PILGRIMAGE TO AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.
[Illustration: AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.]
IT is now nigh upon a thousand years since King Otto ordered the tomb of
Charlemagne to be opened. The floor of the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle
was broken up, the sacred mausoleum that cherished the remains of the
mightiest of emperors was entered; and there he sat in the chamber of
death, as in a hall of state, on a marble chair, in the vestments of his
imperial office, a sword at his side, a crown on his head, and a Bible
in his hand!
Charlemagne was born in this place in the year 742. The cathedral is his
monument, and under the central dome is a slab in the floor with the
simple inscription, “Carolo Magno.” The cathedral was adorned with the
richest marbles the world could furnish, and the highest art of the age
was lavished in its structure and ornament. The windows reach from the
roof nearly to the ground, and with their rich decorations give a
peculiar beauty to the interior. The city has again and again been
ravaged by enemies; other buildings have been razed to their
foundations, but this has steadily stood in the midst of war and fires
and centuries of decay and change. Long has it been the shrine of Roman
worship, for Pope Leo consecrated it in 804; and thus, a thousand years
and more, it has been gathering treasures of wealth, of association, and
interest. It is now the most sacred shrine in the north, and, indeed, it
is not likely that any spot this side of Rome has half so much to excite
the veneration of the faithful.
Perhaps Rome herself has not more holy relics. This is a bold
supposition. But the list of sacred things here collected is so long and
so wonderful, and the estimate in which they are held is so high, that
the city fairly lays claims to the first rank among the favored.
Therefore pilgrimages are made to these shrines as to the Holy City
itself.
My pilgrimage hither was accidental, or, rather, providential. As I came
into it at the close of a summer’s day, the streets were thronged with
men and women, moving up and down, apparently without an object, swaying
like the waves of the sea, and I asked if this was the usual crowd on
the streets of an evening. It was at the height of the season for
visitors to its famous fountains of water; for long before it was a
shrine for pilgrims coming to pray, it was known for its mineral springs
and their remarkable healing virtues. What more could be desired than a
charm to cure diseases both of the bodies and the souls of strangers.
The old pagan Romans knew the efficacy of these waters; and through all
the centuries, since their rule, the city has been a fashionable
watering-place. It was once the seat of empire, and the palace of
Charlemagne, whose name invests it with more than romantic interest, has
now passed away. Yet the city is frequented annually by thousands from
distant parts, drawn here by the well-established reputation of the
springs. It was, therefore, natural for me to ask if these crowds were
the usual concourse of people on the streets of a summer evening.
The answer to my inquiry indicated as much surprise as the disciples
exhibited when they said, “Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and
hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?”
I was told that it was the last day but one of the pilgrimage to the
holy relics, and that this was the grand eve of the procession, the most
remarkable pageant that is ever to be seen in these parts of the world.
Of course this led to further inquiries, and I found myself suddenly and
accidentally participating in one of the most extraordinary spectacles
that I had ever seen or heard of. It will be a long story, but you must
read it.
How the many precious relics came to be collected here I cannot learn;
but the antiquity and wealth of the cathedral, and the vast power
wielded for centuries by the Catholic emperors who were here crowned,
would easily make this spot the nucleus around which superstition and
faith would rally all their strength. So it came to pass in the lapse of
time that the number and value of the offerings which popes and kings
and others made to this shrine became immense, and no money would now be
considered an equivalent for the priceless treasures. Here is a list of
them, to be read with all the faith you can summon:—
THE RELICS OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.
_A. The superior relics_,
known under the popular name of the “great” relics.
1. The white garment of the mother of our Lord.
2. The swathing-clothes of our Saviour.
3. The cloth in which was laid the body of St. John the Baptist after
his decapitation.
4. The cloth which our Saviour wore around his loins in the dreadful
hour of his death.
These superior relics are shown every seventh year only, or
exceptionally to crowned heads on their special demand.
_B. The inferior relics_ are
5. The woven linen girdle of the Holy Virgin, in a reliquary
(liburium).
6. The girdle (cingulum) of Jesus, made of leather, in a precious
vessel.
