The emperor was to be crowned at Frankfort, and great festivities were to be given in the town in his honour, among them a masquerade, at which knights and n.o.ble ladies rivalled each other in splendour. Joy was depicted on every face at this great a.s.sembly, only one knight among the many guests being noticeable for his gravity and restraint.
He wore black armour, and the feather waving above his visor was black too. No one knew him or could guess who he was. He approached the empress with a n.o.ble grace, bent his knee, and asked her to dance with him, which she graciously consented to do. He glided gracefully through the splendid halls with the queen of the festival, and soon every eye was turned on them, and everyone was eager to know who he was.
The empress was charmed with her excellent partner, and the grace of his refined conversation pleased her so much that she granted him a second and a third dance.
Everyone became more and more curious to know who this masked knight was. Meanwhile the hour struck when every mask had to be raised, and every masked guest must make himself known. More than all the others the empress was anxious to know who her partner was. But he hesitated and even refused to take off his mask until she ordered him peremptorily to do so. The knight obeyed, but none of the high ladies or n.o.ble knights recognised him. Suddenly two stewards pressed through the crowd, crying out with indignation and horror;
"It is the headsman from Bergen!"
Then the emperor in great wrath ordered the shameful offender who had thus degraded the empress and insulted his sovereign to be led to execution.
But the culprit, throwing himself at the emperor"s feet, said boldly, "I have transgressed, my lord, and offended you and your n.o.ble guests, but most heavily have I sinned against my queen. No punishment, not even blood, will be able to wash out the disgrace you have suffered through me. Therefore, oh King! allow me to propose a remedy to efface the shame. Draw your sword and knight me, and I will throw down my gauntlet to any one who dares to speak disrespectfully of my sovereign."
The emperor was taken by surprise at this bold proposal. However it appeared the wisest plan to adopt.
"You are a knave," he replied after a moment"s consideration, "but your advice is good and displays prudence, just as your offence shows adventurous courage. Well then,"--laying his sword on the man"s neck--"rise Sir Knight. You have acted like a knave, and the Knave of Bergen you shall be called henceforth."
A joyful shout of approbation pealed through the halls, and the new knight again glided gracefully through the crowd with the queen of the festival.
MAYENCE
Heinrich Frauenlob
[Ill.u.s.tration: Heinrich Frauenlob--Steinbild im Dom zu Mainz]
The priest or as some say, canon, in the old town of Mayence was a very worthy man, and at the same time a heaven-gifted singer. Besides devoting himself to science, he composed numerous pious verses which he dedicated to the Holy Virgin. He also played the harp, and wrote many beautiful songs in honour of the female s.e.x.
In contrast to many contemporary poets, he considered "woman" a higher t.i.tle than "wife," which only signifies a married woman. So on account of the chivalry displayed in his numberless poems and songs, posterity gave him the name of "Frauenlob," under which t.i.tle he is better known than under his own name of Heinrich of Meissen.
The love and veneration which thankful women paid him was very great, not only during his life-time, but even more so after his death. Their grief was intense when it became known that the poet"s voice would never more be heard in this world. It was agreed to honour him with such a burial as no poet had ever before received. The funeral procession moved slowly and sorrowfully along the streets, the greater part of the cortege being women in deep mourning who prayed for the repose of the poet"s soul. Eight of the most beautiful among them carried the coffin, which was covered with sweet-scented flowers.
At the grave songs of lamentation were heard from women"s gentle voices. Precious Rhine-wine which had been the poet"s favourite drink, and which so often had inspired his poetry, was poured by hands of his admirers over his grave, so profusely, the legend relates, that the entrance of the church was flooded by the libation. But still more precious than all these gifts were the tears, which on this memorable day were shed by many a gentle lady.
The wanderer can still see the monument erected to this great benefactor in the cathedral at Mayence, which represents the figure of a beautiful woman in pure-white marble placing a wreath on the coffin of the great singer, who had honoured women in the most chivalrous of songs.
Bishop Willigis
[Ill.u.s.tration: Bischof Willigis in der Klosterschule--Nach dem Gemalde von Lindenschmitt]
In the year 1000 there was a very pious priest in Mayence called Bishop Willigis. He was only the son of a poor wheelwright, but by his perseverance and his own merit he had attained to the dignity of first priest of the kingdom. The honest citizens of Mayence loved and honoured the worthy divine, although they did not altogether like having to bow down to one who had been brought up in a simple cottage like themselves.
The bishop once reproved them in gentle tones for thinking too much of mere descent. This vexed the supercilious citizens, and one night they determined to play Willigis a trick. They took some chalk and drew enormous wheels on all the doors of his house.
