CHAPTER XX.PILGRIMAGE TO AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

Aix-la-Chapelle.

IT is now nigh upon a thousand years since King Otto ordered the tomb of Charlemagne to be opened. The floor of the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle was broken up, the sacred mausoleum that cherished the remains of the mightiest of emperors was entered; and there he sat in the chamber of death, as in a hall of state, on a marble chair, in the vestments of his imperial office, a sword at his side, a crown on his head, and a Bible in his hand!

Charlemagne was born in this place in the year 742. The cathedral is his monument, and under the central dome is a slab in the floor with the simple inscription, “Carolo Magno.” The cathedral was adorned with the richest marbles the world could furnish, and the highest art of the age was lavished in its structure and ornament. The windows reach from the roof nearly to the ground, and with their rich decorations give a peculiar beauty to the interior. The city has again and again been ravaged by enemies; other buildings have been razed to their foundations, but this has steadily stood in the midst of war and fires and centuries of decay and change. Long has it been the shrine of Roman worship, for Pope Leo consecrated it in 804; and thus, a thousand years and more, it has been gathering treasures of wealth, of association, and interest. It is now the most sacred shrine in the north, and, indeed, it is not likely that any spot this side of Rome has half so much to excite the veneration of the faithful.

Perhaps Rome herself has not more holy relics. This is a bold supposition. But the list of sacred things here collected is so long and so wonderful, and the estimate in which they are held is so high, that the city fairly lays claims to the first rank among the favored. Therefore pilgrimages are made to these shrines as to the Holy City itself.

My pilgrimage hither was accidental, or, rather, providential.As I came into it at the close of a summer’s day, the streets were thronged with men and women, moving up and down, apparently without an object, swaying like the waves of the sea, and I asked if this was the usual crowd on the streets of an evening. It was at the height of the season for visitors to its famous fountains of water; for long before it was a shrine for pilgrims coming to pray, it was known for its mineral springs and their remarkable healing virtues. What more could be desired than a charm to cure diseases both of the bodies and the souls of strangers. The old pagan Romans knew the efficacy of these waters; and through all the centuries, since their rule, the city has been a fashionable watering-place. It was once the seat of empire, and the palace of Charlemagne, whose name invests it with more than romantic interest, has now passed away. Yet the city is frequented annually by thousands from distant parts, drawn here by the well-established reputation of the springs. It was, therefore, natural for me to ask if these crowds were the usual concourse of people on the streets of a summer evening.

The answer to my inquiry indicated as much surprise as the disciples exhibited when they said, “Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?”

I was told that it was the last day but one of the pilgrimage to the holy relics, and that this was the grand eve of the procession, the most remarkable pageant that is ever to be seen in these parts of the world. Of course this led to further inquiries, and I found myself suddenly and accidentally participating in one of the most extraordinary spectacles that I had ever seen or heard of. It will be a long story, but you must read it.

How the many precious relics came to be collected here I cannot learn; but the antiquity and wealth of the cathedral, and the vast power wielded for centuries by theCatholic emperors who were here crowned, would easily make this spot the nucleus around which superstition and faith would rally all their strength. So it came to pass in the lapse of time that the number and value of the offerings which popes and kings and others made to this shrine became immense, and no money would now be considered an equivalent for the priceless treasures. Here is a list of them, to be read with all the faith you can summon:—

THE RELICS OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.A. The superior relics,known under the popular name of the “great” relics.

THE RELICS OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

A. The superior relics,

known under the popular name of the “great” relics.

These superior relics are shown every seventh year only, or exceptionally to crowned heads on their special demand.

B. The inferior relicsare

C. The principal works of art in the treasure of the cathedral.

D. Relics and other remarkable objects of the other churches of the town.

a.In the parish church of St. Adalbert.

b.In the church of St. Theresa.

c.In the parish church of St. John the Baptist at Burtschied, near Aix-la-Chapelle.

Several hundred years ago it was the custom to expose these relics every year in the month of July; but it was found that in some stormy war times the precious things were in danger of being carried off, and it was ordered that once in seven years they should be exhibited to the believers. It was the year and the day of the septennial demonstration when the Sultan of Turkey and I arrived at Aix-la-Chapelle. The unbelieving Mohammedan did not stay and see the show, but I did.

