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diff --git a/38869-h/38869-h.htm b/38869-h/38869-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f514dd --- /dev/null +++ b/38869-h/38869-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13656 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn, by Henry M. Field. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.l15 { + width: 15%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.lhead {margin-right: 5%; + text-align: right;} +.chapter {text-align: center; + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 1.5em; + font-size: 1.3em;} + +.chead {text-align: center; + margin-bottom: 2em;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} +.fnpoem {margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + font-size: 0.9em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} +.fnpoem p { margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; } + +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} +.grave {font-size: 95%; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + margin-bottom: 1em; + text-align: center; + width: 20em; } + +.poem {font-size: 95%; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; + margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left; } +.poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } +.poem p { margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; } +.poem p.o1 { margin-left: -.4em;} +.poem p.i1 { margin-left: 1em; } +.poem p.i2 { margin-left: 2em; } +.poem p.i4 { margin-left: 4em; } +.poem p.i9 { margin-left: 9em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +.b15 {font-size:1.5em;} +.s08 {font-size:.8em;} +.s05 {font-size:.5em;} + +table { + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + empty-cells: show; +} +.tdc {text-align: center; + padding-top: 1.5em; + padding-bottom: .5em;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.tnbox {margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + margin-bottom: 8em; + margin-top: auto; + text-align: center; + border: 1px solid; + padding: 1em; + color: black; + background-color: #f6f2f2; + width: 25em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden +Horn, by Henry M. Field + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn + +Author: Henry M. Field + +Release Date: February 13, 2012 [EBook #38869] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY *** + + + + +Produced by Melissa McDaniel, Lynne Payne and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tnbox"> +<p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p> +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. +Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original +document have been preserved.</p> +</div> + +<h1>FROM THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY<br /> +<span class="s05">TO</span><br /> +THE GOLDEN HORN.</h1> + +<p class="p4 center"><span class="smcap">By</span> HENRY M. FIELD, D.D.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">FOURTEENTH EDITION.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">NEW YORK:<br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,<br /> +1884.</p> + +<p class="p4 center s08"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1876, by</span><br /> +SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO.</p> + +<p class="p4 center s08"><span class="smcap">Trow's<br /> +Printing and Bookbinding Company</span>,<br /> +<i>201-213 East 12th Street</i>,<br /> +NEW YORK.</p> + +<p class="p6">When a man's house is "left unto him desolate" by the +loss of one who filled it with sunshine—when there is no +light in the window and no fire on the hearth—it is a +natural impulse to leave his darkened home, and become a +wanderer on the face of the earth. Such was the beginning +of the journey recorded here. Thus driven from his +home, the writer crossed the seas, and passed from land +to land, going on and on, till he had compassed the round +globe. The story of all this is much too long to be comprised +in one volume. The present, therefore, does not +pass beyond Europe, but stops on the shores of the Bosphorus, +in sight of Asia. Another will take us to the +Nile and the Ganges, to Egypt and India, to Burmah and +Java, to China and Japan.</p> + +<p class="p2">It should be added, to explain an occasional personal +allusion, that the writer was accompanied by his niece +(who had lived so long in his family as to be like his own +child), whose gentle presence cheered his lonely hours, +and cast a soft and quiet light amid the shadows.</p> + +<h2 class="p6">CONTENTS.</h2> +<hr class="l15" /> + +<table summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER I.</td> +<td class="tdr s05">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Melancholy Sea</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER II.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Ireland—its Beauty and its Sadness</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER III.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Scotland and the Scotch</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER IV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Moody and Sankey in London </td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER V.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Two Sides of London.—Is Modern Civilization a Failure?</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER VI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Resurrection of France</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER VII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The French National Assembly</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER VIII</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Lights and Shadows of Paris</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER IX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Going on a Pilgrimage</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER X.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Under the Shadow of Mont Blanc</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Switzerland</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">On the Rhine</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Belgium and Holland</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The New Germany and its Capital</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Austria—Old and New</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">vi</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">A Midsummer Night's Dream.—Outdoor Life of the German +People</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Passion Play and the School of the Cross</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Tyrol and Lake Como</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The City in the Sea</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Milan and Genoa.—A Ride over the Corniche Road</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">In the Vale of the Arno</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Old Rome and New Rome.—Ruins and Resurrection</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Prisoner of the Vatican</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Pictures and Palaces</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Naples—Pompeii and Pæstum</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Ascent of Vesuvius</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Greece and its Young King</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">Constantinople</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Sultan Abdul Aziz</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Eastern Question.—The Exodus of the Turks</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class="tdc">CHAPTER XXXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2">The Sultan is Deposed, and Commits Suicide.—The War in +Servia.—Massacres in Bulgaria.—How will it all End?</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center p6 b15">FROM THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY<br /> +TO THE GOLDEN HORN.</p> + +<hr class="l15" /> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER I.</p> + +<p class="chead">THE MELANCHOLY SEA.<a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a><span class="pagenum">7</span></p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Queenstown, Ireland</span>, Monday, May 24, 1875.</p> + +<p>We landed this morning at two o'clock, by the light of the +moon, which was just past the full, and which showed distinctly +the beautiful harbor, surrounded by hills and forts, +and filled with ships at anchor, through which the tender +that brought us off from the steamer glided silently to the +town, which lay in death-like stillness before us. Eight +days and six hours took us from shore to shore! Eight +days we were out of sight of land. Water, water everywhere! +Ocean to the right of us, ocean to the left of us, +ocean in front of us, and ocean behind us, with two or three +miles of ocean under us. But our good ship, the City of +Berlin (which seemed proud of bearing the name of the capital +of the new German Empire), bore us over the sea like a +conqueror. She is said to be the largest ship in the world, +next to the Great Eastern, being 520 feet long, and carrying +5,500 tons. This was her first voyage, and much interest +was felt as to how she "behaved." She carried herself +proudly from the start. On Saturday, the 15th, seven steamships, +bound for Europe, left New York at about the same +time. Those of the National and the Anchor lines moved +off quietly; then the Celtic, of the White Star line, +so famous for its speed, shot down the Bay; and the French +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> +steamer, the Amerique, swept by, firing her guns, as if boasting +of what she would do. But the Berlin answered not a +word. Since a fatal accident, by which a poor fellow was +blown to pieces by a premature explosion, the Inman line +has dropped the foolish custom of firing a salute every time +a ship leaves or touches the dock. So her guns were silent; +she made no reply to her noisy French neighbor. But at +length her huge bulk swung slowly into the stream, and her +engines began to move. She had not gone half-way down +the bay before she left all her rivals behind, the Frenchman +still firing his guns; even the Celtic, though pressing +steam, was soon "nowhere." We did not see the German +ship, which sailed at a different hour; nor the Cunarder, the +Algeria (in which were our friends, Prof. R. D. Hitchcock +and his family), as she left an hour before us; but as she has +not yet been signalled at Queenstown, she must be some distance +behind;<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> so that the Berlin may fairly claim the honors +of this ocean race.</p> + +<p>But in crossing the sea speed is secondary to safety and to +comfort; and in these things I can say truly that I never +was on board a more magnificent ship (excepting always the +Great Eastern, in which I crossed in 1867). She was never +going at full speed, but took it easily, as it was her first voyage, +and the Captain was anxious to get his new machinery +into smooth working order. The great size of the ship conduces +much to comfort. She is more steady, she does not pitch +and roll, like the lighter boats that we saw tossing around +us, while she was moving majestically through the waves. +The saloon, instead of being at the stern, according to the old +method of construction, is placed more amidships (after the +excellent model first introduced by the White Star line), +and covers the whole width of the steamer, which gives light +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> +on both sides. There are four bath-rooms, with marble +baths, supplied with salt water, so that one may have the +luxury of sea-bathing without going to Rockaway or Coney +Island. In crossing the Gulf Stream the water is warm +enough; but if elsewhere it is too chill, the turn of a cock +lets the steam into the bath, which quickly raises it to any +degree of temperature. The ventilation is excellent, so that +even when the port-holes are shut on account of the high sea, +the air never becomes impure. The state-rooms are furnished +with electric bells, one touch on which brings a steward in +an instant. Thus provided for, one may escape, as far as +possible, the discomforts of the sea, and enjoy in some degree +the comforts and even the luxuries of civilization.</p> + +<p>Captain Kennedy, who is the Commodore of the fleet, and +so always commands the newest and best ship of the line, +is an admirable seaman, with a quick eye for everything, +always on deck at critical moments, watching with unsleeping +vigilance over the safety of all on board. The order and +discipline of the ship is perfect. There is no noise or confusion. +All moves on quietly. Not a sound is heard, save +the occasional cry of the men stretching the sails, and the +steady throb, day and night, of the engine, which keeps this +huge mass moving on her ocean track.</p> + +<p>But what a vast machine is such a ship, and how complicated +the construction which makes possible such a triumph +over the sea. Come up on the upper deck, and look down +through this iron grating. You can see to a depth of fifty or +sixty feet. It is like looking down into a miner's shaft. And +what makes it the more fearful, is that the bottom of the ship +is a mass of fire. Thirty-six furnaces are in full blast to heat +the steam, and at night, as the red-hot coals that are raked +out of the furnaces like melted lava, flash in the faces of the +brawny and sweltering men, one might fancy himself looking +into some Vulcan's cave, or subterranean region, glowing with +an infernal heat. Thus one of these great ocean steamships +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> +is literally a sea monster, that feeds on fire; and descending +into its bowels is (to use the energetic language of Scripture +in speaking of Jonah in the whale) like going down into +the "belly of hell."</p> + +<p>All this suggests danger from fire as well as from the sea, +and yet, so perfect are the precautions taken, that these glowing +furnaces really guard against danger, as they shorten the +time of exposure by insuring quadruple speed in crossing +the deep.</p> + +<p>And yet I can never banish the sense of a danger that is +always near from the two destroying elements of fire and water, +flood and flame. The very precautions against danger show +that it is ever present to the mind of the prudent navigator. +Those ten life-boats hung above the deck, with pulleys ready +to swing them over the ship's side at a moment's notice, +and the axe ready to cut away the ropes, and even casks of +water filled to quench the burning thirst of a shipwrecked +crew that may be cast helpless on the waves, suggest unpleasant +possibilities, in view of recent disasters; and one night I +went to my berth feeling not quite so easy as in my bed at +home, as we were near the banks of Newfoundland, and a +dense fog hung over the sea, through which the ship went, +making fourteen miles an hour, its fog-whistles screaming +all night long. This was very well as a warning +to other ships to keep out of the way, but would not receive +much attention from the icebergs that were floating about, +which are very abundant in the Atlantic this summer. We +saw one the next day, a huge fellow that might have proved +an ugly acquaintance, as one crash on his frozen head would +have sent us all to the bottom.</p> + +<p>But at such times unusual precautions are taken. There +are signs in the sudden chilliness of the air of the near approach +of an iceberg, which would lead the ship to back out +at once from the hug of such a polar bear.</p> + +<p>In a few hours the fog was all gone; and the next night, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> +as we sat on deck, the full moon rose out of the waves. Instantly +the hum of voices ceased; conversation was hushed; +and all grew silent before the awful beauty of the scene. +Such an hour suggests not merely poetical but spiritual +thoughts—thoughts of the dead as well as thoughts of God. +It recalled a passage in David Copperfield, where little David, +after the death of his mother, sits at a window and looks out +upon the sea, and sees a shining path over the waters, and +thinks he sees his mother coming to him upon it from heaven. +May it not be that on such a radiant pathway from the skies +we sometimes see the angels of God ascending and descending?</p> + +<p>But with all these moonlight nights, and sun-risings and +sun-settings, the sea had little attraction for me, and its general +impression was one of profound melancholy. Perhaps +my own mood of mind had something to do with it; but as +I sat upon deck and looked out upon the "gray and melancholy +waste," or lay in my berth and heard the waves rushing +past, I had a feeling more dreary than in the most desolate +wilderness. That sound haunted me; it was the last I +heard at night, and the first in the morning; it mingled with +my dreams. I tried to analyze the feeling. Was it my own +mental depression that hung like a cloud over the waters; +or was it something in the aspect of nature itself? Perhaps +both. I was indeed floating amid shadows. But I found +no sympathy in the sea. On the land Nature soothed and +comforted me; she spoke in gentle tones, as if she had a +heart of tenderness, a motherly sympathy with the sorrow +of her children. There was something in the deep silence of +the woods that seemed to say, Peace, be still! The brooks +murmured softly as they flowed between their mossy banks, +as if they would not disturb our musings, but "glide into +them, and steal away their sharpness ere we were aware." +The robins sang in notes not too gay, but that spoke of returning +spring after a long dark winter; and the soft airs that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> +touched the feverish brow seemed to lift gently the grief +that rested there, and carry it away on the evening wind. +But in the ocean, there was no touch of human feeling, no +sympathy with human woe. All was cold and pitiless. +Even on the sea beach "the cruel, crawling foam" comes +creeping up to the feet of the child skipping along the sands, +as if to snatch him away, while out on the deep the rolling +waves</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i9">"Mock the cry</p> +<p>Of some strong swimmer in his agony."</p> +</div> + +<p>Bishop Butler finds in many of the forces of Nature proofs +of God's moral government over the world, and even suggestions +of mercy. But none of these does he find in the sea. +That speaks only of wrath and terror. Its power is to destroy. +It is a treacherous element. Smooth and smiling it +may be, even when it lures us to destruction. We are sailing +over it in perfect security, but let there be a fire or a collision, +and it would swallow us up in an instant, as it has +swallowed a thousand wrecks before. Knowing no mercy, +cruel as the grave, it sacrifices without pity youth and age, +gray hairs and childish innocence and tender womanhood—all +alike are engulfed in the devouring sea. There is not a +single tear in the thousand leagues of ocean, nor a sigh in the +winds that sweep over it, for all the hearts it breaks or the +lives it destroys. The sea, therefore, is not a symbol of divine +mercy. It is the very emblem of tremendous and remorseless +power. Indeed, if Nature had no other face but +this, we could hardly believe in God, or at least, with gentle +attributes; we could only stand on the shore of existence, +and shake with terror at the presence of a being of infinite +power, but cold and pitiless as the waves that roll from the +Arctic pole. Our Saviour walked on the waves, but left +thereon no impress of his blessed feet; nor can we find there +a trace of the love of God as it shines in the face of Jesus +Christ. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span></p> + +<p>But we must not yield to musings that grow darker with +the gathering night. Let us go down into the ship, where +the lamps are lighted, and there is a sound of voices, to make +us forget our loneliness in the midst of the sea.</p> + +<p>The cabin always presented an animated scene. We had +nearly two hundred passengers, who were seated about on the +sofas, reading, or playing games, or engaged in conversation. +The company was a very pleasant one. At the Captain's +table, where we sat, was Mr. Mathew, the late English Minister +to Brazil, a very intelligent and agreeable gentleman, who +had been for seven years at the Court of Dom Pedro, whom +he described as one of the most enlightened monarchs of his +time, "half a century in advance of his people," doing everything +that was possible to introduce a better industry and +all improvements in the arts from Europe and America. +The great matter of political interest now in Brazil is the +controversy with the Bishops, where, as in Germany, it is a +stubborn fight between the State and the ecclesiastical power. +Two of the Bishops are now in prison for having excommunicated +by wholesale all the Freemasons of the country, without +asking the consent of the government to the issue of such +a sweeping decree. They are confined in two fortresses on +the opposite side of the harbor of Rio Janeiro, where they +take their martyrdom very comfortably, their sentence to +"hard labor" amounting to having a French cook, and all +the luxuries of life, so that they can have a good time, while +they fulminate their censures, "nursing their wrath to keep +it warm."</p> + +<p>At the same table were several young Englishmen, who +were not at all like the imaginary Briton abroad, cold +and distant and reserved, but very agreeable, and doing +everything to make our voyage pleasant. We remember +them with a feeling of real friendship. Near us also sat +a young New York publisher, Mr. Mead, with his wife, +to whom we were drawn by a sort of elective affinity, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> +shall be glad to meet them again on the other side of the +ocean.</p> + +<p>Among our passengers was Grace Greenwood, who added +much to the general enjoyment by entertaining us in the +evening with her dramatic recitations from Bret Harte's +California Sketches, while her young daughter, who has a +very sweet voice, sang charmingly.</p> + +<p>Like all ships' companies, ours were bent on amusing +themselves, although it was sometimes a pursuit of pleasure +under difficulties; as one evening, when a young gentleman +and lady sang "What are the wild waves saying?" each +clinging to a post for support, while the performer at the +piano had to fall on his knees to keep from being drifted away +from his instrument!</p> + +<p>But Grace Greenwood is not a mere entertainer of audiences +with her voice, or of the public with her pen. She is +not only a very clever writer, but has as much wisdom as wit +in her woman's brain. In our conversations she did not discover +any extreme opinions, such as are held by some brilliant +female writers, but seemed to have a mind well balanced, +with a great deal of good common sense as well as womanly +feeling, and a brave heart to help her struggling sisters in +America, and all over the world.</p> + +<p>One meets some familiar faces on these steamer decks, and +here almost the first man that I ran against was a clergyman +whom I knew twenty-five years ago in Connecticut, Rev. +James T. Hyde. He is now a Professor in the Congregational +Theological Seminary at Chicago, and is going abroad +for the first time. What a world of good it does these studious +men, these preachers and scholars, to be thus "transported!"</p> + +<p>But here is a scholar and a professor who is not a stranger +in Europe, but to the manner born, our own beloved Dr. +Schaff, whose passage I had taken with mine (knowing that +he had to go abroad this summer), and thus beguiled him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> +into our company. We shared the same state-room, and +never do I desire a more delightful travelling companion on +land or sea. Those who know him do not need to be told +that he is not only one of our first scholars, but one of the +most genial of men. While full of learning, he never +oppresses you with oracular wisdom; but is just as ready +for a pleasant story as for a grave literary or theological discussion. +I think we hardly realize yet what a service he has +rendered to our country in establishing a sort of literary and +intellectual free trade between the educated and religious +mind of America and of Great Britain and Germany. To +him more than to any other man is due the great success +of the Evangelical Alliance. He is now going abroad on a +mission of not less importance—the revision of our present +version of the English Bible: a work which has enlisted for +some years the combined labors of a great number of the +most eminent scholars in England and America.</p> + +<p>Finally, as a practical homily and piece of advice to all +who are going abroad, let me say, if you would have the +fullest enjoyment, <i>take a young person with you</i>—if possible, +one who is untravelled, so that you can see the world +again with fresh eyes. I came away in the deepest depression. +Nothing has comforted me so much as a light figure +always at my side. Poor child! The watching, and care, and +sorrow that she has had for these many months, had driven the +roses from her cheeks; but now they are coming back again. +She has never been abroad before. To her literally "all +things are new." The sun rises daily on a new world. She +enters into everything with the utmost zest. She was a very +good sailor, and enjoyed the voyage, and made friends with +everybody. Really it brought a thrill of pleasure for the +first time into my poor heart to see her delight. She will +be the best of companions in all my wanderings.</p> + +<p>In such good company, we have passed over the great and +wide sea, and now set foot upon the land, thanking Him who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> +has led us safely through the mighty waters. Yesterday +morning, after the English service had been read in the +saloon, Dr. Schaff gave out the hymn,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">Nearer, my God, to Thee,</p> +</div> + +<p>and my heart responded fervently to the prayer, that all the +experiences of this mortal state, on the sea and on the land—the +storms of the ocean and the storms of life—may serve this +one supreme object of existence, to bring us <span class="smcap">nearer to God</span>. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER II.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">IRELAND—ITS BEAUTY AND ITS SADNESS.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">The Lakes of Killarney</span>, May 26th.</p> + +<p>There is never but one <i>first</i> impression; all else is <i>second</i> +in time and in degree. It is twenty-eight years since I first +saw the shores of England and of Ireland, and then they +were to me like some celestial country. It was then, as now, +in the blessed spring-time—in the merry month of May:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>The corn was springing fresh and green,</p> +<p>The lark sang loud and high;</p> +</div> + +<p>and the banks of the Mersey, as I sailed up to Liverpool, +were like the golden shores of Paradise.</p> + +<p>Now I am somewhat of a traveller, and should take these +things more quietly, were it not for a pair of young eyes beside +me, through which I see things anew, and taste again +the sweetness of that earlier time. If we had landed in the +moon, my companion could not have been at first more bewildered +and delighted with what she saw; everything was +so queer and quaint, so old and strange—in a word, so unlike +all she had ever seen before. The streets were different, being +very narrow, and winding up hill and down dale; the +houses were different, standing close up to the street, without +the relief of grass, or lawn, or even of stately ascending +steps in front; the thatched cottages and the flowering hedge-rows—all +were new.</p> + +<p>To heighten the impression of what was so fresh to the +eye, the country was in its most beautiful season. We left +New York still looking cold and cheerless from the backward +spring; here the spring had burst into its full glory. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> +ivy mantled every old tower and ruin with the richest green, +the hawthorn was in blossom, making the hedge-rows, as we +whirled along the roads, a mass of white and green, filling +the eye with its beauty and the air with its fragrance. Thus +there was an intoxication of the senses, as well as of the +imagination; and if the girls (for two others, under the +charge of Prof. Hyde, had joined our party) had leaped +from the carriage, and commenced a romp or a dance on the +greensward, we could hardly have been surprised, as an expression +of their childish joy, and their first greeting as they +touched the soil, not of merry England, but of the Emerald +Isle.