7. Part of the rope with which our Saviour was tied in his passion.
8. Joined in a reliquary:
a. A fragment of the sponge that served to refresh our dying Lord
upon the cross.
b. A particle of the holy cross.
c. Some hair of the Apostle St. Bartholomew.
d. Several bones of Zachary, father to St. John the Baptist.
e. Two teeth of the Apostle St. Thomas.
9. In a reliquary: Part of an arm of old St. Simeon, and in a vial of
agate some oil that once came forth from out the bones of St.
Catherine.
10. In a gothic chapel:
a. The point of a nail with which our Lord was nailed to the cross.
b. A particle of the holy cross.
c. A tooth of St. Catherine.
d. Part of a leg (tibia) of the Emperor Charlemagne.
11. In a shrine representing a gothic church, richly enamelled and
adorned with pearls and precious stones:
a. A fragment of the reed that served to make a mock of our Saviour.
b. A part of the linen cloth which was spread over his holy face in
the grave.
c. Some hair of St. John the Baptist.
d. A rib of the first martyr, St. Stephen.
12. In a reliquary, in the form of a great arm, is enclosed the upper
part of the right arm of Charlemagne.
13. The bugle-horn of Charlemagne.
14. A bust of Charlemagne, containing a part of the scull of the great
emperor.
15. A golden cross, containing a particle of the holy cross.
16. In a shrine representing a Greek chapel, the scull of the holy
monk St. Anastasius.
17. A statue of St. Peter the Apostle, showing in his hand a ring from
the chain with which this man of God, who has suffered so many
persecutions and trials, was chained in the prison.
18. Bones of the holy bishop and martyr Spei, in a little ivory chest.
19. A great gilt silver shrine, containing several bones of
Charlemagne.
_C. The principal works of art in the treasure of the cathedral._
20. A shrine, the depository for the great relics.
21. A chest richly ornamented, used when the relics are borne to the
gallery for the public show.
22. A vessel, containing the pectoral cross of Charlemagne.
_D. Relics and other remarkable objects of the other churches of the
town._
a. _In the parish church of St. Adalbert._
1. The scull of the bishop and martyr St. Ethelbert, conveyed to
Aix-la-Chapelle by Otto III.
2. A shoulder-bone and a leg-bone of St. Mary Magdalen.
3. Two small particles of the sponge with which our Lord was refreshed
on the cross.
4. Two particles of the scull of St. Quirinus.
5. The scull of St. Hermetis, of which Henry II. made a donation to
this church.
6. Bones of St. Nicholas, the Bishop of Mira.
7. The shoulder-blade of St. Laurence the martyr.
8. A leg-bone and a fragment of the coat of St. Benedict.
9. An arm-bone of St. Sebastian.
10. The hunting-knife of the Emperor St. Henry, founder of this
church.
11. The veil of St. Gertrude.
12. A leg-bone of St. Agnes.
13. The jaw-bone with a tooth of St. Denis Areopagita.
14. A bone and some blood of St. Stephen.
15. A part of the coat of St. Walpurgis.
16. A part of the holy cross.
17. The arm-bone of St. Christopher.
18. A fragment of the crib in which our Lord was laid at his birth.
19. Some bones of St. Marcellus and other saints.
b. _In the church of St. Theresa._
1. A piece of the linen cloth that covered the face of our Lord in the
house of Caiphas, when he was beaten, and asked, “Now, do prophesy
us,” &c.
2. A “corporate,” reddened with the holy blood that an inattentive
priest shed while he was consecrating the chalice.
3. A linen cloth of the Holy Virgin. The knight-german of Randeraidt
carried it from the Orient, and by the intercession of the father
Lector Arnold, of Wallhorn, it was deposited in the convent of St.
Augustin in Aix-la-Chapelle.
4. The scull of the holy martyr Theodore.
5. A piece of the linen cloth in which was laid the body of St.
Laurence when taken from the fire.
6. A part of the soutane in which deacon St. Laurence served at the
altar.
7. Some oil that is recorded to have come from the bones of St.
Elizabeth.
8. A part of the holy cross.
c. _In the parish church of St. John the Baptist at Burtschied, near
Aix-la-Chapelle._
1. A cross containing two pieces of the holy cross, pieces of the
clothes of Jesus Christ, of the pillar and the whip serving at the
scourging of our Lord, of the garment of the Holy Virgin and bones of
St. Paul and St. James the younger, and finally a piece of the rod of
Aaron and Moses.
