Nelson Evening Mail SATURDAY. SEPTEMBER 30, 1944 THE RHINELAND

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 79, 30 September 1944, Page 3

Nelson Evening Mail SATURDAY. SEPTEMBER 30, 1944 THE RHINELAND

LORD BALDWIN’S remark some years ago that “Britain's frontier now lies on the Rhine” acquires a special significance as the Allied troops approach this great river. In Holland they are fighting on its very banks, and further south they are striking into the hills which slope down to its waters. Their operations take them over ground that is drenched in history, for as far back as Roman times the Rhine was recognised as a great natural barrier between Gaul and Germany, and many sanguinary battles were fought along its banks. Augustus and his successors accepted it as a settled part of their frontier, and though occasional expeditions were sent across the river into Germany, no serious attempt was ever made to conquer the barbarous inhabitants of that wild and desolate country. The conversion of the Germans to Christianity in the eighth century, however, brought them into the main stream of European civilisation, and during the Middle Ages the Rhine became one of the world’s great highways. Great barges carried the wealth of Italy and the East down the river, bringing power and prosperity to such cities as Basle and Frankfort, Mainz and Cologne. Ignoring the pretensions of the Emperor, these towns became the nuclei of almost independent states and principalities, though they never lost their German affiliation. Despite the claims, sometimes successfully prosecuted. of the French, the Rhine is primarily a German river. Until 1697 its waters lay wholly within German territory from the Swiss to the Dutch border. The Peace of Ryswick gave Alsace and Lorraine to France; they were recovered by Germany in 1871. but lost again in 1919. The claim of the French people to advance their boundary to the Rhine may be justified strategically, but historically and ethnologically it is at

best a matter for controversy. The Rhine from its source near the St. Gothard Pass to its outlet in the North Sea is 760 miles in length, and it drains a basin of nearly 80,000 square miles, not much less than the area of New Zealand. The first 280 miles of its course lie in Switzerland, and when it reaches Basle, the frontier city where Switzerland, France and Germany meet, it is already a considerable stream, over 200 yards wide. Here it turns north, running between the French Vosges and the German Black Forest in a series of magnificent reaches. At Bonn, a few miles south of Cologne, Uie river emerges from the hills on to the Great Plain of Northern Germany, and follows a broad and sluggish course to the Dutch frontier and thence to the sea. To the ordinary traveller this is the least interesting part of the river, but commercially it is the most important. North-east of Cologne lie the rich Westphalian coalfield and the great industrial cities of the Ruhr, Essen, Dusseldorf, Crefeld and Dortmund, for several years now favourite targets for our bombers, but in peace time contributing much to Germany’s wealth and prosperity. From the point of view of .history and scenery the most interesting part of the Rhine is that lying between Cologne and Mainz. Here the landscape is a curious blend of old and new, the frowning castles of the mediaeval barons alternating with terraced vineyards that produce wine esteemed all over the world. Many of the Rhine towns date back f o Roman times: Cologne, for instance, was originally Colonia Agrippina, so named in honour of the mother of the Emperor Nero. Everywhere there are memories of mediaeval song and legend. “The castled crag of Drachenfels” commemorates the exploits of the mythical hero Siegfried, who is said to have here slain a dragon that infested the countryside and to have acquired invulnerability by bathing himself in its blood. The vulnerability of 1 his modern namesake is now in the process of being tested. Near Bingen the Lorelei, three beautiful sirens with flowing golden tresses, were reputed to lure mariners to destruction, and a few miles from Mainz is the tower of the infamous Bishop Hatto, who refused corn to the starving people in a famine, and was devoured by ravenous rats for his sins. Not far above Mainz, on the Neckar, a tributary of the Rhine, is the ancient University town of Heidelberg, where German student life used to be seen in its most characteristic forms, and where, until quite recently, the old practice of duelling was not only permitted, but actively encouraged.

There is in these days a natural aversion to Germany and things German, and when the Allied troops move into the Rhineland they will perhaps find little to attract them in the romantic associations of the great river. They will probably feel that the massive statue of Germania near Mainz, erected by a vainglorious people to celebrate the victories of the Franco-Prussian War, sums up more truly the modern spirit of the Reich. But the great places of the world should not be linked too closely with narrow national associations; London and Paris, Rome, Florence and Athens, the Rhineland and the Alps are not solely the possession of the countries within whose borders they lie, but are part of the cultural inheritance of the whole civilised world.