</p> + +<p>But if this set them off into such ecstasies, what shall be +said of their first sight of a ruin? Of course it was Blarney +Castle, which is near Cork, and famous for its Blarney Stone. +A lordly castle, indeed, it must have been in the days of its +pride, as it still towers up a hundred feet and more, and +its walls are eight or ten feet thick: so that it would have +lasted for ages, if Cromwell had not knocked some ugly holes +through it a little more than two hundred years ago. But +still the tower is beautiful, being covered to the very top with +masses of ivy, which in England is the great beautifier of +whatever is old, clinging to the mouldering wall, covering up +the huge rents and gaps made by cannon balls, and making +the most unsightly ruins lovely in their decay. We all climbed +to the top, where hangs in air, fastened by iron clamps +in its place, the famous Blarney Stone, which is said to impart +to whoever kisses it the gift of eloquence, which will +make one successful in love and in life. As it was, only one +pressed forward to snatch this prize which it held out to +our embrace. Dr. Schaff even "poked" the stone disdainfully +with his staff, perhaps thinking it would become like +Aaron's rod that budded. The lack of enthusiasm, however, +may have been owing to the fact that the stone hangs at a +dizzy height, and is therefore somewhat difficult of approach; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> +for on descending within the castle, where is another Blarney +Stone lying on the ground, and within easy reach, I can testify +that several of the party gave it a hearty smack, not to +catch any mysterious virtue from the stone, but the flavor of +thousands of fair lips that had kissed it before.</p> + +<p>Before leaving this old castle, as we shall have many more +to see hereafter, let me say a word about castles in general. +They are well enough <i>as ruins</i>, and certainly, as they are +scattered about Ireland and England, they add much to the +picturesqueness of the landscapes, and will always possess a +romantic interest. But viewed in the sober light of history, +they are monuments of an age of barbarism, when the country +was divided among a hundred chiefs, each of whom had +his stronghold, out of which he could sally to attack his less +powerful neighbor. Everything in the construction—the huge +walls, with narrow slits for windows through which the archers +could pour arrows, or in later times the musketeers +could shower balls, on their enemies; the deep moat surrounding +it; the drawbridge and portcullis—all speak of a time of +universal insecurity, when danger was abroad, and every +man had to be armed against his fellow.</p> + +<p>As a place of habitation, such a fortress was not much better +than a prison. The chieftain shut himself in behind massive +walls, under huge arches, where the sun could never penetrate, +where all was dark and gloomy as a sepulchre. I know +a cottage in New England, on the crest of one of the Berkshire +Hills, open on every side to light and air, kissed by the +rising and the setting sun, in which there is a hundred times +more of real <i>comfort</i> than could have been in one of these old +castles, where a haughty baron passed his existence in gloomy +grandeur, buried in sepulchral gloom.</p> + +<p>And to what darker purposes were these castles sometimes +applied! Let one go down into the passages underneath, +and see the dungeons underground, dark, damp, and cold as +the grave, in which prisoners and captives were buried alive. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> +One cannot grope his way into these foul subterranean dungeons +without feeling that these old castles are the monuments +of savage tyrants; that if these walls could speak, +they would tell many a tale, not of knightly chivalry, but of +barbarous cruelty, that would curdle the blood with horror. +These things take away somewhat of the charm which Walter +Scott has thrown about these old "gallant knights," who +were often no better than robber chiefs; and I am glad that +Cromwell with his cannon battered their strongholds about +their ears. Let these relics remain covered with ivy, and +picturesque as ruins, but let it never be forgotten that they +are the fallen monuments of an age of barbarism, of terror, +and of cruelty.</p> + +<p>There is one other feature of this country that cannot be +omitted from a survey of Ireland—it is <i>the beggars</i>, who are +sure to give an American a warm welcome. They greet him +with whines and grimaces and pitiful beseechings, to which +he cannot harden his heart. My first salutation at Queenstown +on Monday morning, on coming out in front of the +hotel to take a view of the beautiful bay, was from an old +woman in rags, who certainly looked what she described herself +to be, "a poor crathur, that had nobody to care for +her," and who besought me, "for the love of God, to give +her at least the price of a cup of tea!" Of course I did, +when she gave me an Irish blessing: "May the gates o +Paradise open to ye, and to all them that loves ye!" This +vision of Paradise seems to be a favorite one with the Irish +beggar, and is sometimes coupled with extraordinary images, +as when one blesses her benefactor in this overflowing style: +"May every hair on your head be a candle to light you to +Paradise!"</p> + +<p>This quick wit of the Irish serves them better than their +poverty in appealing for charity; and I must confess that I +have violated all the rules laid down by charitable societies, +"not to give to beggars," for I have filled my pockets with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> +pennies, and given to hordes of ragamuffins, as well as to old +women, to hear their answers, which, though largely infused +with Irish blarney, have a flavor of native wit. Who could +resist such a blessing as this: "May ye ride in a fine carriage, +and the mud of your wheels splash the face of your inimies," +then with a quick turn, "though I know ye haven't any!"</p> + +<p>Yesterday we made an excursion through the Gap of Dunloe, +a famous gorge in the mountains around Killarney, and +were set upon by the whole fraternity—ragtag and bobtail. +At the foot of the pass we left our jaunting car to walk over +the mountain, C—— alone being mounted on a pony. I +walked by her side, while our two theological professors +strode ahead. The women were after them in full cry, each +with a bowl of goat's milk and a bottle of "mountain dew" +(Irish whiskey), to work upon their generous feelings. But +they produced no impression; the professors were absorbed +in theology or something else, and setting their faces with +all the sternness of Calvinism against this vile beggary, they +kept moving up the mountain path. At length the beggars +gave them up in despair, and returned to try their mild solicitations +upon me. An old siren, coming up in a tender and +confiding way, whispered to me, "You're the best looking +of the lot; and it is a nice lady ye have; and a fine couple +ye make." That was enough; she got her money. I felt a +little elated with the distinguished and superior air which +even beggars had discovered in my aspect and bearing, till +on returning to the hotel, one of our professors coolly informed +me that the same old witch had previously told him that +"he was the darling of the party!" After that, who will +ever believe a beggar's compliment again?</p> + +<p>But we must not let the beggars on the way either amuse +or provoke us, so as to divert our attention from the natural +grandeur and beauty around us. The region of the Lakes +of Killarney is at once the most wild and the most beautiful +portion of Ireland. These Lakes are set as in a bowl, in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> +hollow of rugged mountains, which are not like the Green +Mountains, or the Catskills, wooded to the top, but bald and +black, their heads being swept by perpetual storms from the +Atlantic, that keep them always bleak and bare. Yet in the +heart of these barren mountains, in the very centre of all +this savage desolation, lie these lovely sheets of water. No +wonder that they are sought by tourists from America, and +from all parts of the world.</p> + +<p>Nor are their shores without verdure and beauty. Though +the mountain sides are bare rock, like the peaks of volcanoes, +yet the lower hills and meadows bordering on the Lakes are +in a high state of cultivation. But these oases of fertility +are not for the people; they all belong to great estates—chiefly +to the Earl of Kenmare and a Mr. Herbert, who is a +Member of Parliament. These estates are enclosed with high +walls, as if to keep them not only from the intrusion of the +people, but even from being seen by them. The great rule +of English exclusiveness here obtains, as in the construction +of the old feudal castles, the object in both cases being the +same, to keep the owners in, and to shut everybody else out. +Hence the contrast between what is within and what is without +these enclosures. Within all is greenness and fertility; +without all is want and misery. It will not do to impute +the latter entirely to the natural shiftlessness of the Irish +people, as if they would rather beg than work. They have +very little motive to work. They cannot own a foot of the +soil. The Earl of Kenmare may have thousands of acres for +his game, but not a foot will he sell to an Irish laborer, however +worthy or industrious. Hence the inevitable tendency +of things is to impoverish more and more the wretched peasantry. +How long would even the farmers of New England +retain their sturdy independence, if all the land of a county +were in a single estate, and they could not by any possibility +get an acre of ground? They would soon lose their self-respect, +as they sank from the condition of owners to tenants. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> +The more I see of different countries, the more I am convinced +that the first condition of a robust and manly race is +that they should have within their reach some means, either +by culture of the soil or by some other kind of industry, of +securing for themselves an honest and decent support. It is +impossible to keep up self-respect when there is no means of +livelihood. Hence the feeling of sadness that mingles with +all this beauty around me; that it is a country where all is +for the few, and nothing for the many; where the poor starve, +while a few nobles and rich landlords can spend their substance +in riotous living. Kingsley, in one of his novels, puts +into the mouth of an English sailor these lines, which always +seemed to me to have a singular pathos:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Oh! England is a pleasant place for them that's rich and high;</p> +<p>But England is a cruel place for such poor folks as I."</p> +</div> + +<p>That is the woe of Ireland—a woe inwrought with its very +institutions, and which it would seem only some social convulsion +could remove. Sooner or later it must come; we +hope by peaceful methods and gentle influences. We shall +not live to see the time, but we trust another generation may, +when the visitor to Killarney shall not have his delight in +the works of God spoiled by sight of the wretchedness of +man; when instead of troops of urchins in rags, with bare +feet, running for miles to catch the pennies thrown from +jaunting cars, we shall see happy, rosy-cheeked children issuing +from school-houses, and see the white spires of pretty +churches gleaming in the valleys and on the hills. That +will be the "sunburst" indeed for poor old Ireland, when +the glory of the Lord is thus seen upon her waters and her +mountains.</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER III.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">SCOTLAND AND THE SCOTCH.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>, June 3d.</p> + +<p>In making the tour of Great Britain, there is an advantage +in taking Ireland first, Scotland next, and England last,—since +in this way one is always going from the less to the +more interesting. To the young American traveller "fresh +and green," with enthusiasm unexpended, it seems on landing +in Ireland as if there never was such a bit of green earth, +and indeed it is a very interesting country. But many as +are its attractions, Scotland has far more, in that it is the +home of a much greater people, and is invested with far richer +historical and poetical associations; it has been the scene of +great historical events; it is the land of Wallace and Bruce, +of Reformers and Martyrs, of John Knox and the Covenanters, +and of great preachers down to the days of Chalmers +and Guthrie; and it has been immortalized by the genius of +poets and novelists, who have given a fresh interest to the +simple manners of the people, as well as to their lakes and +mountains.</p> + +<p>And after all, it is this <i>human</i> interest which is the great +interest of any country—not its hills and valleys, its lakes +and rivers <i>alone</i>, but these features of natural beauty and +sublimity, illumined and glorified by the presence of man, by +the record of what he has suffered and what he has achieved, +of his love and courage, his daring and devotion; and +nowhere are these more identified with the country itself than +here, nowhere do they more speak from the very rocks and +hills and glens.</p> + +<p>Scotland, though a great country, is not a very large one, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> +and such are now the facilities of travel that one can go very +quickly to almost any point. A few hours will take you into +the heart of the Highlands. We made in one day the excursion +to Stirling, and to Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine, and +felt at every step how much the beauties of nature are +heightened by associations with romance or history. From +Stirling Castle one looks down upon a dozen battle-fields. +He is in sight of Bannockburn, where Bruce drove back the +English invader, and of other fields associated with Wallace, +the hero of Scotland, as William Tell is of Switzerland. +Once among the lakes he surrenders himself to his imagination, +excited by romance. The poetry of Scott gives to the +wild glens and moors a greater charm than the bloom of the +heather. The lovely lake catches, more beautiful than the +rays of sunset,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"A light that never was on sea or shore,</p> +<p>The inspiration and the poet's dream."</p> +</div> + +<p>Loch Katrine is a very pretty sheet of water, lying as it +does at the foot of rugged mountains, yet it is not more beautiful +than hundreds of small lakes among our Northern hills, +but it derives a poetic charm from being the scene of "The +Lady of the Lake." A little rocky islet is pointed out as +Ellen's Isle. An open field by the roadside, which would +attract no attention, immediately becomes an object of romantic +interest when the coachman tells us it was the scene of +the combat between Fitz James and Roderick Dhu. The +rough country over which we are riding just now is no +wilder than many of the roads among the White Mountains—but +it is the country of Rob Roy! I have climbed +through many a rocky mountain gorge as wild as the Trossachs, +but they had not Walter Scott to people them with +his marvellous creations.</p> + +<p>A student of the religious part of Scottish history will find +another interest here, as he remembers how, in the days of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> +persecution, the old Covenanters sought refuge in these glens, +and here found shelter from those pursuing rough-riders, +Claverhouse's dragoons. Thus it is the history of Scotland, +and the genius of her writers, that give such interest to her +country and her people; and as I stood at the grave of John +Wilson (Christopher North), I blessed the hand that had +depicted so tenderly the "Lights and Shadows of Scottish +Life," presenting such varied scenes in the cottage and the +manse, in the glen and on the moor, but everywhere illustrating +the patient trust and courage of this wonderful people. +It is a fit winding-up to the tour of Scotland, that commonly +the traveller's last visit, as he comes down to England, is to +Abbotsford, the home of Walter Scott; to Melrose Abbey, +which a few lines of his poetry have invested with an interest +greater than that of other similar ruins; and to Dryburgh +Abbey, where he sleeps.</p> + +<p>Edinburgh is the most picturesque city in Europe, as it is +cleft in twain by a deep gorge or ravine, on either side of +which the two divisions of the city, the Old Town and the +New Town, stand facing each other. From the Royal Hotel, +where we are, in Princes Street, just opposite the beautiful +monument to Walter Scott, we look across this gorge to long +ranges of buildings in the Old Town, some of which are ten +stories high; and to the Castle, lifted in air four hundred +feet by a cliff that rears its rocky front from the valley below, +its top girt round with walls, and frowning with batteries. +What associations cluster about those heights! For hundreds +of years, even before the date of authentic history, +that has been a military stronghold. It has been besieged +again and again. Cromwell tried to take it, but its battlements +of rock proved inaccessible even to his Ironsides. +There, in a little room hardly bigger than a closet, Mary +Queen of Scots gave birth to a prince, who when but eight +days old was let down in a basket from the cliff, that the life +so precious to two kingdoms as that of the sovereign in whom +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> +Scotland and England were to be united, might not perish +by murderous hands. And there is St. Giles' Cathedral, +where John Knox thundered, and where James VI. (the infant +that was born in the castle) when chosen to be James I. +of England, took leave of his Scottish subjects.</p> + +<p>At the other end of Edinburgh is Holyrood Castle, whose +chief interest is from its association with the mother of James, +the beautiful but ill-fated Mary. How all that history, +stranger and sadder than any romance, comes back again, as +we stand on the very spot where she stood when she was +married; and pass through the rooms in which she lived, +and see the very bed on which she slept, unconscious of the +doom that was before her, and trace all the surroundings of +her most romantic and yet most tragic history. Such are +some of the associations which gather around Edinburgh!</p> + +<p>I find here my friend Mr. William Nelson (of the famous +publishing house of Nelson and Sons), whose hospitality I enjoyed +for a week in the summer of 1867; and he, with his +usual courtesy, gave up a whole day to show us Edinburgh, +taking us to all the beautiful points of view and places of historical +interest—to the Castle and Holyrood, and the Queen's +Drive, around Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags. Mr. Nelson's +house is a little out of the city, under the shadow of +Arthur's Seat, near a modest manse, which has been visited +by hundreds of American ministers, as it was the home of +the late Dr. Guthrie. His brother, Mr. Thomas Nelson, +has lately erected one of the most beautiful private houses I +have seen in Scotland, or anywhere else. I doubt if there +is a finer one in Edinburgh; and what gives it a special interest +to an American, is that it was built wholly out of the +rise of American securities. During our civil war, when +most people in England thought the Great Republic was gone, +he had faith, and invested thousands of pounds in our government +bonds, the rise in which has paid entirely for this +quite baronial mansion, so that he has some reason to call +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> +it his American house. So many in Great Britain have <i>lost</i> +by American securities, that it was pleasant to know of one +who had reaped the reward of his faith in the strength of +our government and the integrity of our people.</p> + +<p>When we reached Edinburgh both General Assemblies were +just closing their annual meetings. I had met in Glasgow, on +Sunday, at the Barony church (where he is successor to Dr. +Norman Macleod), John Marshall Lang, D.D., who visited +America as a delegate to our General Assembly, and left a +most favorable impression in our country; who told me that +their Assembly—that of the National Church—would close +the next day, and advised me to hasten to Edinburgh before +its separation. So we came on with him on Monday, and +looked in twice at the proceedings, but had not courage to +stay to witness the end, which was not reached till four o'clock +the next morning! But by the courtesy of Dr. Lang, I received +an invitation from the excellent moderator, Dr. Sellars, +(who had been in America, and had the most friendly feeling +for our countrymen,) to a kind of state dinner, which it is an +honored custom of this old Church to give at the close of the +Assembly. The moderator is allowed two hundred pounds <i>to +entertain</i>. He gives a public breakfast every morning during +the session, and winds up with this grand feast. If the morning +repasts were on such a generous scale as that which we +saw, the £200 could go but a little way. There were about +eighty guests, including the most eminent of the clergy, principals +and professors of colleges, dignitaries of the city of +Edinburgh, judges and law officers of the crown, etc. I sat +next to Dr. Lang, who pointed out to me the more notable +guests, and gave me much information between the courses; +and Dr. Schaff sat next to Professor Milligan. As became +an Established Church, there were toasts to the Queen, the +Prince of Wales, and her Majesty's Ministers. Altogether +it was a very distinguished gathering, which I greatly enjoyed. +I am glad that we in America are beginning to cultivate relations +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +with the National Church of Scotland. As to the +question of Church and State, of course our sympathies are +more with the Free Church, but that should not prevent a +friendly intercourse with so large a body, to which we are +drawn by the ties of a common faith and order. Delegates +from the National Church of Scotland will always be welcome +in our Assemblies, especially when they are such men as Dr. +Lang and Professor Milligan; and our representatives are +sure of a hearty reception here. Dr. Adams and Dr. Shaw, +two or three years since, electrified their Assembly, and they +do not cease to speak of it. Certainly we cannot but be +greatly benefited by cultivating the most cordial relations +with a body which contains so large an array of men distinguished +for learning, eloquence, and piety.</p> + +<p>In the Free Church things are done with less of form and +state than in the National Church, but there is intense life +and rigor. I looked in upon their Assembly, but found it +occupied, like the other, chiefly with those routine matters +which are hastened through at the close of a session. But I +heard from members that the year has been one of great +prosperity. The labors of the American revivalists, Moody +and Sankey, have been well received, and the impression of +all with whom I conversed was that they had done great +good. In financial matters I was told that there had been +such an outpouring of liberality as had never been known in +Scotland before. The success of the Sustentation Fund is +something marvellous, and must delight the heart of that +noble son of Scotland, Dr. McCosh.</p> + +<p>I am disappointed to find that the cause of <span class="smcap">Union</span> has not +made more progress. There is indeed a prospect of the "Reformed" +Church being absorbed into the Free Church, thus +putting an end to an old secession. But it is a small body of +only some eighty churches, while the negotiations with the far +larger body of United Presbyterians, after being carried on for +many years, are finally suspended, and may not be resumed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> +As to the National Church, it clings to its connection with +the State as fondly as ever, and the Free Church, having +grown strong without its aid, now disdains its alliance. On +both sides the attitude is one of respectful but pretty decided +aversion. So far from drawing nearer to each other, they +appear to recede farther apart. It was thought that some +advance had been made on the part of the Old Kirk, in the act +of Parliament abolishing patronage, but the Free Church +seemed to regard this as a temptation of the adversary to +allure them from the stand which they had taken more than +thirty years ago, and which they had maintained in a long +and severe, but glorious, struggle. They will not listen to the +voice of the charmer, no, not for an hour.</p> + +<p>This attitude of the Free Church toward the National +Church, coupled with the fact that its negotiations with the +United Presbyterians have fallen through, does not give us +much hope of a general union among the Presbyterians of +Scotland, at least in our day. In fact there is something in +the Scotch nature which seems to forbid such coalescence. +<i>It does not fuse well.</i> It is too hard and "gritty" to melt in +every crucible. For this reason they cannot well unite with +any body. Their very nature is centrifugal rather than centripetal. +They love to argue, and the more they argue the +more positive they become. The conviction that they are +right, is absolute on both sides. Whatever other Christian +grace they lack, they have at least attained to a full assurance +of faith. No one can help admiring their rugged honesty +and their strong convictions, upheld with unflinching courage. +They become heroes in the day of battle, and martyrs in the +day of persecution; but as for mutual concession, and mutual +forgiveness, that, I fear, is not in them.</p> + +<p>It is painful to see this alienation between two bodies, for +both of which we cannot but feel the greatest respect. It +does not become us Americans to offer any counsel to those +who are older and wiser than we; yet if we might send a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> +single message across the sea, it should be to say that we +have learned by all our conflicts and struggles to cherish two +things—which are our watchwords in Church and State—<i>liberty</i> +and <i>union</i>. We prize our liberty. With a great +price we have obtained this freedom, and no man shall take +it from us. But yet we have also learned how precious a +thing is brotherly love and concord. Sweet is the communion +of saints. This is the last blessing which we desire +for Scotland, that has so many virtues that we cannot but +wish that she might abound in this grace also. Even +with this imperfection, we love her country and her people. +Whoever has had access to Scottish homes, must have been +struck with their beautiful domestic character, with the attachment +in families, with the tenderness of parents, and +the affectionate obedience of children. A country in which +the scenes of "The Cotter's Saturday Night" are repeated in +thousands of homes, we cannot help loving as well as admiring. +Wherefore do I say from my heart, A thousand blessings on +dear old Scotland! Peace be within her walls, and prosperity +within her palaces!</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER IV.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">MOODY AND SANKEY IN LONDON.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">London</span>, June 10th.</p> + +<p>To an American, visiting London just now, the object of +most interest is the meetings of his countrymen, Moody and +Sankey. He has heard so much of them, that he is curious +to see with his own eyes just what they are. One thing is +undeniable—that they have created a prodigious sensation. +London is a very big place to make a stir in. A pebble +makes a ripple in a placid lake, while a rock falling from the +side of a mountain disappears in an instant in the ocean. +London is an ocean. Yet here these meetings have been +thronged as much as in other cities of Great Britain, and that +not by the common people alone (although they have heard +gladly), but by representatives of all classes. For several +weeks they were held in the Haymarket Theatre, right in the +centre of fashionable London, and in the very place devoted +to its amusements; yet it was crowded to suffocation, and not +only by Dissenters, but by members of the Established +Church, among whom were such men as Dean Stanley, and +Mr. Gladstone, and Lord-Chancellor Cairns. The Duchess +of Sutherland was a frequent attendant. All this indicates, +if only a sensation, at least a sensation of quite extraordinary +character. No doubt the multitude was drawn together in +part by curiosity. The novelty was an attraction; and, like +the old Athenians, they ran together into the market-place to +hear some new thing. This alone would have drawn them +once or twice, but the excitement did not subside. If some +fell off, others rushed in, so that the place was crowded to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +last. Those meetings closed just before we reached London, +to be opened in another quarter of the great city.