streets and caverns, we emerged into the chamber of Michelawic, which
is of such vast proportions that it is difficult for the eye to
penetrate its mysterious gloom. A magnificent chandelier, cut out of
the crystal salt, hangs from the ceiling. On grand occasions this is
brilliantly lighted, and rich strains of music reverberate through the
chamber. Nothing can equal the stupendous effects of a full band of
brass instruments performing in this vast cavern. The sounds are flung
back from wall to wall, and float upward, whirling from ledge to ledge,
till the ear loses them in the distance; then down they fall again with
a volume and fulness almost supernatural. It is impossible to determine
from what quarter they emanate, whether from above or below, so rich,
varied, and confusing is the reverberation. Our guide, in a fine mellow
voice, sang us a mining song, to test the effects, and I must say I
never heard such music before. Indeed, so inspiring was it that I could
not refrain from a snatch of my own favorite melody,--
"Oh, California! you're the land for me!"
And when I heard it repeated by a thousand mysterious spirits of
the air, and hurled back at me from each crystallized point of the
cavern, the effect was so fine that I was struck perfectly dumb with
astonishment. Lablache never made such music in his life, and no other
singer of my acquaintance would be worthy of attempting it.
Soon after leaving the chamber of Michelawic we passed over a series of
wooden foot-ways and corridors, extending a distance of fifteen hundred
feet, through a great variety of apartments and rugged passages, named
after the royal families of Poland and Austria. There were courts, and
imperial rooms, and obelisks; chapels, shrines, saints, and martyrs;
long rows of niches, containing statues of the old kings of Poland,
all cut out of the solid salt. The design and execution of some of
these were admirable, and the effect was gratifying, as well from the
artistic skill displayed as the peculiarity of the material.
Descending to a second stage by means of a rough wooden stairway,
which winds around the walls of an immense cavern of irregular shape,
we wandered through a series of tunnels, opening occasionally into
chambers of prodigious height and dimensions, till our guides announced
that we were approaching the Infernal Lake. The lamp-bearers in front
held up their lamps, and, peering through the fitful gloom, I could
discern, some distance in advance, a sheet of water, the surface of
which glistened with a supernatural light. Arriving at the edge of
this mysterious lake, which might well pass for the river Styx, a boat
approached from the opposite shore, drawn by means of a rope. Numerous
dark-looking imps were at work dragging it through the water. The sides
rippled in the sluggish pool, and a hollow reverberation sounded from
the dark walls of the cavern.
A gate-way was thrown open, and we descended some steps and entered
the boat. It was a square, flat-bottomed craft, decorated with fancy
colors, containing seats on each side, and capable of accommodating a
large party. We took our places, and at a signal from the guide the
boat moved slowly and silently over the dark depths, which seemed
almost of inky blackness in the gloom.
As we thus floated on the infernal pool the solitude was awful. I
could not but shudder at the thought that we were nearly five hundred
feet beneath the surface of the earth. The dismal black walls, roughly
hewn from the solid stratum of salt and marl; the tremendous heights
overhead, and the apparent great depth underneath; the fitful glare of
the torches, the rough, grimy faces of the attendants, and their wild
costumes, gave a peculiarly infernal aspect to the scene. It was weird
and sombre beyond conception.
We stopped a while in the middle of the lake to notice the strange
effect of the plashing of the waters, when disturbed by a rocking
motion of the boat, against the massive walls on either side. The
reverberation was fearfully deep, rolling and swelling from point
to point, till lost in the labyrinth of shafts and crevices far in
the distance. Around and above us were innumerable ruffed points
jutting out from the solid stratum, and archways reaching across deep
fissures, and beams of timber braced against overhanging masses of
rock. The sombre hue of the toppling canopy and rugged walls was
relieved only by the points of crystal salt upon which the lights
glistened; mysterious shadows flitted in the air; and pale, greenish
scintillations shot out of the gloom. It was, in truth, a subterranean
universe of darkness, made visible by torches of grease and stars
of salt, with an infernal sea in its midst, and inhabited by a very
doubtful set of people, half earthly and wholly Satanic in appearance.