It was now dark; but I walked around the cathedral. All the streets leading to it were thronged with people, and through the crowds it was hard to thread one’s way. At the door, which I finally reached, the people were coming out, and the guards informed me that the only entrance was on the other side. It was a long way, and not very pleasant; but at last I gained the court, where the blessed pilgrims were permitted to enter. Two lines of men, women, and children, in single file, stretching far away into the darkness and into some remote part of the city, were marchingsteadily into the cathedral, saying their prayers aloud as they walked slowly, devout in their appearance, and full of anxiety to get a sight of the precious treasures within. The prayers they were repeating are prepared for this service, and have reference to the sacred relics whose sovereign virtues they are now hoping to enjoy. When the remains of President Lincoln were for one day and night exposed in the City Hall of New York, the public were admitted to view them, and the line extended some miles up town, and marched steadily into the park all night long. Except that procession of gazers, I never saw a crowd intent on such a sight to equal the number of these pilgrims. It was impossible to enter the cathedral under these circumstances, and I was told that by coming early the next morning I could be admitted alone. But the next morning the gates were closed against all comers, and preparations were on foot for the grand septennial procession of the relics. The court and the streets leading to it were filled with rude benches, and thousands were seated where they could look with reverential awe on the cathedral in which these holy things were preserved. From the multitude there was rising on the air, like the sound of many waters, the voice of prayer. Away up one of the towers was a gallery passing around it, and on that gallery a procession of priests was making a frequent circuit, while the crowd gazed upwards with evident edification, as the holy utensils and the cross were borne aloft between them and heaven. There in the sun they sat, and thousands stood gazing and praying, the perfect embodiment of superstition, and the easy dupes of a cunning priesthood. They were of the lowest class of the population, if we could judge correctly by their dress and appearance. Yet were they orderly and devout, and only when some special spectacle led them all to rush to get the best place was there any need of the many guards who were on hand at all times to prevent disorder.

The grand procession was to emerge from the cathedral at two o’clockP.M.Then all these relics were to be carried in pomp in the hands and on the shoulders of the prelates through the streets of the city. “Good places to see the procession” were advertised for sale on the walls of the houses, and selecting one whose windows looked out upon the court of the cathedral and near its great door, I entered and hired half of one of the windows, taking a ticket that was to secure my seat when I returned.

Thus sure of the wonderful privilege of seeing the wealth of holy things which had brought these thousands here, I went off, and “assisted” in a demonstration with the Sultan of Turkey. He was on his way home from England, and was expected to reach Aix-la-Chapelle in the evening. But in consequence of delays on the road he did not arrive until five o’clock in the morning. He was then escorted to the palace, a modest mansion which the King of Prussia occupies when he is here, a rare event. When the Sultan had taken a brief rest and breakfast, he was to depart for Coblenz at tenA.M., and the better part of the city turned out to see him as he rode through the streets to the railroad. He is a much better-looking man than his predecessor on the Ottoman throne, whom I saw in Constantinople some years ago. This man is stout, short, grave, with heavy black beard, and veryTurkin his appearance. His visit to the west is regarded by his subjects as a part of the great work he is supposed by them to have on his hands,—the government of the world. To this day the most of them believe that France and England simply obeyed his orders when they came to the aid of the Sultan, and that he has now been out west to look after his provinces there.

In front of the palace and all along the streets dense masses of people pressed to get a sight; two Romish priests stood by me, and were intensely curious to seethe Turk. After a dozen carriages with his suite had passed, the state coach, with two fat horses and one very fat coachman,—coach, horses, and coachman covered with gold lace and trimmings,—came along with the solitary Sultan inside. The people sent up a very faint cheer, but he took no more notice of it than he would if the dogs had barked; looked stolidly down into the coach and rode out of sight.