2. A silver gilt bust, with a large piece of the scull of St.
Laurence.
3. A silver gilt bust, with an arm-bone of St. John the Baptist.
4. A bust, with the scull of St. Evermarus.
5. The scull of the Holy Virgin and martyress St. Agatha.
6. A relic shrine, containing in its top a piece of the holy cross; in
the centre, bones of St. Andrew the Apostle, teeth and bones of the
apostles Simon Juda, James the younger, Matthias, and of the
evangelists St. Luke and St. Mark, of the levites and martyrs St.
Timotheus, Vincent, of the martyrs St. Fabian and St. Sebastian, of
St. Stephen, St. Barbara, and the saints Vitus and Fortunatus; in the
four corners, relics of the saints John the Baptist, Donatus,
Emerentia, Cornelius, the pope and martyr, of the saints Cyprianus,
Hermet, Aegidius, Pancratius, and Luzia; and in its base, a relic of
St. Adrian and an arm-bone of St Laurence.
7. A shrine, containing in its top a piece of the holy cross; in the
centre, different bones of St. Laurence, a piece of the scull of St.
Sixtus; in the four corners, relics of St. John Chrysostomus, of St.
Calixtus, of St. Gregorius, and pieces of the sculls and bones of St.
Apolinaris, and of St. Maurice; in the base, relics of St. Damasus and
an arm-bone of St. Alexis.
8. A shrine, with bones of St. Maximus and his colleagues, viz.: Of
the saints Lambert, Gervasius, and Protasius, of St. Peter
Justinianus, of the apostles St. Andrew, Matthias, and Matthew, of the
saints Gregorius, Chrysostomus, Servatius, Felix, Luzia, and
Elizabeth, mother to St. John the Baptist.
9. A shrine, with relics of St. Valerius and Germanus, St. Cosmas and
St. Damianus, St. Martin and St. Constantia, teeth of the apostles St.
Peter and St. Paul, of St. Cordula, teeth of St. Sixtus, St. Cassius,
St. Juliana, St. Matthias, St. Evermarus, and of the holy queen
Binosa.
10. A pyramid, with relics of St. Barbara, St. Peter, St. Juliana, St.
Apollonia, and St. Apollinarus; in the base, a relic of the holy
martyr Laurence.
11. A pyramid, with a tooth of the holy apostle St. Matthias, bones of
St. Vitalis, of John the Baptist, and the apostles St. James and St.
Bartholomew, and of St. Marcellus and St. Laurence.
12. Little fragments of the swathing-clothes of our Lord.
13. A bone of the Holy Virgin and martyress Luzia.
14. The penitential coat of St. Margaret, royal princess of Hungaria.
15. In a small vial some blood of St. John the Baptist.
16. A portrait of the holy bishop Nicholas in Greek mosaic.
17. A grave wherein lie the bones and relics of St. Gregorius, son to
the Greek Emperor Nicephorus, who was the first abbot of this church,
that once had been a free imperial chapter.
18. A fragment of linen tinged with blood of the priest St. Francis,
of Jerome, S. J.
19. A particle of the bones of St. John the Baptist.
20. A little box, containing a particle of the scull of St. John the
Baptist, particles of the bones of St. Raynerus, of St. Lewis, king of
France, and of the Holy Virgin, and martyress Catherine.
21. A fragment of the cloak of St. Francis, of Assisi.
22. A particle of the bones of the innocent children.
Several hundred years ago it was the custom to expose these relics every
year in the month of July; but it was found that in some stormy war
times the precious things were in danger of being carried off, and it
was ordered that once in seven years they should be exhibited to the
believers. It was the year and the day of the septennial demonstration
when the Sultan of Turkey and I arrived at Aix-la-Chapelle. The
unbelieving Mohammedan did not stay and see the show, but I did.
