, on a suitable day, afford a grand view,
and to which attaches much history, and something of mystery. Through
the long street of the village with its white houses is the way to
the great Temple of Fame, but before visiting it, this ruined castle
cresting the bluff rock above the town should be seen.
The original castle built on this commanding point is supposed to have
been founded by Bishop (afterwards Saint) Tuto, who died in 930, and
whose tomb is at St. Emmeram’s in Ratisbon. Whether it was founded by
the saintly bishop or not, it was long used as the residence of the
bishops of Regensburg, though its strength and position caused it to
be coveted by lay rulers also. Henry the Proud having in 1132 taken
it from the bishop of that day, the citizens of Regensburg not only
besieged the castle, but actually succeeded in capturing it. It was
besieged again in 1146 and yet again in 1159. It is not easy, looking
across the closely cultivated plain towards Regensburg, to-day to
realize the scenes of those strenuous Middle Ages. In the fourteenth
century Donaustauf was sold to Charles the Fourth of Bohemia, who
maintained it as one of the barrier fortresses of his kingdom.
Of the time when the castle was the residence of the bishops of
Regensburg, and should seemingly have been a centre of Christian peace
and charity there are accounts that indicate that it had under some
possessors quite another reputation. Here, for example, is one of the
stories:
“A certain worthy Bishop of Regensburg, not contented with fleecing
his flock, according to the approved and legitimate method, made it a
point of conscience to waylay and plunder his beloved brethren whenever
they ventured near the Castle of Donaustauf, in which he resided upon
the banks of the Danube, a little below the town. In the month of
November 1250,” says the chronicle, “tidings came to Donaustauf, that,
on the following morning, the daughter of Duke Albert of Saxony would
pass that way, with a gorgeous and gallant escort. The bait was too
tempting for the prelate. He sallied out upon the glittering cortège,
and seizing the princess and forty of her noblest attendants, led them
captives to Donaustauf. The astonished remainder fled for redress, some
to King Conrad, and others to Duke Otho, at Landshut, who immediately
took arms, and carrying fire and sword into the episcopal territory,
soon compelled the holy highwayman to make restitution and sue for
mercy. Conrad, satisfied with his submission, forgave him; in return
for which the bishop bribed a vassal, named Conrad Hohenfels, to
murder his royal namesake; and accordingly, in the night of the 28th
of December, the traitor entered the Abbey of St. Emmeram’s, where
the king had taken up his abode, and stealing into the royal chamber,
stabbed the sleeper to the heart; then running to the gates of the
city, threw them open to the bishop and his retainers, exclaiming
that the king was dead. The traitors were, however, disappointed.
Frederick von Ewesheim, a devoted servant of the king, suspecting some
evil, had persuaded the monarch to exchange clothes and chambers with
him, and the assassin’s dagger had pierced the heart, not of Conrad,
but of his true and gallant officer. The bishop escaped the royal
vengeance by flight; but the abbot of St. Emmeram’s, who had joined the
conspirators, was flung into chains; and the abbey, the houses of the
chapter, and all the ecclesiastical residences, were plundered by the
king’s soldiery. The Pope, as might be expected, sided with the bishop
and excommunicated Conrad and Otho; but the murderer, Hohenfels, after
having for some time eluded justice, was killed by a thunderbolt!”
Another prelate who resided here is reputed to have had the enviable
power of being in two places at once. This was no less a personage than
Albertus Magnus, who succeeded the highwayman-bishop in the episcopate
of Ratisbon. According to the chronicles, Albertus was able, while
delivering his lectures in the Dominican Chapel in Regensburg itself,
also to be closely engaged in study in his palace at Donaustauf, some
miles away. A case surely in which even the system of pluralism would
have been thoroughly justified.
[Illustration: THE WALHALLA]
Coming down from the peaceful ruins to the village again, we may
take one of two ways to the Walhalla, going straight on to the east
where the front of the giant Grecian temple is seen above the trees
on the brow of the hill to the left, and climbing the many steps to
the front; or taking the left turning where the road forks, and going
past the little hillside church of St. Salvator--built, it is said, in
expiation of the sacrilegious crime of some soldiers, who dishonoured
the Host--through woodland paths reach the western columned side of
the great edifice, and come more or less suddenly on what is, if
the weather be clear, a grand “surprise” view. Behind us the oak
woodland, in front the magnificent Parthenon-like white building,
standing on the brow of the hill--
“A sumptuous frontispiece appeared
On Doric pillars of white marble reared.”
