Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera Part 7

Alas, poor child! You are not the only one who has listened and listened, trying in vain to find a gleam of intelligence in the foreigner's gibberish. Ignorance of the language of a nation causes it to appear to one like a vast sealed volume, which he knows only by the pictures on the t.i.tle page.

I have written at length of the Island of Marken, one of the most noted of the "Dead cities of Holland," and now, let us take a peep at the sister city of Volendam, which lies four miles north of Monnikendam. As we do not wish to visit this place when all the men are off on their fis.h.i.+ng expeditions, we choose for our excursion a clear bright Sunday, a day on which the men will surely be at home, and their sea horses at anchor in the harbor.

Procuring a large carriage and a powerful horse, a difficult thing to obtain at short notice, we direct our driver to jog along slowly that we may enjoy the beauty of the surrounding country. We drive over a fine road, level and well ballasted; a good road for the bicycle: in fact all the roads of Holland, city and country, are kept in perfect condition.

It is a charming day, and the balmy atmosphere and the refres.h.i.+ng breeze which sweeps over the Zuyder Zee have a soothing effect upon mind and body. This would be a great country for invalids, and those who seek rest and change from the demands of fas.h.i.+on and social life. There is no fas.h.i.+on here; only pure air and lovely peaceful beauty everywhere, with good wholesome food and kind hearts to extend a cordial welcome to the weary stranger. Added to this is the very moderate cost of a sojourn in this delightful region.

Occasionally we pa.s.s a small cart or wagon drawn by dogs, the driver a young girl who is comfortably seated in the vehicle, now and then administering to the animals, by means of a short stick, reminders not to lag on the way. These dogs are not the ordinary house dog which is seen in our country; but are powerful and muscular creatures, as perhaps I have already said, and so cross and savage when roused, that to secure the safety of the persons near them they are closely muzzled. Being ignorant of their peculiar traits, one day while admiring a couple of fine draught dogs which are resting near a wagon, I approach them too closely; my enthusiasm is suddenly cooled as one of them springs viciously at me, striking me heavily on the chest, and he certainly would have chipped a good sized piece of flesh from my body had his muzzle not prevented this catastrophe. Hereafter I keep a distance of many feet between me and these animals, and others of their species.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "This strange looking highway runs lengthwise through the town." (_See page 243._)]

After a lovely drive of an hour, we arrive at the old town which is as wonderful and interesting as its sister city. It too is built upon the banks of the Zuyder Zee. We stand upon the only street in the place, which in appearance resembles the back bone of a whale, with small brick houses on either side. This strange looking highway runs lengthwise through the town. The street is narrow: horses and dogs are never seen upon it, but there are hundreds of children, who gather in great throngs around our horse, wondering at the strange animal, and declaring him to be a huge dog, for many of them have never seen a horse before. Our appearance is also a great event to them, and the visit creates as much excitement on one side as the other. It is a "red letter day" for both the townspeople and ourselves.

The houses are roofed with red tiles, which exhibit many different shapes and styles, and we perceive numerous flags floating from the windows, and decorations of gay bunting. Upon asking the reason of this festive appearance in the isolated and usually quiet city, we are informed that they are in honor of a wedding which is to take place within a few days. A wedding in this town is an occasion of great rejoicing, and every household enters into the spirit of the entertainment with enthusiasm, as the whole community resembles one large family, and from the least to the greatest, they are all well known to each other. The affairs of one are the affairs of all, hence a single marriage becomes the festive occasion of the entire population.

This is not strange when one recollects that the people have no other means of entertainment, such as theatres, concert halls or libraries, whist or euchre parties. They have nothing save the individual happenings in the domestic lives of the different families.

A woman whose children are sitting quietly upon the curb stone near us, looks hurriedly around the door of her house, and seeing the commotion which our arrival excites, calls anxiously for her "kids" to come to her protecting arms, in mortal fear lest one of her brood should be carried off by these strange and unexpected visitors. As I look around, and behold the robust and muscular physiques of both men and women, I think any one would be daring indeed who would attempt to carry off a child or any other possession from these people in opposition to their wills.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The houses are roofed with red tiles." (_See page 243._)]

The women and children here are richly endowed with the blessings of health and strength. The whole population of thirteen hundred people employ but one doctor, who has time to grow rusty in his profession, so few are the demands upon his skill. I suggest to him on the occasion of a meeting, that he adopt the Chinese plan of remuneration, that is that the people pay him an annuity as long as they are well, and that when they are sick, they be ent.i.tled to his services gratis.

