Sunny Memories Of Foreign Lands Volume Ii Part 27

"That," says the priest, in a plaintive voice, pitched to the exact point between lamentation and veneration, "is the ring of St. Ursula."

"Indeed," says C., "her ring!"

"Yes," says the priest, "it was found in her tomb."

"It was found in her tomb--only think!" says C., turning gravely to me. I had to look another way, while the priest proceeded to introduce, by name, four remarkably yellow skulls, with tastefully trimmed red caps on, as those of St. Ursula and sundry of her most intimate friends. S. looked gloriously indignant, and C. increasingly solemn.

"Dere," said the priest, opening an ivory box, in which was about a quart of _teeth_ of different sizes, "dere is de teeth of the eleven thousand."

"Indeed," echoes C., "their teeth!"

S., at this, waxed magnificent, and, as a novel writer would say, swept from the apartment. I turned round, shaking with laughter, while the priest went on.

"Dere is a rib of St. ----."

"Ah, his rib; indeed!"

"And dere is de arrow as pierced the heart of St. Ursula."

"H.," says C., "here is the arrow that killed St. Ursula." (The wicked scamp knew I was laughing!)

"Dere is the net that was on her hair."

"This is what she wore on her hair, then," says C., eyeing the rag with severe and melancholy gravity.

"And here is some of the blood of the martyr Stephen," says the priest, holding a gla.s.s case with some mud in it.

In the same way he showed two thorns from the crown of Christ, and a piece of the Virgin's petticoat.

"And here is the waterpot of stone, in which our Lord made the wine at the marriage in Cana."

"Indeed," said C., examining it with great interest; "where are the rest of them?"

"The rest?" says the priest.

"Yes; I think there were six of them; where are they?"

The priest only went over the old story. "This came from Rome, and the piece broken out of the side is at Rome yet."

It is to be confessed that I felt in my heart, through this disgusting recital, some of S.'s indignation; and I could not help agreeing with her that the odor of sanct.i.ty, as generally developed in the vicinity, was any thing but agreeable. I did long to look that man once steadily in the eyes, to see if he was such a fool as he pretended; but the ridiculousness of the whole scene overcame me so that I could not look up, and I marched out in silence. The whole church is equally full of virgins. The altar piece is a vast picture of the slaughter, not badly painted. Through various gla.s.s openings you perceive that the walls are full of the bones and skulls. Did the wors.h.i.+p of Egypt ever sink lower in horrible and loathsome idolatry? I had heard of such things; but it is one thing to hear of them, and another to see them by the light of this nineteenth century, in a city whose streets look much like the streets of any other, and where men and women appear much as they do any where else. Here we saw, in one morning, the splendor and the rottenness of the Romish system. From those majestic arches, that triumphant chant, there is but a step down to the wors.h.i.+p of dead men's bones and all uncleanness.

We went also into the Jesuits' church. The effect, to my eye, was that of a profusion of tawdry, dirty ornament; only the railing of the choir, which was a splendid piece of carving, out from a single block of Carrara marble.

The guide book prescribes, I think, no less than half a dozen churches in Cologne as a dose for the faithful; but we were satisfied with these three, and went back to our hotel. As a general thing I would not recommend more than three churches on an empty stomach.

The outer wall of Cologne is a very fine specimen of fortification, (I am quoting my guide book,) and we got a perfect view of it in crossing the bridge of boats to return to our hotel. Why they have a bridge of boats here I cannot say; perhaps on account of the width and swiftness of the river.

Having heard so much of the dirt and vile smells of Cologne, I was surprised that our drive took us through streets no way differing from those of most other cities, and, except in the vicinity of the eleven thousand virgins, smelling no worse. Still, there may be vile, ill-smelling streets; but so there are in Edinburgh, London, and New York.

From Cologne we went, at four o'clock, to Dusseldorf, a little town, celebrated for the head quarters of the Dusseldorf school of painting.

I cannot imagine why they chose this town for a school of the fine arts, as it is altogether an indifferent, uninteresting place. It is about an hour's ride from Cologne. We arrived there in time to go into the exhibition of the works of the artists, which is open all summer.

I don't know how good a specimen it is, but I thought it rather indifferent. There were some few paintings that interested me, but nothing equal to those. I have seen in the Dusseldorf gallery at home.

Whittridge lives there, but, unfortunately, was gone for eight days.

Our hotel was pleasant--opening on a walk shaded by double rows of trees. We ordered a nice little tea in our room, arid waxed quite merry over it.

This morning we started at seven, and here we are to-night in Leipsic--as uninteresting a country as I have seen yet. Moreover, we had pa.s.sed beyond the limits of our Rhine guide book, and as yet had no other, and so did not know any thing about the few objects of interest which presented themselves. The railroads, of course, persist in their invariable habit of running you up against a dead wall, so that you see nothing where you stop.

The city of Magdeburg is the only interesting object I have seen. I had a fair view of its cathedral, which I think, though not so imposing, yet as picturesque and beautiful as any I remember to have seen; and its old wall, too. We changed cars here, going through the wall into the city, and I saw just enough to make me wish to see more; and now to-night we are in Leipsic.

Morning. We are going out now, and I must mail this letter. To-morrow we spend at Halle.

JOURNAL--(CONTINUED.)

Friday, August 5. Dusseldorf to Leipsic, three hundred and seventy-three miles. A very level and apparently fertile country. If well governed it ought to increase vastly in riches.

Sat.u.r.day, August 6. Called at the counting house of M. Tauchnitz, the celebrated publisher. An hour after, accompanied by Mrs. T., he came with two open carriages, and took us to see the city and environs. We visited the battle ground, and saw the spot where Napoleon stood during the engagement; a slight elevation, commanding an immense plain in every direction, with the spires of the city rising in the distance. After seeing various sights of interest, we returned to our hotel, where our kind friends took their leave. In the afternoon M.

Tauchnitz sent H. a package of his entertaining English publications, to read in the cars, also a Murray for Germany. H. and I then took the cars for Halle, where we hoped to spend the Sabbath and meet with Dr.

Tholuck. Travellers sometimes visit Chamouni without seeing Mont Blanc, who remains enveloped in clouds during their stay. So with us.

In an hour we were in rooms at the Kron Prince. We sent a note to the professor; the waiter returned, saying that Dr. Tholuck was at Kissengen. Our theological Mont Blanc was hid in mist. Blank enough looked we!

"H., is there no other professor we want to see?"

"I believe not."

Pensively she read one of the Tauchnitz Library. Plaintively my _Amati_ sighed condolence.

"H." said I, "perhaps we might reach Dresden to-night."

"Do you think so? Is it possible? Is there a train?"

"We can soon ascertain."

"How amazed they would look!"

We summoned the _maitre d'hotel_, ordered tea, paid, packed, raced, ran, and hurried, _presto, prestissimo,_ into a car half choked with voyagers, changed lines at Leipsic, and shot off to Dresden. By deep midnight we were thundering over the great stone Pont d'Elbe, to the Hotel de Saxe, where, by one o'clock, we were lost in dreams.

In the morning the question was, how to find our party.

"Waiter, bring me a directory."

"There is no directory, sir."

"No directory? Then how shall we contrive to find our friends?"