Continuing our voyage, after some minutes we approached a point beyond
which all was an unfathomable wilderness of jagged walls and yawning
caverns. Suddenly a blaze of blue fire burst from the gloom, throwing
a ghastly hue over the crystal pinnacles, then faded slowly away. The
guides now covered their lights, and we were left in utter darkness.
Groans and cries were heard in the air, and plashing sounds echoed from
the shores of the infernal lake. As these ceased a terrific report
broke upon the stillness, and out of the gloom arose a blaze of red
fire, gradually assuming shape till it stood before us in the form of
a magnificent triumphal arch, bearing upon its front the illuminated
motto,--
=Glück-Auf!=
signifying, "Good luck to you!" or, literally, "Luck upon it!" the
famous greeting of the miners. Under this triumphal arch we passed
slowly into an immense chamber, of such vast proportions and rugged
outline that the eye failed to penetrate its profound depths. Then
from various corridors, high among the conglomerate crags, descended
mysterious voices, crying, one after another, "Glück-auf! Glück-auf!
Glück-auf!" till the reverberation united them all in a grand chorus,
so deep, so rich, varied, and powerful that mortal ears could encompass
no more. Was it real? Could these be human voices and earthly sounds,
or were they the distempered fantasy of a dream?
At a signal from our guide the chorus ceased, and shooting fires
broke out from the toppling heights, and the whole grand chamber, in
all its majesty, was illuminated with showers of colored stars. The
inverted arches of fire in the water--the reflected images of rocks,
corridors and precipices--the sudden contrasts of light and gloom--the
scintillations of the crystal salt points--formed a scene of miraculous
and indescribable grandeur. Unable to control my enthusiasm, I shouted
at the top of my voice, "Glück-auf! Glück-auf!" The cry was caught up
by the guides and torch-bearers; it arose and was echoed from rock to
rock by the chorus singers, till, like the live thunder, it leaped
"the rattling crags among." ...
After visiting many chapels and shrines cut out of the solid salt,
we emerged into the Chamber of Letow, the magnificent saloon of
Entertainment, where, on grand occasions, such as the visit of the
Emperor or any member of the imperial family, the whole of this vast
chamber is brilliantly illuminated. Six splendid chandeliers, carved
from the crystal salt, hang from the ceiling. An alcove at the upper
end, approached from a series of steps, contains a throne of green and
ruby-colored salt upon which the Emperor sits. Transparent pictures
and devices are arranged in the background to give additional splendor
to the imperial boudoir, and the crystallizations with which the
walls glitter reflect the many colored lights with a dazzling effect.
The door-ways, statues, and columns are decorated with flowers and
evergreens; the floors are sprinkled with salts of various hues; the
galleries are festooned with flags; and the whole chamber is aglow with
transparencies and brilliant lights....
Although the mass of the stratum of which this grand chamber is
composed is of a darkish color, yet the very darkness of the
ground-work serves all the better to show by contrast the glittering
points of salt. The effect is inconceivably rich. The arched roof; the
high rugged walls, hewn out of the solid rock; the marks of the pick
and chisel visible in furrows all over, all sparkling with saline gems,
give the whole cavern the appearance of being studded with diamonds.
It reminds one of the grottoes under the sea described by Gulnare in
the Arabian Nights. When it is considered, too, that all this splendor
and these festivities--the illuminated galleries and alcoves, the
chandeliers and decorations, the vast concourse of guests, the music,
the dancing, the wild and fanciful costumes--are five hundred feet
below the surface of the earth, it is no exaggeration to say that the
spectacle is unparalleled. Nothing to equal it in a similar way can
be seen in any other part of the world. We next descended by a series
of stairways to the third story. This differs but little from those
already described, except that the deeper one goes the wilder and
more rugged become the ramifications of the mines. At one point in
our journey we entered a spacious chamber some eighty or one hundred
feet high. Here the guide paused, and in an impressive manner struck
his stick against the floor. When the reverberation had ceased he
announced the important circumstance that we now stood directly under
the Infernal Lake! "Ya! mein Herr," said he, "that wonderful lake, over
which we sailed in a boat not half an hour ago, is over our heads, and
if it should break through it would drown every one of us!" "Rather an
unpleasant pickle," I thought, but could not translate the pun into
German, and so let it pass.