At oneP.M.I returned to my hired window. The crowd was vastly increased, dense masses of humanity filling every inch of space in sight of the line of march. But the court of the cathedral had been cleared, and a strong bar, guarded by soldiers, forbade the ingress of the multitude. The house where I was to enter was opposite to the door of the baptistery, and the whole court which was to be the scene of the great display was in full view from my window. I was early on the ground, and when I took possession of the humble chamber was the only person in it. To get to it I had to pass throughthebedroom of the house, and in that was a double bed, two or three single beds, and a crib, in which the whole family slept side by side. Presently three Romish priests and two women entered, having also previously engaged places in this eligible apartment. The priests appeared to be intelligent men, and we conversed freely in French. They told me they had come from Holland to see the holy relics, and to participate in the solemnities of the occasion, and were then going to make a tour in Germany. The women were travelling in company. Presently one of the priests took out his prayer-book, and, retiring to one side of the room, entered upon his devotions. One of the women called my attention to him, and, giving me a wink of the eye, put up her finger to the side of her nose, and expressed the greatest possible contempt of the manat prayer. She was very lively, sometimes put her foot on the table, slapped hersister on the back heartily, drank three glasses of beer, which the priests paid for, and said it wasgoot.

A band of musicians arrived, and took their stand in the court. Officers in black dress withstavesappeared. The crowd pressed more and more densely on the bar, and in the struggle to get nearer, I feared some would be crushed to death. In years past, there have been many disasters of that kind here. Roofs of houses, overloaded, have sunk down with their living burden. And as far as my eyes could see, the picturesque multitude swarmed and heaved. Many in blue blouses; women with red shawls over their heads; and every color was seen in their variegated costumes, yet none but the commonest of the common people were there.

At two o’clock, a few horsemen rode into the crowd and opened a passage for the procession soon to emerge from the church. Where the people were to retire, how they could be compressed into a smaller space, it was impossible to see. Walls on all sides, but down the streets they had to go, and, as they were pressed against the houses, fright was on the faces of many; children were held up overhead to save them from being crushed; closer and closer they were stowed away; women put up their hands imploringly, but the horses tramped among them, and a way was at last cleared through the solid mass of human beings. It was not yet time for the procession to come out: this was only to let the officiating ecclesiastics, and servants bearing vestments, and boys in white with banners to pass in. But the time wore on, and at last the bells began to ring, a cannon was fired, a strong sensation swayed the waiting multitude, there was a sound of martial music, there was the roar of the voices of the crowds who could not restrain their feelings, the door of the cathedral opened, and the great pageant began.

In front marched a band of boys in white raiment, withbanners in their hands; a few Capuchin monks came next, in the coarse costume of their order; then followed a company of ecclesiastics, in white robes, with prayer-books in their hands, reading aloud as they walked; a large number in red and gold embroidered robes followed; a choir of young men singing; a brass band, making fine music; and then, wonderful to behold! in the midst of all this pomp appeared the dignitaries of the church, gorgeously attired, and bearing in succession the various relics which have already been named. They were enclosed in glass, some of them, and others were in magnificent chests of gold and silver, borne aloft on the shoulders of six men each, and surrounded with the richest trappings, as if the wealth of the universe might well be lavished on such precious treasures as these. The sacred procession was greeted everywhere as it proceeded with the prayers of the people, kneeling while it passed them. It took its way up into the city, through various streets by a prescribed route, in the midst of living masses of people, the windows and roofs filled with anxious spectators, who might never see the like again, and thousands of whom had come from afar, and had never seen it before. The march was about an hour long, and then they returned to the same court. But the procession was now largely increased. Two hundred “sisters,” of some order, had joined in, dressed in white, and perhaps as many of another order, in black; companies of infirm old men and women, as if from some asylum, and hundreds of lads in uniform, bearing flags, and four of them in white, with branches of lilies and green leaves in their hands. The procession entered the court, and, opening to the right and left, filled the area; the holy relics were borne into the midst, while the vast company lifted up their voices in singing, the band played, the bells rung, the cannon roared. It was a mighty choir in the open air, under the walls of a cathedral that had stood there athousand years; the vast multitude were hushed to silence to hear the music of this holy band of monks and priests and women and children, and while the whole atmosphere was full of song, the pageant passed into the temple.

