DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0028
20 AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
returned from the garden; this was the excessive de-
light of the children over the figure; troops and troops
of children were in the church, and now that there
was more open space, you saw them distinctly. Children
of ten and twelve, children even of seven and eight, held
up a fat little brother or sister to see the gloriously beauti-
ful figure. There were lots of Strassen Buben (street lads)
and little gentlemen in their smart cloaks with their pretty
hoods, and smart little ladies, also all eagerness, brought by
their attendants. Several little girls, who had no attend-
ants, amused me vastly by making the lowest, lowest of
courtesies before the beautiful figure, so very, very low,
and with such an air of respect, as if they said, “ Oh, thou
beautiful, glorious figure, in thy purple robe, how I love
thee ! how I will courtesy to thee !” and then down they
went in the very centre of the marble pavement, with the
air of little princesses. And such a troop of children rushed
in before the procession, as, with its crimson banners
fluttering against the cool, grey sky, it entered the glowing
church ! You heard the tramp and rush of little footsteps
up the long church before you heard the music and the
bells.
And then the people bowed reverently as the Host was
borne aloft, and with music and chanting a short mass was
performed, and Easter had arrived !
I passed Easter Sunday out in the country.
How tender and beautiful was the whole scene! Yet
the very intensity of the fresh beauty called forth a mourn-
fulness in the soul! Who does not know this strange
mournfiilness ! when the luxuriance of the grass and flowers,
the soft air, the perfume of unfolding buds and blossoms,
the gentle hum of insects, the unearthly loveliness of
awakening life, seem to swell the soul with an unutterable
longing—a longing after what? Perhaps God's voice
returned from the garden; this was the excessive de-
light of the children over the figure; troops and troops
of children were in the church, and now that there
was more open space, you saw them distinctly. Children
of ten and twelve, children even of seven and eight, held
up a fat little brother or sister to see the gloriously beauti-
ful figure. There were lots of Strassen Buben (street lads)
and little gentlemen in their smart cloaks with their pretty
hoods, and smart little ladies, also all eagerness, brought by
their attendants. Several little girls, who had no attend-
ants, amused me vastly by making the lowest, lowest of
courtesies before the beautiful figure, so very, very low,
and with such an air of respect, as if they said, “ Oh, thou
beautiful, glorious figure, in thy purple robe, how I love
thee ! how I will courtesy to thee !” and then down they
went in the very centre of the marble pavement, with the
air of little princesses. And such a troop of children rushed
in before the procession, as, with its crimson banners
fluttering against the cool, grey sky, it entered the glowing
church ! You heard the tramp and rush of little footsteps
up the long church before you heard the music and the
bells.
And then the people bowed reverently as the Host was
borne aloft, and with music and chanting a short mass was
performed, and Easter had arrived !
I passed Easter Sunday out in the country.
How tender and beautiful was the whole scene! Yet
the very intensity of the fresh beauty called forth a mourn-
fulness in the soul! Who does not know this strange
mournfiilness ! when the luxuriance of the grass and flowers,
the soft air, the perfume of unfolding buds and blossoms,
the gentle hum of insects, the unearthly loveliness of
awakening life, seem to swell the soul with an unutterable
longing—a longing after what? Perhaps God's voice