It appears that the waters of this lake found a vent at one time, and
deluged a large portion of the mines, and those of the panic-stricken
operatives who were distant from the main shafts communicating with
the surface of the earth were suffocated while attempting to escape.
Others, in their fright, fled at random, and, falling into deep pits,
were dashed to atoms. In 1644 another destructive fire took place. All
the wood-work was seized by the devouring flames, men and horses were
roasted to death, and many of the workmen who escaped subsequently died
of their injuries. This was one of the most fearful conflagrations on
record. It lasted an entire year. The chambers and tunnels, deprived
of their support, fell together in many places, causing immense
destruction to the works. Even a considerable portion of the town of
Wieliczka sank into the earth, and was engulfed in the general ruin.
THE JUMPING PROCESSION AT ECHTERNACH.
M. OGLE.
[The modern enlightenment of Europe is a class enlightenment
only. The mass of many populations still dwell in the shadow
of mediæval superstition. As one example of this we append the
following description of a curious religious mania, a relic from
the centuries of mediævalism. The party of travellers with whom
we have to deal had seen all there was to see in Trier (Treves),
and the suggestion was made to go see the jumping procession at
Echternach, which would come off on Whit-Tuesday. An expedition
thither was accordingly organized.]
Our party was to consist of three carriage loads, and our escort were
all to be _en civile_, and this last determination, I may remark, was,
to a Prussian officer, a very weighty one. A Prussian officer, be it
known, is always in uniform; the government do not hide away the army
that fights their battles, protects their soil, and upholds their
honor, for fear of wounding the susceptibilities and irritating the
nerves of the working classes; the country is proud of its army, and
the army is proud of its uniform, and, as a rule, a Prussian officer
always wears it. On this occasion, however, the uniform was to be
doffed, and the extent and style of our friends' respective possessions
_en civile_, and their appearance under the metamorphosis, became a
very important item in the general arrangements. Some gloried in the
perfection of their projected "get up;" one or two had never possessed
a suit of plain clothes since they entered the army; one had everything
but a hat; another, having come from Dusseldorf on leave, was incapable
of the transformation; still, with this one exception, all were looking
forward to appearing, for one day, as civilians.
At a quarter to five on Whit-Tuesday we started in our carriage to seek
a "topper" for our host and relative, Herr V. Hartstein Hochstein, four
of his brother officers having generously promised him the required
article. Our first venture was an unlucky one; the borrowed hat would
not remain on Hartstein's head, and though we made every possible
effort to stretch it with feet and knees, our efforts were unavailing,
and we had to try again. The second friend acknowledged that he had
recklessly promised what he was incapable of performing; a third
passed out a hat of indifferent color, and which, on trial, at once
extinguished our friend as far as his coat collar. In fear and dread,
and with incessant reference to our watches, we drove to our fourth and
last hope. Here a hat, carefully wrapped in a number of the _Cölnische
Zeitung_, was handed to us, and with a little manoeuvring we settled
that it might do. Having "requisitioned" two colored bandanas from a
friend who was getting himself up for the expedition with the most
elaborate care, Hartstein put his head into our hands, and by dint
of wrapping, and twisting, and folding, the hat was firmly settled
in its place, without other inconvenience than the corner of a red
pocket-handkerchief occasionally falling over his nose, and another
corner permanently hanging over his left ear.
But these were comparative trifles; we reached the fine old Moselle
Bridge, not much behind time, found our friends awaiting us, and
started. This bridge, one of the many Roman monuments with which this
strange old city abounds, was built in the reign of Augustus; only a
portion of the massive foundation, and a few of the grand original
pillars formed of enormous blocks of basalt, and fastened together by
huge iron clamps, now remain. In all probability the bridge would still
be standing in its integrity had it not been for "the most civilized
nation of modern Europe," who did their best, under their great king
Louis XIV., to destroy this magnificent memorial of old world times.
The ruined arches were restored and the bridge partially rebuilt by one
of the Prince Electors in 1717, and in spite of its restoration, it is
even now worthy of the venerable city to which it belongs.
