ALSACE-LORRAINE

By George Wharton Edwards

 “Section 14”

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Thann

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At the mouth of the narrow valley of the Thur, A where the dark-wooded mountains enclose it with heavy forests above and smiling golden vineyards in the slopes below, is Thann. On the left bank of the river the ruin of a great castle crowns the wooded hill­top, commanding the busy town, the winding river, crossed by two bridges, and the entrance to the valley. This great ruin is the Engelburg, which was destroyed by Turenne in the year 1674, and now resembles somewhat the bulk of a huge cask, or the base of a great stool, used by a gray old giant who gathered his worldly goods about him on the hilltop and there sat during the attack. In truth it was a stronghold long before the lord of Engelburg (Angel's Fortress) seized the site for his castle. The Roman settlers, ever covetous of high places, "Epris des hauteurs," built a fortress and refuge there long before feoffage arrived. They were higher men than any that came after, and, trusting in their wary eyes, husbanded hand's toil and body's sweat for due occasion. There are ancient Roman Gallic names all over the Province, along the water sheds marking off the

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tribal borders and boundaries. After these came the blustering burgraves with their lavish prowess, noisy loves and hates, and blood-thirsty sentimentalism, and from these were named each overhanging thorp.

Coming down by the zigzag road one sees: at first a world of dark undulating rock land in vesture of shining green herbage and heather-bells, high bordered with the bristling fir, deep girdled across with a devious stream. Petty detail of feature is lost in largeness. Little by little, as one descends, the picture narrows until the castle looms into frowning focus, cresting with an armory of spikey green wrack its mountain cone. From this descends a fall of grassy slopes that catch the sun and glow with its gilding. Each step changes the view and obliterates the last.

A pillared Saint in a weatherbeaten wooden pent seems out of place amid such wildness, mossy thatch and winding honeysuckle seek to hide it; then the long, low valley carpet; the level, decorous river with peaceful oxen grazing or wading; the sleepy pit-pat-pat of women washing clothes at tile river edge, kneeling in quaint wooden boxes; a few people passing on the nearest bridge, and an angler below lolling half awake, propped up in the stern of an anchored punt, - this is the picture. One may close one's eyes to the factory chimneys, if one is so minded, and forget them. Likewise may he ignore most of the seventy-eight hundred population should

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they perchance not interest him. They will object not at all.

One may linger near the winding mountain paths and there beguile his days with necromancy, raising the lordly ghosts of the Barons of Engelburg in imagination so that they come trooping down the stony way spurring past on prancing horse, breastplate flashing and chain mail rattling, on the way .to some "festa," maybe the wedding of the Lady Ermintrude or the banquet of Wenceslas; the triumphant retum or the Duke of Lorraine, or Philip's celebration of the oath of fealty. Or maybe they are on their way to Strassburg to the Tourney, where there is call for much skill or arm and eagle eye.

Throughout the region the story of Engelburg runs like a scarlet cord in the tapestry, but later on all this pattern of tapestry is worn, faded, and ravelled into a gray rag, and the Seigneurie has passed into careless hands. Barons and Knights came and went in the ages. It passed through sieges; warriors attacked it patiently and were received by the ensconced Baron with showers of hot lead, ancient offal, and such other confetti as they could contrive at intervals between the launching of stone balls, and showers or iron bolts. Engelburg held out with doglike persistence to the end, until they threw their redoubts against the ravine and gave him such a battering that at last he appeared on the ramparts and

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gave in. Most of these strongholds, deemed so long im­pregnable, tottered and fell like ninepins when shot at, with French powder and cannon. Many indeed disappeared with scarcely a trace when the stones were over­grown with ivy. One passes between walls that seem more than ten feet thick, where Seigneural lodge, donjon, and keep still stand all moss grown, and there are the arches of Knights' hall, and above is what was "my lady's chamber," with crumbling stone seat in the narrow window wherein she must have sat in days long gone, I: and gazed out over the golden slopes, the valley, and the winding white road. One lingers here until the splashes of golden light are gone from the valley, and a vapory canopy of rose shot lilac envelops the setting of the sun.

There was a huge circular ragged mass of masonry on the hilltop, resembling somewhat the end of a great spool set up side-ways as if overturned by a giant hand. It is called here the "Eye of the Sorcerer," and is the object of much superstition by the peasants. A little maid was leaning against its side, but when she saw us she fled away down the rough path, and nothing would induce her to return. But in the sketch which I made, I placed her just where she stood to complete the picture. It was certainly a wild looking spot, and the "Sorcerer's Eye" was well placed, for sitting in the great round hole we had a magnificent view of the dim luminous valley which well repaid us for the climb. There must have

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been some sort of a legend connected with the "Eye," but what it was I must confess with some shame we never discovered, although we questioned repeatedly those old people whom we fancied could satisfy us. Strange sights and sounds have been met with here of nights, for, so they say, this venerable height harbors gruesome things: that sorcerers foregathered here aforetime, and they also say, do even now hector those who would pry into the secrets of the past.

