CHAPTER II.
MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES—VIENNA—ST. STEPHEN'S CATHEDRAL—OLD CATHEDRALS—SANTA MARIA DEL FIORE—USES OF EAU DE COLOGNE—INSECT ATTACKS—THE UNIVERSAL EXHIBITION—THE GARDENS AND ACCESSORIES—THE LADIES OF VIENNA—NEW OPERA-HOUSE—ON THE DANUBE—A WEALTHY PRELATE—WISSEGRAD—ARRIVAL AT PESTH.
I STARTED from London for my holiday trip early in the month of June, 1873. The route I had laid out for myself on my departure was not exactly that which I eventually adopted, for nothing is truer than that man proposes, but God disposes. I had intended visiting the Crimea, and then crossing over the Straits of Kertch, I meant to have rambled over the Caucasus, finishing my trip with a visit to the Monastery of Echmiadzin, at the foot of Mount Ararat.
But it was not to be; I got as far as Pesth, when the cholera, which was then very active, not to say raging in Hungary, barred my further passage down the river into the Lower Provinces of the Danube, by threatening me with a quarantine of eleven days in a dirty lazzaretto, at a temperature of at least 90° in the shade. I would have risked the cholera, but I could not face the loss of eleven days in the limited time I had at my disposal, nor could I contemplate at all the horrors of an Oriental lazzaretto. All my plans were therefore upset; still the result was eventually satisfactory, as I think I shall be able to prove in the following pages.
After leaving London, I made straight for Vienna, by Brussels and Cologne, where I remained only a few hours, during which I visited for the twentieth time and more that exquisite specimen of ecclesiastical structure, its unrivalled Cathedral; every time I see it I admire it more and more, I think there are none to equal it, while most certainly none surpass it.
St. Peter's at Rome is a magnificent building, astonishes one by its size and its rich adornments, but it fails to impress one from a religious point of view. It might be a church, or it might be a grand reception room, a salle des ambassadeurs, or a colossal ball-room—whereas the Cathedral of Cologne is a church, a place of worship, and nothing else. I suppose there is something in the pure Gothic architecture conducive to this impression. There is but one other church I know of in the world which has the same solemn awe-producing effect, perhaps in a greater degree even than the Cathedral of Cologne, and that is Santa Maria del Fiore, the Cathedral of Florence. I have been hundreds of times in that grand old edifice, but never without feeling an overwhelming sense of solemnity and awe. It was not only the low murmuring notes of the organ sounding the responses at eve to the plaintive litanies of the Virgin, nor the deep tones of the full accompaniment to the Miserere mei Deus in the Passion Week, which produced it, for I was perhaps oftener there when all was silent, than during festive times, as I have always had the greatest objection to going into Catholic churches during service, gaping about and sight-seeing, to the evident annoyance and discomfort of the worshippers—a habit which, I regret to say, many of our country people too often indulge in, greatly to our detriment, especially in the less frequented places of the continent, where the people have come to regard us as heathens, and constantly to say of us, "Non sanno meglio, non sono Cristiani."
It was something more than all this which ever filled me with a feeling of intense devotion when I entered that grand old building. The severe simplicity of the structure, with no tawdry ornamentation to obtrude itself and take off the attention, may have played an important part in giving birth to solemn thoughts, together with the height and size of the three enormous pilasters which alone support the roof—the lofty arches, the vast depth and gloom of the aisles, the intensity of the shade, the deep silence made still more impressive by an occasional foot-fall—all would combine to proclaim this a house of prayer, and nothing else; a Temple in the fullest and most unequivocal sense of the word, offering to the old and the broken-spirited, to the infirm and to all who sought it in prayer, an assurance of tranquillity, consolation, and peace!