And to the right, green and turf and a view across the Bavarian plain.
On a fine day the view is one to arrest the attention, while the grand
building with its columned exterior is so satisfying to the eye, that
we may well feel inclined to linger about before entering the great
hall. Approaching from the back, we pass under the arcade of columns to
the front, where massy tiers of steps lead down the hill to the river.
From the front here is a magnificent view if kindly weather
prevails--its extent could be gauged even on such a grey wet day as
that on which I visited it. The building stands three hundred and
fifteen feet above the river--not in itself a great height--but the
southern bank is the beginning of a great far-stretching plain, and
it is said that, in the most favourable climatic conditions (which so
rarely obtain in such cases) the distant Alps can be seen. Even if
it fall short of that, the view is sufficiently extensive across the
plain, back to Ratisbon and down the winding stream, island-divided,
towards Straubing.
Before entering this Temple of Fame--more impressive than that imagined
by Pope--it may be mentioned that the building was founded for the
purpose which its name sufficiently attests, by Ludwig the First of
Bavaria, owing to the great pleasure which he had had when studying at
Jena in the society of Goethe. It is said that he then declared that if
he ever succeeded to the throne he would erect a building which should
serve as a Temple of Fame for the whole of Germany. Nobly did he fulfil
that promise. The architect was Leo von Klenze; the first stone was
laid on October 18, by King Ludwig; and on the same date, twelve years
later, the temple was solemnly dedicated by his Majesty, who said:
“May the Walhalla contribute to extend and consolidate the feelings
of German nationality. May all Germans of every race henceforth feel
they have a common country of which they may be proud, and let each
individual labour according to his faculties to promote its glory.”
It had cost about two hundred thousand pounds, and thus honouring the
great men of the German lands, the Bavarian king gained lasting honour
for himself, for the building is one as perfect in taste as it is in
form, to use the words of an early visitor. It is true that there
have not been wanting critics who have objected to the incongruity of
building a temple after a Greek plan to the honour of great Teutons and
then naming it the Walhalla, but the objection is really an unimportant
one, and we may well be satisfied with having a beautiful edifice
dedicated to a beautiful purpose: we may remind the critics, too,
that “the Doric order was peculiarly sacred to heroes and worthies.”
Entering, we find ourselves in a grand and impressive hall:
“Here fabled Chiefs, in darker ages born,
Or Worthies old, whom arms or arts adorn,
Who cities raised, or tamed a monstrous race;
The walls in venerable order grace:
Heroes in animated marble frown,
And Legislators seem to think in stone!”
The interior is a magnificent hall--of nearly the same dimensions as
the Parthenon--with walls of ruddy-tinted marble; the floor of marble
mosaic; the roof, brilliant blue and star-spangled, strikes a note a
little out of keeping with the general severity of the rest. There
are sculptured Victories and Valkyries, and a frieze representing,
in sculptured relief by Martin Wagner, something of the history
of the German race before the coming of Christianity, while high
around the walls are a series of marble tablets bearing the names of
those worthy a place in the Temple of German Fame, but of whom no
authentic portraits have come down to us. Indeed, even those of great
achievement, whose names have not come down to us are not forgotten,
for three of these tablets commemorate the author of the “Nibelungen
Lied,” and the builder of Cologne cathedral. Other tablets serve to
remind us that Tennyson but stated a truth when in compliment to Queen
Alexandra he said, “Saxon, Norman and Dane are we,” for here among
the heroes of the Germanic Temple of Fame, we shall find the names
of King Egbert, of Alfred the Great, of Hengist and Horsa, even that
of the Venerable Bede. At the further end of the hall is a seated
statue of King Ludwig, and ranged along the walls are more than a
hundred busts, many of them very fine examples of modern sculpture.
The latest addition, Von Moltke (added in 1909), is particularly good.