My companions at the windows, the priests and their women, took leave of me, as they were in haste to take the railroad for Cologne. I stepped down into the court, and on the heels of the procession entered the cathedral. The relics were deposited in the holy places; the great golden chests were placed in front of the altar, and high mass was celebrated with the splendor of ceremonial becoming this great occasion.

When the procession was finished, the holy relics in their several repositories for another seven years, and mass duly celebrated, I returned to the hotel to dinner. About twenty persons were at the table. On my right sat a party of French people, gentlemen and ladies, and the fun they made of what they had seen on the street was immense. They ridiculed as ludicrous in the extreme, and as the very height of absurdity and nonsense, the idea that the clothes and sponge and garments worn two thousand years ago, and constantly exposed to air and all the chances and changes of these eighteen centuries, should be here to-day in good condition; and, of course, the priests and church came in for a good share of denunciation. In front of me, and on my left, was an English-speaking party, the central and principal personage in the group being an English priest. His garb was that of Rome, and his conversation was becoming his garb; but whether he had ever been received into the full communion of Holy Mother, or was only aping her manners and wearing her vestments, it is impossible to say. It makes little difference, however. He was disgusted by the infidelity of these French people, and, supposing none at the tableunderstood the English, he went on to say that it was highly improper to come into a foreign country and ridicule the customs and faith of the people. “For my part,” said he, “I think they are very stupid, as well as very ill-bred, to make such remarks at a public table where there are others who hold these relics in high honor as memorials of their holy religion.” The ladies of the party joined him fully in these sentiments, and, to my surprise, I soon discovered that the two ladies between whom he was sitting, and whom he always addressed as “My dear,” were both Americans, and evidently destined to become, if they had not already, excellent Romans. All of them, and the party was six or seven in number, had been gazing on the same spectacle that I had seen with mingled indignation and pity, and these enlightened, cultivated English and American people received the whole exposition as a glorious manifestation to their eyes of the veritable objects that were used at the time and in the midst of the scenes of the sufferings and death of our blessed Lord, and, therefore, justly to be held in reverence by all the faithful in all coming time.

Pictures of the relics were for sale in all the shops, and I bought a few as souvenirs of my pilgrimage. Particularly I sought for a good representation of that one which is first on the list and first in the admiration of the people. As the Virgin Mother Mary is held in higher honor by all good Catholics than the Son of God himself, so they likewise venerate with a deeper reverence the linen garment that she wore than the cloth which was around the loins of the Saviour on the cross. Having found two or three good copies of this peculiar garment, my curiosity was gratified to see the style which the ladies of Judea wore it in the year of our Lord 1 and onwards. Fashions change, and with the ladies they change more frequently than among the other sex. But the Virgin’s “linen garment” is exactlyin the form and pattern of those in use in modern times. It has short sleeves, reaching but a little over the shoulder; it has a lace frill or something of the sort around the neck, with a place for drawing strings in front. It looks, in fact, like any other shirt with the sleeves cut off.

Now, just imagine, if you can, a company of fine-looking men, fifty or sixty years old, in gorgeous costume, with the symbols of priesthood and the pomp of kings, marching through the streets of a city, and bearing aloft, for the admiration of a gaping multitude, an old shirt. That is the mildest way of putting it! That the Virgin Mary ever had it on, there is not the slightest possible reason to suppose. That such garments were then worn is contradicted by our knowledge of the costume of the Orientals of the present and former times. But to argue the question is as absurd as to believe in the shirt. Faith in these relics comes not by reason or argument, but is hereditary, blind, morbid, and against the senses. To doubt is fatal, and nobody here doubts. They believe in the holy linen of Mary, her girdle, the rope, the sponge, Bartholomew’s hair, Thomas’ teeth, Simeon’s arm, St. Catherine’s oil, Stephen’s rib, Peter’s chain, and the child Jesus’ crib. If they believe in these things, what will they not believe? And English and American men and women come here and profess their faith in the whole!

