Читать книгу Rollo on the Rhine - Abbott Jacob - Страница 2

As soon as Mr. George and Rollo issued from the door of their hotel into the street, which was very narrow and without sidewalks, so that they were obliged to walk in the middle of it, a young man, plainly but neatly dressed, came up to them from behind, and said something to them in German. He was what is called a commissioner, and he was coming to offer to act as their guide in seeing the town.

Nearly all the travelling on the Rhine is pleasure travelling. The strangers consequently, who arrive at any town or city by the steamboats and by railway, come, almost all of them, for the purpose of seeing the churches and castles, and other wonders of the place, and not to transact business; and in every town there is a great number of persons whose employment it is to act as guides in showing these things. These men hover about the doors of the hotels, and gather in front of all the celebrated churches, and in all public places where travellers are expected to go; and as soon as they see a gentleman, or a party of gentlemen and ladies, coming out of their hotel, or approaching any place of public interest, they immediately come up to them, and offer their services. Sometimes their services are valuable, and the traveller is very ready to avail himself of them, especially when in any particular town there is a great deal to see, and he has but little time to see it. At other times, however, it is much pleasanter to go alone to the remarkable places, as a map of the city will enable any one to find them very easily, and the guide book explains them in a much more satisfactory manner than any of these commissioners can do it.

The commissioners generally speak French, English, and German, and after trying one of these tongues upon the strangers whom they accost, and finding that they are not understood, they try another and another until they succeed.

The commissioner in this case addressed Mr. George first in German. Mr. George said, "Nein," meaning no, and walked on.

The commissioner followed by his side, and began to talk in French, enumerating the various churches and other objects of interest in Cologne, and offering to go and show them.

"No," said Mr. George, "I am acquainted with the town, and I have no need of a guide."

Mr. George had studied the map and the guide book, until he knew the town quite well enough for all his purposes.

"You speak English, perhaps," said the commissioner, and then proceeded to repeat what he had said before, in broken English. He supposed that Mr. George and Rollo were English people, and that they would be more likely to engage him as a guide, if they found that he could explain the wonders to them in their own language.

Mr. George said, "No, no, I do not wish for a guide."

"Dere is die churts of St. Ursula," said the commissioner, persisting, "and die grand towers of die gross St. Martin, which is vare bu'ful."

Mr. George finding that refusals did no good, determined to take no further notice of the commissioner, and so began to talk to Rollo, walking on all the time. The commissioner continued for some time to enumerate the churches and other public buildings, which he could show the strangers if they would but put themselves under his guidance; but when at length he found that they would not listen to him, he went away.

Very soon an old beggar man came limping along on a crutch, with a countenance haggard and miserable, and, advancing to them, held out his cap for alms. Mr. George, who thought it was not best to give to beggars in the streets, was going on without regarding him; but the man hobbled on by the side of the strangers, and seemed about to be as pertinacious as the commissioner. They went on so for a little distance, when at length, just as the man was about giving up in despair, Rollo put his hand in his pocket, and feeling among the money there, happened to bring up a small copper coin, which he at once and instinctively dropped into the beggar's cap. He performed the movement a little slyly, so that Mr. George did not see him. This he was able to do from the fact that the beggar was on his side, and not on Mr. George's, and, moreover, a little behind.

THE BEGGAR.

As soon as the man received the coin, he took it, put the cap on his head, and fell back out of view.

"I am glad he is gone," said Mr. George; "I was afraid he would follow us half through the town."

Rollo laughed.

"What is it?" said Mr. George. "What makes you laugh?"

"Why, the fact is," said Rollo, "I gave him a batz."

"Ah!" said Mr. George.

"Yes," said Rollo, "or something like a batz, that I had in my pocket."

A batz is a small Swiss coin, of the value of a fifth of a cent. Rollo had become familiar with this money in the course of his travels in Switzerland, but he did not yet know the names of the Prussian coins. The money which he gave the beggar was really what they called a pfennige.4

Rollo supposed that his uncle would not quite approve of his giving the beggar this money; but as he never liked to have any secrecy or concealment in what he did, he preferred to tell him. This is always the best way.

As soon as the beggar had gone, another commissioner came to offer his services. This time, however, Mr. George, after once telling the man that he did not wish for his services, took no further notice of him; and so he soon went away.

The streets of Cologne are exceedingly narrow, and there are no sidewalks—or scarcely any. In one place Mr. George and Rollo passed through a street which was so narrow, that, standing in the middle and extending his hands, Mr. George could touch the buildings at the same time on each side. And yet it seemed that carriages were accustomed to pass through this street, as it was paved regularly, like the rest, and had smooth stones laid on each side of it for wheels to run in, with grooves, which seemed to have been worn in them by the wheels that had passed there.