It was now dark; but I walked around the cathedral. All the streets
leading to it were thronged with people, and through the crowds it was
hard to thread one’s way. At the door, which I finally reached, the
people were coming out, and the guards informed me that the only
entrance was on the other side. It was a long way, and not very
pleasant; but at last I gained the court, where the blessed pilgrims
were permitted to enter. Two lines of men, women, and children, in
single file, stretching far away into the darkness and into some remote
part of the city, were marching steadily into the cathedral, saying
their prayers aloud as they walked slowly, devout in their appearance,
and full of anxiety to get a sight of the precious treasures within. The
prayers they were repeating are prepared for this service, and have
reference to the sacred relics whose sovereign virtues they are now
hoping to enjoy. When the remains of President Lincoln were for one day
and night exposed in the City Hall of New York, the public were admitted
to view them, and the line extended some miles up town, and marched
steadily into the park all night long. Except that procession of gazers,
I never saw a crowd intent on such a sight to equal the number of these
pilgrims. It was impossible to enter the cathedral under these
circumstances, and I was told that by coming early the next morning I
could be admitted alone. But the next morning the gates were closed
against all comers, and preparations were on foot for the grand
septennial procession of the relics. The court and the streets leading
to it were filled with rude benches, and thousands were seated where
they could look with reverential awe on the cathedral in which these
holy things were preserved. From the multitude there was rising on the
air, like the sound of many waters, the voice of prayer. Away up one of
the towers was a gallery passing around it, and on that gallery a
procession of priests was making a frequent circuit, while the crowd
gazed upwards with evident edification, as the holy utensils and the
cross were borne aloft between them and heaven. There in the sun they
sat, and thousands stood gazing and praying, the perfect embodiment of
superstition, and the easy dupes of a cunning priesthood. They were of
the lowest class of the population, if we could judge correctly by their
dress and appearance. Yet were they orderly and devout, and only when
some special spectacle led them all to rush to get the best place was
there any need of the many guards who were on hand at all times to
prevent disorder.
The grand procession was to emerge from the cathedral at two o’clock
P.M. Then all these relics were to be carried in pomp in the hands and
on the shoulders of the prelates through the streets of the city. “Good
places to see the procession” were advertised for sale on the walls of
the houses, and selecting one whose windows looked out upon the court of
the cathedral and near its great door, I entered and hired half of one
of the windows, taking a ticket that was to secure my seat when I
returned.
Thus sure of the wonderful privilege of seeing the wealth of holy things
which had brought these thousands here, I went off, and “assisted” in a
demonstration with the Sultan of Turkey. He was on his way home from
England, and was expected to reach Aix-la-Chapelle in the evening. But
in consequence of delays on the road he did not arrive until five
o’clock in the morning. He was then escorted to the palace, a modest
mansion which the King of Prussia occupies when he is here, a rare
event. When the Sultan had taken a brief rest and breakfast, he was to
depart for Coblenz at ten A.M., and the better part of the city turned
out to see him as he rode through the streets to the railroad. He is a
much better-looking man than his predecessor on the Ottoman throne, whom
I saw in Constantinople some years ago. This man is stout, short, grave,
with heavy black beard, and very _Turk_ in his appearance. His visit to
the west is regarded by his subjects as a part of the great work he is
supposed by them to have on his hands,—the government of the world. To
this day the most of them believe that France and England simply obeyed
his orders when they came to the aid of the Sultan, and that he has now
been out west to look after his provinces there.
In front of the palace and all along the streets dense masses of people
pressed to get a sight; two Romish priests stood by me, and were
intensely curious to see the Turk. After a dozen carriages with his
suite had passed, the state coach, with two fat horses and one very fat
coachman,—coach, horses, and coachman covered with gold lace and
trimmings,—came along with the solitary Sultan inside. The people sent
up a very faint cheer, but he took no more notice of it than he would if
the dogs had barked; looked stolidly down into the coach and rode out of
sight.