</p> + +<p>Last Sunday we went to hear Mr. Spurgeon, and he +announced that on Thursday (to-day) Messrs. Moody and +Sankey would commence a new series of meetings for the +especial benefit of the South of London. A large structure +had been erected for the purpose. He warmly endorsed the +movement, and spoke in high praise of the men, especially +for the modesty and tact and the practical judgment they +showed along with their zeal; and urged all, instead of standing +aloof and criticizing, to join heartily in the effort which +he believed would result in great good. In a conversation +afterward in his study, Mr. Spurgeon said to me that Moody +was the most simple-minded of men; that he told him on +coming here, "I am the most over-estimated and over-praised +man in the world." This low esteem of himself, and readiness +to take any place, so that he may do his Master's work, +ought to disarm the disposition to judge him according to +the rules of rigid literary, or rhetorical, or even theological, +criticism.</p> + +<p>This new tabernacle which has been built for Mr. Moody +is set up at Camberwell Green, on the south side of the +Thames, not very far from Mr. Spurgeon's church. It is a +huge structure, standing in a large enclosure, which is entered +by gates. The service was to begin at three o'clock. It was +necessary to have tickets for admission, which I obtained from +the Hon. Arthur Kinnaird, a Member of Parliament, who is +about as well known in London as Lord Shaftesbury for his +activity in all good works. He advised me to go early to anticipate +the crowd. We started from Piccadilly at half-past +one, and drove quietly over Westminster Bridge, thinking we +should be in ample time. But as we approached Camberwell +Green it was evident that there was a tide setting toward the +place of meeting, which swelled till the crowd became a rush. +There were half a dozen entrances. We asked for the one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> +to the platform, and were directed some distance around. +Arrived at the gates we found them shut and barred, and +guarded by policemen, who said they had received orders +to admit no more, as the place was already more than full, +although the pressure outside was increasing every instant. +We might have been turned back from the very doors of the +sanctuary, if Mr. Kinnaird had not given me, besides the +tickets, a letter to Mr. Hodder, who was the chief man in +charge, directing him to take us in and give us seats on the +platform. This I passed through the gates to the policeman, +who sent it on to some of the managers within, and word +came back that the bearers of the letter should be admitted. +But this was easier said than done. How to admit us two +without admitting others was a difficult matter; indeed, it +was an impossibility. The policemen tried to open the gates +a little way, so as to permit us to pass in; but as soon as the +gates were ajar, the guardians themselves were swept away. +In vain they tried to stem the torrent. The crowd rushed +past them, (and would have rushed over them, if they had +stood in the way,) and surged up to the building. Here +again the crush was terrific. Had we foreseen it, we should +not have attempted the passage; but once in the stream, it +was easier to go forward than to go back. There was no help +for it but to wait till the tide floated us in; and so, after some +minutes we were landed at last in one of the galleries, from +which we could take in a view of the scene.</p> + +<p>It was indeed a wonderful spectacle. The building is +somewhat like Barnum's Hippodrome, though not so large, +and of better shape for speaking and hearing, being not so +oblong, but more square, with deep galleries, and will hold, +I should say, at a rough estimate, six or eight thousand people. +The front of the galleries was covered with texts in +large letters, such as "God is Love"; "Jesus only"; "Looking +unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith"; "Come +unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> +give you rest." At each corner was a room marked "For +inquirers."</p> + +<p>As we had entered by mistake the wrong door, instead of +finding ourselves on the platform beside Mr. Moody, we had +been borne by the crowd to the gallery at the other end of +the building; but this had one advantage, that of enabling +us to test the power of the voices of the speakers to reach +such large audiences. While the immense assemblage were +getting settled in their places, several hymns were sung, which +quietly and gently prepared them for the services that were +to follow.</p> + +<p>At length Mr. Moody appeared. The moment he rose, +there was a movement of applause, which he instantly checked +with a wave of his hand, and at once proceeded to business, +turning the minds of the audience to something besides himself, +by asking them to rise and sing the stirring hymn,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Ring the bells of heaven! there is joy to-day!"</p> +</div> + +<p>The whole assembly rose, and caught up the words with +such energy that the rafters rang with the mighty volume of +sound. A venerable minister, with white locks, then rose, +and clinging to the railing for support, and raising his voice, +offered a brief but fervent prayer.</p> + +<p>Mr. Moody's part in this opening service, it had been announced +beforehand, would be merely to <i>preside</i>, while others +spoke; and he did little more than to introduce them. He +read, however, a few verses from the parable of the talents, +and urged on every one the duty to use whatever gift he had, +be it great or small, and not bury his talent in a napkin. +His voice was clear and strong, and where I sat I heard distinctly. +What he said was good, though in no wise remarkable. +Mr. Sankey touched us much more as he followed +with an appropriate hymn:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Nothing but leaves!"</p> +</div> +<p>As soon as I caught his first notes, I felt that there was <i>one</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> +cause of the success of these meetings. His voice is very +powerful, and every word was given with such distinctness +that it reached every ear in the building. All listened with +breathless interest as he sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Nothing but leaves! the Spirit grieves</p> +<p class="i1">Over a wasted life;</p> +<p>O'er sins indulged while conscience slept,</p> +<p>O'er vows and promises unkept,</p> +<p class="i1">And reaps from years of strife—</p> +<p>Nothing but leaves! nothing but leaves!"</p> +</div> + +<p>Rev. Mr. Aitken, of Liverpool, then made an address of +perhaps half an hour, following up the thought of Mr. Moody +on the duty of all to join in the effort they were about to +undertake. His address, without being eloquent, was earnest +and practical, to which Mr. Sankey gave a thrilling application +in another of his hymns, in which the closing line of +every verse was,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Here am I; send me, send me!"</p> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Spurgeon was reserved for the closing address, and +spoke, as he always does, very forcibly. I noticed, as I had +before, one great element of his power, viz., his illustrations, +which are most apt. For example, he was urging ministers +and Christians of all denominations to join in this movement, +and wished to show the folly of a contentious spirit among +them. To expose its absurdity, he said:</p> + +<p>"A few years ago I was in Rome, and there I saw in the +Vatican a statue of two wrestlers, in the attitude of men trying +to throw each other. I went back two years after, and +they were in the same struggle, and I suppose are at it +still!" Everybody saw the application. Such a constrained +posture might do in a marble statue, but could anything be +more ridiculous than for living men thus to stand always +facing each other in an attitude of hostility and defiance? +"And there too," he proceeded, "was another statue of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +boy pulling a thorn out of his foot. I went to Rome again, +and there he was still, with the same bended form, and the +same look of pain, struggling to be free. I suppose he is +there still, and will be to all eternity!" What an apt image +of the self-inflicted torture of some who, writhing under +real or imagined injury, hug their grievance and their pain, +instead of at once tearing it away, and standing erect as +men in the full liberty wherewith Christ makes his people +free.</p> + +<p>Again, he was illustrating the folly of some ministers in +giving so much time and thought to refuting infidel objections, +by which they often made their people's minds familiar +with what they would never have heard of, and filled +them with doubt and perplexity. He said the process reminded +him of what was done at a grotto near Naples, which +is filled with carbonic acid gas so strong that life cannot exist +in it, to illustrate which the vile people of the cave seize a +wretched dog, and throw him in, and in a few minutes the poor +animal is nearly dead. Then they deluge him with cold water +to bring him round. Just about as wise are those ministers +who, having to preach the Gospel of Christ, think they must +first drop their hearers into a pit filled with the asphyxiating +gas of a false philosophy, to show how they can apply their +hydropathy in recovering them afterwards. Better let them +keep above ground, and breathe all the time the pure, +blessed air of heaven.</p> + +<p>Illustrations like these told upon the audience, because +they were so apt, and so informed with common sense. Mr. +Spurgeon has an utter contempt for scientific charlatans and +literary dilettanti, and all that class of men who have no +higher business in life than to carp and criticise. He would +judge everything by its practical results. If sneering infidels +ask, What good religion does? he points to those it has +saved, to the men it has reformed, whom it has lifted up from +degradation and death; and exclaims with his tremendous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> +voice, "There they are! standing on the shore, saved from +shipwreck and ruin!" That result is the sufficient answer +to all cavil and objection.</p> + +<p>"And now," continued Mr. Spurgeon, applying what he +had said, "here are these two brethren who have come to us +from over the sea, whom God has blessed wherever they have +labored in Scotland, in Ireland, and in England. It may +be said they are no wiser or better than our own preachers +or laymen. Perhaps not. But somehow, whether by some +novelty of method, or some special tact, they have caught the +popular ear, and that of itself is a great point gained—they +have got a hold on the public mind." Again he resorted to +illustration to make his point.</p> + +<p>"Some years ago," he said, "I was crossing the Maritime +Alps. We were going up a pretty heavy grade, and the engine, +though a powerful one, labored hard to drag us up the +steep ascent, till at length it came to a dead stop. I got out +to see what was the matter, for I didn't like the look of +things, and there we were stuck fast in a snow-drift! The +engine was working as hard as ever, and the wheels continued +to revolve; but the rails were icy, and the wheels +could not take hold—they could not get any <i>grip</i>—and so +the train was unable to move. So it is with some men, and +some ministers. They are splendid engines, and they have +steam enough. The wheels revolve all right, only they don't +get any <i>grip</i> on the rails, and so the train doesn't move. +Now our American friends have somehow got this grip on +the public mind; when they speak or sing, the people hear. +Without debating <i>why</i> this is, or <i>how</i> it is, let us thank God +for it, and try to help them in the use of the power which +God has given them."</p> + +<p>After this stirring address of Mr. Spurgeon, Mr. Moody +announced the arrangements for the meetings, which would +be continued in that place for thirty days; and with another +rousing hymn the meeting closed. This, it is given out, is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +to be the last month of Moody and Sankey in England, and +of course they hope it will be the crown of all their labors.</p> + +<p>After the service was ended, and the audience had partly +dispersed, we made our way around to the other end of the +building, and had a good shake of the hand with Mr. Moody, +with whom I had spent several days at Mr. Henry Bewley's, +in Dublin, in 1867, and then travelled with him to London, +little dreaming that he would ever excite such a commotion +in this great Babylon, or have such a thronging multitude to +hear him as I have seen to-day.</p> + +<p>And now, what of it all? It would be presumption to give +an opinion on a single service, and that where the principal +actor in these scenes was almost silent. Certainly there are +some drawbacks. For my part, I had rather worship in less +of a crowd. If there is anything which I shrink from, it is +getting into a crush from which there is no escape, and being +obliged to struggle for life. Sometimes, indeed, it may be a +duty, but it is not an agreeable one. Paul fought with +beasts at Ephesus, but I don't think he liked it; and it seems +to me a pretty near approach to being thrown to the lions, +to be caught in a rushing, roaring London crowd.</p> + +<p>And still I must not do it injustice. It was not a mob, but +only a very eager and excited concourse of people; who, when +once settled in the building, were attentive and devout. +Perhaps the assembly to-day was more so than usual, as the +invitation for this opening service had been "to Christians," +and probably the bulk of those present were members of +neighboring churches. They were, for the most part, very +plain people, but none the worse for that, and they joined in +the service with evident interest, singing heartily the hymns, +and turning over their Bibles to follow the references to passages +of Scripture. Their simple sincerity and earnestness +were very touching.</p> + +<p>As to Mr. Moody, in the few remarks he made I saw no +sign of eloquence, not a single brilliant flash, such as would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> +have lighted up a five minutes' talk of our friend Talmage; +but there was the impressiveness of a man who was too much +in earnest to care for flowers of rhetoric; whose heart was in +his work, and who, intent on that alone, spoke with the utmost +simplicity and plainness. I hear it frequently said +that his power is not in any extraordinary gift of speech, but +<i>in organizing Christian work</i>. One would suppose that this +long-continued labor would break him down, but on the contrary, +he seems to thrive upon it, and has grown stout and +burly as any Englishman, and seems ready for many more +campaigns.</p> + +<p>As to the result of his labors, instead of volunteering an +opinion on such slight observation, it is much more to the +purpose to give the judgment of others who have had full +opportunity to see his methods, and to observe the fruits. I +have conversed with men of standing and influence in Dublin, +Belfast, Glasgow, and Edinburgh—men not at all likely +to be carried away by any sudden fanaticism. All speak well +of him, and believe that he has done good in their respective +cities. This certainly is very high testimony, and for the +present is the best we can have. They say that he shows +great <i>tact</i> in keeping clear of difficulties, not allying himself +with sects or parties, and awakening no prejudices, so that +Baptists, like Mr. Spurgeon, and Methodists and Independents +and Presbyterians, all work together. In Scotland, +men of the Free Church and of the National Church joined +in the meetings, and one cannot but hope that the tendency +of this general religious movement will be to incline the +hearts of those noble, but now divided brethren, more and +more towards each other.</p> + +<p>What will be the effect in London, it is too soon to say. +It seems almost impossible to make any impression on a city +which is a world in itself. London has nearly four millions +of inhabitants—more than the six States of New England put +together! It is the monstrous growth of our modern civilization. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> +With its enormous size, it contains more wealth +than any city in the world, <i>and more poverty</i>—more luxury +on the one hand, and more misery on the other. To those +who have explored the low life of London, the revelations are +terrific. The wretchedness, the filth, the squalor, the physical +pollution and moral degradation in which vast numbers +live, is absolutely appalling.</p> + +<p>And can such a seething mass of humanity be reached by +any Christian influences? That is the problem to be solved. +It is a gigantic undertaking. Whatever can make any impression +upon it, deserves the support of all good men. I +hope fervently that the present movement may leave a moral +result that shall remain after the actors in it have passed away. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER V.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">TWO SIDES OF LONDON.—IS MODERN CIVILIZATION A +FAILURE?</p> + +<p class="lhead">June 15th.</p> + +<p>It is now "the height of the season" in London. Parliament +is in session, and "everybody" is in town. Except the +Queen, who is in the Highlands, almost all the Royal family +are here; and (except occasional absences on the Continent, +or as Ministers at foreign courts, or as Governors of India, +of Canada, of Australia, and other British colonies) probably +almost the whole nobility of the United Kingdom are at this +moment in London. Of course foreigners flock here in great +numbers. So crowded is every hotel, that it is difficult to +find lodgings. We have found very central quarters in +Dover street, near Piccadilly, close by the clubs and the +parks, and the great West End, the fashionable quarter of +London.</p> + +<p>Of course the display from the assemblage of so much rank +and wealth, and the concourse of such a multitude from all +parts of the United Kingdom, and indeed from all parts +of the earth, is magnificent. We go often to Hyde Park +Corner, to see the turnout in the afternoon. In Rotten Row +(strange name for the most fashionable riding ground in +Europe) is the array of those on horseback; while the drive +adjoining is appropriated to carriages. The mounted cavalcade +makes a gallant sight. What splendid horses, and how +well these English ladies ride! Here come the equipages +of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh, with +their fair brides from northern capitals, followed by an endless +roll of carriages of dukes and marquises and earls, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> +lords and ladies of high degree. It seems as if all the glory +of the world were here. In strange contrast with this pomp +and show, whom should we meet, as we were riding in the +Park on Saturday, but Moody (whom John Wanamaker, of +Philadelphia, was taking out for an airing to prepare him +for the fatigues of the morrow), who doubtless looked upon +all this as a Vanity Fair, much greater than that which +Bunyan has described!</p> + +<p>But not to regard it in a severe spirit of censure, it is a +sight such as brings before us, in one moving panorama, the +rank and beauty, the wealth and power, of the British Empire, +represented in these lords of the realm. Such a sight +cannot be seen anywhere else in Europe, not in the Champs +Elysées or the Bois de Boulogne of Paris, nor the Prater at +Vienna.</p> + +<p>Take another scene. Let us start after ten o'clock and ride +down into "the city,"—a title which, as used here, belongs +only to the old part of London, beyond Temple Bar, which +is now given up wholly to business, and where "nobody that +is anybody" lives. Here are the Bank of England, the +Royal Exchange, and the great commercial houses, that have +their connections in all parts of the earth. The concentration +of wealth is enormous, represented by hundreds and +thousands of millions sterling. One might almost say that +half the national debts of the world are owned here. There +is not a power on the globe that is seeking a loan, that does +not come to London. France, Germany, Russia, Turkey, all +have recourse to its bankers to provide the material of war, +or means for the construction of the great works and monuments +of peace. Our American railways have been built +largely with English money. Alas, that so many have proved +unfortunate investments!</p> + +<p>It is probably quite within bounds to say that the accumulation +of wealth at this centre is greater than ever was piled +up before on the globe, even in the days of the Persian or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> +Babylonian Empires; or when the kings of Egypt built the +Pyramids; or when Rome sat on the seven hills, and subject +provinces sent tribute from all parts of the earth; or in that +Mogul Empire, whose monuments at Delhi and Agra are still +the wonder of India.</p> + +<p>Can it be that a city so vast, so populous, so rich, has a +canker at its root? Do not judge hastily, but see for yourself. +Leave Hyde Park Corner, and its procession of nobles +and princes; leave "the city," with its banks and counting-houses, +and plunge into another quarter of London. One +need not go far away, for the hiding-places of poverty and +wretchedness are often under the very shadow of the palaces +of the rich. Come, then, and grope through these narrow +streets. You turn aside to avoid the ragged, wretched creatures +that crouch along your path. But come on, and if you +fear to go farther, take a policeman with you. Wind your +way into narrow passages, into dark, foul alleys, up-stairs, +story after story, each worse than the last. Summon up +courage to enter the rooms. You are staggered by the foul +smell that issues as you open the doors. But do not go back; +wait till your eye is a little accustomed to the darkness, and +you can see more clearly. Here is a room hardly big enough +for a single bed, yet containing six, eight, ten, or a dozen +persons, all living in a common herd, cooking and eating +such wretched food as they have, and sleeping on the floor +together.</p> + +<p>What can be expected of human beings, crowded in such +miserable habitations, living in filth and squalor, and often +pinched with hunger? Not only is refinement impossible, +but comfort, or even decency. What manly courage would +not give way, sapped by the deadly poison of such an air? +Who wonders that so many rush to the gin-shop to snatch +a moment of excitement or forgetfulness? What feminine +delicacy could stand the foul and loathsome contact of such +brutal degradation? Yet this is the way in which tens, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> +perhaps hundreds of thousands of the population of London +live.</p> + +<p>But it is at night that these low quarters are most fearful. +Then the population turns into the streets, which are brilliantly +lighted up by the flaring gas-jets. Then the gin-shops +are in their glory, crowded by the lowest and most wretched +specimens of humanity—men and women in rags—old, gray-headed +men and haggard women, and young girls,—and even +children, learning to be imps of wickedness almost as soon +as they are born. After a few hours of this excitement they +reel home to their miserable dens. And then each wretched +room becomes more hideous than before,—for drinking begets +quarrelling; and, cursing and swearing and fighting, the +wretched creatures at last sink exhausted on the floor, to +forget their misery in a few hours of troubled sleep.</p> + +<p>Such is a true, but most inadequate, picture of one side of +London. Who that sees it, or even reads of it, can wonder +that so many of these "victims of civilization," finding +human hearts harder than the stones of the street, seek refuge +in suicide? I never cross London Bridge without recalling +Hood's "Bridge of Sighs," and stopping to lean over +the parapet, thinking of the tragedies which those "dark +arches" have witnessed, as poor, miserable creatures, mad +with suffering, have rushed here and thrown themselves over +into "the black-flowing river"<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> beneath, eager to escape</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Anywhere, anywhere,</p> +<p class="i1">Out of the world!"</p> +</div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span></p> + +<p>Such is the dreadful cancer which is eating at the heart of +London—poverty and misery, ending in vice and crime, in +despair and death. It is a fearful spectacle. But is there +any help for it? Can anything be done to relieve this gigantic +human misery? Or is the case desperate, beyond all +hope or remedy?</p> + +<p>Of course there are many schemes of reformation and cure. +Some think it must come by political instrumentality, by +changes in the laws; others have no hope but in a social regeneration, +or reconstruction of society, others still rely only +on moral and religious influences.</p> + +<p>There has arisen in Europe, within the last generation, a +multitude of philosophers who have dreamed that it was +possible so to reorganize or reconstruct society, to adjust the +relations of labor and capital, as to extinguish poverty; so +that there shall be no more poor, no more want. Sickness +there may be, disease, accident, and pain, but the amount of +suffering will be reduced to a minimum; so that at least there +shall be no unnecessary pain, none which it is possible for +human skill or science to relieve. Elaborate works have +been written, in which the machinery is carefully adjusted, +and the wheels so oiled that there is no jar or friction. These +schemes are very beautiful; alas! that they should be mere +creations of the fancy. The apparatus is too complicated and +too delicate, and generally breaks to pieces in the very setting +up. The fault of all these social philosophies is that they +ignore the natural selfishness of man, his pride, avarice, and +ambition. Every man wants the first place in the scale of +eminence. If men were morally right—if they had Christian +humility or self-abnegation, and each were willing to take +the lowest place—then indeed might these things be. But +until then, we fear that all such schemes will be splendid +failures.</p> + +<p>In France, where they have been most carefully elaborated, +and in some instances tried, they have always resulted disastrously, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +sometimes ending in horrible scenes of blood, as in +the Reign of Terror in the first Revolution, and recently in +the massacres of the Commune. No government on earth +can reconstruct society, so as to prevent all poverty and suffering. +Still the State can do much by removing obstacles +out of the way. It need not be itself the agent of oppression, +and of inflicting needless suffering. This has been the +vice of many governments—that they have kept down the +poor by laying on them burdens too heavy to bear, and so +crushing the life out of their exhausted frames. In England +the State can remove disabilities from the working man; it +can take away the exclusive privileges of rank and title, and +place all classes on the same level before the law. Thus it +can clear the field before every man, and give him a chance +to rise, <i>if he has it in him</i>—if he has talent, energy, and perseverance.</p> + +<p>Then the government can in many ways <i>encourage</i> the +poorer classes, and so gradually lift them up. In great +cities the drainage of unhealthy streets, of foul quarters, +may remove the seeds of pestilence. Something in this way +has been done already, and the death rates show a corresponding +diminution of mortality. So by stringent laws in +regard to proper ventilation, forbidding the crowding together +in unhealthy tenements, and promoting the erection of model +lodging-houses, it may encourage that cleanliness and decency +which is the first step towards civilization.</p> + +<p>Then by a system of Common Schools, that shall be universal +and <i>compulsory</i>, and be rigidly enforced, as it is in Germany, +the State may educate in some degree, at least in the +rudiments of knowledge, the children of the nation, and thus +do something towards lifting up, slowly but steadily, that +vast substratum of population which lies at the base of every +European society.</p> + +<p>But the question of moral influence remains. Is it possible +to reach this vast and degraded population with any +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> +Christian influences, or are they in a state of hopeless degradation?</p> + +<p>Here we meet at the first step in England <span class="s08">A CHURCH</span>, +of grand proportions, established for ages, inheriting vast +endowments, wealth, privilege, and titles, with all the means +of exerting the utmost influence on the national mind. For +this what has it to show? It has great cathedrals, with +bishops, and deans, and canons; a whole retinue of beneficed +clergy, men who read or "intone" the prayers; with such +hosts of men and boys to chant the services, as, if mustered +together, would make a small army. The machinery is ample, +but the result, we fear, not at all corresponding.