The reason why the streets are so narrow in these old towns is, that in the ancient times, when they were laid out, there were no wheeled carriages in use, and the streets were only intended for foot passengers. When, at length, carriages came into use, the houses were all built, and so the streets could not easily be widened.

Our travellers at length reached a large, open square, on the farther side of which the immense mass of the cathedral was seen rising, like a gray and venerable ruin. The wall which formed the front of it, and which terminated above in the unfinished mason work of the towers, was very irregular in its outline on the top, having remained just as it was left when the builders stopped their work upon it, five hundred years ago. The whole front of this wall, having been formed apparently of clusters of Gothic columns, which had become darkened, and corroded, and moss-covered by time, appeared very much, as Rollo had said, like a range of cliffs—the resemblance being greatly increased by the green fringe of foliage with which the irregular outline of the top was adorned. It may seem strange that such a vegetation as this could arise and be sustained at such a vast elevation. But ancient ruins are almost always found to be thus covered with plants which grow upon them, even at a very great height above the ground, with a luxuriance which is very surprising to those who witness this phenomenon for the first time. The process is this: Mosses and lichens begin to grow first on the stones and in the mortar. The roots of these plants strike in, and assisted by the sun and rain, they gradually disintegrate a portion of the masonry, which, in process of time, forms a soil sufficient for the seeds of other plants, brought by the wind, or dropped by birds, to take root in. At first these plants do not always come to maturity; but when they die and decay, they help to increase the soil, and to make a better bed for the seeds that are to come afterwards. Thus, in the course of centuries, the upper surfaces of old walls and towers become quite fertile in grass and weeds, and sometimes in shrubbery. I once gathered sprigs from quite a large rosebush which I found growing several hundred feet above the ground, on one of the towers of the cathedral of Strasbourg. It was as flourishing a rosebush as I should wish to see in any gentleman's garden.

What Rollo meant by the bears and wolves which he said he saw looking down from these cliff-like towers, were great stone figures of these animals, that projected from various angles and cornices here and there, to serve as waterspouts.

There was an immense door of entrance to the church, at the end of a very deep, arched recess in the middle of the wall, and Mr. George and Rollo went up to it to go in. They were met at the door by another commissioner, who offered his services to show them the church. Mr. George declined this offer, and went in.

The feeling of amazement and awe which the aspect of the interior of the cathedral first awakened in the minds of our travellers was for a moment interrupted by a man in a quaint costume, who came up to them, holding a large silver salver in his hand, with money in it. He said something to Mr. George and Rollo in German. They did not understand what he said; but his action showed that he was taking up a contribution, for something or other, from the visitors who came to see the church. Mr. George paid no attention to him, but walked on.

On looking above and around them, our travellers found themselves in the midst of a sort of forest of monstrous stone columns, which towered to a vast height above their heads, and there were lost in vaults and arches of the most stupendous magnificence and grandeur. The floor was of stone, being formed of square flags, all cracked and corroded by time. Along the sides of the church were various chapels, all adorned with great paintings, and containing altars richly furnished with silver lamps, and glittering paraphernalia of all kinds. Parties of ladies and gentlemen, strangers from all lands, were walking to and fro at leisure about the floor, looking at the paintings, or gazing up into the vaulted roofs, or studying out the inscriptions on the monuments and sculptures which meet the eye on every hand.

All this was in the body of the church, or the nave, as it is called, which is in fact only the vestibule to the more imposing magnificence of what is beyond, in the ambulatory and in the choir. Mr. George and Rollo advanced in this direction, and at length they came to a vast screen made of a very lofty palisade of iron. They approached a door in the centre of the screen, and looking through between the iron bars, they beheld a scene of grandeur and magnificence wholly indescribable. The carved oak stalls, the gorgeously decorated altar, the immense candlesticks with candles twenty feet high, and the lofty ceiling with its splendid frescoes, formed a spectacle so imposing that they both gazed at it for some moments in silent wonder.

"I wish we could get in," said Rollo.

"I wish so too," said Mr. George; "but I suppose that this is a sort of sacred place."

A moment after this, while Mr. George and Rollo were looking through this grating, a sudden sound of music burst upon their ears. It was produced evidently by an organ and a choir of singers, and it seemed to come from far above their heads. The sound was at once deepened in volume by the reverberation of the vaults and arches of the cathedral, and at the same time softened in tone, so that the effect was inconceivably solemn.

"Hark!" said Mr. George.

"Where does that music come from?" said Rollo.

"Hark!" repeated Mr. George.

So Mr. George and Rollo stood still and listened almost breathlessly to the music, until it ceased.

"That was good music," said Rollo.