When the ancient ruins of the monastery suppressed by Joseph II, whoever he was, were made over into a factory, the place was haunted, o'nights, by pranksome, ill­natured spooks. According to the story of mine entertaining host, related to Lady Anne one time I was absent sketching the Sorcerer's Eye, the factory master's life was made a burden to him. When his dinner was laid for him, and his wife went to call him, the platters, cups and bottles were thrown about the room in all directions. Some wiseacre advised him to shoot silver bullets into the room to the accompaniment of appropriate exorcism. This, however, not only proved too expensive, but failed to produce any result, so old horse shoe nails were tried; again without effect. Then the expedient of strewing the floor with wood ashes was tried, in the hope that these might discourage the witch or goblin, for by some reason known in this region, such folk either dislike the ashes of wood, or are unable to cross a threshold so strewn­

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accounts differ. But, related mine host to Lady Anne, these strewn ashes revealed the next morning some tell­tale footprints-leading to a disused closet. Whereupon the factory master loaded the blunderbuss to the muzzle with old nails and scrap, and under the eye of the Mayor, all clad in his sash of office for the occasion, did then and there discharge it at the closet door, when in it fell, and out there tumbled the body of a man, who proved to be a fellow formerly employed as clerk by the master, whom he had discharge for stealing, and who had taken this means of avenging himself. The body was buried in a pit filled with lime at night in the marsh below the Sorcerer's Eye, and, continues the story, -- on stormy nights, etc., etc.

Mine host, under further encouragement, told a better one of a Demon who still rocks children's cradles, in which are babies under the age of six months, should the mother or nurse for an instant leave them unattended  - rocks them so hard that the babes perish in convulsions! This happened to such an extent as to alarm the towns­people; twelve children thus perished. So the wise woman of the village adopted the simple expedient of removing the rockers from all the cradles, "which," gravely alleged mine host, the while avoiding my eye, "baffled the evil spirit, and since then he has not left the summit of the hill." Somehow, I cannot rid myself of the impression that mine host was "stringing" us!

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The huge mass of masonry so curiously balanced on the hilltop, is, according to Erckmann-Chatrian, the remains of the top of the great tower of the castle of Engelsburg, which after the treaty of Westphalia (1648) passed with the town of Thann over to Cardinal Mazarin. Afterwards at the order of Turenne, Pedro de Poncet appealed to the miners of Giromagny to blow up and destroy the old castle. Three times, and unsuccessfully, did they make the attempt. The first resulted in the overthrow of the manor walls; on the second attempt the donjon sank to half its height; and on the third a huge section comprising this great ring turned up on its side, and remains the wonder of the country side.

The inn was entirely delightful. Each afternoon the noise of ninepins sounded from the rear garden, where grave burghers were gathered at the game, and it was difficult for the landlord to induce them to come to the dinner of unexceptionable cutlets, souffle and a generous bottle of the "Rangener" wine, extolled as far back as 1550.  In days thereafter we explored the region, discovering by chance a spring that is said to be far famed for the cure of rickets and such like complaints in children, and to which yearly come priests in solemn procession bringing with them crowds of pilgrims, who lave their children with the waters, leaving small wooden crosses and such like "ex voto" in gratitude. There is great faith in this water, we were told. Its origin is lost

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in the dim ages. But a village priest related that in early days the Roman Fontanalia were celebrated here­abouts, and thus this and other springs were venerated. The Danish Saint Pirminus preached the gospel throughout Lorraine, so his name is still used to qualify certain ailments common to children, and his effigy is seen in the wayside chapels.

It was our fortune to come upon a celebration of the Kermis, where were gathered bevies of pretty fair-haired girls with full-laced bosoms, and attentive young fellows garbed in quaint, high-waisted, many-buttoned coats, who paraded the flag hung streets, shyly holding hands.

And we were forced against the wall to let the "Mallepost" pass, a huge sort of diligence, archaically painted in yellow, with a long body and many small windows, four huge wheels, and a set of brakes, in protection against steep descents, made of two old top boots of incredible size on each rear wheel. The whole ark was drawn by six powerful horses. We thought that it might be good fun to go on by this to the next town, and as Lady Anne was agreed we mounted to the interior by means of the steep steps at the rear door. Presently appeared the burly driver, the leading horses were brought out, and then came a crowd of peasants who precipitated themselves into the old ark, which swayed

and rocked with their entry. Each peasant was laden with one or two bundles which he bestowed as best he

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might, regarding us not at all. Then, amid boisterous laughter and shouts, and with many handshakings through the door and open windows, we started. Ere we had gone a square the diligence stopped and in got four more peasants with bundles. At another square another pair demanded place, and room was made for them too. This continued at intervals until we reached the edge of the town, and the old ark, which was designed to accommodate sixteen, eight on each lengthwise seat, held twenty-two. Crushed and rigidly held on either side by these full bodied lusty peasants, we speculated as to what would happen to us if two more were added to the number, all of whom were seated on the two benches; eleven on each! when lo! the ark again stopped and two more entered the door. Happily these were children, who secured seats on some of the bundles on the floor among the feet. Thus we journeyed as far as the Staufen, about a mile and a half beyond the town, which we reached in safety. Here the driver demanded a mark each for our "places," and we bade good-by to the twenty-two smiling, good-natured, squeezed ones, and away they went out of our ken forever. Thann entertained us very well indeed. There is a real gem of Gothic architecture there in the church of St. Theobald, the choir of which may be seen from the station, and dates from 1351-1421. It has a bold and most elegant open tower, the work of Meister Remigius

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Walch (1516) whose name is·said to be carved on the spire, but I could not find it. There is also a handsome double portal on the west side. The interior is lavishly adorned with ornamentation and carving of the sixteenth century. The stained glass windows are very satisfying, and over the altar there is a fine example of the work of Martin Schongauer, showing the Saviour surrounded by the Apostles. There are also many most picturesque old towers, houses with gardens, and rows of tall poplars on the river, of which I made a sketch.

[End of Section 14]

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