The bust of Bismarck, which was placed in Walhalla in 1908, on the
sixty-sixth anniversary of the opening, is also admirable. There is
about the whole so much excellence as to suggest that the Temple in
addition to fostering national feeling should prove an encouragement
of the sculptor’s art, for next to the honour of winning a place in
the Walhalla must be the distinction of contributing to the work there
permanently placed.
From the programme which I picked up in the “oaken wood” at the back
of the building two years after the event, we may gather from the
ceremonies at a students’ “homage” paid to Bismarck here, a few days
after the bust was placed in position, some idea of the ceremony, which
presumably attends the dedication of a new entrant among the “Walhalla
comrades.” The programme runs as follows:
HOMAGE
Of the Society of German students before the bust of
PRINCE BISMARK
in the Walhalla
on the 7th November, 1908, at 4 in the afternoon.
* * * * *
PROGRAMME
Coronation March from the Opera, “Die Folkunger,”
by F. Kretschmar, for string quintet and harp.
Entry of the Deputation.
The “Bismarck Hymn,” written by Dr. Raimund Geister,
composed by Georg Meyer.
Sung by the “Regensburger Liederkranz” under the leadership of
their choirmaster Herr G. Meyer.
DEDICATORY ADDRESS
delivered by Professor Sponsel, President of the Union of all
Student Societies.
“Keep watch, it’s nearly day,” from “The Meistersinger of
Nuremburg” by Richard Wagner, for string quintet and harp.
Exit of the Deputation.
* * * * *
The music by the Band of the Royal Bavarian 11th Regiment under the
direction of the Conductor, Herr Kleiber. Harp: Fraulein Langhammer of
the Municipal Theatre Orchestra.
THE BISMARCK HYMN[4]
Written by DR. RAIMUND GEISTER, composed by GEORG MEYER.
The German Temple of Honour stands
On a mountain by the Danube.
Those who high from ’mid the German people rise
Dwell there within that dome.
It was built by the Royal architect
Who with oak bordered it round--
The honoured German king who yonder
Among his comrades dreams.
Walhalla’s comrades, hear ye not
Sounds from among the oaken wood?
Triumphant through the mist cloud breaks
The golden sunshine.
With heavy step a hero draws near.
It thrills my very blood
Where is in Germany a man
In high spirit resembling him?
Comrades, what you yourselves look for
The Norns to us deny,
What I in my young breast conceived--
Bismarck, thou hast dared:
An united people, an united Empire,
The deed is colossal!
Bismarck that was young Siegfried’s stroke.
Hail to thee, Walhalla comrade!”
Later the company joined in singing the national song, “Deutschland,
Deutschland, über Alles.”
Before turning from the beautiful temple of honour, the statuary groups
on the northern and southern pediments should be examined. That on the
north end represents Armin (or Herman) with his Germans fighting the
Romans, while that on the south, symbolizing the regaining of German
liberty after the battle of Leipzig in 1813, shows “Germania” seated
and attended by male and female figures representing the Germanic
states and the rivers Rhine and Moselle.
Beautiful as is the view from the front of the Walhalla, it must be
said that the place is more impressive if approached from the back than
by the great flights of massy stone steps which occupy a goodly part
of the hillside from the front. The extent and arrangement of these
in alternate twin flights, now bifurcating and now meeting, detract
somewhat from the impressiveness of the whole as seen from the river
front. But the whole thing represents a grand idea grandly realized,
and it is easy to believe that from whatever part of the German
empire visitors come, they realize here the unity of their race and
the greatness of their destiny. To render boldly a few anonymous lines
quoted in the “Beschreibung der Walhalla”--the little souvenir guide to
be bought there--
Germania’s furthest sons,
Your valiant fathers yearn
That the blood in your veins
May mount higher, quicker flow,
When the sound of joyous singing
Mightily at Walhall’s ringing.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] “The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” chap.
xii.
[3] “Regensburg in seiner Vorzeit und Gegenwart: Beschreibung der
Stadt und Umgebung;” von J. Fink, gives not only a fairly full story of
the things to be seen in the town, but also of the neighbourhood up to
Befreiungshalle and down to Walhalla.
[4] The translation gives no more than a rough rendering to the meaning
of the verses.