</p> + +<p>But lest I be misunderstood, let me say here that I have +no prejudice against the Church of England. I cannot join +with the English Dissenters in their cry against it, nor with +some of my American brethren, who look upon it as almost +an apostate Church, an obstacle to the progress of Christianity, +rather than a wall set around it to be its bulwark and +defence. With a very different feeling do I regard that +ancient Church, that has so long had its throne in the +British Islands. I am not an Englishman, nor an Episcopalian, +yet no loyal son of the Church of England could look up +to it with more tender reverence than I. I honor it for all that +it has been in the past, for all that it is at this hour. The +oldest of the Protestant Churches of England, it has the +dignity of history to make it venerable. And not only is it +one of the oldest Churches in the world, but one of the +purest, which could not be struck from existence without a +shock to all Christendom. Its faith is the faith of the Reformation, +the faith of the early ages of Christianity. Whatever +"corruptions" may have gathered upon it, like moss +upon the old cathedral walls, yet in the Apostles' Creed, +and other symbols of faith, it has held the primitive belief +with beautiful simplicity, divested of all "philosophy," and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> +held it not only with singular purity, but with steadfastness +from generation to generation.</p> + +<p>What a power is in a creed and a service which thus links +us with the past! As we listen to the Te Deum or the +Litany, we are carried back not only to the Middle Ages, but +to the days of persecution, when "the noble army of martyrs" +was not a name; when the Church worshipped in +crypts and catacombs. Perhaps we of other communions do +not consider enough the influence of a Church which has a +long history, and whose very service seems to unite the living +and the dead—the worship on earth with the worship in +heaven. For my part, I am very sensitive to these influences, +and never do I hear a choir "chanting the liturgies +of remote generations" that it does not bring me nearer to +the first worshippers, and to Him whom they worshipped.</p> + +<p>Nor can I overlook, among the influences of the Church of +England, that even of its architecture, in which its history, as +well as its worship, is enshrined. Its cathedrals are filled +with monuments and tombs, which recall great names and +sacred memories. Is it mere imagination, that when I enter +one of these old piles and sit in some quiet alcove, the place +is filled to my ear with airy tongues, voices of the dead, that +come from the tablets around and from the tombs beneath; +that whisper along the aisles, and rise and float away in the +arches above, bearing the soul to heaven—spirits with which +my own poor heart, as I sit and pray, seems in peaceful and +blessed communion? Is it an idle fancy that soaring above +us there is a multitude of the heavenly host singing now, as +once over the plains of Bethlehem, "Glory to God in the +highest, peace on earth, good will towards men!" Here is +the soul bowed down in the presence of its Maker. It feels +"lowly as a worm." What thoughts of death arise amid so +many memorials of the dead! What sober views of the true +end of a life so swiftly passing away! How many better +thoughts are inspired by the meditations of this holy place! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> +How many prayers, uttered in silence, are wafted to the +Hearer of Prayer! How many offences are forgiven here in +the presence of "The Great Forgiver of the world"! How +many go forth from this ancient portal, resolved, with God's +help, to live better lives! It is idle to deny that the place +itself is favorable to meditation and to prayer. It makes a +solemn stillness in the midst of a great city, as if we were in +the solitude of a mountain or a desert. The pillared arches +are like the arches of a sacred grove. Let those who will cast +away such aids to devotion, and say they can worship God +anywhere—in any place. I am not so insensible to these +surroundings, but find in them much to lift up my heart and +to help my poor prayers.</p> + +<p>With these internal elements of power, and with its age +and history, and the influence of custom and tradition, the +Church of England has held the nation for hundreds of years +to an outward respect for Christianity, even if not always to +a living faith. While Germany has fallen away to Rationalism +and indifference, and France to mocking and scornful +infidelity, in England Christianity is a national institution, +as fast anchored as the island itself. The Church of England +is the strongest bulwark against the infidelity of the continent. +It is associated in the national mind with all that is +sacred and venerable in the past. In its creed and its worship +it presents the Christian religion in a way to command +the respect of the educated classes; it is seated in the Universities, +and is thus associated with science and learning. +As it is the National Church, it has the support of all the +rank of the kingdom, and arrays on its side the strongest +social influences. Thus it sets even fashion on the side of +religion. This may not be the most dignified influence to +control the faith of a country, but it is one that has great +power, and it is certainly better to have it on the side of +religion than against it. We must take the world as it is, +and men as they are. They are led by example, and especially +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +by the examples of the great; of those whose rank +makes them foremost in the public eye, and gives them a +natural influence over their countrymen.</p> + +<p>As for those who think that the Gospel is preached +nowhere in England but in the chapels of Dissenters, and +that there is little "spirituality" except among English Independents +or Scotch Presbyterians, we can but pity their +ignorance. It is not necessary to point to the saintly examples +of men like Jeremy Taylor and Archbishop Leighton; +but in the English homes of to-day are thousands of men and +women who furnish illustrations, as beautiful as any that can +be found on earth, of a religion without cant or affectation, +yet simple and sincere, and showing itself at once in private +devotion, in domestic piety, and in a life full of all goodness +and charity.</p> + +<p>It must be confessed that its ministers are not always +worthy of the Church itself. I am repelled and disgusted at +the arrogance of some who think that it is the <i>only</i> true +Church, and that they alone are the Lord's anointed. If so, +the grace is indeed in earthen vessels, and those of wretched +clay. The affectation and pretension of some of the more +youthful clergy are such as to provoke a smile. But such +paltry creatures are too insignificant to be worth a moment's +serious thought. The same spiritual conceit exists in every +Church. We should not like to be held responsible for all +the narrowness of Presbyterians, whom we are sometimes +obliged to regard, as Cromwell did, as "the Lord's foolish +people." These small English curates and rectors we should +regard no more than the spiders that weave their web in some +dimly-lighted arch, or the traditional "church mice" that +nibble their crumbs in the cathedral tower, or the crickets or +lizards that creep over the old tombs in the neighboring +churchyard.</p> + +<p>But if there is much narrowness in the Church of England, +there is much nobleness also; much true Christian liberality +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> +and hearty sympathy with all good men and good movements, +not only in England but throughout the world. +Dean Stanley (whom I love and honor as the manliest man in +the Church of England) is but the representative and leader +of hundreds who, if they have not his genius, have at least +much of his generous and intrepid spirit, that despises sacerdotal +cant, and claims kindred with the good of all countries +and ages, with the noble spirits, the brave and true, of all +mankind. Such men are sufficient to redeem the great Church +to which they belong from the reproach of narrowness.</p> + +<p>Such is the position of the Church of England, whose history +is a part of that of the realm; and which stands to-day +buttressed by rank, and learning, and social position, and a +thousand associations which have clustered around it in the +course of centuries, to make it sacred and venerable and +dear to the nation's heart. If all this were levelled with +the ground, in vain would all the efforts of Dissenters, however +earnest and eloquent—if they could muster a hundred +Spurgeons—avail to restore the national respect for religion.</p> + +<p>Looking at all these possibilities, I am by no means so certain +as some appear to be, that the overthrow of the Establishment +would be a gain to the cause of Christianity in +England. Some in their zeal for a pure democracy both in +Church and State—for Independency and Voluntaryism in +the former, and Republicanism in the latter—regard every +Establishment as an enemy alike to a pure Gospel and to religious +liberty. The Dissenters, naturally incensed at the inequality +and injustice of their position before the law (and +perhaps with a touch of envy of those more favored than they +are) have their grievance against the Church of England, +simply because it is <i>established</i>, to the exclusion of themselves. +But from all such rivalries and contentions we, as Americans, +are far removed, and can judge impartially. We look +upon the Established Church as one of the historical institutions +of England, which no thoughtful person could wish to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> +see destroyed, any more than to see an overthrow of the monarchy, +until he were quite sure that something better would +come in its place. It is not a little thing that it has gathered +around it such a wealth of associations, and with them such +a power over the nation in which it stands; and it would be +a rash hand that should apply the torch, or fire the mine, that +should bring it down.</p> + +<p>But the influence of the Church of England is mainly in +the higher ranks of society. Below these there are large +social strata—deep, broad, thick, and black as seams of coal +in a mountain—that are not even touched by all these influences. +We like to stray into the old cathedrals at evening, +and hear the choir chanting vespers; or to wander about +them at night, and see the moonlight falling on the ancient +towers. But nations are not saved by moonlight and music. +The moonbeams that rest on the dome of St. Paul's, or +on the bosom of the Thames, as it flows under the arches of +London Bridge, covering it with silver, do not cleanse the +black waters, or restore to life the corpses of the wretched +suicides that go floating downward to the sea. <i>So far as +they are concerned</i>, the Church of England, and indeed we +may say the Christianity of England, is a wretched failure. +Some other and more powerful illustration is needed to turn +the heart of England; something which shall not only cause +the sign of the cross to be held up in St. Paul's and Westminster +Abbey, but which shall carry the Gospel of human +brotherhood to all the villages and hamlets of England; to +the poorest cottage in the Highlands; that shall descend +with the miner into the pit underground; that shall abide +with every laborer in the land, and go forth with the sailor +on the sea.</p> + +<p>How inadequately the Church of England answers to this +need of a popular educator and reformer, may be illustrated +by one or two of her most notable churches and preachers.</p> + +<p>On Sunday last we attended two of the most famous places +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> +of worship in London—the Temple Church and Westminster +Abbey. The former belongs to an ancient guild of lawyers, +attached to what are known as the Middle and the Inner +Temple, a corporation dating back hundreds of years, which +has large grounds running down to the Thames, and great piles +of buildings divided off into courts, and full of lawyers' offices. +Standing among these is a church celebrated for its beauty, +which once belonged to the Knights Templars, some of whose +bronze figures in armor, lying on their tombs, show by their +crossed limbs how they went to Palestine to fight for the +Holy Sepulchre. As it is a church which belongs to a private +corporation, no one can obtain admission to the pews +without an order from "a bencher," which was sent to us as +a personal courtesy. The church has the air of being very +aristocratic and exclusive; and those whose enjoyment of a +religious service depends on "worshipping God in good company," +may feel at ease while sitting in these high-backed +pews, from which the public are excluded.</p> + +<p>The church is noted for its music, which amateurs pronounce +exquisite. As I am not educated in these things, I do +not know the precise beauty and force of all the quips and +quavers of this most artistic performance. The service was +given at full length, in which the Lord's Prayer was repeated +<i>five times</i>. With all the singing and "intoning," and down-sitting +and uprising, and the bowing of necks and bending +of knees, the service occupied an hour and a half before the +rector, Rev. Dr. Vaughan, ascended the pulpit. He is a +brother-in-law of Dean Stanley, and a man much respected +in the Church. His text was, "He took our infirmities, and +bare our sicknesses," from which he preached a sermon appropriate +to the day, which was "Hospital Sunday," a day +observed throughout London by collections in aid of the +hospitals. It was simple and practical, and gave one the +impression of a truly good man, such as there are thousands +in the Church of England. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p> + +<p>But what effect had such a service—or a hundred such—on +the poor population of London? About as much as +the exquisite music itself has on the rise and fall of the tide +in the Thames, which flows by; or as the moonlight has on +vegetation. I know not what mission agencies these old +churches may employ elsewhere to labor among the poor, +but so far as any immediate influence is concerned, outside +of a very small circle, it is infinitesimal.</p> + +<p>In the evening we went to Westminster Abbey to hear the +choral service, which is rendered by a very large choir of +men and boys, with wonderful effect. Simply for the music +one could not have a more exquisite sensation of enjoyment. +How the voices rang amid the arches of the old cathedral. +At this evening service it had been announced that "The +Lord Archbishop of York" was to preach, and we were +curious to see what wisdom and eloquence could come out of +the mouth of a man who held the second place in the Established +Church of England. "His grace" is a large, portly +man, of good presence and sonorous voice. His text was +"Behold, I stand at the door and knock." He began with +an allusion to Holman Hunt's famous picture of Christ standing +at the door, which he described in some detail; the door +itself overgrown with vines, and its hinges rusted, so long +had it been unopened; and then the patient Man of Sorrows, +with bended head and heavy heart, knocking and waiting to +come in. From this he went into a discussion of modern +civilization, considering whether men are really better (though +they may be better <i>off</i>) now than in the days of our fathers; the +conclusion from all which was, that external improvements, +however much they add to the physical comfort and well-being +of man, do not change his character, and that for his +inward peace, the only way is to open the door to let the +blessed Master in. It seemed to me rather a roundabout way +to come at his point; but still as the aim was practical, and the +spirit earnest and devout, one could not but feel that the impression +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> +was good. As to ability, I failed to see in it anything +so marked as should entitle the preacher to the exalted +dignity he holds; but I do not wish to criticize, but only +to consider whether a Church thus organized and appointed +can have the influence over the people of England we might +expect from a great National Establishment. Perhaps it +has, but I fail to see it. It seems to skim, and that very +lightly, over the top, the thin surface of society, and not to +<i>touch</i> the masses beneath.</p> + +<p>The influence of the Establishment is supplemented by the +Dissenting Churches, which are numerous and active, and in +their spheres doing great good. Then, too, there are innumerable +separate agencies, working in ways manifold and +diverse. I have been much interested in the details, as given +me by Mrs. Ranyard, of her Bible women, who have grown, +in the course of twenty years, from half a dozen to over two +hundred, and who, working noiselessly, in quiet, womanly +ways, do much to penetrate the darkest lanes of London, and +to lead their poor sisters into ways of industry, contentment, +and peace.</p> + +<p>But after all is said and done, the great mass of poverty +and wretchedness remains. We lift the cover, and look down +into unfathomable abysses beneath, into a world where all +seems evil—a hell of furious passions and vices and crimes. +Such is the picture which is presented to me as I walk the +streets of London, and which will not down, even when I go +to the Bank of England, and see the treasures piled up there, +or to Hyde Park, and see the dashing equipages, the splendid +horses and their riders, and all the display of the rank and +beauty of England.</p> + +<p>What will the end be? Will things go on from bad to +worse, to end at last in some grand social or political convulsion—some +cataclysm like the French Revolution?</p> + +<p>This is the question which now occupies thousands of minds +in Great Britain. Of course similar questions engage attention +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> +in other countries. In all great cities there is a poor +population, which is the standing trouble and perplexity of +social and political reformers. We have a great deal of poverty +in New York, although it is chiefly imported from +abroad. But in London the evil is immensely greater, because +the city is four times larger; and the crowding together +of four millions of people, brings wealth and poverty into +such close contact that the contrasts are more marked. +Other evils and dangers England has which are peculiar to an +old country; they are the growth of centuries, and cannot be +shaken off, or cast out, without great tearing and rending of the +body politic. All this awakens anxious thought, and sometimes +dark foreboding. Many, no doubt, of the upper classes +are quite content to have their full share of the good things of +this life, and enjoy while they may, saying, "After us the +deluge!" But they are not all given over to selfishness. +Tens of thousands of the best men on this earth, having the +clearest heads and noblest hearts, are in England, and they +are just as thoughtful and anxious to do what is best for the +masses around them, as any men can be. The only question +is, What <i>can</i> be done? And here we confess our philosophy +is wholly at fault. It is easy to judge harshly of others, but +not so easy to stand in their places and do better.</p> + +<p>For my part, I am most anxious that the experiment of +Christian civilization in England should not fail; for on it, +I believe, the welfare of the whole world greatly depends. +But is it strange that good men should be appalled and stand +aghast at what they see here in London, and that they should +sometimes be in despair of modern civilization and modern +Christianity? What can I think, as a foreigner, when a man +like George Macdonald, a true-hearted Scotchman, who has +lived many years in London, tells me that things may come +right (so he hopes) <i>in a thousand years</i>—that is, in some future +too remote for the vision of man to explore. Hearing such +sad confessions, I no longer wonder that so many in England, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> +who are sensitive to all this misery, and yet believers in a +Higher Power, have turned to the doctrine of the Personal +Reign of Christ on earth as the only refuge against despair, +believing that the world will be restored to its allegiance to +God, and men to universal brotherhood, only with the coming +of the Prince of Peace. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER VI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE RESURRECTION OF FRANCE.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Paris</span>, June 30th.</p> + +<p>Coming from London to Paris, one is struck with the contrast—London +is so vast and interminable, <i>and dark</i>,—a +"boundless contiguity of shade,"—while Paris is all brightness +and sunshine. The difference in the appearance of the +two capitals is due partly to the climate, and partly to the +materials of which they are built—London showing miles +on miles of dingy brick, with an atmosphere so charged with +smoke and vapors that it blackens even the whitest marble; +while Paris is built of a light, cream-colored stone, that is +found here in abundance, which is soft and easily worked, but +hardens by exposure to the air, and that preserves its whiteness +under this clearer sky and warmer sun. Then the taste +of the French makes every shop window bright with color; +and there is something in the natural gayety of the people +which is infectious, and which quickly communicates itself to +a stranger. Many a foreigner, on first landing in England, +has walked the streets of London with gloomy thoughts of +suicide, who once in Paris feels as if transported to Paradise. +Perhaps if he had stayed a little longer in England he would +have thought better of the country and people. But it is impossible +for a stranger at first to feel <i>at home</i> in London, any more +than if he were sent adrift all alone in the middle of the Atlantic +Ocean. The English are reserved and cautious in their +social relations, which may be very proper in regard to those +of whom they know nothing. But once well introduced, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> +stranger is taken into their intimacy, and finds no spot on +earth more warm than the interior of an English home. +But in Paris everybody seems to greet him at once without +an introduction; he speaks to a Frenchman on the street (if +it be only to inquire his way), and instead of a gruff answer, +meets with a polite reply. "It amounts to nothing," some +may say. It costs indeed but a moment of time, but even +that, many in England, and I am sorry to say in America +also, are too impatient and too self-absorbed to give. In the +shops everybody is so polite that one spends his money with +pleasure, since he gets not only the matter of his purchase, +but what he values still more, a smile and a pleasant word. +It may be said that these are little things, but in their influence +upon one's temper and spirits they are <i>not</i> trifles, any +more than sunshine is a trifle, or pure air; and in these +minor moralities of life the French are an example to us and +to all the world.</p> + +<p>But it is not only for their easy manners and social virtues +that I am attracted to the French. They have many noble +qualities, such as courage and self-devotion, instances of which +are conspicuous in their national history; and are not less +capable of Christian devotion, innumerable examples of which +may be found in both the Catholic and the Protestant +Churches. Many of our American clergymen, who have travelled +abroad, will agree with me, that more beautiful examples +of piety they have never seen than among the Protestants of +France. I should be ungrateful indeed if I did not love the +French, since to one of that nation I owe the chief happiness +of my earthly existence.</p> + +<p>Of course the great marvel of Paris, and of France, is its +<i>resurrection</i>—the manner in which it has recovered from the +war. In riding about these streets, so full of life and gayety, +and seeing on every side the signs of prosperity, I cannot +realize that it is a city which, since I was here in 1867—nay, +within less time, has endured all the horrors of war; which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> +has been <i>twice</i> besieged, has been encompassed with a mighty +army, and heard the sound of cannon day and night, its people +hiding in cellars from the bombs bursting in the streets. +Yet it is not five years since Louis Napoleon was still Emperor, +reigning undisturbed in the palace of the Tuileries, across +the street from the Hôtel du Louvre, where I now write. +It was on the 15th of July, 1870, that war was declared +against Prussia in the midst of the greatest enthusiasm. The +army was wild with excitement, expecting to march almost +unopposed to Berlin. Sad dream of victory, soon to be rudely +dispelled! A few weeks saw the most astounding series of +defeats, and on the 4th of September the Emperor himself +surrendered at Sedan, at the head of a hundred thousand +men, and the Empire, which he had been constructing with +such infinite labor and care for twenty years, fell to the +ground.</p> + +<p>But even then the trials of France were not ended. She +was to have sorrow upon sorrow. Next came the surrender +of Metz, with another great army, and then the crowning +disaster of the long siege of Paris, lasting over four months, +and ending also in the same inglorious way. Jena was +avenged, when the Prussian cavalry rode through the Arch +of Triumph down the Champs Elysées. It was a bitter +humiliation for France, but she had to drink the cup to the +very dregs, when forced to sign a treaty of peace, ceding two +of her most beautiful provinces, Alsace and Lorraine, and +paying an indemnity of one thousand millions of dollars for +the expenses of the war! Nor was this all. As if the +seven vials of wrath were to be poured out on her devoted +head, scarcely was the foreign war ended, before civil war +began, and for months the Commune held Paris under its +feet. Then the city had to undergo a second siege, and to be +bombarded once more, not by Germans, but by Frenchmen, +until its proud historical monuments were destroyed by its +own people. The Column of the Place Vendôme, erected to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> +commemorate the victories of Napoleon, out of cannon taken +in his great battles, was levelled to the ground; and the +Palace of the Tuileries and the Hôtel de Ville were burnt by +these desperate revolutionists, who at last, to complete the +catalogue of their crimes, butchered the hostages in cold +blood! This was the end of the war, and such the state of +Paris in May, 1871, scarcely four years ago.</p> + +<p>In the eyes of other nations, this was not only disaster, +but absolute ruin. It seemed as if the country could not +recover in one generation, and that for the next thirty years, +so far as any political power or influence was concerned, +France might be considered as blotted from the map of +Europe.</p> + +<p>But four years have passed, and what do we see? The +last foreign soldier has disappeared from the soil of France, +the enormous indemnity is <span class="s08">PAID</span>, and the country is apparently +as rich and prosperous, and Paris as bright and gay, as +ever.</p> + +<p>This seems a miracle, but the age of miracles is past, and +such great results do not come without cause. The French +are a very rich people—not by the accumulation of a few +colossal fortunes, but by the almost infinite number of small +ones. They are at once the most industrious and the most +economical people in the world. They will live on almost +nothing. Even the Chinese hardly keep soul and body together +on less than these French <i>ouvriers</i> whom we see going +about in their blouses, and who form the laboring population +of Paris. So all the petty farmers in the provinces save +something, and have a little against a rainy day; and when +the time comes that the Government wants a loan, out from +old stockings, and from chimney corners, come the hoarded +napoleons, which, flowing together like thousands of little +rivulets, make the mighty stream of national wealth.</p> + +<p>But for a nation to pay its debts, especially when they have +grown to be so great, it is necessary not only to have money, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> +but to know how to use it. And here the interests of France +have been managed with consummate ability. In spite of the +constant drain caused by the heavy payment of the war +indemnity to Germany, the finances of the country have not +been much disturbed, and to-day the bills of the Bank of +France are at par. I feel ashamed for my country when the +cable reports to us from America, that our national currency +is so depreciated that to purchase gold in New York one must +pay a premium of seventeen per cent.! I wish some of our +political financiers would come to Paris for a few months, +to take lessons from the far more successful financiers of +France.