The natives of Holland are not inclined to excesses of any kind, and they thus enjoy the full benefit of naturally sound const.i.tutions, and are able to transmit to their children perfect, unimpaired health. As we stroll along this backbone of a street without name or pretensions, we stop at many of the doorways to talk with the residents, and soon become impressed with the hospitality of the people, who are arrayed in all the glory of their Sunday finery, and appear at the fronts of their homes happy in the consciousness that they as well as all their surroundings are in "apple pie order." We are as much interested in them as they are in us, and that is saying a great deal.

The great, stalwart fellows with their broad shoulders and rugged faces are indeed true types of all that is brave and manly. A loose s.h.i.+rt and baggy trousers, with a small cloth cap is the ordinary costume of the men, many of whom wear wooden shoes; leather slippers are also worn. The women are equally brave and strong in appearance, and as large in proportion as the men. Their st.u.r.dy forms and healthy faces are rare models for the artist's brush. Their dress is of homespun linen, generally dyed blue, and is composed of several pieces; sometimes these are of various colors combined in a picturesque and effective arrangement. The head-dress is of lace and is pretty and becoming: indeed many of our fas.h.i.+onable belles might greatly improve their appearance by adopting the charming coiffure of these pretty and apparently unconscious Holland girls and women. These people represent a higher type of humanity than the inhabitants of Marken: their intelligence and refinement are more marked, but they have the sunny temperaments and contented dispositions characteristic of the Hollanders, and though ignorant of the customs of the outside world, and limited in their lives to a narrow sphere, they are a happy and satisfied people. They seem in that happy state of mind, so rarely possessed, in which they can say _I have enough_. Happiness consists not in possessing much, but in being content with what we possess. He who wants little always has enough.

These men, like those in the neighboring Island of Marken, obtain their livelihood by fis.h.i.+ng. They leave their homes in small boats or yachts every Monday morning, and do not return until late Sat.u.r.day night, allowing them but one day in the week, Sunday, to spend in their homes.

Close by us is the anchorage, so called from the fact that dozens of fis.h.i.+ng boats anchor within its harbor. I suppose that fully a hundred of these yachts are lying there now, and, s.h.i.+fting from side to side as the wind stirs the waters of the Zuyder Zee, present the appearance of a city of masts in a hurricane.

As we wander about it occurs to me that I should like to become the possessor of one of the odd and picturesque suits of clothing worn here; especially one of the better kind of the men's suits, for I know that this quaint and ancient dress would be interesting to a number of friends far away in dear America. Filled with the idea, I stop many of the natives, and through our good and genial friend Mr. L---- inquire if it is possible to purchase from one of them a suit of clothing, and suggest that if they have none themselves to sell, perhaps one of their comrades would part with a suit in exchange for my bright guilders. We talk to a great many men, but receive the same answer from all: that is that each possesses but two suits; a best or Sunday suit, and a week-day or fis.h.i.+ng suit, neither of which it is possible to sell for any price that I may offer. I ask again if there is not some one else among the men who may be willing to oblige me, and learn that most of the men and women are in church, but that if we will wait until the service is over, we can talk with them, and may succeed in our quest.

Volendam Sights and the Oldest Town on the Rhine.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The delicate lace caps frame smiling faces." (_See page 256._)]

_Volendam Sights and the Oldest Town on the Rhine._

Church is out--The Promenade--Every man is a Volume--An Old Suit--His Sunday Clothes--"Let him have it"--An Obedient Son--The Silver b.u.t.tons--The Last Straw--An Uncommon Action--The Hotel--An Artist's Resort--An Unfinished Painting--Good-bye--The Ancient City of Cologne--The Cathedral--Within the "Dom"--A Wonderful Collection--Foundation of the Town--History--Vicissitudes--Public Gardens--Eau de Cologne--The Palace of Bruhl.

