_The Story of a German Boy.—The Priest.—Catholic Woman.—Corps
of Singers.—My Singing Lesson.—Funeral Procession.—Children
Playing.—Wooden Shoes.—Neatness of the German Children.—Their
Politeness.—Cologne.—Its Cathedral.—Height of Towers.—Odd
Costumes.—Art Gallery.—The Picture I Saw._
I am going to tell you something about Germany now, but will first tell
you of a boy who lived there many years ago. He had father, mother,
brothers and sisters, and as a family they were very poor. The father
worked hard in the copper mines, along with many other men in the
settlement, and at home the mother worked equally hard looking after
the comfort of the family and carrying upon her back the wood which
was needed. She was a good, kind, Christian mother, and it is said she
frequently “communed with God in prayer.”
Those times everybody belonged to the Roman Catholic church; consequently
every father and mother taught the children to believe fully—as they
themselves did—in the “Holy Catholic Church.” This boy was the eldest of
the family and was the first to be educated. As he neared the age when it
would be necessary to send him away to school the parents became anxious.
They knew they could ill afford to do it, as they had scarcely money
enough for their daily need and no chance of getting more. There seemed
to be one way in which they might be enabled to save a little more money,
and that was by living still more economically; and by putting their
thoughts into practice enough money was saved to give the son a start in
school. Not many miles distant from the boy’s home was a select school,
and thither the father and son went shortly after money enough had been
saved. The support which his father gave him was not sufficient to cover
expenses, so the lad was finally obliged to help himself, which was done
by singing from door to door. As a reward small pieces of money were
given him. The strictest economy was practiced by the folks at home and
the son also, and as a reward for all their trouble they learned that the
boy for whom they were making those sacrifices was studious and worked
hard and faithfully.
Time rolled on, the boy had grown to manhood and become a great teacher.
He seemed strong in the Romish faith and willing to make sacrifices for
his church. By and by the duty of becoming a priest or monk was impressed
upon him, and as soon as possible he wrote his intentions to his father.
The reply to the letter was not favorable. As the new move was very
displeasing to the parents, they said that if such a step should be taken
further affection would be renounced. Those words availed nothing, for
the vow was taken and the young priest was received into the order with
prayers and hymns of joy.
As the priest grew older his work in the church increased, and that
caused him to read and study the Bible more diligently, and in so doing
he found he was not serving the Lord fully.
Years passed away, and the young priest became dissatisfied with his
religion and decided to follow what he found to be the teachings of
the Bible. In the course of time, and after much trouble, he separated
himself from the Romish church, and from that time on his life was in
great danger, for the Catholics were very bitter toward him. The Lord is
thoughtful of his children, so he watched over this good man and allowed
him to live many years after.
Now whom do you imagine I’ve been writing about? Well, I shall tell you.
It was Martin Luther, the founder of the state church of Germany, which
is known throughout the world as the Lutheran church; and now almost
everybody in Germany belongs to the state church, and not the Catholic
church, as in the time of Martin Luther. This man’s name is held high
above all and his portrait is to be seen in almost every German home.
Many of the beautiful churches which were owned by the Catholics are now
used and owned by the Lutherans.
One day while out walking with a Catholic woman we passed a large
cathedral, and with trembling voice she said, “This belonged to our
people one time, but it is ours no more.” I felt sorry, and thought, “No
wonder your heart is sad, for surely your house of worship is a very poor
one compared to this;” for it was in a back street and dark and gloomy
looking. The woman had nothing to feel proud of, therefore lamented.
We happened to be in Germany on the four hundredth anniversary of
Luther’s birthday, and a big day it was; there were processions and
illuminations all over the city. The house in which Luther lived while
in Halle was finely decorated with evergreen, and the gas jets were
beautiful. It was not hard to tell where Catholics lived, for their
houses alone were without lights. It was plain to be seen that no one
stands higher in the minds of the people than Martin Luther.
Many of the students attending college in Germany make part of their
expenses as did Martin Luther, by singing from door to door. Their voices
are well trained, and when a square or two from them, the whole company
of voices seemed like four voices, their singing accorded so well. The
corps of singers is composed of a dozen or more young men, and though
their size varies their dress is alike, for they wear black suits of
clothing; the vest is cut low, exposing the shirt bosom; the coat is cut
swallow-tail, and upon the head a plug hat is worn. Their ages range from
twelve to sixteen years, and you may imagine how very odd the company
looked to us. There is a leader who stands before them beating time, and
I don’t believe any one of them miscalculates the length of a note or
rest in the piece of music sung. I am sure many of you never heard finer
singing.
Germans, as a rule, are fine singers, and you hear plenty of singing even
while walking upon the streets. One time we were awakened from a sound
sleep by singing on the street. We looked out of the window and beheld a
company of soldiers all singing as they marched along. Little boys and
girls go home from school, walking along leisurely and singing beautiful
hymns and songs.
