STRASBURG CATHEDRAL.
“Cologne has nine separate and distinct stinks;
It is washed by the river Rhine,
But what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?”
It is not at all inappropriate therefore that Cologne should lead the world in the manufacture of perfumery. The city boasts 140,000 inhabitants, the most of whom are Roman Catholics. A bridge of boats connects Cologne with a large city on the opposite side of the river.
To the visitor, the object of the greatest interest in the city is the Cathedral, which is said to be the most magnificent Gothic edifice in the world. It certainly takes the palm over anything I have seen. It is wholly unnecessary for me to describe this wonderful building to those who have seen it, and it is impossible to describe it to those who have not seen it. I hardly know whether one is most filled with admiration, or struck with awe, as he beholds this great temple whose foundation stone was laid six hundred years ago. To go around it, one must walk an eighth of a mile; and yet he forgets the distance as he looks upon the massive walls rising one hundred and fifty feet above him; as he views the arched roof more than two hundred feet high; as he eyes the tapering spires which seem to pierce the bended sky. And yet there is hardly a square foot, even of the exterior of this architectural wonder, that is not carved and chiseled in the most exquisite manner imaginable. The principal entrance to the Cathedral is a doorway, thirty-one by ninety-three feet. On the inside, one sees a forest of pillars, fifty-six in number, apparently thirty or forty feet in circumference, and rising, some one hundred and others two hundred feet high. The aisles are twenty, thirty, and sixty feet wide. Some of the windows are twenty by fifty feet. These stained-glass windows and marble pillars have been presented by the kings and queens and emperors of different countries. The inside is profusely adorned and decorated with statues, carvings, paintings and sculpture work of every kind and character.
The Cathedral bell is seventeen feet across, and weighs twenty-three tons. To ring it requires fifteen men. As I stand upon the tower, five hundred and thirty-seven feet above the earth, men in the streets look like little children, and the business houses resemble play-things. This elevation affords a fine view of the surrounding country. I can trace the Rhine and its tributaries for more than twenty miles. Winding around among the hills and grain fields, these streams, gleaming in the sunlight, look like silver threads. I say to my friend: “Ah! behold the ‘silver threads among the gold.’” Although I have climbed this spire to the enormous height of 537 feet, yet above me is a delicate golden ladder; and, as it was placed here to enable the angels to ascend and descend, I quietly descend.
The church of St. Ursula is one of the curiosities of the city. St. Ursula was an English princess who, according to the tradition, when on her return from a pilgrimage to Rome, in the second century after Christ, was barbarously murdered at Cologne with eleven thousand other Christians, most of whom were young women. They were all buried in the same grave. Some time in the eleventh century the grave was opened, the bones taken out, and, on the spot of the grave, the present church was built to the memory of these martyred virgins. These bones form part of the walls of the church; some of them, also, are preserved in glass cases, and placed around in the audience-room. Johnson supposes this is done to inspire in the worshipper a devotional spirit, or, perchance, to remind him of Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones. Near the pulpit is a beautiful monument to Princess Ursula. The statue is of alabaster, with a laurel wreath about her brow and a white dove at her feet.
The Rhine is, indeed, a majestic river. Its broad bosom floats hundreds of vessels, laden with the produce of its fertile valley, and thousands of tourists from all parts of Europe and America. At Cologne, we embark on the “Victoria,” and start up the “legendary stream.” As our graceful bark glides off over the smooth waters, we turn our eyes back toward Cologne for a last, long look. And what a pleasing picture it is to behold the city with its “girdle of fortifications,” to see the splendid cathedrals and numerous towers outlined against the sky! Cologne has scarcely vanished from our sight when Bonn appears. Here we disembark. A few hours suffice to go through the University, to inspect the Cathedral, to see the bronze statue, and visit the birthplace of the great musical genius, Beethoven, born in 1770 and died in 1827.
After leaving Bonn, the scenery is more picturesque and beautiful. On either side of the swiftly-flowing stream, the overhanging cliffs rise high, one above another, each being crowned with a ruined castle, whose long, winding corridors and pictured walls once resounded with mirth and music. High perched upon these basaltic rocks, and surrounded by almost impregnable walls, feudal lords once held despotic sway. It really seems that the once thirsty swords have been beaten into plowshares, and the spears into pruning hooks, for the fruitful vine now flourishes along the “bloody Rhine,” from its water’s edge to the height of the castled crags. Even the crevices in the high cliffs are planted with the vine. This scene inspired Lord Byron to sing the following beautiful song:
“The castled crag of Drachenfels