At one P.M. I returned to my hired window. The crowd was vastly
increased, dense masses of humanity filling every inch of space in sight
of the line of march. But the court of the cathedral had been cleared,
and a strong bar, guarded by soldiers, forbade the ingress of the
multitude. The house where I was to enter was opposite to the door of
the baptistery, and the whole court which was to be the scene of the
great display was in full view from my window. I was early on the
ground, and when I took possession of the humble chamber was the only
person in it. To get to it I had to pass through _the_ bedroom of the
house, and in that was a double bed, two or three single beds, and a
crib, in which the whole family slept side by side. Presently three
Romish priests and two women entered, having also previously engaged
places in this eligible apartment. The priests appeared to be
intelligent men, and we conversed freely in French. They told me they
had come from Holland to see the holy relics, and to participate in the
solemnities of the occasion, and were then going to make a tour in
Germany. The women were travelling in company. Presently one of the
priests took out his prayer-book, and, retiring to one side of the room,
entered upon his devotions. One of the women called my attention to him,
and, giving me a wink of the eye, put up her finger to the side of her
nose, and expressed the greatest possible contempt of the man _at
prayer_. She was very lively, sometimes put her foot on the table,
slapped her sister on the back heartily, drank three glasses of beer,
which the priests paid for, and said it was _goot_.
A band of musicians arrived, and took their stand in the court. Officers
in black dress with _staves_ appeared. The crowd pressed more and more
densely on the bar, and in the struggle to get nearer, I feared some
would be crushed to death. In years past, there have been many disasters
of that kind here. Roofs of houses, overloaded, have sunk down with
their living burden. And as far as my eyes could see, the picturesque
multitude swarmed and heaved. Many in blue blouses; women with red
shawls over their heads; and every color was seen in their variegated
costumes, yet none but the commonest of the common people were there.
At two o’clock, a few horsemen rode into the crowd and opened a passage
for the procession soon to emerge from the church. Where the people were
to retire, how they could be compressed into a smaller space, it was
impossible to see. Walls on all sides, but down the streets they had to
go, and, as they were pressed against the houses, fright was on the
faces of many; children were held up overhead to save them from being
crushed; closer and closer they were stowed away; women put up their
hands imploringly, but the horses tramped among them, and a way was at
last cleared through the solid mass of human beings. It was not yet time
for the procession to come out: this was only to let the officiating
ecclesiastics, and servants bearing vestments, and boys in white with
banners to pass in. But the time wore on, and at last the bells began to
ring, a cannon was fired, a strong sensation swayed the waiting
multitude, there was a sound of martial music, there was the roar of the
voices of the crowds who could not restrain their feelings, the door of
the cathedral opened, and the great pageant began.
In front marched a band of boys in white raiment, with banners in their
hands; a few Capuchin monks came next, in the coarse costume of their
order; then followed a company of ecclesiastics, in white robes, with
prayer-books in their hands, reading aloud as they walked; a large
number in red and gold embroidered robes followed; a choir of young men
singing; a brass band, making fine music; and then, wonderful to behold!
in the midst of all this pomp appeared the dignitaries of the church,
gorgeously attired, and bearing in succession the various relics which
have already been named. They were enclosed in glass, some of them, and
others were in magnificent chests of gold and silver, borne aloft on the
shoulders of six men each, and surrounded with the richest trappings, as
if the wealth of the universe might well be lavished on such precious
treasures as these. The sacred procession was greeted everywhere as it
proceeded with the prayers of the people, kneeling while it passed them.
It took its way up into the city, through various streets by a
prescribed route, in the midst of living masses of people, the windows
and roofs filled with anxious spectators, who might never see the like
again, and thousands of whom had come from afar, and had never seen it
before. The march was about an hour long, and then they returned to the
same court. But the procession was now largely increased. Two hundred
“sisters,” of some order, had joined in, dressed in white, and perhaps
as many of another order, in black; companies of infirm old men and
women, as if from some asylum, and hundreds of lads in uniform, bearing
flags, and four of them in white, with branches of lilies and green
leaves in their hands. The procession entered the court, and, opening to
the right and left, filled the area; the holy relics were borne into the
midst, while the vast company lifted up their voices in singing, the
band played, the bells rung, the cannon roared. It was a mighty choir in
the open air, under the walls of a cathedral that had stood there a
thousand years; the vast multitude were hushed to silence to hear the
music of this holy band of monks and priests and women and children, and
while the whole atmosphere was full of song, the pageant passed into the
temple.