Early next morning as the bishop was going to ma.s.s, he noticed the scoffers" malicious work. He stood silently looking at the wheels, the chaplain by his side expecting every moment that the reverend prelate would burst forth in a terrible rage. But a gay smile spread over the bishop"s features and, ordering a painter to be sent to him, he told him to paint white wheels on a scarlet back-ground, visible to every eye, just where the chalk wheels had been drawn, and underneath to paint the words, "Willigis! Willigis! just think what you have risen from." But he did not stop there. He ordered the wheelwright to make him a plough-wheel, and caused it to be placed over his couch in memory of his extraction.
Thereafter the scoffers were put to silence, and the people of Mayence began to honour and esteem their worthy bishop, who, though he had been so exalted, possessed such honest common-sense.
White wheels on a red ground have been the arms of the Bishops of Mayence ever since.
JOHANNISBERG
Wherever the German tongue is heard, and even further still, the king of all Rhine wines, "Johannisberger" is known and sought after. Every friend of the grape which grows on the banks of this river is well acquainted with it, but few perhaps know of its princely origin. It is princely, not because princes" hands once kept the key to Johannisberg, but rather because princely hands planted the vine in the Rhine country, and this royal giver was no other than Charlemagne, the all-powerful ruler of the kingdom of the Franks.
Once in early spring Charles the Great was standing on the balcony of his castle at Ingelheim, his eyes straying over the beautiful stretch of country at his feet. Snow had fallen during the night, and the hills of Rudesheim were clothed in white. As the imperial ruler was looking thoughtfully over the landscape, he noticed that the snow on one side of Johannisberg melted quicker in the sun"s rays than on any other part. Charles, who was a great and deep thinker, began to reflect that on a spot where the rays of the sun shone so genially, something better than gra.s.s would thrive.
Sending for Kunrat, his faithful servant, he bade him saddle his horse the next day at dawn and ride to Orleans, a town famous for its good wine. He was to inform the citizens that the emperor had not forgotten the excellent wine they had given him there, and that he would like to grow the same vines on the Rhine. He desired the citizens of Orleans therefore to send him plants from their country.
The messenger set off to do the king"s bidding and ere the moon had again gone round her course, was back in the castle at Ingelheim.
Great satisfaction prevailed at court. Charles, mighty ruler as he was, even went so far as to cross to Rudesheim, where he planted with his royal hand the French vine in German soil.
This was no mere pa.s.sing whim on the part of the emperor. He sent messengers constantly to bring word how the vines were thriving in Rudesheim and on the flanks of Johannisberg, and when the third autumn had come round, the Emperor Charlemagne set out from his favourite resort, Aix-la-Chapelle, for the Rhine country, and great rejoicing prevailed among the vine-reapers from Rudesheim to Johannisberg.
The first cup of wine was solemnly offered to the emperor, a golden wine in a golden goblet, a wine worthy of a king.
Charles took a long deep draught, and with brightened eyes praised the delicious drink. It became his favourite wine, this fiery "Johannisberger," making him young again in his old age. What Charlemagne then felt when he drank this wine, every one who raises the sparkling grapejuice to his lips is keenly sensible of also.
Wherever the German tongue is heard, and even further still, the king of all Rhine wines is known and sought after, Johannisberger wine.
The legend weaves another wonderful tale about the great emperor blessing his grapes.
A poet"s pen has fashioned it into a song, which is still often heard among the grapegatherers.
Every spring when the vines are blossoming on the hills and in the valleys along the river, and their fragrance scents the air, a tall shadow wanders about the vineyards at night, a purple mantle hanging from his stately shoulders, and a crown on his head. It is Charlemagne, the great Emperor, who planted the grapes long years before. The luscious scent of the blossoms wakens him up from his tomb in Aix-la-Chapelle, and he comes to bless the grapes.
When the full moon gently casts her bright beams on the water, lighting up the emperor"s nightly path, he may be seen crossing the golden bridge formed by her rays and then wandering further along the hills, blessing the vines on the other side of the river.
At the first crow of the c.o.c.k he returns to his grave in Aix-la-Chapelle, and sleeps till the scent of the grapes wakens him next spring, when he again wanders through the countries along the Rhine, blessing the vineyards.
Let us now relate another little story which is told of the monks who lived at Johannisberg.
Once the high Abbot of Fulda came unexpectedly to visit the cloister at Johannisberg just about the time when the grapes were ripe. The worthy Abbot made many inquiries about his people, showed himself highly pleased with the works of the industrious monks, and as a mark of his continued favour, invited all the inmates of the cloister to a drinking-bout.
"Wine maketh the heart glad," thus quoting King David"s significant words, the holy man began his speech: "G.o.d"s loving hand will be gracious in future years to your vines. Let us profit by his grace, brothers, and drink what he has provided for us in moderation and reverence. But before we refresh ourselves with G.o.d"s good gifts, take your breviaries and let us begin with a short prayer."