</p> + +<p>What delights me especially in this great achievement is +that it has all been done under the Republic! It has not +required a monarchy to maintain public order, and to give +that security which is necessary to restore the full confidence +of the commercial world. It is only by a succession of events +so singular as to seem indeed providential, that France has +been saved from being given over once more into the hands +of the old dynasty. From this it has been preserved by +the rivalship of different parties; so that the Republic has +been saved by the blunders of its enemies. The Lord has +confounded them, and the very devices intended for its +destruction—such as putting Marshal MacMahon in power +for seven years—have had the effect to prevent a restoration. +Thus the Republic has had a longer life, and has established +its title to the confidence of the nation. No doubt if the +Legitimists and the Orleanists and Imperialists could all <i>unite</i>, +they might have a sovereign to-morrow; but each party +prefers a Republic to any sovereign <i>except its own</i>, and is +willing that it should stand for a few years, in the hope that +some turn of events will then give the succession to them. +So, amid all this division of parties, the Republic "still +lives," and gains strength from year to year. The country is +prosperous under it; order is perfectly maintained; and order +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> +<i>with liberty</i>: why should it not remain the permanent +government of France?</p> + +<p>If only the country could be <i>contented</i>, and willing to let +well enough alone, it might enjoy many long years of prosperity. +But unfortunately there is a cloud in the sky. The +last war has left the seeds of another war. Its disastrous +issue was so unexpected and so galling to the most proud and +sensitive people in Europe, that they will never rest satisfied +till its terrible humiliation is redressed. The resentment +might not be so bitter but for the taking of its two provinces. +The defeats in the field of battle might be borne as the fate of +war (for the French have an ingenious way, whenever they +lose a battle, of making out that they were not <i>defeated</i>, but +<i>betrayed</i>); even the payment of the enormous indemnity +they might turn into an occasion of boasting, as they now do, +as a proof of the vast resources of the country; but the loss +of Alsace and Lorraine is a standing monument of their disgrace. +They cannot wipe it off from the map of Europe. +There it is, with the hated German flag flying from the fortress +of Metz and the Cathedral of Strasburg. This is a +humiliation to which they will never submit contentedly, and +herein lies the probability—nay almost the certainty—of +coming war. I have not met a Frenchman of any position, +or any political views, Republican or Monarchical, Bonapartist +or Legitimist, Catholic or Protestant, whose blood did not +boil at the mention of Alsace and Lorraine, and who did not +look forward to a fresh conflict with Germany as inevitable. +When I hear a Protestant pastor say, "I will give all my +sons to fight for Alsace and Lorraine," I cannot but think +the prospects of the Peace Society not very encouraging in +Europe.</p> + +<p>In the exhibition of the Doré gallery, in London, there is +a very striking picture by that great artist (who is himself +an Alsatian, and yet an intense Frenchman), intended to +represent Alsace. It is a figure of a young woman, tall and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> +beautiful, with eyes downcast, yet with pride and dignity in +her sadness, as the French flag, which she holds, droops to +her feet. Beside her is a mother sitting in a chair nursing +a child. The two figures tell the story in an instant. That +mother is nursing her child to avenge the wrongs of his +country. It is sad indeed to see a child thus born to a destiny +of war and blood; to see the shadow of carnage and +destruction hovering over his very cradle. Yet such is the +prospect now, which fills every Christian heart with sadness. +Thus will the next generation pay in blood and tears, for +the follies and the crimes of this. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER VII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE FRENCH NATIONAL ASSEMBLY.</p> + +<p>We have been to Versailles. Of course our first visit was +to the great palace built by Louis XIV., which is over a +quarter of a mile long, and which stands, like some of the +remains of antiquity, as a monument of royal pride and ambition. +It was built, as the kings of Egypt built the Pyramids, +to tell to after ages of the greatness of his kingdom +and the splendor of his reign. A gallant sight it must have +been when this vast pile, with its endless suites of apartments, +was filled with the most brilliant court in Europe; +when statesmen and courtiers and warriors, "fair women +and brave men," crowded the immense saloons, and these +terraces and gardens. It was a display of royal magnificence +such as the world has seldom seen. The cost is estimated at +not less than two hundred millions of dollars—a sum which +considering the greater value of money two centuries ago, was +equal to five times that amount at the present day, or a thousand +millions, as much as the whole indemnity paid to Germany. +It was a costly legacy to his successors—costly in treasure +and costly in blood. The building of Versailles, with the +ruinous and inglorious wars of Louis XIV., drained the resources +of France for a generation, and by the burdens they +imposed on the people, prepared the way for the Revolution. +I could not but recall this with a bitter feeling as I stood in +the gilded chamber where the great king slept, and saw the +very bed on which he died. That was the end of all his +glory, but not the end of the evil that he wrought:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"The evil that men do lives after them;</p> +<p>The good is oft interred with their bones."</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span></p> + +<p>The extravagance of this monarch was paid for by the blood +of his descendants. If he had not lifted his head so high, +the head of Louis XVI. might not have fallen on the scaffold. +It is good for France that she has no longer any use +for such gigantic follies; and that the day is past when a +whole nation can be sacrificed to the vanity and selfishness +of one man. In this case the very magnitude of the structure +defeated its object, for it was so great that no government +since the Revolution has known what to do with it. +It required such an enormous expenditure to keep it up, that +the prudent old King Louis Philippe <i>could not afford to live +in it</i>, and at last turned it into a kind of museum or historical +gallery, filled with pictures of French battles, and dedicated +in pompous phrase, <span class="smcap">To all the Glories of France</span>.</p> + +<p>But it was not to see the palace of Louis XIV. that I had +most interest in revisiting Versailles, but to see the National +Assembly sitting in it, which is at present the ruling power in +France. If Louis XIV. ever revisits the scene of his former +magnificence, he must shake his kingly head at the strange +events which it has witnessed. How he must have shuddered to +see his royal house invaded by a mob, as it was in the time of the +first Revolution; to see the faithful Swiss guards butchered +in his very palace, and the Queen, Marie Antoinette, escaping +with her life; to see the grounds sacred to Majesty trampled by +the "fierce democracie" of France; and then by the iron heel of +the Corsican usurper; and by the feet of the allied armies under +Wellington. His soul may have had peace for a time when, +under Louis Philippe and Louis Napoleon, Versailles was +comparatively silent and deserted. But what would he have +said at seeing, only four winters ago, the Emperor of Germany +and his army encamped here and beleaguering the capital? +Yet perhaps even that would not so have offended his royal +dignity as to see a National Assembly sitting in a part of +this very palace in the name of a French Republic!</p> + +<p>Strange overturning indeed; but if strange, still true. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> +They have a proverb in France that "it is always the improbable +which happens," and so indeed it seems to be in French +history; it is full of surprises, but few greater than that which +now appears. France has drifted into a Republic, when both +statesmen and people meant not so. It was not the first +choice of the nation. Whatever may have been true of the +populace of Paris, the immense majority of the French people +were sincerely attached to monarchy in some form, +whether under a king or an emperor; and yet the country +has neither, so that, as has been wittily said, France has been +"a Republic without Republicans." But for all that the +Republic is <i>here</i>, and here it is likely to remain.</p> + +<p>When the present Assembly first met, a little more than +four years since, it was at Bordeaux—for to that corner of +France was the government driven; and when the treaty was +signed, and it came north, it met at Versailles rather than +at Paris, as a matter of necessity. Paris was in a state of +insurrection. It was in the hands of the Commune, and +could only be taken after a second siege, and many bloody +combats around the walls and in the streets. This, and the +experience so frequent in French history of a government +being overthrown by the mob of Paris invading the legislative +halls, decided the National Assembly to remain at Versailles, +even after the rebellion was subdued; and so there +it is to this day, even though the greater part of the deputies +go out from Paris twelve miles every morning, and return +every night; and in the programme which has been drawn +up for the definite establishment of the Republic, it is made +an article of the Constitution that the National Assembly +shall always meet at Versailles.</p> + +<p>The place of meeting is the former theatre of the palace, +which answers the purpose very well—the space below, in +what was <i>the pit</i>, sufficing for the deputies, while the galleries +are reserved for spectators. We found the approaches +crowded with persons seeking admission, which can only be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> +by ticket. But we had no difficulty. Among the deputies +is the well-known Protestant pastor of Paris, Edouard de +Pressensé, who was chosen to the Assembly in the stormy +scenes of 1871, and who has shown himself as eloquent in the +tribune as in the pulpit. I sent him my card, and he came +out immediately with two tickets in his hand, and directed +one of the attendants to show us into the best seats in the +house, who, thus instructed, conducted us to the diplomatic +box (which, from its position in the centre of the first balcony, +must have been once the royal box), from which we +looked down upon the heads of the National Assembly of +France.</p> + +<p>And what a spectacle it was! The Assembly consists of +over seven hundred men, who may be considered as fair representatives +of what is most eminent in France. Of course, +as in all such bodies, there are many elected from the provinces +on account of some local influence, as landed proprietors, +or as sons of noble families, who count only by their +votes. But with these are many who have "come to the +front" in this great national crisis, by the natural ascendancy +which great ability always gives, and who by their talents have +justly acquired a commanding influence in the country.</p> + +<p>The President of the Assembly is the Duke d'Audiffret +Pasquier, whose elevated seat is at the other end of the hall. +In front of him is "the tribune," from which the speakers +address the Assembly: it not being the custom here, as in +our Congress or in the English Parliament, for a member to +speak from his place in the house. This French custom has +been criticized in England, as betraying this talkative people +into more words, for a Frenchman does not wish to "mount +the tribune" for nothing, and once there the temptation is +very strong to make "a speech." But we did not find that +the speeches were much longer than in the House of Commons, +though they were certainly more violent.</p> + +<p>Looking down upon the Assembly, we see how it is divided +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> +between the two great parties—the Royalists and the Republicans. +Those sitting on the benches to the right of the President +comprise the former of every shade—Legitimists, +Orleanists, and Imperialists, while those on the left are the +Republicans. Besides these two grand divisions of the Right +and the Left there are minor divisions, such as the Right +Centre and the Left Centre, the former wishing a Constitutional +Monarchy, and the latter a Conservative Republic.</p> + +<p>Looking over this sea of heads, one sees some that bear +great names. One indeed, and that the greatest, is not here, +and is the more conspicuous by his absence. M. Thiers, to +whom France owes more than to any other living man, since +he retired from the Presidency, driven thereto by the factious +opposition of some of the deputies, and perhaps now still +more since the death of his life-long friend, De Remusat, has +withdrawn pretty much from public life, and devotes himself +to literary pursuits. But other notable men are here. That +giant with a shaggy mane, walking up the aisle, is Jules Favre—a +man who has been distinguished in Paris for a generation, +both for his eloquence at the bar, and for his inflexible +Republicanism, which was never shaken, even in the corrupting +times of the Empire, and who in the dark days of 1870, +when the Empire fell, was called by acclamation to become a +member of the Provisional Government. He is the man +who, when Bismarck first talked of peace on the terms of a +cession of territory, proudly answered to what he thought +the insulting proposal, "Not a foot of our soil, not a stone +of our fortresses!" but who, some months after, had to sign +with his own hand, but with a bitter heart, a treaty ceding +Alsace and Lorraine, and agreeing to pay an indemnity of +one thousand millions of dollars! Ah well! he made mistakes, +as everybody does, but we can still admire his lion +heart, even though we admit that his oratorical fervor was +greater than his political sagacity. And yonder, on the left, +is another shaggy head, which has appeared in the history of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +France, and may appear again. That is Leon Gambetta! +who, shut up in Paris by the siege, and impatient for activity, +escaped in a balloon, and sailing high over the camps of +the German army, alighted near Amiens, and was made Minister +of War, and began with his fiery eloquence, like another +Peter the Hermit, to arouse the population of the provinces +to a holy crusade for the extermination of the invader. This +desperate energy seemed at first as if it might turn the fortunes +of the war. Thousands of volunteers rushed forward +to fill the ranks of the independent corps known as the <i>Franc-tireurs</i>. +But though he rallied such numbers, he could not +improvise an army; these recruits, though personally brave +enough—for Frenchmen are never wanting in courage—had +not the discipline which inspires confidence and wins victory. +As soon as these raw levies were hurled against the German +veterans, they were dashed to pieces like waves against a +rock. The attempt was so daring and patriotic that it deserved +success; but it was too late. Gambetta's work, however, +is not ended in France. Since the war he has surprised +both his friends and his enemies by taking a very conciliatory +course. He does not flaunt the red flag in the eyes of the +nation. So cautious and prudent is he that some of the extreme +radicals, like Louis Blanc, oppose him earnestly, as +seeking to found a government which is republican only in +name. But he judges more wisely that the only Republic +which France, with its monarchical traditions, will accept, +is a conservative one, which shall not frighten capital by its +wild theories of a division of property, but which, while it +secures liberty, secures order also. In urging this policy, he +has exercised a restraining influence over the more violent +members of his own party, and thus done much toward conciliating +opposition and rendering possible a French Republic.</p> + +<p>On the same side of the house, yet nearer the middle, thus +occupying a position in the Left Centre, is another man, of +whom much is hoped at this time, M. Laboulaye, a scholar +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> +and author, who by his prudence and moderation has won +the confidence of the Assembly and the country. He is one +of the wise and safe men, to whom France looks in this +crisis of her political history.</p> + +<p>But let us suspend our observation of members to listen to +the discussions. As we entered, the Assembly appeared to +be in confusion. The talking in all parts of the house was +incessant, and could not be repressed. The officers shouted +"Silence!" which had the effect to produce quiet <i>for about +one minute</i>, when the buzz of voices rose as loud as ever. +The French are irrepressible. And this general talking was +not the result of indifference: on the contrary, the more the +Assembly became interested, the more tumultuous it grew. +Yet there was no question of importance before it, but simply +one about the tariff on railways! But a Frenchman will +get excited on anything, and in a few minutes the Assembly +became as much agitated as if it were discussing some vital +question of peace or war, of a Monarchy or a Republic. +Speaker after speaker rushed to the tribune, and with loud +voices and excited looks demanded to be heard. The whole +Assembly took part in the debate—those who agreed with +each speaker cheering him on, while those who opposed +answered with loud cries of dissent. No college chapel, +filled with a thousand students, was ever a scene of more +wild uproar. The President tried to control them, but in +vain. In vain he struck his gavel, and rang his bell, and at +length in despair arose and stood with folded arms, waiting +for the storm to subside. But he might as well have +appealed to a hurricane. The storm had to blow itself out. +After awhile the Assembly itself grew impatient of further +debate, and shouted "<i>Aux voix! aux voix!</i>" and the question +was taken; but how anybody could deliberate or vote in +such a roaring tempest, I could not conceive.</p> + +<p>This disposed of, a deputy presented some personal matter +involving the right of a member to his seat, for whom he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> +demanded <i>justice</i>, accusing some committee or other of having +suppressed evidence in his favor. Then the tumult rose +again. His charge provoked instant and bitter replies. +Members left their seats, and crowded around the tribune as +if they would have assailed the obnoxious speaker with +violence. From one quarter came cries, "<i>C'est vrai; C'est +vrai!</i>" (It is true; it is true), while in another quarter a +deputy sprang to his feet and rushed forward with angry +gesture, shouting, "You are not an honest man!" So the +tumult "loud and louder grew." It seemed a perfect Bedlam. +I confess the impression was not pleasant, and I could +not but ask myself, <i>Is this the way in which a great nation is +to be governed, or free institutions are to be constituted?</i> It +was such a contrast to the dignified demeanor of the Parliament +of England, or the Congress of the United States. We +have sometimes exciting scenes in our House of Representatives, +when members forget themselves; but anything like +this I think could not be witnessed in any other great +National Assembly, unless it were in the Spanish Cortes. I +did not wonder that sober and thoughtful men in France +doubt the possibility of popular institutions, when they see a +deliberative body, managing grave affairs of State, so little +capable of self-control.</p> + +<p>And yet we must not make out things worse than they +are, or attach too much importance to these lively demonstrations. +Some who look on philosophically, would say that +this mere talk amounts to nothing; that every question of +real importance is deliberated upon and really decided in +private, in the councils of the different parties, before it is +brought into the arena of public debate; and that this discussion +is merely a safety-valve for the irrepressible Frenchman, +a way of letting off steam, a process which involves no +danger, although accompanied with a frightful hissing and +roaring. This is a kindly as well as a philosophical way of +putting the matter, and perhaps is a just one. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span></p> + +<p>Some, too, will add that there is another special cause for +excitement, viz., that this legislative body is at this moment +<i>in the article of death</i>, and that these scenes are but the +throes and pangs of dissolution. This National Assembly +has been in existence now more than four years, and it is +time for it to die. Indeed it has had no right to live so +long. It was elected for a specific purpose at the close of the +war—to make peace with the Germans, and that duty discharged, +its functions were ended, and it had no legal right to +live another day, or to perform another act of sovereignty. +But necessity knows no law. At that moment France was +without a head. The Emperor was gone, the old Senate was +gone, the Legislative Body was gone, and the country was +actually without a government, and so, as a matter of self-preservation, +the National Assembly held on. It elected M. +Thiers President of the State, and he performed his duties +with such consummate ability that France had never been so +well governed before. Then in an evil hour, finding that he +was an obstacle to the plans of the Legitimists to restore the +Monarchy, they combined to force him to resign, and put +Marshal MacMahon in his place, a man who may be a good +soldier (although he never did anything very great, and +blundered fearfully in the German war, having his whole +army captured at Sedan), but who never pretended to be a +statesman. He was selected as a convenient tool in the +hands of the intriguers. But even in him they find they +have more than they bargained for; for in a moment of confidence +they voted him the executive power for seven years, +and now he will not give up, even to make way for a Legitimate +sovereign, for the Comte de Chambord, or for the son of +his late Emperor, Napoleon III. All this time the Assembly +has been acting without any legal authority; but as power is +sweet, it held on, and is holding on still. But now, as order is +fully restored, all excuse is taken away for surviving longer. +The only thing it has to do is to die gracefully, that is, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> +dissolve, and leave it to the country to elect a new Assembly +which, being fresh from the people, shall more truly represent +the will of the nation. And yet these men are very reluctant +to go, knowing as many of them do, that they will not +return. Hence the great question now is that of <i>dissolution</i>—"to +be or not to be"; and it is not strange that many postpone +as long as they can "the inevitable hour." It is for this +reason, it is said, because of its relation to the question of its +own existence, that the Assembly wrangles over unimportant +matters, hoping by such discussions to cause delay, and so to +throw over the elections till another year.</p> + +<p>But as time and tide wait for no man, so death comes on with +stealthy step, and this National Assembly must soon go the +way of all the earth. What will come after it? Another +Assembly—so it seems now—more Republican still. That is +the fear of the Monarchists. But the cause of the Republic +has gained greatly in these four years, as it is seen to be not +incompatible with order. It is no longer the Red Republic, +which inspired such terror; it is not communism, nor socialism, +nor war against property. <i>It is combined order and +liberty.</i> As this conviction penetrates the mass of the people, +they are converted to the new political faith, and so the +Republic begins to settle itself on sure foundations. It is all +the more likely to be permanent, because it was not adopted +in a burst of popular enthusiasm, but <i>very slowly</i>, and from +necessity. It is accepted because no other government is +possible in France, at least for any length of time. If the +Comte de Chambord were proclaimed king to-morrow, he +might reign for a few years—<i>till the next revolution</i>. It is +this conviction which has brought many conservative men to +the side of the Republic. M. Thiers, the most sagacious of +French statesmen, has always been in favor of monarchy. +He was the Minister of Louis Philippe, and one of his sayings +used to be quoted: "A constitutional monarchy is the +best of republics." Perhaps he would still prefer a government +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> +like that of England. But he sees that to be impossible +in France, and, like a wise man that he is, he takes the next +best thing—which is <span class="smcap">a Conservative Republic</span>, based on a +written constitution, like that of the United States, and girt +round by every check on the exercise of power—a government +in which there is the greatest possible degree of personal +freedom consistent with public order. To this, as the final +result of all her revolutions, France seems to be steadily +gravitating now, as her settled form of government. That +this last experiment of political regeneration may be successful, +must be the hope of all friends of liberty, not only in +America, but all over the world. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER VIII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF PARIS.</p> + +<p>I have written of the startling contrasts of London; what +shall I say of those of Paris? It is the gayest city in the +world, yet the one in which there are more suicides than in any +other. It is the city of pleasure, yet where pleasure often +turns to pain, and the dance of dissipation, whirling faster +and faster, becomes the dance of death. It is a city which +seems devoted to amusement, to which the rich and the idle +flock from all countries to spend life in an endless round of +enjoyment; with which some of our countrymen have become +so infatuated that their real feeling is pretty well expressed +in the familiar saying—half witty and half wicked—that "all +good Americans go to Paris <i>when they die</i>." Certainly many +of them do not dream of any higher Paradise.</p> + +<p>And yet it is a city in which there are many sad and +mournful scenes, and in which he who observes closely, who +looks a little under the surface, will often walk the streets in +profound melancholy. In short, it is a city of such infinite +variety, so many-colored, that the laughing and the weeping +philosopher may find abundant material for his peculiar vein. +Eugene Sue, in his "Mysteries of Paris," has made us familiar +with certain tragic aspects of Parisian life hidden from +the common eye. With all its gayety, there is a great deal +of concealed misery which keeps certain quarters in a chronic +state of discontent, which often breaks out in bloody insurrections; +so that the city which boasts that it is "the centre of +civilization," is at the same time the focus of revolution, of +most of the plots and conspiracies which trouble the peace of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> +Europe. As the capital of a great nation, the centre of its +intellectual, its literary, and its artistic life, it has a peculiar +fascination for those who delight in the most elevated social +intercourse. Its salons are the most brilliant in the world, +so that we can understand the feeling of Madame de Staël, +the woman of society, who considered her banishment from +Paris by the first Napoleon as the greatest punishment, and +who "would rather see the stones of the Rue du Bac than +all the mountains of Switzerland"; and yet this very brilliancy +sometimes wearies to satiety, so that we can understand +equally the feeling of poor, morbid Jean Jacques Rousseau, +who more than a hundred years ago turned his back upon it +with disgust, saying, "Farewell, Paris! city of noise, and +dust, and strife! He who values peace of mind can never be +far enough from thee!"</p> + +<p>If we are quite just, we shall not go to either of these +extremes. We shall see the good and the evil, and frankly +acknowledge both. Paris is generally supposed to be a sinner +above all other cities; to have a kind of bad eminence +for its immorality. It is thought to be a centre of vice and +demoralization, and some innocent young preachers who have +never crossed the sea, would no doubt feel justified in denouncing +it as the wickedest city in the world. As to the +extent to which immorality of any kind prevails, I have no +means of judging, except such as every stranger has; but certainly +as to intemperance, there is nothing here to compare +with that in London, or Glasgow, or Edinburgh; and as to +the other form of vice we can only judge by its public display, +and there is nothing half so gross, which so outrages all +decency, as that which shocks and disgusts every foreigner in +the streets of London. No doubt here, as in every great +capital which draws to itself the life of a whole nation, there +is a concentration of the bad as well as the good elements of +society, and we must expect to find much that is depraved +and vicious; but that in these respects Paris is worse than +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> +London, or Berlin, or Vienna, or even New York, I see no +reason to believe.