Within a short time we perceive a large number of people slowly advancing in our direction. Church is over, and it is customary after the service for every one to promenade up and down this street. Here friends and relatives greet each other, exchange items of local interest and have their little gossips over family affairs. The sight is one long to be remembered. The round weather-beaten faces of the men, as they roll along in true sailor fas.h.i.+on, the merry chattering women and girls in their picturesque costume, the children running hither and thither, and the gayly decorated houses that line the long street are worthy the brush of an artist.

Truly these people seem to practice the Golden Rule, for no one appears to be thinking of himself, but every one cares for the comfort and happiness of his family, friends or neighbors. The delicate lace caps of the women frame smiling faces, and the maidens in their quaint homespun gowns look as though they are a part of a play at one of our theatres.

As the congregation draws nearer, we halt before the foremost group, and having attracted their attention by our novel appearance, ask through our friend Mr. L----, the oft-repeated question about the suit of Volendam clothes, which we are anxious to carry home to show our friends in America. In an instant they all shake their heads in the negative, looking very serious at the idea of such a proposition. Their manly and straightforward manner charms me. I look into the open countenances, in which there is much individuality, and say to myself: it is as true here as in the great cities of the world that _Every man is a volume if you know how to read him._ There is a story in the heart of each one of these st.u.r.dy fishermen, whether it has seen the light of day or not, and many a n.o.ble deed and heroic action that in another town would receive a medal of honor, or at least the applause of the public, pa.s.ses here as a common incident of everyday life. These people do not live for show: the only medals which they wear, and which they transmit to their children are the records of pure, honest lives which are proudly handed down from one generation to another.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "As the congregation draws nearer, we halt before the foremost group." (_See page 256._)]

Meanwhile I stand before them watching the varying expressions and wondering if there is any prospect of obtaining my desire. At last one man says hesitatingly that he has an old suit at home that he no longer wears, and if we will accompany him to his house, a few doors away, he will show it to us. We turn and follow him, and a score or more of the people follow us. What must an old suit look like in this thrifty community where the men and women never discard anything until it is utterly hopeless as regards service?

A suit which one of these is willing to dispose of must indeed be a peculiar object. I wonder if it has that "ancient and fish-like smell,"

described by Shakespeare. The fates forbid! Perhaps it is a relic of a beloved father or grandfather, handed down as a family heirloom. We enter the house, still surrounded by curious spectators, and our obliging friend takes from a closet a carefully-wrapped bundle, which upon being opened discloses a worn and aged suit: unfortunately its age does not add to its beauty or value as in the cases of old masterpieces in art, as a painting by Murillo or Rembrandt. The clothes are old, dirty, and faded, and only fit for the receptacle of the ragman, but they do not fail to serve their purpose, for while this young athlete holds them out, with an expression of pride and pleasure, a sudden thought fills me with hope. The suit which this young man wears is of the highest type of the Volendam fas.h.i.+on, and is quite new. The flannel blouse with its gay undervest showing at the chest, and the baggy brown velveteen trousers form an ideal specimen of the costume of these people. I must have this suit. No other will answer my purpose. Without preliminaries, I boldly propose to him to sell me the suit he wears, and put on the old one until he can procure another. His countenance falls, and with a look of positive fear, he draws back, shaking his head and repeating: "Nee. Nee. Nee."

Then he moves farther away, as though in terror lest I then and there strip him of his garments. He cannot sell the suit, he says, especially as the wedding festivities of one of his neighbors are so soon to take place. In a corner of the room, quietly smoking a clay pipe, sits the old father, watching without a word the little drama taking place before him. As the boy reiterates his refusal, the man talks to him in expostulatory tones, and as we learn, says: "The gentleman from America is a good man. Let him have the suit: you shall have another." At this advice the son, though looking rather sulky, yields, and withdrawing to the adjoining room, exchanges the suit he wears for the old one, and returns with the desire of my heart rolled up and wrapped in a clean paper. The evidence of good will on the part of the parent, and the obedience of the son charm me even more than the possession of the coveted garments. The boy is a n.o.ble lad. As we are about leaving, I suddenly espy the silver coin b.u.t.tons which are such an ornament to the dress, and which are considered a mark of distinction, when worn by old or young. They are rare and valuable decorations, being b.u.t.tons made of coins, and held together by a link, as our sleeve-b.u.t.tons. They are worn in the bands of the trousers and s.h.i.+rts, serving the purpose of suspenders.