My companions at the windows, the priests and their women, took leave of
me, as they were in haste to take the railroad for Cologne. I stepped
down into the court, and on the heels of the procession entered the
cathedral. The relics were deposited in the holy places; the great
golden chests were placed in front of the altar, and high mass was
celebrated with the splendor of ceremonial becoming this great occasion.
When the procession was finished, the holy relics in their several
repositories for another seven years, and mass duly celebrated, I
returned to the hotel to dinner. About twenty persons were at the table.
On my right sat a party of French people, gentlemen and ladies, and the
fun they made of what they had seen on the street was immense. They
ridiculed as ludicrous in the extreme, and as the very height of
absurdity and nonsense, the idea that the clothes and sponge and
garments worn two thousand years ago, and constantly exposed to air and
all the chances and changes of these eighteen centuries, should be here
to-day in good condition; and, of course, the priests and church came in
for a good share of denunciation. In front of me, and on my left, was an
English-speaking party, the central and principal personage in the group
being an English priest. His garb was that of Rome, and his conversation
was becoming his garb; but whether he had ever been received into the
full communion of Holy Mother, or was only aping her manners and wearing
her vestments, it is impossible to say. It makes little difference,
however. He was disgusted by the infidelity of these French people, and,
supposing none at the table understood the English, he went on to say
that it was highly improper to come into a foreign country and ridicule
the customs and faith of the people. “For my part,” said he, “I think
they are very stupid, as well as very ill-bred, to make such remarks at
a public table where there are others who hold these relics in high
honor as memorials of their holy religion.” The ladies of the party
joined him fully in these sentiments, and, to my surprise, I soon
discovered that the two ladies between whom he was sitting, and whom he
always addressed as “My dear,” were both Americans, and evidently
destined to become, if they had not already, excellent Romans. All of
them, and the party was six or seven in number, had been gazing on the
same spectacle that I had seen with mingled indignation and pity, and
these enlightened, cultivated English and American people received the
whole exposition as a glorious manifestation to their eyes of the
veritable objects that were used at the time and in the midst of the
scenes of the sufferings and death of our blessed Lord, and, therefore,
justly to be held in reverence by all the faithful in all coming time.
Pictures of the relics were for sale in all the shops, and I bought a
few as souvenirs of my pilgrimage. Particularly I sought for a good
representation of that one which is first on the list and first in the
admiration of the people. As the Virgin Mother Mary is held in higher
honor by all good Catholics than the Son of God himself, so they
likewise venerate with a deeper reverence the linen garment that she
wore than the cloth which was around the loins of the Saviour on the
cross. Having found two or three good copies of this peculiar garment,
my curiosity was gratified to see the style which the ladies of Judea
wore it in the year of our Lord 1 and onwards. Fashions change, and with
the ladies they change more frequently than among the other sex. But the
Virgin’s “linen garment” is exactly in the form and pattern of those in
use in modern times. It has short sleeves, reaching but a little over
the shoulder; it has a lace frill or something of the sort around the
neck, with a place for drawing strings in front. It looks, in fact, like
any other shirt with the sleeves cut off.
Now, just imagine, if you can, a company of fine-looking men, fifty or
sixty years old, in gorgeous costume, with the symbols of priesthood and
the pomp of kings, marching through the streets of a city, and bearing
aloft, for the admiration of a gaping multitude, an old shirt. That is
the mildest way of putting it! That the Virgin Mary ever had it on,
there is not the slightest possible reason to suppose. That such
garments were then worn is contradicted by our knowledge of the costume
of the Orientals of the present and former times. But to argue the
question is as absurd as to believe in the shirt. Faith in these relics
comes not by reason or argument, but is hereditary, blind, morbid, and
against the senses. To doubt is fatal, and nobody here doubts. They
believe in the holy linen of Mary, her girdle, the rope, the sponge,
Bartholomew’s hair, Thomas’ teeth, Simeon’s arm, St. Catherine’s oil,
Stephen’s rib, Peter’s chain, and the child Jesus’ crib. If they believe
in these things, what will they not believe? And English and American
men and women come here and profess their faith in the whole!
Pilgrimages to this shrine have been made for the last six or seven
hundred years. The number of believers crowding in at one time has
sometimes been so great that it was found necessary to shut the gates of
the city in order to prevent the increase. Every pilgrim was expected to
pay a penny, and in one year these amounted to 80,000 florins, or
1,600,000 pence. In that year 142,000 persons were present in one day.
