In some parts of Bavaria and Austria, the pilgrimages are still kept up. Thousands and tens of thousands every year make a journey to the shrine of some favorite saint, to kiss some precious relic, or worship, in all but pagan idolatry, before some miracle-working picture or statue of the Virgin. At one place I saw as many as a thousand men, women, and girls, who were setting out on a journey to Maria Zella, a celebrated pilgrimage place in the Styrian Alps. They entered the cathedral from which they started, in procession, kissed the cross, made their prayers, and then marched forth on their pious tour on foot, many with scanty clothing to protect them from the storms, and with miserable supplies of food, carried in sacks or baskets, to sustain them on their fatiguing march. But such are the severe burdens that superstition, ignorance, and bigotry impose upon their wretched subjects.
XIX.
Cologne, Prussia, Aug. 16, 1841.
Frankfort, from which I wrote last, is one of the free towns of Europe, being governed by a senate of its own; but it is considerably influenced by Austria and Prussia. Its territory is limited, not exceeding ten square miles, and the city and environs contain a population of fifty-two thousand—five thousand of whom are Jews. It is quite a lively city, the walls of which were levelled many years since and planted with trees, which now afford a delightful shade and promenade, being interspersed with a variety of plants and flowers. The desire for shade and fine promenades is an admirable feature in the European character, and in almost all cities I have yet visited on the Continent, I find the taste for agreeable and shady public walks to be prevalent; and I regret that their utility is so little considered in our own beautiful country, especially as they are greatly conducive to health, as well as comfort and pleasure.
Frankfort is the seat of the German diet, and the deliberations of the Confederation of the German States are held there. It is the residence of many foreign ambassadors and wealthy merchants, and from the extent of its monied transactions, may be called the city of bankers; the most prominent of them is Baron Rothschild, who lives in princely style, having a magnificent villa and pleasure grounds in the suburbs of the city. Frankfort was the cradle of the Rothschild family; the house in which they were born is in the Judenstrasse, or Jews’ street, which is narrow, with gaunt old buildings and gable ends to the street. The houses never having been cleaned or painted, the dust and smoke of centuries are upon them. I was directed to the house, which the mother of the Rothschilds still occupies, and which, since it is the old homestead of the family, narrow and confined as it is, she refuses to leave for the palace of her son, not far distant.
The condition of the Jews here is much ameliorated. Formerly, the part of the city they occupy was closed by gates at an early hour; and another tyrannical law restricted the number of marriages among them to thirteen yearly. Both of those oppressions are now removed.
There are many objects of interest to occupy the attention at Frankfort. The banker to whom my letter was addressed, had a gallery of works of art. Among the sculpture, a piece representing Ariadne is the most prominent, and considered the lion of Frankfort; it is the figure of a female resting gracefully on the back of a tiger, beautifully executed, of pure Carrara marble. The gallery is liberally thrown open to the public. Before leaving the city, I thought it would not be unprofitable or uninteresting to visit the new cemetery, and take a melancholy but impressive walk among the abodes of the dead, as I had done while at Leipsig and some other German cities, as the cemeteries are places of public resort at all hours, and the gates always stand open during the day. One of the peculiarities of the German character is their veneration for the abodes of the dead. The grounds are beautifully and tastefully laid out, with walks adorned with shade trees and every variety of flowers. At one end of the inclosure is a long and beautiful arcade, under which repose, beneath pompous monuments, the rich and noble. Other parts of the ground are thickly studded with crosses, gravestones, and monuments, among which may be seen groups of young and old, entwining wreaths of flowers and evergreens around the monuments of those they loved, or perhaps placing a basin of holy water, or arranging a little border of flowers, by the side of some new-made grave. I saw many new graves strewed over with strips of lace, with tassels of gold and silver attached, on many of which the name and age of the deceased were imprinted.
A police regulation here requires that all bodies for interment shall be placed in the dead-house for a certain length of time, to guard against accidents by burial in cases of suspended animation. The building contains ten rooms for the bodies, and a room in the centre for a watchman; also a room provided with beds, medicines, and all other necessary articles, in case of the reviving of a subject. The fingers of the prostrate corpses are placed in the loops of a string attached to an alarm clock; and on the slightest motion or pulsation of the body, it gives the alarm to the watchman, who immediately summons assistance. But I will dwell no longer in the places of the dead, but return to the ways of the living.
On leaving Frankfort I visited Wiesbaden, which is the capital of the Duchy of Nassau, and has a population of ten thousand. Thousands resort thither for health and pleasure, and the efficacy of its baths; it being favorably situated, and connected with Mayence on the Rhine, and Frankfort, by railroad, it is more frequented than any of the German watering-places. My stay at this place of bustle and high life was short, but to give an idea of it, I will state that on our arrival at the junction of the railroad, we pursued our way to the Kursaal, the prominent hotel of the town, through a long line of beautiful sycamore trees. Having arrived at the usual dinner hour (one o’clock), we found a magnificent saloon, with three hundred guests at table, and a band of music playing in the same room. As there were no vacancies, we ordered dinner at a later hour, and in the meantime visited the springs, and strolled through the beautiful grounds by the side of a lake, on which white swans were seen gliding gracefully over the surface; the banks were lined with dahlias and other flowers. One spring has the appearance of a boiling cauldron, with a temperature of one hundred and fifty-six degrees Fahrenheit. Its waters are used for drinking, and taste very much like weak chicken broth. It supplies many baths, and the quantity that runs to waste is very considerable. In addition to this principal one, there are thirteen other springs.
On returning from our interesting walk, we saw many groups descending the hill on donkeys, which are always ready to convey visitors to the heights about Wiesbaden, to enjoy the fine view up and down the Rhine. To my surprise, on returning to the hotel, I found the grand saloon converted to a use which is not tolerated publicly at any of the Austrian and Prussian watering-places that I have yet visited. Here they have a special privilege from the government to gamble in public. Among the many hundreds of visitors, some were occupied in promenading, or in sipping coffee and ices under the shade of the trees; others were engaged in play at the different games, and among them were many well dressed ladies taking part with all the coolness and gravity possible. Such are the customs, and such is life, among the gentry who collect here. The grand saloon of the hotel I found to be occupied regularly for four distinct purposes; that of a dining, a ball, an assembly, and a gambling room.