</p> + +<p>Without taking, therefore, a lofty attitude of denunciation +on the one hand, or going into sudden raptures on the +other, there are certain aspects of Paris which lie on the surface, +and which any one may observe without claiming to be +either wiser or better than his neighbors.</p> + +<p>I have tried to see the city both in its brighter lights and +its darker shadows. I have lived in Paris, first and last, a +good deal. I was here six months in 1847-8, and saw +the Revolution which overthrew Louis Philippe, and have +been here often since. I confess I am fond of it, and always +return with pleasure. That which strikes the stranger at +once is its bright, sunny aspect; there is something inspiring +in the very look of the people; one feels a change in the +very air. Since we came here now, we have been riding +about from morning to night. Our favorite drive is along +the Boulevards just at evening, when the lamps are lighted, +and all Paris seems to be sitting out of doors. The work of +the day is over, and the people have nothing to do but to +enjoy themselves. By hundreds and thousands they are sitting +on the wide pavements, sipping their coffee, and talking +with indescribable animation. Then we extend our ride to +the Champs Elysées, where the broad avenue is one blaze of +light, and places of amusement are open on every side, from +which comes the sound of music. It is all a fairy scene, such +as one reads of in the Arabian Nights. Thousands are sitting +under the trees, enjoying the cool evening air, or coming +in from a ride to the Bois de Boulogne.</p> + +<p>But it may be thought that these are the pleasures of the +rich. On the contrary, they are the pleasures of all classes; +and that is the charming thing about it. That which pleases +me most in Paris is the <i>general</i> cheerfulness. I do not observe +such wide extremes of condition as in London, such +painful contrasts between the rich and the poor. Indeed, I do +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +not find here such abject poverty, nor see such dark, sullen, +scowling faces, which indicate such brutal degradation, as I +saw in the low quarters of London. Here everybody seems +to be, at least in a small way, comfortable and contented. +I have spoken once before of the industry of the people +(no city in the world is such a hive of busy bees) and of +their economy, which shows itself even in their pleasures, +of which they are fond, but which they get <i>very cheap</i>. No +people will get so much out of so little. What an English +workman would spend in a single drunken debauch, a Frenchman +will spread over a week, and get a little enjoyment out +of it every day. It delights me to see how they take their +pleasures. Everybody seems to be happy in his own way, +and not to be envious of his neighbor. If a man cannot ride +with two horses, he will go with one, and even if that one be +a sorry hack, with ribs sticking out of his sides, and that +seems just ready for the crows, no matter, he will pile his +wife and children into the little, low carriage, and off they +go, not at great speed, to be sure, but as gay and merry as if +they were the Emperor and his court, with outriders going +before, and a body of cavalry clattering at their heels. +When I have seen a whole family at Versailles or St. Cloud +dining on five francs (oh no, that is too magnificent; they +carry their dinner with them, and it probably does not cost +them two francs), I admire the simple tastes which are so +easily satisfied, and the miracle-working art which extracts +honey from every daisy by the roadside.</p> + +<p>Such simple and universal enjoyment would not be possible, +but for one trait which is peculiar to the French—an +entire absence of <i>mauvaise honte</i>, or false shame; the foolish +pride, which is so common in England and America, of wishing +to be thought as rich or as great as others. In London +no one would dare, even if he were allowed, to show himself +in Hyde Park in such unpretentious turnouts as those in +which half Paris will go to the Bois de Boulogne. But here +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +everybody jogs along at his own gait, not troubling himself +about his neighbor. "Live and let live" seems to be, if not +the law of the country, at least the universal habit of the +people. Whatever other faults the French have, I believe +they are freer than most nations from "envy, malice, and +all uncharitableness."</p> + +<p>With this there is a feeling of self-respect, even among the +common people, that is very pleasing. If you speak to a French +servant, or to a workman in a blouse, he does not sink into +the earth as if he were an inferior being, or take a tone of +servility, but answers politely, yet self-respectingly, as one +conscious that he too is a man. The most painful thing that +I found in England was the way in which the distinctions of +rank, which seem to be as rigid as the castes of India, have +eaten into the manhood and self-respect of our great Anglo-Saxon +race. But here "a man's a man," and especially if +he is a Frenchman, he is as good as anybody.</p> + +<p>From this absence of false pride and false shame comes +the readiness of the people to talk about their private affairs. +How quickly they take you into their confidence, and tell +you all their little personal histories! The other day we went +to the Salpêtrière, the great hospital for aged women, which +Mrs. Field describes in her "Home Sketches in France," +where are five thousand poor creatures cared for by the charity +of Paris. Hundreds of these were seated under the trees, or +walking about the grounds. As I went to find one of the +officials, I left C—— standing under an arch. Seeing her +there, one of the old women, with that politeness which is +instinctive with the French, invited her into her little room. +When I came back, I found they had struck up a friendship. +The good mother—poor, dear, old soul!—had told all her +little story: who she was, and how she came there, and how +she lived. She made her own soup, she said, and had put up +some pretty muslin curtains, and had a tiny bit of a stove, +and so got along very nicely. This communicativeness is not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> +confined to the inmates of hospitals. It is a national trait, +which makes us love a people that give us their confidence +so freely.</p> + +<p>I might add many other amiable traits, which give a great +charm to the social life of the French, and fill their homes +with brightness and sunshine.</p> + +<p>But of course there is another side to the picture. There +is lightning in the beautiful cloud, and sometimes the thunder +breaks fearfully over this devoted city. I do not refer to +great public calamities, such as war and siege, bringing +"battle, and murder, and sudden death," but to those daily +tragedies, which are enacted in a great city, which the world +never hears of, where men and women drop out of existence, +as one</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Sinks into the waves with bubbling groan,"</p> +</div> + +<p>and disappear from view, and the ocean rolls over them, +burying the story of their unhappy lives and their wretched +end. Something of this darker shading to bright and gay +Paris, one may discover who is curious in such matters. +There is a kind of fascination which sometimes lures me to +search out that which is sombre and tragic in human life and +in history. So I have been to the Prison de la Roquette, +over which is an inscription which might be written over the +gates of hell: <span class="smcap">Depôt des Condamnés</span>. Here the condemned +are placed before they are led to death, and in the open space +in front take place all the executions in Paris. Look you at +those five stones deep set in the pavement, on which are +planted the posts of the Guillotine! Over that in the centre +hangs the fatal knife, which descends on the neck of the +victim, whose head rolls into the basket below.</p> + +<p>But prisons are not peculiar to Paris, and probably quite +as many executions have been witnessed in front of Newgate, +in London. But that which gives a peculiar and sadder +interest to this spot, is that here took place one of the most +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> +terrible tragedies even in French history—the massacre of +the hostages in the days of the Commune. In that prison +yard the venerable Archbishop of Paris was shot, with others +who bore honored names. No greater atrocity was enacted +even in the Reign of Terror. There fiends in human shape, +with hearts as hard as the stones of the street, butchered old +age. In another quarter of Paris, on the heights of Montmartre, +the enraged populace shot down two brave generals—Lecompte +and Clement-Thomas. I put my hand into the +very holes made in the wall of a house by the murderous +balls. Such cowardly assassinations, occurring more than +once in French history, reveal a trait of character not quite +so amiable as some that I have noticed. They show that the +polite and polished Frenchman may be so aroused as to be +turned into a wild beast, and give a color of reason to the +savage remark of Voltaire—himself one of the race—that "a +Frenchman was half monkey and half tiger."</p> + +<p>I will present but one other dark picture. I went one +day, to the horror of my companion, to visit <span class="smcap">the Morgue</span>, the +receptacle of all the suicides in Paris, where their bodies are +exposed that they may be recognized by friends. Of course +some are brought here who die suddenly in the streets, and +whose names are unknown. But the number of suicides is +fearfully great. Bodies are constantly fished out of the +Seine, of those who throw themselves from the numerous +bridges. Others climb to the top of the Column in the +Place Vendôme, or of that on the Place of the Bastille, or to +the towers of Nôtre Dame, and throw themselves over the +parapet, and their mangled bodies are picked up on the +pavement below. Others find the fumes of charcoal an easier +way to fall into "an eternal sleep." But thus, by one means +or other, by pistol or by poison, by the tower or the river, +almost every day has its victim. I think the exact statistics +show more than one suicide a day throughout the year. +When I was at the Morgue there were two bodies stretched +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> +out stark and cold—a man and a woman, <i>both young</i>. I +looked at them with very sad reflections. If those poor lips +could but speak, what tragedies they might tell! Who +knows what hard battle of life they had to fight—what +struggles wrung that manly breast, or what sorrow broke +that woman's heart? Who was she?</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Had she a father? had she a mother?</p> +<p>Had she a sister? had she a brother?</p> +<p>Or one dearer still than all other?"</p> +</div> + +<p>Perhaps she had led a life of shame, but all trace of passion +was gone now:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Death had left on her</p> +<p>Only the beautiful."</p> +</div> + +<p>And as I marked the rich tresses which hung down over her +shoulders, I thought Jesus would not have disdained her if +she had come to him as a penitent Magdalen, and with that +flowing hair had wiped His sacred feet.</p> + +<p>I do not draw these sad pictures to point a moral against +the French, as if they were sinners above all others, but I +think this great number of suicides may be ascribed, in part +at least, to the mercurial and excitable character of the +people. They are easily elated and easily depressed; now +rising to the height of joyous excitement, and now sinking to +the depths of despair. And when these darker moods come +on, what so natural as that those who have not a strong +religious feeling to restrain them, or to give them patience to +bear their trials, should seek a quick relief in that calm rest +which no rude waking shall ever disturb? If they had that +faith in God, and a life to come, which is the only true consolation +in all time of our trouble, in all time of our adversity, +they would not so often rush to the grave, thinking to +bury their sorrows in the silence of the tomb. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus musing on the lights and shadows of Paris, I turn +away half in admiration and half in pity, but all in love. +With all its shadows, it is a wonderful city, by far the greatest, +except London, in the modern world, and the French are +a wonderful people; and while I am not blind to their weaknesses, +their vanity, their childish passion for military glory, +yet "with all their faults I love them still." And I have +written thus, not only from a feeling of love for Paris from +personal associations, but from a sense of <i>justice</i>, believing +that the harsh judgment often pronounced upon it is hasty +and mistaken. All such sweeping declarations are sure to +be wrong. No doubt the elements of good and evil are +mingled here in large proportions, and act with great intensity, +and sometimes with terrific results. But Frenchmen +are not worse than other men, nor Paris worse than other +cities. If it has some dark spots, it has many bright ones, +in its ancient seats of learning and its noble institutions of +charity. Taking them all together, they form a basis for a +very kindly judgment. And I believe that He who from His +throne in Heaven looks down upon all the dwellers upon +earth, seeing that in the judgment of truth and of history +this city is not utterly condemned, would say "Neither do I +condemn thee: go and sin no more." +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER IX.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">GOING ON A PILGRIMAGE.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Geneva</span>, July 12th.</p> + +<p>We have been on a pilgrimage. In coming to France, I +had a great desire to visit one of those shrines which have +become of late objects of such enthusiastic devotion, and attracted +pilgrims from all parts of Europe, and even from +America. In a former chapter I spoke of the Resurrection of +France, referring to its material prosperity as restored since +the war. There has been also a revival of religious fervor—call +it superstition or fanaticism—which is quite remarkable. +Those who have kept watch of events in the religious +as well as in the political world, have observed a sudden access +of zeal throughout Catholic Christendom. Whatever +the cause, whether the "persecution," real or imaginary, of +the Holy Father, or the heavy blows which the Church has +received from the iron hand of Germany in its wars with +Austria and France—the fact is evident that there has been +a great increase of activity among the more devout Catholics—which +shows itself in a spirit of propagandism, in "missions," +which are a kind of revivals, and in pilgrimages to +places which are regarded as having a peculiar sanctity.</p> + +<p>These pilgrimages are so utterly foreign to our American +ideas, they appear so childish and ridiculous, that it seems +impossible to speak of them with gravity. And yet there +has been at least one of these pious expeditions from the +United States (of which there was a long account in the New +York papers), in which the pilgrims walked in procession +down Broadway, and embarked with the blessing of our new +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> +American Cardinal. From England they have been quite +frequent. Large numbers, among whom we recognize the +names of several well known Catholic noblemen, assemble +in London, and receive the blessing of Cardinal Manning, +and then leave to make devout pilgrimages to the "holy +places" (which are no longer only in Palestine, but for +greater convenience have been brought nearer, and are now +to be found in France), generally ending with a pilgrimage +to Rome, to cast themselves at the feet of the Holy Father, +who gives them his blessing, while he bewails the condition +of Europe, and anathematizes those who "oppress" the +Church—thus blessing and cursing at the same time.</p> + +<p>If my object in writing were to cast ridicule on the whole +affair, there is something very tempting in the easy and +luxurious way in which these modern pilgrimages are performed. +Of old, when a pilgrim set out for the Holy Land, +it was with nothing but a staff in his hand, and sandals on +his feet, and thus he travelled hundreds of leagues, over +mountain and moor, through strange countries, begging his +way from door to door, reaching his object at last perhaps +only to die. Even the pilgrimage to Mecca has something +imposing to the imagination, as a long procession of camels +files out of the streets of Cairo, and takes the way of the +desert. But these more fashionable pilgrims travel by steam, +in first-class railway carriages, with Cook's excursion tickets, +and are duly lodged and cared for, from the moment they set +out till they are safely returned to England. One of Cook's +agents in Paris told me he had thus conveyed a party of two +thousand. It must be confessed, this is devotion made easy, +in accordance with the spirit of the modern time, which is +not exactly a spirit of self-sacrifice, but "likes all things +comfortable"—even religion.</p> + +<p>But my object was not to ridicule, but to observe. If I did +not go as a pilgrim, on the one hand, neither was it merely +as a travelling correspondent, aiming only at a sensational +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> +description. If I did not go in a spirit of faith, it was at +least in a spirit of candor, to observe and report things +exactly as I saw them.</p> + +<p>But how was I to reach one of these holy shrines? They +are a long way off. The grotto of Lourdes, where the Holy +Virgin is said to have appeared to a girl of the country, is in +the Pyrenees; while Paray-le-Monial is nearly three hundred +miles southeast from Paris. However, it is not very far +aside from the route to Switzerland, and so we took it on +our way to Geneva, resting over a day at Macon for the purpose.</p> + +<p>It was a bright summer morning when we started from +Macon, and wound our way among the vine-clad hills of the +ancient province of Burgundy. It is a picturesque country. +Old chateaux hang upon the sides, or crown the summits of +the hills, while quaint little villages nestle at their foot. In +yonder village was born the poet and statesman, Lamartine. +We can see in passing the chateau where he lived, and here, +"after life's fitful fever, he sleeps well." All these sunny +slopes are covered with vineyards, which are now smiling in +their summer dress. I do not wonder that pilgrims, as they +enter this "hill-country," are often reminded of Palestine. +Three hours brought us to Paray-le-Monial, a little town of +three or four thousand inhabitants—just like hundreds of +others in France, with nothing to attract attention, except +the marvellous tradition which has given it a sudden and +universal celebrity, and which causes devout Catholics to +approach it with a feeling of reverence.</p> + +<p>The story of the place is this: In the little town is a convent, +which has been standing for generations. Here, <i>two +hundred years ago</i>, lived a nun, whose name was Marguerite +Marie Alacoque, who was eminent for her piety, who spent a +great part of her life in prayer, and whose devotion was at +length rewarded by the personal appearance of our Lord, +who opened to her his bosom, and showed her his heart burning +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> +with love for men, and bade her devote herself to the +worship of that "sacred heart"! These visitations were +very frequent. Some of them were in the chapel, and some +in the garden attached to the convent. The latter is not +open to visitors, the Pope having issued an order that the +privacy of the <i>religieuses</i> should be respected. But a church +near by overlooks it, and whoever will take the fatigue to +climb to the top, may look down into the forbidden place. +As we were determined to see everything, we mounted all +the winding stone steps in the tower, from which the keeper +pointed out to us the very spot where our Saviour appeared to +the Bienheureuse, as he called her. In a clump of small trees +are two statues, one of the Lord himself, and the other of +the nun on her knees, as she instantly sank to the ground +when she recognized before her the Majesty of her blessed +Lord. There is another place in the garden where also she +beheld the same heavenly vision. Sometimes the "Seigneur" +appeared to her unattended; at others he was accompanied +by angels and seraphim.</p> + +<p>It is a little remarkable that this wonderful fact of the +personal appearance of Christ, though it occurred, according +to the tradition, <i>two hundred years ago</i>, did not attract more +attention; that it was neglected even by Catholic historians, +until twelve years since—in 1863—when (as a part of a +general movement "all along the line" to revive the decaying +faith of France) the marvellous story of this long +neglected saint was revived, and brought to the notice and +adoration of the religious world.</p> + +<p>But let not cold criticism come in to mar the full enjoyment +of what we have come so far to see. The principal +visitations were not in the garden but in the chapel of the +convent, which on that account bears the name of the Chapel +of the Visitation. Here is the tomb which contains the body +of the sainted nun, an image of whom in wax lies above it +under a glass case, dressed in the robe of her order, with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> +crown on her head, to bring before the imagination of the +faithful the presence of her at whose shrine they worship. +The chapel is separated from the convent by a large grating, +behind which the nuns can be hidden and yet hear the service, +and chant their offices. There it was, so it is said, +behind that grate, while in an ecstasy of prayer, that our +Saviour first appeared to the gaze of the enraptured nun. +The grate is now literally covered with golden hearts, the +offerings of the faithful. Similar gifts hang over the altar, +while gilded banners and other votive offerings cover the +walls.</p> + +<p>As we entered the chapel, it was evident that we were in +what was to many a holy place. At the moment there was no +service going on, but some were engaged in silent meditation +and prayer. We seemed to be the only persons present from +curiosity. All around us were absorbed in devotion. We +sat a long time in silence, musing on the strange scene, +unwilling to disturb even by a whisper the stillness of the +place, or the thoughts of those who had come to worship. +At three o'clock the nuns began to sing their offices. But +they did not show themselves. There are other Sisters, who +have the care of the chapel, and who come in to trim the +candles before the shrine, but the nuns proper live a life +of entire seclusion, never being seen by any one. Only their +voices are heard. Nothing could be more plaintive than their +low chanting, as it issued from behind the bars of their +prison house, and seemed to come from a distance. There, +hidden from the eyes of all, sat that invisible choir, and sang +strains as soft as those which floated over the shepherds of +Bethlehem. As an accompaniment to the scene in the +chapel, nothing could be more effective; it was well fitted to +touch the imagination, as also when the priest intoned the +service in the dim light of this little church, with its censers +swinging with incense, and its ever-burning lamps.</p> + +<p>The walls of the chapel are covered with banners, some +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> +from other countries, but most from France, and here it is +easy to see how the patriotic feeling mingles with the religious. +Here and there may be seen the image of the sacred +heart with a purely religious inscription, such as <i>Voici le +cœur qui a tant aimé les hommes</i> (here is the heart which has +so loved men); but much more often it is, <span class="smcap">Cœur de Jesus, +Sauvez la France</span>! This idea in some form constantly +reappears, and one cannot help thinking that this sudden outburst +of religious zeal has been greatly intensified by the +disasters of the German war; that for the first time French +armies beaten in the field, have resorted to prayer; that they +fly to the Holy Virgin, and to the Sacred Heart of Jesus to +implore the protection which their own arms could not give. +Hung in conspicuous places on columns beside the chancel are +banners of Alsace and Lorraine, <i>covered with crape</i>, the +former with a cross in the centre, encircled with the words +first written in the sky before the adoring eyes of Constantine: +<span class="smcap">In hoc signo vinces</span>; while for Lorraine stands only +the single name of <span class="smcap">Metz</span>, invested with such sad associations, +with the inscription, <span class="smcap">Sacré cœur de Jesus, Sauvez la +France</span>!</p> + +<p>There is no doubt that these pilgrimages have been +encouraged by French politicians, as a means of reviving and +inflaming the enthusiasm of the people, not only for the old +Catholic faith, but for the old Catholic monarchy. Of the +tens of thousands who flock to these shrines, there are few +who are not strong Legitimists. On the walls of the chapel +the most glittering banner is that of <span class="smcap">Henri de Bourbon</span>, +which is the name by which the Comte de Chambord chooses +to be known as the representative of the old royal race. Not +to be outdone in pious zeal, Marshal MacMahon, who is a +devout Catholic—and his wife still more so—has also sent a +banner to Paray-le-Monial, but it is not displayed with the +same ostentation. The Legitimists have no wish to keep his +name too much before the French people. He is well +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> +enough as a temporary head of the State till the rightful +sovereign comes, but when Henri de Bourbon appears, they +want no "Marshal-President" to stand in his way as he +ascends the throne of his ancestors.</p> + +<p>Thus excited by a strange mixture of religious zeal and +political enthusiasm, France pours its multitudes annually to +these shrines of Lourdes and Paray-le-Monial. We were too +late for the rush this year—the season was just over; for +there is a season for going on pilgrimages as for going to +watering-places, and June is the month in which they come +in the greatest numbers. There have been as many as twenty +thousand in one day. On the 16th of June—which was a +special occasion—the crowd was so great that Mass was begun +at two o'clock in the morning, and repeated without ceasing +till noon, the worshippers retiring at the end of every half +hour, that a new throng might take their places. Thus +successive pilgrims press forward to the holy shrine, and go +away with an elated, almost ecstatic feeling, that they have +left their sins and their sorrows at the tomb of the now sainted +and glorified nun.</p> + +<p>What shall we say to this? That it is all nonsense—folly, +born of fanaticism and superstition? Medical men will +have an easy way of disposing of this nun and her visions, by +saying that she was simply a crazy woman; that nothing is +more common than these fancies of a distempered imagination; +that such cases may be found in every lunatic asylum; +that hysterical women often think that they have seen the +Saviour, &c. Such is a very natural explanation of this +singular phenomenon. There is no reason to suppose that +this nun was a designing woman, that she intended to +deceive. People who have visions are the sincerest of +human beings. They have unbounded faith in themselves, +and think it strange that an unbelieving world does not give +the same credit to their revelations.</p> + +<p>From all that I have read of this Marie Alacoque, I am +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> +quite ready to believe that she was indeed a very devout +woman, who, buried in that living tomb, a convent, praying +and fasting, worked herself into such a fever of excitement, +that she thought the Saviour came down into the garden, and +into the chapel; that she saw his form and heard his voice. +To her it was all a living reality. But that her simple statement, +supported by no other evidence, should be gravely accepted +in this nineteenth century by men who are supposed +to be still in the possession of sober reason, is one of the +strange things which it would be impossible to believe, were +it not that I have seen it with my own eyes, and which is +one more proof that wonders will never cease.</p> + +<p>But sincerity of faith always commands a certain respect, +even when coupled with ignorance and superstition. If this +shows an extreme of credulity absolutely pitiful, yet we must +consider it not as <i>we</i> look at it, but as these devout pilgrims +regard it. To them this spot is one of the holy places of the +world, for here they believe the Incarnate Divinity descended +to the earth; they believe that this garden has been touched +by His blessed feet; and that this little chapel, so honored +in the past, is still filled with the presence of Him who once +was here, but is now ascended up far above all heavens. +And hence this Paray-le-Monial in their minds is invested +with the same sacred associations with which we regard +Nazareth and Bethlehem.