In that period the numbers were so great that separate quarters of the
town were assigned to different nationalities, and they were allowed to
see the relics in their turn. They approached the relics on their knees,
and in regular order, each bearing a pure wax candle. Great preparations
were required to feed these multitudes, and it is not to be wondered at
that it was found too much of a job to have this thing going on every
year. Once in seven is certainly quite often enough. But the same forms
and ceremonies of opening and displaying the treasures have been
preserved from age to age. The exhibition begins July 10th and
terminates July 24th. The rush became so great at one time that it was
determined to dispense with the farce. But the inhabitants of the city,
who, like the Diana smiths, make great gains out of the pilgrims, raised
such a clamor that the show was resumed; and it is now as fixed in the
routine of religious rites in this Protestant country of Prussia as the
toting of the Pope on men’s shoulders at Christmas in Rome. Once in
seven years the people flock hither for two weeks in July, and on the
24th the grand procession takes place.
But if the sight of these relics does the souls of the pilgrims no good,
you may rest assured that the waters of these fountains will prove a
Siloam to you if you have gout, rheumatism, or any cutaneous disease.
Perhaps it is not well for me to prescribe without knowing the peculiar
symptoms of your case; but for so many centuries have these waters been
flowing for the healing of the people, that I have great faith in their
secret virtues. Over the principal fountain is a temple, and from it
extends a covered walk. The visitors take the water early in the
morning, and, as it is too hot to drink off at once, they walk up and
down, glass in hand, sipping as they go. Near by is the garden where,
under shade-trees and by the side of fountains, they sit and chat, or
listen to sweet music which the band discourses. As I was lounging here,
a young Englishman was helped in by his sisters, and he was placed near
me, so that I heard all their conversation concerning his progress
toward being cured. Then a lady on two crutches hobbled in, and,
arranging herself as comfortably as her evident lameness would permit,
sought a little rest from pain. An elderly man with his leg in splinters
had two servants to hold him up, and his condition seemed to suggest
that the waters were sought even for the benefit of broken limbs. The
variety of diseases is not so great perhaps as at other springs; but the
gouty, the lame, and the halt, seem to lie around among these
orange-trees, flowery shrubs, gravel walks, and cool shades. But by far
the greater part of the visitors to the springs come for pleasure only.
There is a large _Kurhaus_, in which are rooms for concerts and balls,
for reading and conversation, and in the court a beautiful garden, into
which subscribers are admitted. There the ladies take their work or
their book, and, around little tables on which is a cup of tea or glass
of light wine, they spend the afternoon, the gentlemen smoking if they
please, and an orchestra of splendid performers playing. It is a scene
of social and elegant ease, the _dolce far niente_ to perfection, with
really more enjoyment in it than is often to be found where people have
nothing to do. There is no gambling here, and that drives off a class of
men and women that infest every watering-place where gaming-tables are
licensed. The company is therefore select, compared with the Badens and
Homburg. And the baths are splendid. They are furnished at all the
hotels, and there are establishments specially fitted up for them. Into
one of these I went to enjoy the luxury. Each bath has a dressing-room
adjoining it, out of which when ready you go down four or five stone
steps into a large cemented bath, while the water from two large pipes
is pouring in. On a stone bench at one end of the bath you sit down till
the water comes up to your chin, and then it ceases to flow. At first
the smell of sulphur is strong; but this ceases to be disagreeable. The
temperature is perfect, the water abundant, plenty of towels, and a
sheet besides, and the price is about 25 cents. I enjoyed it
exceedingly, and commend it before all other bathing establishments this
side of Turkey.
The antiquary finds much to interest him in this old town. It is
something to be where Charlemagne was born and buried, and to see the
works of his mighty hand; to visit the town-house, a tower of which
still bears the name of Granus, a brother of _Nero_, who is said to have
built it, and to have founded the city 124 years after Christ. In this
house is a great hall, where for many successive centuries the Emperors
of Germany were crowned. In front of it is a statue of Charlemagne, and
the priests carry a silver bust of him in their septennial procession,
with a bit of his skull in the top of it.