to become the mother and victim of Nero, was born within the walls of the Ubians. Their city then assumed, as a politic compliment, the name of the Roman commander's daughter; it called itself Colonia Agrippina, a name which is better preserved in the French Cologne than in the German Köln. FROM Bonn to Cologne, as the French, or Köln, | the imperial and shameless Agrippina, who lived as the Germans call it, the banks of the Rhine are low, flat, and devoid of the picturesque. The traveller becomes aware of the fact that he is drawing close to the frontiers of Holland; the Rhine has entered upon a plain extending to the sea, which grows duller and drearier the further you advance, and finally terminates in an immense morass. It has been well said, or it may be said, that the mode in which the traveller hurries over the latter portion of his Rhine-journey is a striking indication of his temperament and disposition. If he be restless and impatient, he escapes the infliction of a monotonous navigation by taking to the train. If he be an enthusiast, he continues his protracted voyage. Well: of whatever fatigue he may be sensible on the way, he feels himself amply he feels himself amply repaid when he arrives in the magnificent port of Köln. The "city of the Eternal Cathedral," as a poet has called it, is accumulated, so to speak, on the river bank, and reflects itself in the broad mirror of the Rhine, which curves at its feet in a noble basin, incessantly furrowed with the tracks of busy keels. The destiny of cities, says Durand, is singular. A colony of Ubians, situated on the right bank of the Rhine, being unable to oppose successfully the incursions of their predatory neighbours, sought the assistance of Rome-an assistance always readily given, but dearly purchased. Marcus Agrippa invited them to cross the river, and threw open to them the fortified asylum of the Roman camp. The change decided for awhile the course of history. The right bank fell into the occupation of barbarous peoples, and possessed neither towns, nor commerce, nor established societies: the left touched at every vantage point the Romanized Gaul, then in the full flush of civilization-a position admirably adapted to the necessities of commerce, and the interchange of so much as was then known of economical relations. Glance at the map, and you will see that nearly all the great cities of the Rhine are seated on its left bank. A few years afterwards a daughter of Germanicus, Köln preserved for several generations the traditions of its infancy; they were effaced neither by the fall of the empire, nor the great flood of barbarian invasion, nor the genial influences of Christianity, nor the complicated system of feudalism. For many centuries it called its nobles, patricians; its magistrates, senators; its burgomasters, consuls; its huissiers, lictors. It had even its capitol. even its capitol. Its inhabitants preserved the Roman costume as well as the Roman manners, and on its municipal banners were long inscribed, after the Roman usage, S.P.Q.C., Senatus Populusque Coloniensis. Early in the fourth century Köln was captured and plundered by the Franks. Julian the Apostate (how history delights in nick-names!), recovered it, but they again made themselves its masters, and took care to keep it. Here the illustrious Clovis, the son and successor of Childeric, was crowned king. When at his death the empire he had laboriously built up was partitioned among his children, Köln remained one of the principal cities of Austrasia, a kingdom of which Metz was the capital. the capital. When, in their turn, the sons of Louis le Debonnaire divided the mighty realm of Charlemagne, it was comprised within Lotharingia, or the territory of Lothair, whence comes the wellknown word Lorraine. Passing rapidly down the stream of Time, we find it ravaged by the Normans in 881 and 882. But escaping, without any serious injury, from all the turmoil of these early centuries, it was reannexed to the German Empire by Otho the Great, was endowed with extraordinary privileges, and placed under the special protection of his brother Bruno, duke of Lorraine, archbishop and elector of Köln. Thenceforth it grew rapidly in importance, and increased wonderfully in population. Its safety became the peculiar object of the German emperors, and when it was threatened by Frederick Barbarossa, its ruler, the Archbishop Philip of Heimsberg, who had already enlarged it considerably by connecting it with its suburbs, surrounded it with solid walls, and with moats filled by the water of the Rhine. Its present fortifications are of a later date; belonging to the fourteenth, fifteenth, eighteenth, and even nineteenth centuries. In 1212 Köln was declared a free imperial city. At this time it was one of the largest, most populous, and most opulent cities in Northern Europe and the Hanseatic League. She could put into the field, and maintain, an army of 30,000 soldiers. In 1259 it obtained permission to levy a most extraordinary impost. Every ship entering its waters could only disembark its cargoes through the agency of boats or barges belonging to its merchants. These same crafty, wealth-amassing burghers enjoyed very great privileges in England. Its relations were scarcely less advantageous with France, Spain, Portugal, the North of Germany, and especially with Italy, which exported thither, not only its architecture and arts, but some of its characteristic customs, such as its wild gay Carnival, and its puppet theatres. Hence it acquired the distinctive name of the "Rome of the North" and "Holy Köln;" and hence it was induced to form in its own bosom a school of painting, the first with which Germany was enriched. A traveller, whose Italian birth and culture were unlikely to dispose him to deal too favourably with the Germans, was astonished at the splendour of Köln, when he visited it in 1333. "I arrived there," he writes, "at sunset, on the eve of the Feast of St. John Baptist, and immediately betook myself, in obedience to the advice of my friends, to the bank of the Rhine, where a curious spectacle awaited me. A crowd of ladies had assembled; oh, such a gathering of beauties! How could one have avoided falling in love, if one's heart had not been already captured? I placed myself on an eminence to obtain a better view. Their heads were garlanded with fragrant branches; their sleeves were tied back to the elbow; in turn they dipped their white arms in the waters, uttering some words which had a singular charm. I asked, as in Virgil: 'Quid vult concursus ad amnem? (What means this concourse on the bank of the stream!) I was told it was an old national custom; that the populace, and especially the women, were persuaded, that by washing themselves in the river on this particular day, they turned aside, they warded off, all the evils which threatened them, and secured a year of good fortune. The answer made me smile. 