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Chap. XL VI.
THE CATHEDRAL.
225
of centuries ; but they find out nothing new; upset old
associations, deprive their history of its romance, which,
if not true, is at least, as the proverb says, “ ben trovato.”
The weather is piping hot, and our horses, fresh from
the fields and not in the best condition, are suffering
in consequence. We bread them at one kro, hay and
water them at a second, always keeping to our chaussée
time of five miles an hour. Then the tower of Ribe
Domkirke appears in sight. Another kro—more water.
“ There,” says the old postilion, “ look at that river;
here we are in Jutland.” On the other side Slesvig,
or, as the Danes delight to call it, South Jutland. The
world and his wife are now a haymaking; such forks,
too, as they are!—our own Plantagenet portcullis with
a handle tacked on it;—it seems to make very good
hay all the same. We at last arrive at Ribe, cross the
river by a wooden bridge, and, driving through her
narrow quaint old streets, lodge at an hotel on the Place
opposite the cathedral.
Ribe, as you all of course know, is one of the most
ancient cities of Jutland; for somehow or other we are
in Jutland still. She forms a little well-watered oasis
in the duchy of Slesvig, what we call a peculiar in
England, in the same manner as the Pope holds
Benevento, in the centre of the kingdom of Naples.
The great lion is her Domkirke, without exception
the finest church in Jutland. Like most of these
northern edifices, its exterior—a mixture of granite,
sandstone, and brickwork—is not highly attractive.
After a lapse of time the colour of the brickwork pales,
while the sandstone and granite darken, the original
contrast is lost, and the whole becomes a smudge. The
lofty square tower is imposing from its height. The in-
VOL. II. Q
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