Crossing the bridge, we turned to the right, and passing the village
of Pallien, soon reached the foot of a spur of the Eifel range,
a mountainous tract in the Province of Lower Rhine, extending
from Coblenz, through Trier and Metz, into France. On these Eifel
mountains are many extinct volcanoes; the soil is only suited for
the pine-forests which cover their sides; and the dirty, rough, and
poverty-stricken look of the villagers among the scattered and desolate
hamlets marks them unmistakably as charcoal-burners.
After literally winding our way through this wild scenery for more
than an hour, we suddenly came upon the lovely valley of the Sauer; so
lovely that it is said to have attracted Willibrod by its beauty to
found his Benedictine monastery on the river's banks; beautiful indeed
it is, with its wooded hills and cultivated slopes; and beautiful
it must have been so to have enthralled a worn and weary monk and
missionary in the eighth century.
But before entering the valley I must relate a slight incident that
occurred, as it especially characterizes a social phase in Prussia.
We were anxiously toiling up a steep incline in single file, not even
daring to rest our horses, for fear they should not be able to hold up
the carriages, when a sudden turn showed us a small public-house at the
top of the hill, in front of which sat a young _Fähnrich_ (ensign).
Two large carts laden with forage stood directly across the road,
occupying its entire width, and two troopers, looking remarkably the
worse for dirt, with pipes in their mouths, hands in their pockets, and
outstretched legs in the form of a reversed V, quietly contemplated our
struggling and perilous ascent. "In God's name," shouted the driver of
the first carriage, "make room for us up there; we cannot halt, and if
we cannot get on the level we shall roll backward, and all be killed."
No answer and no movement; we were becoming desperate. One of the
officers _en civile_, forgetting his present insignificance, put out
his head and shouted, "Move your carts, pigs, or I'll know the reason
why; would you see us all roll back to perdition?" "Roll away, holiday
burghers, roll away," contemptuously drawled out one of the chivalrous
troopers, "the royal forage is not going to move for you."
Our situation was truly frightful; at that moment our Dusseldorf
friend, in his green uniform and sword, leaped out of the carriage,
dashed up the hill, applied the flat of his sword with unsparing vigor
to the backs of the astounded troopers, used a goodly amount of strong
language to the abashed ensign, and before we had time to begin our
backward descent the "royal" forage-carts were placed close up against
"the Public" in single file, and we were safely struggling to the top
of the hill. It is just possible, only just possible, that had I been
one of a party of "holiday burghers," I might not have been alive in
this year of grace to tell this tale.
And now we near the stone bridge which brings us over the Sauer from
Prussia into Luxembourg; we are in plenty of time, but already feel
the atmosphere of the procession. The country round is all excitement;
groups of men and women in their holiday dresses are eagerly talking;
some are kneeling and devoutly praying by the way-side, others are
counting their beads and muttering their paternosters with careless
tongues and wandering eyes; the instant our carriages cross the bridge
we are thronged. "Oh! for the love of God," says a girl, "give me a
franc, or a ten-groschen piece, I don't care which, and I'll jump for
all the sins you have committed since last Monday was a week." "My
lord," says a man to one of our party, "five francs, and I'll jump to
the very cross for you without a halt, and cut you off all this year's
sins." "Dear madam," whined an old woman, "I'll never reach the big
crucifix, but I'll do a little jumping for you for a franc." I began
now to realize that there _is_ a jumping procession at Echternach.
We had been most kindly invited by the colonel commanding at Echternach
to breakfast with him, and see the procession from his windows, which
overlook the best part of the town, and we naturally availed ourselves
of his courteous hospitality.
[The shrine of St. Willibrod, at Echternach, has for centuries
been a place of pilgrimage, though the origin of the jumping mania
is not definitely known. There are several traditions having to
do with the cure of a pestilence by the saint. It is now believed
that the penalty for sin is remitted in proportion to the height
and strength of the jumping.]
