this one has but to recall the ship-model-hung Kerk at Haarlem; the quaint little minaret which rises above the roof tops of Leyden; or, the grandest of all, the Groote Kerk of Rotterdam, which, on a cloud-riven autumn day, composes itself into varying moods and symphonies which would have made Whistler himself eager and envious of its beauty and grandeur.
GENERAL VIEW of LEYDEN
In so far as this book deals only with the churches and cathedrals of the Rhine, and follows the course of the Neder Rijn and the Oud Rijn through Holland, there are but three Dutch cities which bring themselves naturally into line: Arnheim, Utrecht, and Leyden.
So far as Americans are concerned, there is a warm spot in their hearts for Old Holland, when they remember the brave little band of Pilgrims who gathered at Leyden and set sail from Delfthaven for their new home across the seas. This was but three hundred years ago, which, so far as the antiquity of European civilization goes, counts for but little. It is something, however, to realize that the mediæval architectural monuments of these places are the very ones which the Pilgrims themselves knew. It is true, however, that their outlook upon life was too austere to have allowed them to absorb any great amount of the artistic expression of the Dutch, but they must unquestionably have been impressed with the general appropriateness of the architecture around them.
Below Düsseldorf the topography and architectural features alike change rapidly, and the true Rhenish architecture of heavy arches, with an occasional sprinkling of fairy-like Gothic, really begins. Neuss, Essen, and all the Westphalian group of solidly built münsters speak volumes for German mediæval church architecture, while up the Rhine, past Düsseldorf, Cologne, Bonn, Königswater, Remagen, Sinzig, Andernach, Coblenz, and all the way to Mayence, and on past Schaffhausen to Basel are at least three score of interesting old churches as far different from those elsewhere as could possibly be imagined, and yet all so like, one to another, that they are of a species by themselves; all except the cathedral at Cologne, which follows the best practice of the French, except that its nave is absurdly short for its great breadth, and that its ponderous towers stand quite alone in their class.
In general, then, the cathedrals and churches of the Rhine form a wonderful collection of masterpieces of architectural art with which most well-informed folk in the world to-day should have a desire for acquaintanceship.
These often austere edifices, when seen near by, may not appeal to the popular fancy as do those of France and England, and they may not even have the power to so appeal; but, such as they are, they are quite as worthy of serious consideration and ardent admiration as any structures of their kind in existence, and they have, in addition, an environment which should make a journey among them, along the banks of the Rhine from its source to the sea, one of the most enjoyable experiences of life.
The Rhine loses none of its charms by intimate acquaintance; its history and legends stand out with even more prominence; and the quaint architectural forms of its cities are at least characteristically convincing.
Remains of every period may be found by the antiquary, from the time when the Roman eagle was triumphant throughout the dominion of the Franks to feudal and warlike times nearer our own day.
In addition, there are ever to be found evidences of the frugality and thrift of the Germans which preserve the best traditions of other days.
The love of the Rhineland in the breast of the Teuton is an indescribable sentiment; a confusion of the higher and lower emotions. It is characteristic of the national genius. We have been told, and rightly: "You cannot paint the Rhine, you cannot even describe it, for picture or poem would leave out half of the whole delicious confusion. The Rhine, however, can be set to music," and that apparently is just what has been done.
Everywhere one hears the music of the fatherland. Whether it is the songs and madrigals of the Church, or of the German bands in the Volksgarten, it is always the same, a light, irrepressible emotion which does much toward elucidating the complex German character.
Nowhere more than at Cologne is this contrast apparent. It is the most delightful of all Rhine cities. Usually tourists go there, or are sent there—which is about what it amounts to in most cases—in order to begin their "Rhine tour."
Before they start up-stream, they stroll about the city, pop in and out of its glorious cathedral, and perhaps one or another of its magnificent churches—if they happen to be on their line of march to or from some widely separated points—make the usual purchase of real eau de Cologne—though doubtless they are deceived into buying a poor imitation—and wind up in a river-side concert-garden, with much music and beer-drinking in the open.
This is all proper enough, but this book does not aim at recounting a round of these delights. It deals, if not with the Teutonic emotions themselves, at least with the expression of them in the magnificent and picturesquely disposed churches of both banks of the Rhine, from its source to the sea.
II
THE RHINE CITIES AND TOWNS
Cæsar, Charlemagne, and Napoleon all played their great parts in the history of the Rhine, and, in later days, historians, poets, and painters of all shades of ability and opinion have done their part to perpetuate its glories.
The Rhine valley formed a part of three divisions of the ancient Gaul conquered by the Romans: La Belgica, toward the coast of the North Sea; Germanica I., with Moguntiacum (Mayence) as its capital; and Germanica II., with Colonia Agrippina (Cologne) as its chief town. The Rhine was the great barrier between the Romans and the German tribes, and, in the time of Tiberius, eight legions guarded the frontier. The political and economic influences which overflowed from the Rhine valley have been most momentous.
The Rhine formed one of the great Roman highways to the north, and it is interesting to note that the first description of it is Cæsar's, though he himself had little familiarity with it. He wrote of the rapidity of its flow, and built, or caused to be built, a wooden bridge over it, between Coblenz and Andernach.
In the history of the Rhine we have a history of Europe. A boundary of the empire of Cæsar, it afterward gave passage to the barbarian hordes who overthrew imperial Rome. Charlemagne made it the outpost of his power, and later the Church gained strength in the cities on its banks, while monasteries and feudal strongholds rose up quickly one after another. Orders of chivalry were established at Mayence; and knights of the Teutonic order, of Rhodes, and of the Temple, appeared upon the scene. The minnesinger and the troubadour praised its wines, told of its contests, and celebrated its victories. The hills, the caves, the forests, the stream, and the solid rocks themselves were tenanted by superstition, by oreads, mermaids, gnomes, Black Huntsmen, and demons in all imaginable fantastic shapes.
Meantime the towns were growing under the influence of trade—the grimy power that destroyed the feudal system. The Reformed religion found an advocate at Constance in John Huss even before Luther fulminated against Rome; printing was accomplished by Gutenberg at Mayence; and now steam and electricity have awakened a new era.
Cæsar, Attila, Clovis, Charlemagne, Frederick Barbarossa, Rudolph of Hapsburg, the Palatine Frederick the First, Gustavus Adolphus, and Napoleon have been victorious upon its banks. What more could fate do to give the stream an almost immortality of fame?
Little by little there were established on the banks of the river populous posts and centres of commerce. The military camps of Drusus had grown into settled communities, until to-day are found along the Rhine the great cities of Basel, Strasburg, Speyer, Worms, Mayence, Coblenz, Cologne, and Düsseldorf, and between them are dotted a series of cities and towns less important only in size, certainly not in the magnitude of their interest for the traveller or student, nor in their storied past.
Of the more romantic, though perhaps not more picturesque, elements of vine-clad slopes—where is produced the celebrated