Pilgrimages to this shrine have been made for the last six or seven hundred years. The number of believers crowding in at one time has sometimes been so great that it was found necessary to shut the gates of the city in order to prevent the increase. Every pilgrim was expected to pay a penny, and in one year these amounted to 80,000 florins, or 1,600,000 pence. In that year 142,000 persons were present in one day. In that period the numbers were so great that separate quarters of the town were assigned to different nationalities, and they were allowed tosee the relics in their turn. They approached the relics on their knees, and in regular order, each bearing a pure wax candle. Great preparations were required to feed these multitudes, and it is not to be wondered at that it was found too much of a job to have this thing going on every year. Once in seven is certainly quite often enough. But the same forms and ceremonies of opening and displaying the treasures have been preserved from age to age. The exhibition begins July 10th and terminates July 24th. The rush became so great at one time that it was determined to dispense with the farce. But the inhabitants of the city, who, like the Diana smiths, make great gains out of the pilgrims, raised such a clamor that the show was resumed; and it is now as fixed in the routine of religious rites in this Protestant country of Prussia as the toting of the Pope on men’s shoulders at Christmas in Rome. Once in seven years the people flock hither for two weeks in July, and on the 24th the grand procession takes place.

But if the sight of these relics does the souls of the pilgrims no good, you may rest assured that the waters of these fountains will prove a Siloam to you if you have gout, rheumatism, or any cutaneous disease. Perhaps it is not well for me to prescribe without knowing the peculiar symptoms of your case; but for so many centuries have these waters been flowing for the healing of the people, that I have great faith in their secret virtues. Over the principal fountain is a temple, and from it extends a covered walk. The visitors take the water early in the morning, and, as it is too hot to drink off at once, they walk up and down, glass in hand, sipping as they go. Near by is the garden where, under shade-trees and by the side of fountains, they sit and chat, or listen to sweet music which the band discourses. As I was lounging here, a young Englishman was helped in by his sisters, and he was placed near me, so that I heard all their conversation concerning hisprogress toward being cured. Then a lady on two crutches hobbled in, and, arranging herself as comfortably as her evident lameness would permit, sought a little rest from pain. An elderly man with his leg in splinters had two servants to hold him up, and his condition seemed to suggest that the waters were sought even for the benefit of broken limbs. The variety of diseases is not so great perhaps as at other springs; but the gouty, the lame, and the halt, seem to lie around among these orange-trees, flowery shrubs, gravel walks, and cool shades. But by far the greater part of the visitors to the springs come for pleasure only. There is a largeKurhaus, in which are rooms for concerts and balls, for reading and conversation, and in the court a beautiful garden, into which subscribers are admitted. There the ladies take their work or their book, and, around little tables on which is a cup of tea or glass of light wine, they spend the afternoon, the gentlemen smoking if they please, and an orchestra of splendid performers playing. It is a scene of social and elegant ease, thedolce far nienteto perfection, with really more enjoyment in it than is often to be found where people have nothing to do. There is no gambling here, and that drives off a class of men and women that infest every watering-place where gaming-tables are licensed. The company is therefore select, compared with the Badens and Homburg. And the baths are splendid. They are furnished at all the hotels, and there are establishments specially fitted up for them. Into one of these I went to enjoy the luxury. Each bath has a dressing-room adjoining it, out of which when ready you go down four or five stone steps into a large cemented bath, while the water from two large pipes is pouring in. On a stone bench at one end of the bath you sit down till the water comes up to your chin, and then it ceases to flow. At first the smell of sulphur is strong; but this ceases to be disagreeable. The temperature is perfect, the waterabundant, plenty of towels, and a sheet besides, and the price is about 25 cents. I enjoyed it exceedingly, and commend it before all other bathing establishments this side of Turkey.

The antiquary finds much to interest him in this old town. It is something to be where Charlemagne was born and buried, and to see the works of his mighty hand; to visit the town-house, a tower of which still bears the name of Granus, a brother ofNero, who is said to have built it, and to have founded the city 124 years after Christ. In this house is a great hall, where for many successive centuries the Emperors of Germany were crowned. In front of it is a statue of Charlemagne, and the priests carry a silver bust of him in their septennial procession, with a bit of his skull in the top of it.

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