</p> + +<p>But with every disposition to look upon these manifestations +in the most indulgent light, it is impossible not to feel +that there is something very French in this way of attempting +to revive the faith of a great nation. Among this people +everything seems to have a touch of the theatrical—even +in their religion there is frequency more of show than of +conviction. Thus this new worship is not addressed to the +name of our Saviour, but to His "sacred heart"! There is +something in that image which seems to take captive the +French imagination. The very words have a rich and mellow +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> +sound. And so the attempt which was begun in an +obscure village of Burgundy, is now proclaimed in Paris and +throughout the kingdom, to dedicate France to the sacred +heart of Jesus.</p> + +<p>This peculiar form of worship is the new religious fashion. +A few weeks since an imposing service attracted the attention +of Paris. A procession of bishops and priests, followed +by great numbers of the faithful, wound through the streets, +up to the heights of Montmartre, there to lay, with solemn +ceremonies, the corner-stone of a new church dedicated to the +sacred heart. We drove to the spot, which is the highest in +the whole circle of Paris, and which overlooks it almost as +Edinburgh Castle overlooks that city. There one looks down +on the habitations of two millions of people. A church +erected on that height, with its golden cross lifted into mid-heaven, +would seem like a banner in the sky, to hold up before +this unbelieving people an everlasting sign of the faith.</p> + +<p>But though the Romish Church should consecrate ever so +many shrines; though it build churches and cathedrals, and +rear its flaming crosses on every hill and mountain from the +Alps to the Pyrenees; it is not thus that religion is to be enthroned +in the hearts of a nation. The fact is not to be disguised +that France has fallen away from the faith. It looks +on at all these attempts with indifference, or with an amused +curiosity. If popular writers notice them at all, it is to make +them an object of ridicule. At one of the Paris theatres an +actor appears dressed as a Brahmin, and offers to swear "by +the sacred heart of <i>a cow</i>" (that being a sacred animal in +India). The hit is caught at once by the audience, who +answer it with applause. It is thus that the populace of +Paris sneer at the new superstition.</p> + +<p>Would to God that France might be speedily recovered to +a true Christian faith; but it is not to be by any such fantastic +tricks or theatrical devices, by shows or processions, by +gilded crosses or waving banners, or by going on pilgrimages +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> +as in the days of the Crusades. Even the Catholic Church +has more efficient instruments at command. The Sisters of +Charity in hospitals are far more effective missionaries than +nuns behind the bars of a convent, singing hymns to the Virgin, +or lamps burning before the shrine of a saint dead hundreds +of years ago. If France is ever to be brought back to +the faith, it must be by arguments addressed to the understanding, +which shall meet the objections of modern science +and philosophy; and, above all, by living examples of its +power. If Religion is to conquer the modern world; if it +is even to keep its present hold among the nations, it must +be brought into contact with the minds and hearts of the +people as never before; it must grapple with the problems of +modern society, with poverty and misery in all its forms. +Especially in the great capitals of Europe it has its hardest +field, and there it must go into all the narrow lanes and +miserable dwellings, it must minister to the sick, and clothe +the naked and feed the hungry. France will never be converted +merely by dramatic exhibitions, that touch the imagination. +It must be by something that can touch the conscience +and the heart. Thus only can the heart of France +ever be won to "the sacred heart of Jesus." +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER X.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">UNDER THE SHADOW OF MONT BLANC.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">The Vale of Chamouni</span>, July 15th.</p> + +<p>I did not mean to write anything about Switzerland, because +it is such trodden ground. Almost everybody that has +been in Europe has been here, and even to those who have +not, repeated descriptions have made it familiar. And yet +when once among these mountains, the impression comes +back fresh and strong as ever, and while the spell is on the +traveller, he cannot but wish to impart a little of his enjoyment +to friends at home.</p> + +<p>We are in the Vale of Chamouni, under the shadow of Mont +Blanc. In this valley, shut in by the encircling mountains, +one cannot escape from that "awful form" any more than +from the presence of God. It is everywhere day and night. +We throw open our windows, and it is standing right before +us. Even at night the moonlight is glistening on its eternal +snows. Thus it forces itself upon us, and must receive respectful +homage.</p> + +<p>We left Geneva on one of the most beautiful mornings of +the year. There has been great lamentation throughout +Switzerland this summer, on account of the frequent rains, +which have enveloped the mountains in a continual mist. +But we have been favored in this respect, both at Geneva and +at Chamouni. To set out on a mountain excursion on such +a morning, and ride on the top of a diligence, is enough to +stir the blood of the most languid tourist. A French diligence +is a monstrous affair—a kind of Noah's Ark on wheels—that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> +carries a multitude of living creatures. We had +twenty-four persons (three times as many as Noah had in the +Ark) mounted on this huge vehicle, to which were harnessed +six horses, three abreast. We had the front seat on the top. +In such grandeur we rolled out of Geneva, feeling at every +step the exhilaration of the mountain air, and the bright +summer morning. The postilion was in his glory. How he +cracked his whip as we rattled through the little Swiss villages, +making the people run to get out of his way, and stare +in wonder at the tremendous momentum of his imperial +equipage. To us, who sat sublime "above the noise and +dust of this dim spot called earth," there was something at +once exciting and ludicrous in the commotion we made. But +there were other occasions for satisfaction. The day was +divine. The country around Geneva rises from the lake, and +spreads out in wide, rolling distances, bordered on every side +by the great mountains. The air was full of the smell of new-mown +hay, while over all hung the bending sky, full of sunshine. +Thus with every sense keen with delight, we sat on +high and took in the full glory of the scene, as we swept on +towards the Alps.</p> + +<p>As we advance the mountains close in around us, till we +cannot see where we are to find a passage through them. +For the last half of the way the construction of the road has +been a difficult task of engineering; for miles it has to be +built up against the mountain; at other places a passage is +cut in the side of the cliff, or a tunnel made through the rock. +Yet difficult as it was, the work has been thoroughly done. +It was completed by Napoleon III., after Savoy was annexed +to France, and is worthy to compare with the road which the +first Napoleon built over the Simplon. Over such a highway +we rolled on steadily to the end of our journey.</p> + +<p>And now we are in the Vale of Chamouni, in the very +heart of the Alps, under the shadow of the greatest of them +all: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains</p> +<p class="i1">They crowned him long ago</p> +<p>On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,</p> +<p class="i1">With a diadem of snow."</p> +</div> + +<p>Once in the valley, we can hardly turn aside our eyes from +that overpowering object. We keep looking up at that +mighty dome, which seems to touch the sky. Fortunately +for us, there was no cloud about the throne. Like other +monarchs, he is somewhat fitful and capricious, often hiding +his royal head from the sight of his worshippers. Many persons +come to Chamouni, and do not see Mont Blanc at all. +Sometimes they wait for days for an audience of his majesty, +without success. But he favored us at once with the sight of +his imperial countenance. Glorious was it to behold him as +he shone in the last rays of the setting sun. And when evening +drew on, the moon hung above that lofty summit, as if +unwilling to leave. As she declined towards the west, she did +not disappear at once; but as the mountains themselves sank +away from the height of Mont Blanc, the moon seemed to +glide slowly down the descending slope, setting and reappearing, +and touching the whole with her silver radiance.</p> + +<p>But sunset and moonlight were both less impressive than +sunrise. Remembering Coleridge's "Hymn to Mont Blanc," +which is supposed to be written "before sunrise in the Vale +of Chamouni," we were up in the morning to catch the earliest +dawn. It was long in coming. At first a few faint streaks +of light shot up the eastern sky; then a rosy tinge flushed the +head of Mont Blanc; then other snowy summits caught the +golden glow; till a hundred splintered peaks, that formed a +part of the mighty range, reflected the light of coming day, +and at last the full orb himself rose above the tops of the +mountains, and shone down into the valley.</p> + +<p>Of course all visitors to Chamouni have to climb some of +the lower mountains to see the glaciers, and get a general +view of the chain of Mont Blanc. My companion was ambitious +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> +to do something more than this. She is a very good +walker and climber, and had taken many long tramps among +our Berkshire Hills, and to her Mont Blanc did not seem +much more than Monument Mountain. In truth, the eye is +deceived in judging of these tremendous heights, and cannot +take in at first the real elevation. But when they are accurately +measured, Mont Blanc is found to be about twenty +times as high as the cliff which overlooks our Housatonic +Valley! But a young enthusiast feels equal to anything, and +she seemed really quite disappointed that she could not at +least go as far as the Grands Mulets (where, with a telescope, +we can just see a little cabin on the rocks), which is the limit +of the first day's journey for adventurous tourists, most of +whom do not get any further. A party that went up yesterday, +intending to reach the top of Mont Blanc, had to turn +back. A recent fall of snow had buried the mountain, so +that they sank deep at every step; and finding it dangerous +to proceed, they prudently abandoned the attempt.</p> + +<p>The ascent of Mont Blanc, at all times difficult, is often a +dangerous undertaking. Many adventurous travellers have +lost their lives in the attempt. An avalanche may bury a +whole party in a moment; or if lashed to the guides by a +rope, one slipping may drag the whole down into one of the +enormous crevasses, where now many bodies lie unburied, +yet preserved from decay in the eternal ice. Only five years +ago, in September, 1870, a party of eleven—three tourists +(of whom two were Americans), with eight guides and porters—were +all lost. They had succeeded in reaching the +summit of the mountain, when a snow-storm came on, and it +was impossible for them to descend. The body of one of them, +Dr. Bean, of Baltimore, was recovered, and is buried in the +little graveyard here. With such warnings, a sober old uncle +might be excused for restraining a young lady's impetuosity. +If we could be here a month, and "go into training," by long +walks and climbs every day, I do believe we should gradually +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> +work our courage up to the sticking-point, and at last climb +to the top, and plant a very modest American flag on the +hoary head of Mont Blanc.</p> + +<p>But for the present we must be content with a less ambitious +performance, and make only the customary ascent of +the Montanvert, and cross the Mer de Glace. We left at +eight o'clock yesterday morning. Our friends in New York +would hardly have recognized me in my travelling dress of +Scotch gray, with a slouched straw hat on my head, and an +alpenstock in my hand. The hat was very useful, if not +ornamental. I bought it for one franc, and it answered as +well as if it had cost a guinea. To be sure, as it had a broad +brim, it had a slight tendency to take wings and fly away, +and light in some mountain torrent, from which it was +speared out with the alpenstock, and restored to its place of +honor; but it did excellent service in protecting my eyes +from the blinding reflection of the snow. C—— was mounted +on a mule, which she had at first refused, preferring her own +agile feet; but I insisted on it, as a very useful beast to fall +back upon in case the fatigue was too great. Thus accoutred, +our little cavalcade, with our guide leading the way, filed out +of Chamouni. If any of my readers laugh at our droll appearance, +they are quite welcome—for we laughed at ourselves. +Comfort is worth more than dignity in such a case; and if +anybody is abashed at the ludicrous figure he cuts, he may +console himself by reflecting that he is in good company. I +saw in Paris the famous picture by David of Napoleon crossing +the Alps, which represents him mounted on a gallant +charger, his military cloak flying in the air, while he points +his soldiers upward to the heights they are to scale. This is +very fine to look at; but the historical fact is said to be that +Napoleon rode over the Alps on a mule, and if he encountered +rains and storms, he was no doubt as bedraggled as any +Alpine tourist. But that did not prevent his gaining the +battle of Marengo. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span></p> + +<p>But all thoughts of our appearance vanish when once we +begin to climb the mountain side. For two hours we kept +winding in a zigzag path through the perpetual pine forest. +At every turn in the road, or opening in the trees, we +stopped to look at the valley below, where the objects grew +smaller, as we receded further from them. Is it not so in +life? As some one has said, "Everything will look small +enough if we only get high enough." All rude noises died +away in the distance, till there rose into the upper air only +the sound of the streams that were rushing through the valley +below.</p> + +<p>At a chalet half way up the mountain a living chamois was +kept for show. It was very young, and was suckled by a +goat. It was touching to see how the little creature pined +for freedom, and leaped against the sides of his pen. Child +of the mountain, he seemed entitled to liberty, and I longed +to break open his cage and set the little prisoner free, and +see him bound away upon the mountain side.</p> + +<p>Climbing, still climbing, another hour brings us to the top +of the Montanvert, where we look down upon the Mer de +Glace. Here all the party quit their mules, which are sent +to another point, to meet us as we come down from the +mountain—and taking our alpenstocks in hand (which are +long staffs, with a spike at the end to stick in the ice, to keep +ourselves from slipping), we descend to the Mer de Glace, an +enormous glacier formed by the masses of snow and ice which +collect during the long winters, filling up the whole space +between two mountains. It was in studying the glaciers of +Switzerland for a course of years, that Agassiz formed his +glacial theory; and in seeing here how the steady pressure +of such enormous masses of ice, weighing millions of tons, +have carried down huge boulders of granite, which lie strewn +all along its track, one can judge how the same causes, operating +at a remote period, and on a vast scale, may have changed +the whole surface of the globe. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p> + +<p>But we must not stop to philosophize, for we are now +just at the edge of the glacier, and need our wits about us, +and eyes too, to keep a sharp lookout for dangerous places, +and steady feet, and hands keeping a tight hold of our trusty +alpenstocks. The Mer de Glace is just what its name +implies—a Sea of Ice—and looks as if, when some wild torrent +came tumbling through the awful pass, it had been +suddenly stopped by the hand of the Almighty, and frozen as +it stood. And so it stands, its waves dashed up on high, and +its chasms yawning below. It is said to reach up into the +mountains for miles. We can see how it goes up to the top +of the gorge and disappears on the other side; but those who +wish to explore its whole extent, may walk over it or beside +it all day. Though dangerous in some places, yet where +tourists cross, they can pick their way with a little care. +The more timid ones cling closely to the guide, holding him +fast by the hand. One lady of our party, who had four +bearers to carry her in a Sedan chair, found her head swim +as she crossed. But C——, who had been gathering flowers +all the way up the mountain, made them into a bouquet, +which she fastened to one end of her alpenstock, and striking +the other firmly in the ice, moved on with as free a step as if +she were walking along some breezy path among our Berkshire +Hills.</p> + +<p>But the most difficult part of the course is not in crossing +the Mer de Glace, but in coming down on the other side. It +is not always <i>facilis descensus</i>; it is sometimes <i>difficilis +descensus</i>. There is one part of the course called the <i>Mauvais +Pas</i>, which winds along the edge of the cliff, and would +hardly be passable but for an iron rod fastened in the side of +the rock, to which one clings for support, and looking away +from the precipice on the other side, makes the passage in +safety.</p> + +<p>And now we come to the Chapeau, a little chalet perched +on a shelf of rock, from which one can look down thousands of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> +feet into the Vale of Chamouni. As we pass along by the +side of the glacier, we see nearer the end some frightful crevasses, +which the boldest guide would not dare to cross. The +ice is constantly wearing away; indeed so great is the discharge +of water from the melting of the ice and the snow, +that a rapid river is all the time rushing out of it. The +Arveiron takes its rise in the Mer de Glace, while the Arve +rises in another glacier higher up the valley. As Coleridge +says, in his Hymn to Mont Blanc,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>The Arve and Arveiron at thy base</p> +<p class="i1">Rave ceaselessly;</p> +</div> + +<p>the sound of the streams, mingling with the waterfalls on the +sides of the mountains, filling the air with a perpetual sound +like the roaring of the sea.</p> + +<p>Coleridge speaks also of Mont Blanc as rising from a +"silent sea of pines." Nothing can be more accurate than +this picture of the universal forest, which overflows all the +valleys, and reaches up the mountains, to the edge of eternal +snows. At such heights the pines are the only trees that +live, and there they stand through all the storms of winter. +Looking around on this landscape, made up of forest and +snow, alternately dark and bright, it seems as if Mont Blanc +were the Great White Throne of the Almighty, and as if +these mighty forests that stand quivering on the mountain +side, were the myriads of mankind gathered into this Valley +of Judgment, and here standing rank on rank, waiting to +hear their doom.</p> + +<p>But yet the impression is not one wholly of terror, or even +of unmixed awe. There is beauty as well as wildness in +the scene. Nothing can exceed the quiet and seclusion of +these mountain paths, and there is something very sweet to +the ear in</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,"</p> +</div> + +<p>which fill "the forest primeval" with their gentle sound. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> +And when at evening one hears the tinkling cow-bells, as the +herds return from the mountain pastures, there is a pastoral +simplicity in the scene which is very touching, and we could +understand how the Swiss air of the <i>Ranz des Vaches</i> (or +the returning of the cows) should awaken such a feeling of +homesickness in the soldier far from his native mountains, +that bands have been prohibited from playing it in Swiss +regiments enlisted in foreign armies.</p> + +<p>When we came down from the Mer de Glace, it was not +yet three o'clock, and before us on the opposite side of the +valley rose another mountain, which we might ascend before +night if we had strength left. We felt a little remorse at +giving the guide another half-day's work; but he, foreseeing +extra pay, said cheerfully that <i>he</i> could stand it; the mule +said nothing, but pricked up his long ears as if he was thinking +very hard, and if the miracle of Balaam could have been +repeated, I think the poor dumb beast would have had a +pretty decided opinion. But it being left to us, we declared +for a fresh ascent, and once more set our faces skyward, and +went climbing upward for two hours more.</p> + +<p>We were well paid for the fatigue. The Flégère, facing +Mont Blanc, commands a full view of the whole range, and as +the clouds drifted off, we saw distinctly every peak.</p> + +<p>Thus elated and jubilant we set out to return. Until +now, we had kept along with the mule, alternating a ride +and walk, as boys are accustomed to "ride and tie"; but +now our eagerness could not be restrained, and we gave the +reins to the guide to lead the patient creature down into the +valley, while we, with unfettered limbs, strode joyous down +the mountain side. It was seven o'clock when we reached +our hotel. We had been steadily in motion—except a short +rest for lunch at the Chapeau on the mountain—for eleven +hours.</p> + +<p>Here ends the journey of the day, but not the moral of it. +I hope it is not merely a professional habit that leads me to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> +wind up everything with an application; but I cannot +look upon a grand scene of nature without gliding insensibly +into religious reflections. Nature leads me directly to +Nature's God. The late Prof. Albert Hopkins, of Williams +College, of blessed memory, a man of science and yet of +most devout spirit, who was as fond of the hills as a born +mountaineer, and who loved nothing so much as to lead his +Alpine Club over the mountains around Williamstown—was +accustomed, when he had conducted them to some high, commanding +prospect, to ask whether the sight of such great +scenes <i>made them feel great or small</i>? I can answer for myself +that the impression is a mixed one; that it both lifts +me up and casts me down. Certainly the sight of such sublimity +elevates the soul with a sense of the power and majesty +of the Creator. While climbing to-day, I have often repeated +to myself that old, majestic hymn:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>I sing the mighty power of God,</p> +<p class="i1">That made the mountains rise;</p> +</div> + +<p>and another:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">'Tis by thy strength the mountains stand,</p> +<p class="i1">God of eternal power,</p> +<p>The sea grows calm at thy command,</p> +<p class="i1">And tempests cease to roar.</p> +</div> + +<p>But in another view the sight of these great objects of +nature is depressing. It makes one feel his own littleness +and insignificance. I look up at Mont Blanc with a telescope, +and can just see a party climbing near the Grands +Mulets. How like creeping insects they look; and how like +insects they <i>are</i> in the duration of their existence, compared +with the everlasting forms of nature. The flying clouds that +cast their shadows on the head of Mont Blanc are not more +fleeting. They pass like a bird and are gone, while the +mountains stand fast forever, and with their eternity seem to +mock the fugitive existence of man upon the earth. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span></p> + +<p>I confess the impression is very depressing. These terrible +mountains crush me with their awful weight. They make +me feel that I am but an atom in the universe; a moth +whose ceasing to exist would be no more than the blowing +out of a candle. And I am not surprised that men who live +among the mountains, are sometimes so overwhelmed with +the greatness of nature, that they are ready to acquiesce in +their own annihilation, or absorption in the universal being.</p> + +<p>Talking with Father Hyacinthe the other evening (as we +sat on the terrace of the Hotel Beau Rivage at Geneva, +overlooking the lake), he spoke of the alarming spread of unbelief +in Europe, and quoted a distinguished professor of +Zurich, of whom he spoke with great respect, as a man of +learning and of excellent character, who had frankly confessed +to him that he did not believe in the immortality of +the soul; and when Father Hyacinthe replied in amazement, +"If I believed thus I would go and throw myself into the +Lake of Zurich," the professor answered with the utmost +seriousness, "That is not a just religious feeling; if you believe +in God as an infinite Creator you ought to be <i>willing</i> +to cease to exist, feeling that God is the only Being who is +worthy to live eternally."</p> + +<p>Marvellous as this may seem, yet something of this feeling +comes to thoughtful and serious minds from the long and +steadfast contemplation of nature. One is so little in the +presence of the works of God, that he feels that he is absolutely +<i>nothing</i>; and it seems of small moment whether he should +exist hereafter or not; and he could <i>almost</i> be willing that +his life should expire, like a lamp that has burned itself out; +that he should indeed cease to exist, with all things that live; +that God might be God alone. If shut up in these mountains, +as in a prison from which I could not escape, I could +easily sink into this gloom and despondency.</p> + +<p>Pascal has tried to break the force of this overwhelming +impression of the awfulness of nature in one of his most striking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> +thoughts, when, speaking of the greatness and the littleness +of man, he says: "It is not necessary for the whole +universe to arm itself to destroy him: a drop of water, a +breath of air, is sufficient to kill him. And yet even in death +man is greater than the universe, for <i>he knows that he is dying</i>, +while the universe knows not anything." This is finely +expressed, but it does not lighten the depth of our despair. +For that we must turn to one greater than Pascal, who has +said, "Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your +Father; be of good cheer therefore, ye are of more value than +many sparrows." Nature is great, but God is greater.</p> + +<p>In riding through the Alps—especially through deep +passes, where walls of rock on either hand almost touch the +sky—it seems as if the whole world were a realm of Death, +and this the universal tomb. But even here I see erected on +almost every hilltop a cross (for the Savoyards are a very +religious people), and this sign of our salvation, standing on +every high place, amid the lightning and storm, and amid the +winter snows, seems to be a protest against that law of death +which reigns on every side. Great indeed is the realm of +Death, but greater still is the realm of Life; and though God +only hath immortality, and is indeed "the only Being worthy +to live forever," yet joined to Him, we shall have a part in +His own eternity, and shall live when even the everlasting +mountains, and the great globe itself, shall have passed away. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">SWITZERLAND.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Lucerne</span>, July 22d.</p> + +<p>To know Switzerland well, one should spend weeks and +months among its lakes and mountains. He should not +merely pay a formal visit to Nature, but take up his abode +with her. One can never "exhaust" such a country. Professor +Tyndall has been for years in the habit of spending his +summer vacation here, and always finds new mountains to +climb, and new passes to explore. But this would hardly +suit Americans, who are in the habit of "rushing things," +and who wish in a first visit to Europe, to get at least a +general impression of the Continent. But even a few days +in Switzerland are not lost. In that time one may see sights +that will be fixed in his brain while life lasts, and receive +impressions that will never depart from him.</p> + +<p>We left the Vale of Chamouni with the feeling of sadness +with which one always comes down from the mount, where +he has had an immortal vision. Slowly we rode up the valley, +often turning to take a last lingering look at the white +head of Mont Blanc, and then, like Pilgrim, we "went on +our way and saw him no more."