It was on the afternoon of a somewhat chilly June day that we drove into the green pastures of Jerichow. The fragrance of lime-blossoms and hay saluted our nostrils. The eye was gratified by well-kept fields, pleasantly alternating with plough-land and meadow; the heath, with its thorn bushes, chiefly surrounded by strips of brushwood, smiled before us.
The first place at which we arrived was Redekin, with the simple mansion of the Alvensleben family—its tall poplars, and its neighboring venerable church with the bronze figure of Christ. Next came Jerichow, the small city which gives its name to two counties. This pretty little town has two churches, and welcomed us cheerfully with its group of fine old elms and fragrant rose-trees. The church at the entrance has nothing remarkable about it, but the other at the end of the town is very curious, as one of the earliest specimens of pure Gothic style in these parts. This possesses a crypt.
Close behind Jerichow on the left, a landmark, the handsome Kaiser-house of Tangermünde, is visible.
At our next stage, the fine village of Fischbeck, we were already upon ancient Bismarckian soil; we did not, however, drive farther in the direction of Schönhausen, close by, but turned to the left towards the Elbe, on the other bank of which Tangermünde, with its imperial castle, tall towers, walls, and turrets, forming a well-preserved piece of mediæval architecture, presented itself to our view in the last golden rays of the evening sun.
We slowly crossed the broad expanse of the Elbe in a ponderous ferry-boat, and went up to the castle built by the Emperor Charles IV., that acute and politic King of Bohemia, as a metropolis for the great realm which extended from the North Sea and the Baltic as far as Hungary, and in which he designed to found the power of his family—a realm destined to fall to pieces under his sons.
At the castle we did not, of course, find the old lime-tree of justice, at which appeals used to be made from the gate of the old Brandenburg bridge. The gate and the tree have both disappeared, but on entering the castle-yard by the massive gate-tower, we had the venerable ruins of the ancient pile before us; on the left the tower, on the right the chapel, smothered in festoons of blooming roses. The castle itself, in which the powerful emperor once lived—where the magnificent Elector Joachim Nestor held his joyous wedding-feast with the beautiful Princess Elizabeth of Denmark, and where he breathed out the last breath of his noble life, after many bitter disappointments—exists no longer. The sheriff’s office, which stands on the site of the castle, was built by King Frederick I. before he was king. His F., with the electoral cap and the Roman numerals III., is still to be seen on the ceilings.
The old Kaiserburg is now inhabited by a retired officer of cavalry, who was then entertaining a visitor, General von Fransecky, known since the battle of Sadowa as “Fransecky Vor”—“Fransecky to the Front.” This hero of the fight had come thither to inspect the fourth squadron of the Westphalian Dragoons, lying in garrison at Tangermünde; hence on this evening the old castle was full of gay feminine toilettes and brilliant uniforms. Charles IV., educated at the French court and in Italy, here at one time instructed the rude squires of the Mark in his courtly and chivalrous code of manners towards ladies. The first assemblies in which both sexes intermingled took place at Tangermünde. Until that time in these regions men and women had sought their amusements separately, and hence knew nothing of real society.
The old Emperor would certainly have enjoyed the pleasant picture of cheerful sociability presented this evening in the lovely gardens between his chapel and tower.
Next morning we visited the remarkable town-hall and the handsome church of the ancient city. Such town-halls and churches no communities or cities as large as Tangermünde build at the present day. We are wanting in that sense of public spirit, and prefer small separate houses, and devote no proud and extensive structures to the use of the commonwealth.
The morning sun was shining brightly on the old city, and the Sunday bells were tolling as we passed back across the Elbe. A group of children bathing enlivened the strand below the gray tower. Two officers brought their fine horses across in the ferry-boat; one of these belonged to the Westphalian Dragoons, the other wore the yellow collar and cap-stripe of the Seventh Heavy Militia Cavalry, the colonel of which is General Count Bismarck. It is well known that Count Bismarck habitually wears the uniform of his regiment, and a South German Deputy to the Diet did not omit to stigmatize the yellow token of the uniform of the Chancellor of the Diet as very ominous. The excellent and reverend gentleman saw in the sulphurous collar of Bismarck a piece of the uniform of a prince as different from our noble King William as could possibly be.