and in half an hour find ourselves in Esslingen, where we leave the train, and resolve to explore that antiquated city.
The town of Esslingen resembles in its fate some ancient and noble families. The circumstances which first made them great—internal and foreign wars—having ceased to be habitual, the family finds that modern times are an uncongenial atmosphere, and it falls behind in the race, and makes up for diminished importance in cherishing its noble memories. Some scion, however, more original than his house, rehabilitates the family, in part, by entering a learned profession, or some disguised form of trade.
This free city of the empire had already diminished to one-third of its former extent, and had lost two-thirds of its churches, towers, and strong houses. It gave up its old amusement of levying war on the Dukes of Würtemberg, and its occupation being gone, it was on the high road to oblivion, when it occurred to the First Napoleon, one fine day in 1805, to raise the Duke of the Swabian land to the rank of king, and to give him Esslingen as a keepsake. Dignity apart, the change was excellent in its consequences to the town; the growth of ruins ceased; the river could turn mills and carry merchandise; the people got themselves a name as makers of gloves; then as imitators of Champagne wine, their vine-covered hills furnishing them with a very good grape; afterwards they commenced manufacturing engines, and the railway came to their doors, and the Government instituted a royal school,—now the city is active, prosperous, and again increasing; and, as yet, has lost little of its picturesque beauty. It remains walled in parts, and its approach from the river is by a long bridge defended by a fine tower. Of its churches, the more ancient is, a plain structure with two towers connected by galleries. The other, named the Frauenkirche, is a singularly graceful specimen of the architecture of the fourteenth or early fifteenth century. The height of its roof, and of its columns without capitals, the tracery of its windows, and its spire of open carving, makes it conspicuous from within and without as “a joy for ever.” It is almost unique among German churches in one respect, that the design was executed and finished at one effort. Its situation—on a rocky platform, to which one ascends by steps and sharp gradients,—is very favourable to its effect. It will not excite wonder to say that the Esslingers are proud not only of their gloves, their “Mussirender” wine, and their engineering, but also of their beautiful Frauenkirche.
The navigable part of the Neckar here is very limited, and the deeper channel is so narrow that the rafts of timber which descend the stream are most attenuated, consisting of two trees abreast, and of such length that they wind down the river like a snake. The activity and ingenuity of the raftsmen in guiding them are very striking. But the charming river, however shallow, spreads and frolics in a cradle of vine-clad hills; and here and there a more infantine tributary rushes to join it with child-like glee. Such an affluent pours through the beautiful valley of Reutlingen, half-a-dozen miles above Esslingen. A visit should be made to that picturesque town, and to some of the castle-crowned heights in the neighbourhood—as the Hohenstauffen. Our way is at present to the ancient university city of Tübingen, where we are again on the Neckar. The latter town is prettily situated, and is full of ancient houses and quaint, crooked streets. The University departs from such antique companionship, and its modern, white walls assimilate with the neology and advanced ideas which find a central home in its courts. Tübingen is noticeable, even amongst German universities, for the boldness of its metaphysical speculations. Yet here was Melancthon’s professorial chair. If the “Schwartz-Erd,” the very name of which displeased him, could now give back his gentle spirit for a day, how would the outward and the inward change he would notice appal him! He would see the University glory in being the birthplace of the so-called Ideal Christianity. He would see the spot where Strauss the student paced whilst preparing himself with much diligent learning for his future part as assailant of objective religion, manfully and consistently afterwards maintained in Berlin. Those Swabian hills, in their peaceful clothing of vine and wood, have looked down on the young sceptical inquirer whilst he armed himself for the demolition of one faith, which was old, that he might build up another, fantastic and full of inconsistency, but which was new. Locke has here for a century laboured under the imputation of disbelief for asserting that all ideas are only pictorial images in the mind of objective existences; but here a new teacher, about the same time that an Oxford presbyter raised a contention in the English Church which has not yet subsided, when he put forth the first Tract for the Times, promulgated the reverse of Locke’s doctrine, making facts to be the offspring of ideas, and objects only solid shadows clothing the immaterial idealism which projected them.
In the chancel of the church at Tübingen are thirteen large and richly chiselled tombs, supporting recumbent figures in alabaster, of Swabian worthies. Among the most memorable are that of Eberhard, dated 1496 (he founded the University): that of Ulrich, who introduced the Reformation in Würtemberg; and of his wife, a Bavarian; date, 1564: and that of the unfortunate Gräfinn (or Fürstinn) Anna, who was poisoned on her wedding-day at the age of sixteen. The most elaborate of these very noticeable tombs are that of John George, Duke of Schleswick-Holstein, who died whilst a student at the University,—this monument is supported on lions, tigers, and stags: and that to Ludwig, the rich workmanship of which is of later date.
Round the western end of the church is a series of pictures—without much merit—descriptive of the Saviour’s life. They are principally remarkable for the very local inspiration of the artist. The Woman at the Well of Samaria is a complete transcript of a Würtemberg peasant in festival dress. She wears a wide straw hat, scarlet boddice, white sleeves, and a dark skirt with golden border.
