THE UNFINISHED CATHEDRAL.
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.
[Illustration: THE BEGGAR.]
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.
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]
[Footnote 4: Pronounced _fenniger_.]
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 chapels[5] 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.
[Footnote 5: These chapels are recesses or alcoves along the side of the
church, fitted up and furnished with altars, crucifixes, confessionals,
paintings, images, and other sacred emblems connected with the ritual of
the Catholic worship. They are usually raised a step or two above the
floor of the church, and are separated from it by an ornamented railing,
with a gate in the middle of it.]
"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."