'Happy people of the Rhine!' I cried, 'if the river carries away all your sorrows; oh, that the Tiber and the Po would do as much for us!'" Köln had now attained the climax of her greatness, and thenceforth her wealth and power began to wane. The discovery of America opened up a new channel to the commerce of the East; but, perhaps, the chief cause of its decay was its incessant civil commotions. The Jews of Köln, who had done so much for its opulence, were cruelly massacred; the industrious and ingenious Protestants were banished; and a riot breaking out among the weavers, they were hung by the score, and 1700 looms were burned in the public place. The survivors carried elsewhere, to more tolerant and equitable countries, the precious secrets of their industry; and so the harbour was no longer filled with ships, nor did the hammers ring in the deserted workshops. Workmen, without employment, wandered begging through the streets, and finding the trade of mendicancy productive, never again abandoned it. It became a scourge; one half the city lived on the alms of the other half, and thus they preyed upon the beautiful city which Petrarch had admired, until it became a wreck of what it was. And finally, to complete its ruin, the Dutch, in the sixteenth century, closed up the navigation of the Rhine, which was not again thrown open until 1837. In 1794, when Köln was captured by the French, it still held the rank of a free imperial city, but its population did not exceed 40,000 souls. At that time a third of its population still lived by mendicancy. The French government, it must be owned, took prompt measures to repress this abuse; it secularized the convents, suppressed a great number of churches, and opened workshops and factories for the employment of the poor. after which the Treaty of Paris handed it over to Prussia. Let us admit that if the rule of Prussia be somewhat rigorous, it is also healthy and sagacious; and Köln, since 1815, has thriven greatly. The establishment of a steam-boat service on the Rhine, the reopening of the navigation of that river, and the construction of numerous important lines of railway which all find a terminus at Köln, have given a new impetus to its industry and commerce. nevertheless, accomplished, and on the 27th of September, 1322, the choir was consecrated by the Archbishop Henry II., count of Birnenburg. In 1437 the south tower had already been raised to the elevation which it now attains. But the work, so frequently impeded and interrupted for two centuries and a half, ceased completely in the year 1509. Long forgotten and neglected, the cathedral of Köln was shamefully mutilated in the eighteenth Köln is famous as the birthplace of Agrippina century by the unintelligent and inartistic canons and St. Bruno. The electorate of Köln, formerly one of the states of the German empire, and one of the three ecclesiastical electorates, was included in the circle of the Lower Rhine, and comprised numerous provinces and territories now belonging to Prussia. It was suppressed in 1794. who then composed the chapter. For its beautiful altar a kind of Greek pavilion was substituted; its four bronze angels were transformed into rococo candelabra; heavy fauteuils replaced its beautiful stalls of sculptured stone; the stone chancel was demolished, that the choir might be surrounded with an iron railing; common glass was substituted We shall borrow a general description of the for exquisite painted windows, which the canons city from the animated pages of M. Durand. He will not allow that it is a beautiful city, at least in its present condition. It has all the inconveniences of the Middle Ages, but none of their picturesqueness. It is muddy, irregular, dull, badly laid out, and insufficiently paved. The best view of it is obtained from the river. There, indeed, its aspect is fair and pleasant; but both the fairness and pleasantness vanish when you plunge into its labyrinthine streets. The truth is, everybody visits it for the sake of its cathedral, that immortal, that priceless, relic of the loftiest art. The present edifice was preceded by two other cathedrals; one erected by St. Matema, the other founded in 784 by Hildebold, the first archbishop of the city, consecrated in 876, and set on fire in 1248. On the 14th of August in the latter year, Archbishop Conrad of Hochstetten laid the first stone of the present glorious building at a depth of 55 feet. Even before this event, the Archbishop Engelbert, count of Altona and of Berg, assassinated in 1225, had formed the idea of constructing a cathedral of unsurpassed grandeur. This idea was now realized, but strange to say, the name of the architect who designed the building and who laid down the plans which the labour of six centuries has failed to carry out, is wholly unknown. This labour, however, was greatly impeded and delayed by the constant feuds in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries between the city and its archbishops. A certain degree of progress was, MAN SEMINAR TAYLOR INSTITUTION FORD pronounced too dark; and finally, the tabernacle, a masterpiece of sculpture, was destroyed and cast into the Rhine. The French Revolution inflicted further injuries on this magnificent building. At last, the ravages of time which were added to those of man, not having been repaired for centuries, the general decay and dilapidation began to inspire serious fears for the solidity of the finished portions. The roof sunk in. A sum of 40,000 francs asked for the restoration of the edifice was refused by Napoleon. The French bishop of Aix-la-Chapelle, Berthollet, actually on one occasion congratulated the citizens that they possessed so fine a Gothic ruin, and advised them to plant it round with poplars to increase the effect. When, after the events of 1814, Köln was annexed to Prussia, a voice was raised on behalf of its cathedral in the Mercure du Rhin; no one listened to it. At last it happened that the old crane which from the summit of the incomplete tower had called fruitlessly on generation after generation to complete the work of their forefathers, fell to the ground through sheer decay. The incident awoke a tender interest in the heart of the citizens, who had not even been mindful of Berthollet's suggestion of a grove of poplar trees. They had been accustomed to see this crane every day; they could not dispense with it; and the municipal council, in 1819, voted the necessary funds for its re-establishment. Meantime, the then Crown Prince of Prussia, afterwards Frederick William IV., visiting Köln, |