We were living with a family who had several children, and one of them, a
little girl about seven years of age, dearly loved to sing. This little
girl insisted upon my helping her, but I said, “I cannot sing in German,”
when immediately she replied, “I will teach you my tune.” The task was
begun, and after a great deal of laughing and many corrections I was able
to sing her hymn, “_Stille Nacht_” (Stilly Night). Quickly she ran to her
mother and told the news, and I was congratulated, for the family thought
I had done a wonderful thing. To tell the truth, I was equally well
pleased, and afterward took pleasure in singing my German hymn.
You may think, by the way I have been writing, that everything in the old
world moves along pleasantly, and that the children are always well and
happy. I would not have you think so, because sorrow and distress are
there, as well as in this country.
In looking out of my window, which was quite often, I saw that which was
amusing, and also some things which were very sad. One day a funeral
procession passed by, and it consisted of father and mother. Four pall
bearers carried a casket containing the corpse of a little child. The
rain came down fast, and equally fast fell the tears of sorrow from their
eyes as slowly they moved along. There was no hearse, and no carriages.
Why? Because the people were poor; it would take money for these things,
and there was none to spare. Ah, how my heart ached for them, and I
turned from my window with tearful eyes. Poverty is to be found on all
sides, and since it is impossible to help all we learn to cast the
distressing sights from our minds and leave them with the One who watches
over and cares for all.
An American is surprised at the cleanliness of German cities. It is no
uncommon sight to see well-dressed ladies walking in the middle of the
streets. Their shoes and skirts will not be soiled any quicker by walking
there than on the sidewalk. We feel ashamed when we compare the dirty
streets of American cities with the clean, well-swept streets of Germany,
and in our hearts we wished ours might be different.
Houses are built three stories high; each floor is arranged for one
family, but sometimes there are as many as three families living on one
floor, each having no more than one room in which to sleep, cook, eat and
sit. I knew a family of five who lived in one room; and they seemed to be
well satisfied too.
No matter where one goes he is sure to see many children, and they seem
to have as good a time playing as any of you. They run, jump and make as
much noise too. Many times I stood at my window in Halle and watched the
little folks play on the opposite side of the street. One time I counted
fifteen boys and girls playing, and their ages seemed to be from five
to ten years; and—don’t you think?—they all belonged to the same house.
Now you might think their little feet pattering on the floor would make
a great noise, but they don’t, because all wear felt slippers in the
house; even the fathers and mothers wear them. In Germany the floors are
not carpeted as in this country, but almost all of them are bare. Where
families are in good circumstances nice rugs are used; where there are
no rugs the floors are sanded, and you can’t imagine how strange it does
seem to walk on sanded floors. Felt slippers are fine things to keep the
feet warm, and I know the little folks over there would have cold toes
all the time if it were not for those comfortable slippers.
Wooden shoes and slippers are worn quite a good deal, and many times I
laughed heartily when the little boys and girls ran. No matter whether I
was looking out of the window or sitting back in the room, I could always
tell when they had commenced their running. Do you wonder how I knew it?
Why, just by the noise they made. I presume many of you never saw a pair
of wooden shoes or slippers. Well, that doesn’t make any difference,
for I never saw a pair until I went to the Old Country,—I have learned
since then that there are plenty of wooden shoes in America, and not so
many miles from where I am living. There is a difference between shoes
and slippers. Just take one of your old shoes, tear off the leather
excepting the part that covers the toes, then substitute a wooden sole
instead of a leather one, and you can imagine how they look. You would
naturally suppose it to be quite a task to keep such a foot covering on
when running; but you will be surprised to know they did not seem one bit
bothered, and I am pretty sure the German children can run just as fast
as any of you. Sometimes they stop to shove their toes farther into the
slipper, after which they run as fast as ever. And now why did I laugh?
Because of the great noise all the little wooden slippers made. What made
them make a noise? Why, the sole of the slipper flying up and down. At
regular intervals you could hear a noise that sounded like clap, clap,
clap, and the faster the children ran the more clap, claps we could hear;
somehow this was always very amusing to me.
Many of the Germans are poor; yes, very poor; and yet,—don’t you
know?—with all their poverty, the children’s clothing never looked
ragged. Their clothing is sometimes made of very coarse material, and
often many patches are to be seen, but no tatters. They all wore woolen
stockings, knit by hand; not one time did I see the bare heel of a child
sticking out. All stockings were well darned. Could not some of our
American mothers learn lessons of carefulness and economy from these poor
German women?
Let me tell you something, little girls. You who are old enough to read
are old enough to do a little sewing too, and how nice it would be for
you to take hold and learn now! Long years ago I was a little girl; one
time,—when ten years old,—my sister said, “Lizzie, when a tiny little
hole comes in your stocking, it is a good plan to darn it right away;
then you will never have to darn a great big hole, which seems so trying
to the patience.” The advice was good, and I followed it accordingly; to
this day I have never felt sorry for the advice of long ago. Will you
think of it too, little girls?
