DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0010
2
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
church garden from the windows of the neighbouring
houses. A knot of maid-servants at one of these windows
seemed especially edified by observing the actions and
bearing of one of the officiating priests. I wondered within
myself whether he was the priest of whom I had once
heard a strange and affecting history from Fraulein
Sanchen.
He was an extraordinary man, at all events—whether
this sad history attached to him or not. He was singularly
handsome, and knew it well enough. Fie marched along
with the step of a soldier rather than with the step of a
priest: and with his keen eagle’s face gazing upon his
missal, and the expression w'as full of a certain scorn; the
crisp locks of his black hair escaping from beneath his
priest’s cap fell upon his priest’s robes in unusual luxuri-
ance. He was no meek follower of Christ. The carnal,
not the spiritual sword belonged to that hand, the epaulette
to that shoulder, not purple and fine linen. The lines of
the strong passionate face told of a proud nature hardened
into a bitter scorn through a mistaken vocation ; it was a
countenance about which to weave strange imaginary
histories.
I have just witnessed the ceremony of the Feet-washing,
which has been announced for this month past as one of
the great sights of the season. My good friend at the
K/iegs Ministerium kept his word faithfully, and procured
tickets for us. Accordingly, Myra Amsel and I have
seen the whole ceremony. At nine o’clock Myra was with
me, and, early as it was, Madame Thekla advised us to s?t
off to the Palace, as people were always wild about places,
and if we came late, spite of our tickets, we should see
nothing. The good old soul also accompanied us, on the
plea that, as she was big and strong, she could push a way
for us through the crowd, and keep our places by main
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
church garden from the windows of the neighbouring
houses. A knot of maid-servants at one of these windows
seemed especially edified by observing the actions and
bearing of one of the officiating priests. I wondered within
myself whether he was the priest of whom I had once
heard a strange and affecting history from Fraulein
Sanchen.
He was an extraordinary man, at all events—whether
this sad history attached to him or not. He was singularly
handsome, and knew it well enough. Fie marched along
with the step of a soldier rather than with the step of a
priest: and with his keen eagle’s face gazing upon his
missal, and the expression w'as full of a certain scorn; the
crisp locks of his black hair escaping from beneath his
priest’s cap fell upon his priest’s robes in unusual luxuri-
ance. He was no meek follower of Christ. The carnal,
not the spiritual sword belonged to that hand, the epaulette
to that shoulder, not purple and fine linen. The lines of
the strong passionate face told of a proud nature hardened
into a bitter scorn through a mistaken vocation ; it was a
countenance about which to weave strange imaginary
histories.
I have just witnessed the ceremony of the Feet-washing,
which has been announced for this month past as one of
the great sights of the season. My good friend at the
K/iegs Ministerium kept his word faithfully, and procured
tickets for us. Accordingly, Myra Amsel and I have
seen the whole ceremony. At nine o’clock Myra was with
me, and, early as it was, Madame Thekla advised us to s?t
off to the Palace, as people were always wild about places,
and if we came late, spite of our tickets, we should see
nothing. The good old soul also accompanied us, on the
plea that, as she was big and strong, she could push a way
for us through the crowd, and keep our places by main