I next visited Mayence on the Rhine, a town with a population of thirty-one thousand. It is strongly garrisoned with Austrian and Prussian troops, being the chief fortress of the German confederation. The troops stationed here vary from eight thousand to sixteen thousand. Every town or city has something peculiar, or some attractive sights command the attention of the visitor; but there are few remarkable things about Mayence. Its cathedral, which was built in the tenth century, is noted for its antiquity. Europe is indebted to Mayence for two things, which have had the greatest influence in effecting human improvement—free trade and the printing-press. The art of printing was first known in Mayence, and it was the birthplace of John Gutenberg, one of the associates of the celebrated Faust in the invention and early promotion of the art. The town is connected with the opposite side of the river by a bridge of boats one thousand six hundred and sixty-six feet long.
At Mayence I took the steamer for Coblentz, and visited Ehrenbreitstein, the Gibraltar of the Rhine, an immense fortification on the opposite side, about eight hundred feet high, on a rock with steep slopes. It has cost the Prussian government four millions of dollars. Capable of holding fourteen thousand men, the magazines are large enough to contain provisions for eight thousand men ten years. The view from the heights is splendid, the banks of the “Blue Moselle,” with the bridge of boats, and other interesting sights, being directly opposite.
But the scenery along the Rhine, so celebrated throughout Europe, and so worthy of admiration, no pen can justly describe. It is of such a varied, delightful, and interesting character that it is impossible to convey an adequate idea of its beauties. No river in the world combines so many picturesque and magnificent views with so many historical associations. Its variety of wild and precipitous rocks, thick and gloomy forests, ruined castles, strongholds of the robber knights of former times, ruins of all descriptions, monuments, fortresses frowning from the lofty summits of the rocky elevations, with fertile plains, wide-spreading vineyards, towns and villages almost line the banks between Mayence and Coblentz. But this is the most interesting part of the river.
The vine is very extensively cultivated along the Rhine, producing some of the most celebrated wines. In some places the vineyards are nothing more than a succession of terraces, extending from five hundred to one thousand feet high, up the face of a hill, and frequently comprising from fifteen to twenty, each supported by a front wall from five to eight feet high.
XX.
Amsterdam, Holland, Aug. 24, 1841.
In my last from Cologne I promised to say something descriptive of its attractions, and its being termed the Rome of the north. For its origin and antiquity it is deserving of notice; besides, it is a commercial city, and the largest on the Rhine. History says Cologne was founded by the Romans, and that Agrippina, the mother of Nero, was born here. The cathedral, which was commenced in the year 1248, by the Elector and Archbishop of Cologne, has remained up to the present between a fragment and a ruin. If it had been finished, it would have been one of the prettiest Gothic edifices existing. The choir is the only part completed. It is one hundred and eighty feet high, and internally, from its height, size, and disposition of arches, chapels, and beautifully colored windows, strikes one with awe and astonishment. The entire length of the cathedral is four hundred feet, its breadth one hundred and sixty. The towers, which were only partly finished, were to have been five hundred feet high. In a small chapel is the celebrated shrine of the three kings of Cologne, or the Magi, who came from the East with rich gifts for the infant Jesus. The bones were obtained by the Emperor Barbarossa and presented to the Bishop of Cologne. By a payment to the sacristan we entered the inclosure, which is under double locks. The case, or coffin, in which they are deposited, is of solid silver gilt, about six feet long, three high, and three wide, and is curiously wrought—surrounded by small arcades, supported by silver pillars, and by figures of the apostles. The case is enriched with cameos, enamels, antique gems, diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones in abundance. The skulls of the three kings, inserted with their names, Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar, written in rubies, are exhibited to view through an opening in the shrine, crowned with diadems. The sacristan says the treasures are worth six million francs. There are many other relics of saints, church plate, &c., exhibited.
The church of St. Ursula and of the eleven thousand virgins is too singular to be forgotten. As the legend goes, St. Ursula, with eleven thousand virgins, set sail, in the second or third century, I think, from Britain for Armenia, and was carried by tempest up the Rhine, where the whole party were slaughtered by the barbarian Huns because they refused to break their vows of chastity. In the church, which is large and commodious, in cases beneath and around the altars, inclosed and built in the walls, are these hideous bones. They are displayed in gaunt array, in glass cases, about the choir and the altar. In the golden chamber, encased in silver, a select few of the number are deposited, while St. Ursula reposes in a coffin behind the altar. The walls in this church are decorated with bones, fashioned in all fantastic shapes. One of the stone vessels is here shown which Christ used at the marriage supper, and in which he converted water into wine.
On leaving Cologne, by steamer, we descended to Nymwegen, the first frontier fortress of Holland, which we entered without a very strict examination of luggage. On sallying forth the morning following my arrival, I was forcibly struck with the unusual cleanliness and neatness of the Dutch, particularly as the day previous I had left Cologne, which is not only celebrated for Eau de Cologne, but for its filth. We left Nymwegen for Utrecht by diligence, and it being Saturday, the general “schoonmaking,” or cleaning day, I had a fine opportunity of witnessing what may be termed an excess of cleanliness, in passing through several small villages before arriving at Utrecht. Almost every house presented a scene of the utmost activity. The brushing, scrubbing, and mopping are not confined to the inside of the house, the steps, and door-ways, but the windows, walls, and sidewalks must undergo a course of ablution. Scarcely a domestic is seen without a water-pail and broom, or a small engine pump for throwing water to wash the windows, and a traveller stands a small chance of avoiding a shower bath, if he walks carelessly along the sidewalks. The drawing-room is a sort of sanctum, and is said to be rarely entered oftener than once a week, and then only by the housewife and her maid, with list shoes, to avoid scratching the polished floors. After having finished washing and dusting, the door is closed, and windows fastened for another week. Sabots, or wooden shoes, are generally worn during the purification, and after the work is finished they must undergo a regular wash as well as the brooms and other articles used in cleaning.
One of the peculiarities of the Dutch towns is the little mirrors projecting in front of the windows of almost all the houses. Ordinarily they are two pieces of looking-glass framed at an angle of forty-five degrees from each other, the one reflecting up the street and the other down, whereby the Dutch ladies may sit ensconced behind the blinds or curtains, and see all that is passing in the street, and not expose themselves to the gaze of the public.