Children in the Old Country are taught to be very polite. It made no
difference where they saw us, a bow and “_Guten Morgen_” (Good morning)
was the greeting. Even though we did not know the names of the little
girls and boys, it seems they knew us, having learned to know we lived
on the same street they did. Don’t you think it is a good thing to be
polite? I wonder why little folks here act rude and pass by those who
speak to them, acting as though they never knew the gentleman or lady
who spoke? Perhaps teachers and parents forget to teach the little ones
politeness.
Writing about poverty brings to my mind the little boys and girls who
ate bread spread with lard instead of butter. And now I wonder how many
of you, my little readers, would enjoy that kind of fare. No doubt you
will say, “Oh, how horrid;” but let me tell you that those children ate
their bread with a relish, and maybe you would too if you knew there was
nothing better for you. They learned to know almost everything tastes
good when one is hungry.
The Old World is full of relics of the past, and there is scarcely a city
that does not have a church, art gallery or museum in which one might
spend much time and be greatly edified.
We spent several days in Cologne, and by hiring a carriage for a
couple of hours had a splendid opportunity of seeing the city, which
is beautifully situated upon the left bank of the river Rhine. At one
time a very thick wall surrounded the city and it was pierced with four
gates. Only a small portion of wall attached to the gates is to be seen
now, for the rest has been removed. Outside of the old gateways there are
beautiful residences, and great pains are taken to beautify the front
dooryards. The streets in the old part of the city are crooked, narrow
and not very clean looking, but in the new portion they are quite the
reverse.
Cologne is an old city, and there are many very old churches which we
found to be interesting, not only because of their age, but because of
the works of art; for these are paintings which were done by the best
painters the world knew. In this city is a fine church, or cathedral,
which greatly attracts the attention of tourists, and many of them
travel hundreds of miles just to see it, and it alone. It is a very
large structure, therefore has had many, many years of work put upon it;
even while we were looking around the workmen were busily engaged in
hammering. The cathedral is built in the form of a cross and is said to
be four hundred and eighty feet long, two hundred and eighty-two feet
wide, and the height of the central aisle one hundred and fifty-four
feet. Just notice in the picture how far above the houses the towers
extend. Well, when they are completed their height will be upwards of
five hundred feet. There is a chime of bells, six in number, up in the
tower, and the heaviest of the bells weighs eleven tons. With that chime
music was made, and it was such a pleasure to sit in my room, which was
not far away, and listen to the beautiful tunes as they were played
one by one. The windows in the _Dom Kirche_—for it is known by that
name—were all presented at different times, and are richly colored, each
one representing some Bible character, the Virgin Mary being the central
figure in some of them. For the sum of one and a half marks each we were
admitted into the treasury where were stored many costly things, such as
jewels, gold and silver ornaments and many other things of great value.
The high choir and chapel were not open to visitors free, but after
high mass was celebrated those who visited the treasury were allowed to
see all the rest. But I shall not write any longer on this subject, for
possibly you may tire of it.
In traveling through Germany we noticed in certain localities that the
women wore very odd looking costumes. The skirts were extremely full,
and in length reached the knee. Some wore very long white stockings,
and others wore black ones, all wearing very low slippers. The hair was
combed up on the very top of the head, and for a bonnet a sort of a
box was worn, just large enough to cover the top of the head and hair.
They were the most oddly dressed women we ever did see, and—don’t you
know?—they did not attract extra attention from the passers-by. No doubt
this way of dressing had been handed down from generation to generation;
therefore everybody living in that locality was used to it.
[Illustration: _Cathedral at Cologne._]
The Germans are great people for pictures, oil paintings, etc., and works
of the great masters are to be seen in their galleries. One could spend
hours wandering from gallery to gallery, studying the paintings one by
one; for the more we look at fine pieces of art the more we admire them.
Not only do we admire the man who did the work, but through him think of
the Divine Hand which gave the mind to the great artist.
While in Munich, a large city in Germany, we visited a gallery of very
fine paintings. Among those in which we were particularly interested was
an immense painting of the judgment day. There, seated in a chair, was
the judge, and in the foreground were to be seen graves, some opening and
others already open. Both men and women were to be seen coming forth,
and as they stepped from their graves they started for the judge; and
they soon found on which side they belonged. Only a few were to be seen
sitting on the right side, and the rest disappeared with faces ghastly
and full of distress; and those who were seated on the right side of the
judge had faces beaming with pleasure. While looking at this work of art
I could not help but call to mind the portion of Scripture which says,
“Depart from me, I never knew you,” etc. The painting was to represent
the Son of Man sitting upon the throne and judging all the nations
of the earth. It was only a picture and work of man, but it was good
enough to make an impression on my mind, for it caused me to think of
the distress which awaits all who do not do the Lord’s bidding, and so
are unprofitable servants. I have found it pays to be a true follower
of Christ, for there is joy unspeakable in serving him. I hope you will
think seriously of the salvation of your souls. Be lambs in the fold of
Christ, so that you may have the happy privilege of being seated at the
right hand of the great Judge on the last day.
[Illustration]