Mr. George made a sort of inarticulate exclamation, which seemed to imply that he had no words to express the emotion which the music awakened in his mind, and walked slowly away.

Presently they came to a place on one side, where there was a great iron gate or door in the screen, which seemed to be ajar.

"Here's a door open," said Mr. George; "let us go in here."

Rollo shrank back a little. "I'm afraid they will not let us go in here," said he. "It looks like a private place."

Rollo was always very particular, in all his travels, to avoid every thing like intrusion. He would never go where it seemed to him doubtful whether it was proper to go. By this means he saved himself from a great many awkward predicaments that persons who act on a contrary principle often get themselves into while travelling. Mr. George was not quite so particular.

"It looks rather private," said Mr. George; "but if they do not wish us to go in, they must keep the door shut."

So he pushed the great iron gate open, and walked in. Rollo followed him, though somewhat timidly.

They passed between a row of chapels5 on one side, and a high, carved partition on the other, which seemed to separate them from the choir, until, at length, they came to the end of the partition, where there was a gate that led directly into the choir. Mr. George turned in, followed by Rollo, and they found themselves standing in the midst of a scene of gorgeous magnificence which it is utterly impossible to describe.

"That is where the music came from that we heard," said Rollo, pointing upward.

Mr. George looked up where Rollo had pointed, and there he saw a gallery at a great elevation above them, with a choir of singers in front, and an enormous organ towering to a great height towards the vaulted roof behind. The choir was separated from the body of the church by ranges of columns above, and by richly-carved and ornamental screens and railings below. The ceilings were beautifully painted in fresco, and here and there were to be seen lofty windows of stained glass, antique and venerable in form, and indescribably rich and gorgeous in coloring.

After gazing about upon this scene for a few minutes with great admiration and awe, Rollo called his uncle's attention to a discovery which he suddenly made.

"See," said he; "uncle George, there is a congregation."

So saying, Rollo pointed across the choir to a sort of gateway, which was opposite to the side on which they came in, and where, through the spaces which opened between the great columns that intervened, a congregation were seen assembled. They were in a chapel which was situated in that part of the church. The chapel itself was full, and a great many persons were seated in the various spaces rear. Mr. George and Rollo walked across the choir, and joined this congregation by taking a position near a pillar, where they could see what was going on.

At a corner near a little gateway in a railing, where the people appeared to come in, there was a woman sitting with a brush in her hand. The brush was wet with holy water. The people, as they came in,—for a few came in after Rollo and Mr. George arrived at the place,—touched their fingers to this brush, to wet them, and then crossed themselves with the holy water.

At the altar was a priest dressed in splendid pontificals. He was standing with his back to the people. There was a great number of immensely tall candlesticks on each side of him, and a great many other glittering emblems. The priest was dressed in garments richly embroidered with gold. There was a boy behind him dressed also in a very singular manner. The priest and the boy went through with a great variety of performances before the altar, none of which Rollo could at all understand. From time to time the boy would ring a little bell, and the organ and the choir of singers in the lofty gallery would begin to play and sing; and then, after a short time, the music would cease, and the priest and the boy would go on with their performances as before.

Presently Rollo heard a sound of marching along the paved floor, and looking into the choir whence the sounds proceeded, he saw a procession formed of boys, with a priest, bearing some glittering sacred utensils of silver in his hands, at the head of them. The boys were all dressed alike. The dress consisted of a long crimson robe with a white frock over it, which came down below the waist, and a crimson cape over the frock, which covered the shoulders. Thus they were red above and below, and white in the middle.

One of these boys had a censer in his hands, and another had a little bell; and as they came along you could see the censer swinging in the air, and the volumes of fragrant smoke rising from it, and you could hear the tinkling of the little bell. The priest advanced to the altar before which the audience were sitting, and there, while the censer was waving and the smoke was ascending, he performed various ceremonies which Rollo could not at all understand, but which seemed to interest the congregation very much, for they bowed continually, and crossed themselves, and seemed impressed with a very deep solemnity.

Presently, when the ceremony was completed, the procession returned into the choir, the priest at the head of it, just as it came.

When the procession had passed away, Mr. George made a sign for Rollo to follow him, and then walked along out through the gate where the woman was sitting with the holy water. She held out the brush to Mr. George and Rollo as they passed, but they did not take it.

"What ridiculous mummeries!" said Rollo, in a low tone, as soon as they had got out of the hearing of the congregation.

"Yes," said Mr. George, "they seem so to us; but I have a certain respect for all those ceremonies, since they are meant to be the worship of God."

"I thought it was the worship of images," said Rollo. "Did not you see the images?"

"Yes," said Mr. George, "I saw them; and perhaps we can make it out that those rites are, in reality, the worship of images; but they are not meant for that. They are meant for the worship of God."