Travelling over a very even road, and a country extremely flat, (for from Aix-la-Chapelle I met with but one hill), I arrived at Cologne, the capital, not only of the Archbishopric of that name, but of the Circle of the Lower Rhine. My spirits, which were not in the very best tone, were not at all raised on entering the city, by the ringing of Church-bells, of all tones and sizes, in every quarter. Being a stranger, I thought it had been a rejoicing day; but, on inquiry, found that it was the constant practice. Never, in my life, had I heard such an infernal clatter: never before had I seen any thing so gloomy and melancholy——the streets black——dismal bells tolling——bald-pated Friars, in myriads, trailing their long black forms through the streets, molding their faces into every shape that art had enabled them to assume, in order to excite commiseration, and begging alms with a melancholy song calculated for the purpose, somewhat like that of our blind beggars in London, and productive of the same disagreeable effect upon the spirits. In short, I was not an hour in Cologne, when those circumstances, conspiring with the insuperable melancholy of my mind, made me wish myself out of it.
Nevertheless, Cologne is a fine city; and if it be any satisfaction to you to spin those fine imaginary ligaments that, in the brain of the book-worm, connect the ancient and modern world, I will inform you, that it was anciently called Colonia Agrippina, because Agrippina, the mother of Nero, was born there, and honoured it with a Roman Colony, because it was her birth-place. The mind, forced back to that period; and contemplating the mischiefs of that monster Nero, cannot help wishing that Cologne had been burnt the night of her birth, and Miss Agrippina buried in the ruins, ere she had lived to give birth to that scourge of the world.
Although the established religion here be the Roman Catholic, extraordinary as it may appear, they are very jealous of powers and though the Elector, by his officers, administers justice in all criminal causes, they will not permit him, in person, to reside above three days at a time in the city, nor to bring a great train with him when he visits it; for this reason he commonly resides at Bonne.
Cologne has a very considerable trade, particularly in Rhenish wine; and its gin is reckoned the best in the world, and bears a higher price than any other in all the Nations of Europe.
Like all great Roman Catholic cities, it has a profusion of churches, crosses, miracles, saints, and church trinkets; and I really think it has more steeples and bells than any two cities in Germany. As Liege was called the Paradise of Priests, this ought to be called the Golgotha of Skulls and Skull-caps. In the church of Saint Ursula, they shew, or pretend at least to shew, the bones of eleven thousand Virgin Martyrs. The skulls of some of those imaginary Virgins are in silver cases, and others in skull-caps, of cloth, of gold, and velvet. And in the church of Saint Gerion, are no less than nine hundred heads of Moorish Cavaliers, of the army of the Emperor Constantine, (previous to that Saint’s conversion to Christianity), who they say was beheaded for refusing to sacrifice to idols: by the bye, the Popish Divines burn, instead of beheading, for not sacrificing to idols——Every one of those heads, however, has a cap of scarlet, adorned with pearls. The whole forms a spectacle, no doubt, equally agreeable and edifying. It struck me, however, as an extremely ludicrous sight, malgre the solemnity of so many death’s heads: and when their story was recounted, I could not help internally chuckling, and saying (rather punningly, to be sure), “Ah! what blockheads ye must have been, to suffer yourselves to be separated from your snug warm bodies, rather than drop down and worship an idol, in which so many good Christian Divines have shewn you an example!” This, you will conclude, I said to myself: an avowal of my sentiments in that place might have given my head a title to a scarlet cap and pearls; and as I had some further use for it, I did not think it expedient to leave it behind me in the Church of Saint Gerion——so, very prudently, kept my mind to myself.
Coming out of the Church, a multitude of beggars, all in canonicals, or student’s habits, surrounded, beseeching me for alms——one, pour l’amour de Dieu; another, pour l’amour de la Sainte Vierge; a third, pour le salut de notre Redempteur; a fourth, pour l’amour de Saint Gerion; and so on!
When I had gone as far as I wished in donations, another attacked me: though I told him my charity-bank was exhausted, he persevered, and was uncommonly solicitous——till at length, having exhausted the whole catalogue of Saints that are to be found in the Calendar, he raised his voice from the miserable whine of petition, and exclaimed with great energy, “Par les neuf cent tetes des Cavaliers Maures qui sont sanctifies au Ciel, je vous conjure de me faire l’aumone!” This was too formidable an appeal to be slighted; and so, in homage to the skulls and red caps, I put my hand in my pocket, and stopped his clamours.
Those miserable modes of peculation are the most pardonable of any produced by the Church: we have no right to regret a trifle sacrificed at the shrine of compassion, even when that compassion is mistaken; but our reason revolts at imposition, when it calls coercion to its aid, and assumes the name of right.
Without any national predilection, which you know I am above, I think our Church affairs in Scotland are arranged upon a better system than any other that I know of: hence their Clergy are in general examples worthy of imitation, for learning, piety, and moral conduct.