The coins are brilliantly polished and present a striking appearance.

They are generally heirlooms, and some of them are of very ancient date.

In general they are cherished as treasures beyond price: these worn by the boy are exceedingly rare, and are more than a hundred years old, having belonged to his great-grandfather. The outer and larger coins are three guilder pieces, the smaller ones one guilder.

To ask for these is indeed the "last straw," and when the father requests his son to put them in the bundle with the clothing, he bursts into tears, and his hands tremble as he gives them to me.

For this final test of obedience I thank him heartily, and bestow upon him a liberal reward for the sacrifice, together with much praise. As he looks at the guilders with which I have filled his hand, his countenance brightens, and the rainfall is changed into radiant suns.h.i.+ne. The neighbors look on this scene with surprise, and many of them declare that this is a very uncommon occurrence in Volendam, as they have never known any one heretofore to dispose of family heirlooms to a foreigner.

It is unnecessary to say that I also value the coins beyond price, and treasure them for their a.s.sociation, and the interesting picture which they never fail to bring before me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Every man is a volume if you know how to read him."

(_See page 256._)]

There is but one hotel in the place, and thither we resort. It is a small building without pretensions, containing about ten rooms, of no great size, but clean and comfortable. We learn that board and accommodations may be had here for four guilders (one dollar) a day.

This hotel has entertained artists from all parts of the world. The good-natured landlord will do everything in his power to make his guests comfortable. In the general sitting-room or parlor, there is abundant evidence that these efforts have been appreciated in the beautiful paintings presented to him by some of the most famous artists of our day. He is a loyal upholder of art and artists. His daughter, a fresh looking maiden, is so much pleased when I say that I too, am an artist and photographer, that she insists upon taking me up to the third floor to see the fine view from the windows which overlook the Zuyder Zee. She also shows me a room which was fitted up for a lady artist from New York. Here is an unfinished picture upon the easel, of an old Volendam woman, in her fancy cap and bright colored homespun costume.

This secluded spot offers many attractions for both brush and camera in interesting studies of figures and landscape, as well as charming water scenes. We would gladly spend a longer time amid these delightful pictures, but it is impossible, so we take our departure amid a hundred good wishes, and as we drive away, the inhabitants who have gathered from all parts of the town to see the queer Americans, call after us: "Goeden dag," and "Tot weerziens," (Until we meet again). A dozen or more children run by the side of the carriage shouting and laughing for a considerable distance. And so we bid farewell to a hearty and attractive people and their quaint surroundings.

Let us take a somewhat hasty glance at Cologne, the oldest city on the Rhine, and one of the largest towns in the Rhenish Province of Prussia.

We cannot afford to miss this town, were it only on account of the great Cathedral whose lofty towers rise heavenward to a height of five hundred and twelve feet. How one longs to find himself within these sacred walls, to stand and gaze upon the wondrous arches, pillars, and dome, the stained gla.s.s and statues, the frescoes and carving, the work of an endless succession of artists and artisans. Next to St. Peter's at Rome, this Cathedral is the largest church in the world. It stands upon the old Roman camping ground, and more than six centuries have pa.s.sed since its foundations were laid. The name of its architect is unknown, and even the original designs have been forgotten. Its interior is four hundred and thirty feet long and one hundred and forty feet broad.

The portion appropriated to divine service covers an area of seventy thousand square feet. It is useless to attempt to describe this vast structure whose b.u.t.tresses, turrets, gargoyles, canopies and tracery are innumerable and bewildering. The Gothic arches and countless pillars form a grand perspective. There are seven chapels which present a wealth of paintings, and relics. In the Chapel of the Three Magi is a marvellous casket of crystal, whose cover is set with precious stones, which is said to contain the skulls of Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar, the three Wise Men from the East who followed the star to the cradle of the infant Christ.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Goeden dag. Tot weerziens." (_See page 266._)]

In the great treasury of the Cathedral are untold treasures. Here are silver censers, paintings set in diamonds, shrines of silver, and rare and priceless relics of every description, besides gold and silver chalices, fonts, and other church vessels, and a collection of magnificent vestments.