Breakfast is finished, and we take our places at the windows. The
procession has formed on the Prussian side of the stone bridge, a short
address has been delivered to the excited people, and in the distance
we hear the shrill sounds of the many-voiced instruments, and the
strange measured, musical tramp of the coming thousands. Headed by the
privileged Prussian parish of Warwieler, on they come, these simple
pilgrims, in columns of parishes, four abreast, and hand in hand, each
parish with its banners waving, and headed by its own musicians, for
every man who has played for money during the year is bound to give
his services on this occasion, and woe betide the man who fails to put
in an appearance. The strange dance consists of two steps forward with
the right foot and one step backward with the left, and is danced to a
very simple melody, and not one of the many thousands is out of time.
The wise ones literally _step_ the measure, and generally accomplish
the whole pilgrimage, which lasts about two hours and a half; but under
superstitious excitement the wise ones are in the minority, and when
the procession passed our windows, though never breaking their ranks or
losing time, the majority were springing in a state of mad excitement,
and, strange to say, the men were more "fast and furious" than the
women. One man in particular was leaping to such a degree that at every
step he sprang head and shoulders above the crowd, and as he had passed
along, people rushed out of their houses and plied him with cider,
which he invariably drank without losing his place or breaking time.
I do not recollect seeing one boy in the procession, though there
may, of course, have been many, but there were hundreds of girls, all
quiet and orderly. To watch the different moods and manners of these
people as they passed on was a study well worth the journey; though
the haggard faces and the drawn parched blue lips of many of these
benighted jumpers were sad enough to behold. After looking at them
for some time from our windows, I suggested that we adjourn to the
church, and so witness the close of the procession. This suggestion
was not received enthusiastically, and only one friend was willing
to take compassion on my English curiosity. Off we started, but were
unfortunately obliged to pass through a break in the line, which we did
as decorously as possible, and were invited with outstretched hands by
those who still had breath to speak to join the procession and so wipe
off some of our sins; this we gratefully declined, and made rapidly for
the parish church.
The church, being on an eminence, is reached by a flight of stone
steps, and we took up our position at their base. On, on, they came,
these strange pilgrims, with their unfaltering tramp and unflagging
melody; but, oh! in what thinned numbers and with what drawn faces.
In sight of the blessed goal how many of them drop! and the man I had
watched so anxiously fell prostrate at the bottom of the steps, looking
as if his soul had been driven by this frightful pilgrimage to seek
its rest in another world. But the strong and steady ones tramp up the
steps, spring round the high altar in wild ecstasy, and passing out at
the opposite door, jump round the tall crucifix, fall on their knees,
and all is over.
We loitered for some time about the church, listening to the very
primitive remarks of the dispersing crowd, and wondering at its strange
infatuation; and as we returned to our little inn we passed many a
prostrate and exhausted form, some of whom could never again, alas,
know a day's strong health. After a great deal of pleasant talk, a
little eager discussion, and some very indifferent refreshment, I
started on an excursion through the town, having an idea that I should
find it _morne et silencieuse_, a sort of "city of the silent," after
all the excitement of the morning. But, lo! from every Gasthof and
Wirthshaus there came a sound of revelry; fiddles, flutes, cornets,
laughing, dancing, everywhere. Could it be possible? Boldly I insisted
upon my escort accompanying me into one of these petty inns, and going
with me into an upper room, whence the gay sounds proceeded. Behold!
the tearing galopade and the whirling waltz in one room, the bumping
polka in another; and the "Queen of the Wirthshaus" ball, around whom
the partners flocked and beseeched, was a stout young woman of about
thirty, whom I had seen solemnly and deliberately footing it in the
procession, without pause or hinderance from beginning to end. And all
these devoted dancers of the many public-houses around and about had
all been resolutely hopping away their sins from the bridge to the
shrine for more than two hours.
Now let me record this wondrous fact. I went freely about through
the town; I walked into small inns and public-houses, as I dared not
have done in my own country; I was received politely everywhere; and
in all that hilarious community, through the whole of that licensed
holiday, from eight in the morning till late in the afternoon, I did
not see one case of drunkenness. Yes, these people of the Eifel and
the Sauer Valley and their surrounding towns may, perhaps, be debased
by superstition, but at any rate they are not like some prouder
communities I could name, thoroughly brutalized by drunkenness.