Many are the vicissitudes through which this wonderful structure has pa.s.sed, since its commencement in 1248. At times it seemed abandoned to ruin, then again the work was taken up and vast sums of money contributed, and the masterpiece of Gothic architecture was carried on toward completion, until once more the money was exhausted. It seems as though the old legend of the architect who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the plan of the edifice must have some foundation, for tradition relates that Satan was finally outwitted by the architect, and in revenge vowed that the Cathedral should never be finished, and the architect's name be forgotten. Immense fortunes have been expended upon it by monarchs and others of the faithful. The great southern portal alone cost half a million dollars: the bells in the south tower, the largest of which was cast in 1874, from the metal of French guns, weighs twenty-five tons. The combined efforts of twenty-eight ringers are required to set it in motion. The next two in point of size, cast in 1447 and 1448, weigh respectively eleven and six tons. The magnificent stained gla.s.s windows were contributed by famous and royal donors, such as the Emperor Frederick III., Archbishop Von Daun, Archbishop Von Hessen, King Lewis I. of Bavaria, Emperor William I., and many others. A number of these were executed as far back as 1508.

Few structures can compete with this in beauty, grace and elegance of form. How solemn is the atmosphere within these ancient walls! How impressive the picture of this apparently boundless interior! In one of the great pillars is a flight of one hundred steps, which leads to a gallery extending across the transept, and still nearly forty steps higher one reaches the gallery which makes the tour of the whole Cathedral, and upon this one has a beautiful view of the city of Cologne, the Rhine and the surrounding country. Within the church there is a corresponding gallery, from which the visitor may observe the interior decorations, and from the loftiest gallery of all, there is a vast and delightful panorama which includes river and country as far as the eye can see. What can be more beautiful than this scene? Where can one find a grander, more solemn atmosphere than within these walls where the spirits and the hands of men have worked for ages? Where can he experience more lofty aspirations toward

"The glorious Author of the universe Who reins the minds, gives the vast ocean bounds, And circ.u.mscribes the floating worlds their rounds"?

The city of Cologne was founded by the Ubii at the time when they were compelled by Agrippa to migrate from the right to the left bank of the Rhine, (B. C. 38). In A. D. 51, Agrippina, daughter of Germanicus, and mother of Nero, founded here a colony of Roman veterans which at first was called Colonia Agrippinensis, and afterward Colonia Claudia Agrippina. In 308 Constantine the Great began a stone bridge over the Rhine to Deutz. From the end of the fifth century Cologne belonged to the Franks and was long occupied by the Ripuarian kings. Charlemagne raised the bishopric which had been founded here in the fourth century to an archbishopric, the first archbishop being the imperial chaplain Hildebold who built the oldest cathedral church, and presented to it a valuable library which still exists.

"The n.o.ble city has pa.s.sed through many vicissitudes, and it was not until after 1815 under Prussian rule that it began to enjoy a degree of permanent prosperity. The rapid progress of its steamboat and railway systems, and the enterprise of the citizens, many of whom possess great wealth, have combined to make Cologne the centre of the Rhenish trade, and one of the most considerable commercial cities in Germany."

The town is built with long narrow streets curving in semicircles toward the river. Its sidewalks have the peculiarity of frequently dwindling away until only a few feet in width. The great Cathedral tower may be seen for miles, reaching far above the surrounding buildings. Cologne is a city of legends and relics: old and historic buildings dating back many centuries are scattered in all directions, and here the visionary, the lover of myth and legend, can find abundant food for his imagination. The great and valued possessions of the city are the bones of the eleven thousand virgins. This is the legend: Fourteen hundred years ago, St. Ursula and eleven thousand virgins went on a pilgrimage to Rome, and returning were all slain by the Huns. Their bones were gathered together and brought to Cologne, where they were buried, and later the church of St. Ursula, now nearly nine hundred years old, was built over their tomb. Within this church the bones of the virgins are enclosed in stone caskets, with apertures through which they may be seen. The skulls are covered with needlework and ornamented with pearls and precious stones.

Among other relics, is also to be found here the alabaster vase or rather one of the vases, in which the Saviour turned the water into wine at the marriage in Cana. The vase or jar is evidently a very ancient article: it is much cracked, and one handle is broken off. There are many points of interest in this old city, for here are museums, gardens, galleries and churches, and always the picturesque river with its countless views and pleasure trips.