</p> + +<p>But we did not come out of Chamouni as we went into it, +on the top of a diligence, with six horses, "rolling forward +with impetuous speed" over a magnificent highway. We +had now nothing before us but a common mountain-road, +and our chariot was only a rude wagon, made with low +wheels to go up and down steep ascents. It was only for us +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> +two, which suited us the better, as we had Nature all to ourselves, +and could indulge our pleasure and our admiration, +without restraint. Thus mounted, we went creeping up the +pass of the Tête Noire. Nature is a wise economist, and, after +showing the traveller Mont Blanc, lets him down gradually. +If we had not come from those more awful heights and +abysses, we should consider this day's ride unsurpassed in +savage grandeur. Great mountains tower up on either hand, +their lower sides dark with pines, and their crests capped +with snow. Here by the roadside a cross marks the spot +where an avalanche, falling from yonder peak, buried two +travellers. At some seasons of the year the road is almost +impassable. All along are heaps of stones to mark its track +where the winter drifts are piled so high in these gorges that +all trace of a path is lost. Even now in mid-summer the +pass is wild enough to satisfy the most romantic tastes. The +day was in harmony with the scene. Our fine weather +was all gone. Clouds darkened the sky, and angry gusts +of wind and rain swept in our faces. But what could +check one's spirits let loose in such a scene? Often we +got out and walked, to work off our excitement, stopping +at every turn in the road that opened some new view, or +sheltering ourselves under a rock from the rain, and listening +with delight to hear the pines murmur and the torrents roar.</p> + +<p>The ride over the Tête Noire takes a whole day. The road +zigzags in every direction, winding here and there to get a +foothold—now hugging the side of the mountain, creeping +along the edge of a precipice, where it makes one dizzy to +look down; now rounding a point which seems to hang over +some awful depth, or seeking a safer path by a tunnel through +the rocks. Up and down, hither and thither we go, but still +everywhere encompassed with mountains, till at last one long +climb—a hard pull for the horses—brings us to a height from +which we descry in the distance the roofs and spires of a +town, and begin to descend. But we are still more than an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> +hour winding our way through the gentle slopes and among +the Swiss chalets, till we rattle through the stony streets of +Martigny, a place of some importance, from being at the foot +of the Alps, and the point from which to make the ascent of +the Great Saint Bernard. It was by this route that Napoleon +in 1800 led his daring soldiers over the Alps; the long +lines of infantry and artillery passed up this valley, and +climbed yonder mountain side, a hundred men being harnessed +to a single cannon, and dragging it upward by sheer +strength of muscle. Of all the host that made that stupendous +march, perhaps not one survives; but the mountains +are still here, as the proof and the monument of their great +achievement. And the same Hospice, where the monks gave +bread and wine to the passing soldiers, is on the summit still, +and the good monks with their faithful dogs, watch to rescue +lost travellers. Attached to it is a monastery here in Martigny, +to which the old monks, when worn out with years of +exposure and hardship in living above the clouds, can retire +to die in peace.</p> + +<p>At Martigny we take our leave of mountain roads and +mountain transport, as we here touch a railroad, and are once +more within the limits of civilization. We step from our +little wagon (which we do not despise, since it has carried us +safely over an Alpine pass) into a luxurious railway carriage, +and reclining at our ease, are whirled swiftly down the Valley +of the Rhone to the Lake of Geneva.</p> + +<p>Of course all romantic tourists stop at Villeneuve, to visit +the Castle of Chillon, which Byron has made so famous. I +had been under its arches and in its vaulted chambers years +ago, and was surprised at the fresh interest which I had in +revisiting the spot. It is at once "a palace and a prison." +We went down into the dungeon in which Bonnivard was +confined, and saw the pillar to which he was chained for so +many years that his feet wore holes in the stone floor. The +pillar is now covered with names of pilgrims that have visited +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> +his prison as "a holy place." We were shown, also, the +Chamber of Question, (adjoining what was called, as if in +mockery, the Hall of Justice!) where prisoners were put to +the torture, with the post still standing to which they were +bound, with the marks upon it of the hot irons which were +applied to their writhing limbs. Under this is the dungeon +where the condemned passed their last night before execution, +chained to a sloping rock, above which, dimly seen in the +gloom, is the cross-beam to which they were hung, and near the +floor is an opening in the wall, through which their bodies +were cast into the lake. In another part of the castle is +shown the <i>oubliette</i>—a pit or well, into which the victim was +thrown, and fell into some unknown depth, and was seen no +more. Such are some of the remains of an age of "chivalry." +One cannot look at these instruments of torture without a +shudder at "man's inhumanity to man," and rejoicing that +such things are past, since in no country of Europe—not +even in Spain, the land of the Inquisition—could such barbarities +be permitted now. Surely civilization has made some +progress since those ages of cruelty and blood.</p> + +<p>Leaving these gloomy dungeons, we come up into air and +sunshine, and skim along the Lake of Geneva by the railway, +which, lying "between sea and shore," presents a succession +of charming views. On one side all the slopes are covered +with vines, which are placed on this southern exposure to +ripen in the sun; on the other is the lake, with the mountains +beyond.</p> + +<p>At Lausanne I had hoped to meet an old friend, Prof. J. +F. Astié, once pastor of the French church in New York, +and now Professor in the Theological Seminary here, but he +was taking his vacation in the country. We drove, however, +to his house, which is on high ground, in the rear of the +town, and commands a lovely view of the lake, with the +mountains in the distance as a background for the picture.</p> + +<p>When I was in Switzerland twenty seven years ago, such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> +a thing as a railroad was unknown. Now they are everywhere, +and though it may seem very prosaic to travel among +the mountains by steam, still it is a great convenience, in +getting from one point to another. Of course, when it comes +to climbing the Alps, one must take to mules or to his +feet.</p> + +<p>The railroad from Lausanne to Berne, after reaching the +heights around the former city, lingers long, as if reluctant +to quit the enchanting scenery around the lake, but at length +plunging through a tunnel, it leaves all that glory behind, to +turn to other landscapes in the heart of Switzerland. For a +few leagues, the country, though not mountainous, is undulating, +and richly cultivated. At Fribourg the two suspension +bridges are the things to <i>see</i>, and the great organ the +thing to <i>hear</i>, which being done, one may pass on to Berne, +the capital of Switzerland, a compact and prosperous town of +some 35,000 inhabitants. The environs are very beautiful, +comprising several parks and long avenues of trees. But +what one may see <i>in</i> Berne, is nothing to what one may see +<i>from</i> it, which is the whole chain of the Bernese Oberland. +We were favored with only a momentary sight, but even that +we shall never forget. As we were riding out of the town, +the sun, which was setting, burst through the clouds, and +lighted up a long range of snowy peaks. This was the +Alpine afterglow. It was like a vision of the heavenly +battlements, with all their pinnacles and towers shining resplendent +in the light of setting day. We gazed in silent +awe till the dazzling radiance crept to the last mountain top, +and faded into night.</p> + +<p>A few miles from Berne, we crossed the Lake of Thun, a +sheet of water, which, like Loch Lomond and other Scotch +lakes, derives its chief beauty from reflecting in its placid +bosom the forms of giant mountains. Between Thun and +Brienz lies the little village fitly called from its position +Interlachen (between the lakes). This is the heart of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> +Bernese Oberland. The weather on Saturday permitted no +excursions. But we were content to remain indoors after so +much climbing, and here we passed a quiet and most restful +Sunday. There is but one building for religious services—an +old Schloss, but it receives into its hospitable walls three +companies of worshippers. In one part is a chapel fitted up +for the Catholics; in another the Church of England gathers +a large number of those travellers from Britain, who to their +honor carry their religious observances with them. Besides +these I found in the same building a smaller room, where the +Scotch Presbyterians meet for worship, and where a minister +of the Free Church was holding forth with all that <i>ingenium +perfervidum Scotorum</i> for which his countrymen are celebrated. +It was a great pleasure and comfort to meet with +this little congregation, and to listen to songs and prayers +which brought back so many tender memories of home.</p> + +<p>While enjoying this rest, we had mourned the absence of +the sun. Interlachen lies in the very lap of the mountains. +But though so near, our eyes were holden that we could not +see them, and we thought we should have to leave without +even a sight of the Jungfrau. But Monday morning, as we +rose early to depart, the clouds were gone—and there it stood +revealed to us in all its splendor, a pyramid of snow, only a +little less lofty than Mont Blanc himself. Having this +glorious vision vouchsafed to us, we departed in peace.</p> + +<p>Sailing over the Lake of Brienz, as we had over that of +Thun, we came again to a mountain pass, which had to be +crossed by diligence; and here, as before, mounted in the +front seat beside the postilion, we feasted our eyes on all the +glory of Alpine scenery. For nearly two hours we were +ascending at the side of the Vale of Meyringen, from which, +as we climbed higher and higher, we looked down to a greater +depth, and often at a turn of the road could see back to the +Lake of Brienz, which lay far behind us, and thus in one +view took in all the beauties of lake and valley and mountain. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> +While slowly moving upward, boys ran along by the +diligence, singing snatches from the <i>Ranz des Vaches</i>, the +wild airs of these mountain regions. If it was so exciting to +go up, it was hardly less so to come down. The road is not +like that over the Tête Noire, but is smooth and even like +that from Geneva to Chamouni, and we were able to trot +rapidly down the slope, and as the road turns here and there +to get an easy grade, we had a hundred lovely views down +the valley which was opening before us. Thus we came to +the Lake of the Four Cantons, over which a steamer +brought us to Lucerne.</p> + +<p>My friend Dr. Holland has spoken of the place where I +now write as "the spot on earth which seemed to him +nearest to heaven," and surely there are few where one feels +so much like saying, "This is my rest, and here will I +dwell." The great mountains shut out the world with all its +noises, and the lake, so peaceful itself, invites to repose.</p> + +<p>There are two ways to enjoy a beautiful sheet of water—one +from its shores, and the other from its surface. We +have tried both. The first evening we took a boat and spent +a couple of hours on the lake. How it recalled the moonlight +evenings at Venice, when we floated in our gondola! +Indeed the boatmen here are not unlike the gondoliers. They +have the same way of standing, instead of sitting, in the boat +and pushing, instead of pulling, the oars. They manage their +little crafts with great skill, and cause them to glide very +swiftly through the water. We took a row of several miles +to call on a friend, who was at a villa on the lake. She had +left for Zurich, but the villa was occupied. A day or two +before it had been taken by a lady, who, though she came +with a retinue large enough to fill all the rooms, wished to be +<i>incognita</i>. She proved to be the Queen of Saxony, who, like +all the rest of the world, was glad to have a little retirement, +and to escape from the stiffness of court life in her palace at +Dresden, to enjoy herself on these quiet shores. While we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> +were in the grounds, she came out, and walked under the +trees, in most simple dress: a woman whom it was pleasant +to look upon, a fair-haired daughter of the North, (she is a +Swedish princess,) who won the hearts of the Saxon people +by her care for the wounded in the Franco-German war. She +shows her good sense and quiet tastes to seek seclusion and +repose in such a spot as this, (instead of going off to fashionable +watering-places,) where she can sit quietly by these tranquil +waters, under the shadow of these great mountains.</p> + +<p>All travellers who go to Lucerne must make an excursion +to the Righi, a mountain a few miles from the town, which is +exalted above other mountains of Switzerland, not because it +is higher—for, in fact, it is much lower than many of them—but +that it stands alone, apart from a chain, and so commands +a view on all sides—a view of vast extent and of infinite +variety. I had been on the Righi-Culm before, but the +impression had somewhat faded, and I was glad to go again, +when all my enthusiasm was renewed. The mountain is +easier of access now. Then I walked up, as most tourists +did; now there is a railroad to the very top, which of itself +is worth a visit, as a remarkable piece of engineering, mounting +a very steep grade—in many places <i>one foot in every +four</i>! This is a terrible climb, and is only overcome by +peculiar machinery. The engine is behind, and pushes the +car up the ascent. Of course if any accident were to happen +by which the train were to break loose, it would descend with +tremendous velocity. But this is guarded against by a central +rail, into which a wheel fits with cogs; so that, in case +of any accident to the engine, by shutting down the brakes, +the whole could be held fast, as in a vice, and be immovable. +The convenience of the road is certainly very great, but the +sensation is peculiar—of being literally "boosted" up into +the clouds.</p> + +<p>But once there, we are sensible that we are raised into a +higher region; we breathe a purer air. The eye ranges over +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +the fairest portion of Switzerland. Seen from such a height, +the country seems almost a plain; and yet viewed more +closely, we see hills and valleys, diversified with meadows +and forests. We can count a dozen lakes. On the horizon +stretches the great chain of the Alps, covered with snow, and +when the sun breaks through the clouds, it gleams with unearthly +brightness. But it is impossible to describe all that +is comprised in that one grand panorama. Surely, I thought, +these must be the Delectable Mountains from which Bunyan's +Pilgrim caught a sight of the Celestial City; and it +seemed as if, in the natural order of things, when one is +travelling over the earth, he ought to come here <i>last</i> (as +Moses went up into Mount Nebo to catch a glimpse of the +Promised Land, <i>and die</i>), so that from this most elevated +point of his pilgrimage he might step into heaven.</p> + +<p>But at last we had to come down from the mount, and +quieted our excited imaginations by a sail up the lake. +Fluellen, at the end of the lake, was associated in my mind +with a sad memory, and as soon as we reached it, I went to the +principal hotel, and asked if an American gentleman had not +died there two years since? They answered Yes, and took +me at once to the very room where Judge Chapman, the +Chief Justice of Massachusetts, breathed his last. He was a +good man, and as true a friend as we ever had. The night +before he sailed we spent with him at the Fifth Avenue +Hotel. He came abroad for his health, but did not live to +return; and a few months after our parting, it was our sad +privilege to follow him to the grave in Springfield, where all +the judges of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, and great +numbers of the Bar, stood around his bier.</p> + +<p>If Lucerne presents such beautiful scenes in nature, it has +also one work of art, which impresses me as much as anything +of the kind in Europe. I refer to the lion of Thorwaldsen, +intended to commemorate the courage and fidelity of the +Swiss regiment who were the guards of the King Louis XVI., +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +and who, in attempting to defend him, were massacred in Paris +on the fatal 10th of August, 1792. Never was a great act +of courage more simply, yet more grandly illustrated. The +size is colossal, the work being cut in the side of a rock. The +lion is twenty-eight feet long. Nothing can be more majestic +than his attitude. The noble beast is dying, he has exhausted +his strength in battle, but even as he sinks in death, +he stretches out one huge paw over the shield which bears on +it the lilies of France, the emblem of that royal power which +he has vainly endeavored to protect. There is something +almost human in the face, in the deep-set eyes, and the drooping +mouth. It is not only the death agony, but the greater +agony of defeat, which is expressed in every line of that leonine +countenance. Nothing in ancient sculpture, not even the +Dying Gladiator, gives more of mournful dignity in death. +I could hardly tear myself away from it, and when we turned +to leave, kept looking back at it. It shows the wonderful +genius of Thorwaldsen. When one compares it with the lions +around the monument of Nelson in Trafalgar Square in London, +one sees the difference between a work of genius, and +that of mere imitation. Sir Edwin Landseer, though a great +painter of animals, was not so eminent as a sculptor; and +was at work for years on his model, and finally copied, it is +said, as nearly as he could, an old lion in the Zoological Gardens; +and then had the four cast from one mould, so that +all are just alike. How differently would Thorwaldsen have +executed such a work!</p> + +<p>With such attractions of art and nature, Lucerne seems +indeed one of the most beautiful spots on the face of the +earth. Sometimes a peculiar state of the atmosphere, or sunset +or moonlight, gives peculiar effects to scenes so wonderful. +Last night, as we were sitting in front of the Hotel, +our attention was attracted by what seemed a conflagration +lighting up the horizon. Wider and wider it spread, and +higher and higher it rose on the evening sky. All were eager +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> +as to the cause of this illumination, when the mystery was +explained by the full moon rising above the horizon, and +casting a flood of light over lake and mountain. Who could +but feel that God was near at such an hour, in such a blending +of the earth and sky? +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">ON THE RHINE.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Cologne</span>, July 26th.</p> + +<p>He that goeth up into a high mountain, must needs come +down. We have been these many days among the Alps, +passing from Chamouni to the Bernese Oberland, and now +we must descend into the plains. The change is a pleasant +one after so much excitement and fatigue. One cannot bear +too much exaltation. After having dwelt awhile among the +sublimities of Nature, it is a relief to come down to her more +common and familiar aspects; the sunshine is doubly grateful +after the gloom of Alpine passes; meadows and groves +are more pleasant to the eye than snow-clad peaks; and more +sweet to the ear than the roar of mountain torrents, is the +murmur of softly-flowing streams. From Lucerne, our way +lies over that undulating country which we had surveyed the +day before from the summit of the Righi, winding around +the Lake of Zug, and ending at the Lake of Zurich.</p> + +<p>The position of Zurich is very much like that of Lucerne, +at the end of a lake, and surrounded by hills. A ride around +the town shows many beautiful points of view, on one of +which stands the University, which has an European reputation. +Zurich has long been a literary centre of some importance, +not only for Switzerland, but for Germany, as it is on +the border of both. The University gathers students from +different countries, even from Russia. We ended the day +with a sail on the water, which at evening is alive with boats, +glancing here and there in the twilight. Then rows of lamps +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> +are lighted all along the shore, which are reflected in the +water; the summer gardens are thronged, and bands fill the +air with music. The gayety of such a scene I enjoy most +from a little distance; but there are few more exquisite +pleasures than to lie motionless, floating, and listening to +music that comes stealing over the water. Then the boatman +dipped his oar gently, as if fearing to break the charm, and +rowed us back to our hotel; but the music continued to a +late hour, and lulled us to sleep.</p> + +<p>From Zurich, a morning ride brought us to Schaffhausen, +where we stopped a few hours to see the Falls of the Rhine, +which are set down in the guide-books as "the most considerable +waterfall in Europe." Of course it is a very small +affair compared with Niagara. And yet I do not like to +hear Americans speak of it, as they are apt to do, with contempt. +A little good sense would teach us to enjoy whatever +is set before us in nature, without boastful comparisons with +something in our own country. It is certainly very beautiful.</p> + +<p>From Schaffhausen a new railway has recently been opened +through the Black Forest—a region which may well attract +the readers of romance, since it has been the scene of many +of the legends which abound in German literature, and may +be said to be haunted with the heroes of fiction, as Scott has +peopled the glens of Scotland. In the Forest itself there is +nothing imposing. It is spread over a large tract of country, +like the woods of Northern New York. The most remarkable +thing in it now is the railroad itself, which is indeed a +wonderful piece of engineering. It was constructed by the +same engineer who pierced the Alps by a tunnel under the +Mont Cenis, nearly eight miles long, through which now +pours the great volume of travel from France to Italy. Here +he had a different, but perhaps not less difficult, task. The +formation of the country offers great obstacles to the passage +of a railroad. If it were only one high mountain, it could +be tunnelled, but instead of a single chain which has to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> +crossed, the Forest is broken up into innumerable hills, detached +from each other, and offering few points of contact as +a natural bridge for a road to pass over. The object, of +course, is to make the ascents and descents without too abrupt +a grade, but for this it is necessary to wind about in the most +extraordinary manner. The road turns and twists in endless +convolutions. Often we could see it at three different points +at the same time, above us and below us, winding hither and +thither in a perfect labyrinth; so that it was impossible to +tell which way we were going. We counted thirty-seven +tunnels within a very short distance. It required little +imagination to consider our engine, that went whirling about +at such a rate, puffing and screaming with excitement, as a +wild beast caught in the mountains, and rushing in every +direction, and even thrusting his head into the earth, to +escape his pursuers. At length the haunted fugitive plunges +through the side of a mountain, and escapes down the valley.</p> + +<p>And now we are in a land of streams, where mighty rivers +begin their courses. See you that little brook by the roadside, +which any barefooted boy would wade across, and an +athletic leaper would almost clear at a single bound? That +is the beginning of the longest river in Europe, which, rising +here among the hills of the Black Forest, takes its way south +and east till it sweeps with majestic flow past the Austrian +capital, as "the dark-rolling Danube," and bears the commerce +of an empire to the Black Sea.</p> + +<p>Our fellow-travellers now begin to diverge to the watering +places along the Rhine—to Baden and Homburg and Ems—where +so much of the fashion of the Continent gathers every +summer. But we had another place in view which had more +interest to me, though a sad and mournful one—Strasburg, +the capital of ill-fated Alsace—which, since I saw it before, +had sustained one of the most terrible sieges in history. We +crossed the Rhine from Kehl, where the Germans planted +their batteries, and were soon passing through the walls and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> +moats which girdle the ancient town, and made it one of the +most strongly fortified places in Europe, and were supposed +to render it a Gibraltar, that could not be taken. But no +walls can stand before modern artillery. The Germans planted +their guns at two and three miles distance, and threw their +shells into the heart of the city. One cannot enter the gates +without perceiving on every side the traces of that terrible +bombardment. For weeks, day and night, a rain of fire +poured on the devoted town. Shells were continually bursting +in the streets; the darkness of midnight was lighted up +with the flames of burning dwellings. The people fled to +their cellars, and to every underground place, for safety. +But it was like fleeing at the last judgment to dens and caves, +and calling on rocks to cover them from the inevitable destruction. +At length, after a prolonged and heroic resistance, +when all means of defence were gone, and the city must have +been utterly destroyed, it surrendered.</p> + +<p>And now what do we see? Of course, the traces of the +siege have been removed, so far as possible. But still, after +five years, there are large public buildings of which only +blackened walls remain. Others show huge gaps and rents +made by the shot of the besiegers, and, worst of all, everywhere +are the hated German soldiers in the streets. <i>Strasburg +is a conquered city.</i> It has been torn from France and +transferred to Germany, without the consent of its own people; +and though the conquerors try to make things pleasant, +and to soften as much as may be the bitterness of subjugation, +they cannot succeed in doing the impossible. The +people feel that they have been conquered, and the iron +has entered into their souls. One can see it in a silent, sullen +look, which is not natural to Frenchmen. This is the +more strange, because a large part of the population of +Alsace are Germans by race and language. In the markets, +among the men and women who bring their produce for sale, +I heard little else than the guttural sounds so familiar on the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> +other side of the Rhine. But no matter for this; for two +hundred years the country has belonged to France, and the +people are French in their traditions—they are proud of the +French glory; and if it were left to them, they would vote +to-morrow, by an overwhelming majority, to be re-annexed to +France.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the German Government is using every effort +to "make over" the people from Frenchmen into Germans. +It has introduced the German language into the schools. <i>It +has even renamed the streets.</i> It looked strange indeed to see +on all the corners German names in place of the old familiar +French ones. This is oppression carried to absurdity. If +the new rulers had chosen to translate the French names into +German, for the convenience of the new military occupants, +that might have been well, and the two might have stood +side by side. But no; the old names are <i>taken down</i>, and +<i>Rue</i> is turned into <i>Strasse</i> on every street corner in Strasburg. +Was ever anything more ridiculous? They might as +well compel the people to change <i>their</i> names. The consequence +of all this petty and constant oppression is that great +numbers emigrate. And even those who remain do not take +to their new masters. The elements do not mix. The +French do not become Germans. A country is not so easily +denationalized. The conquerors occupy the town, but in +their social relations they are alone. We were told that if a +German officer entered a public café or restaurant, the French +instantly arose and left. It is the same thing which I saw +at Venice and at Milan in the days of the old Austrian occupation. +That was a most unnatural possession by an alien +race, which had to be driven out with battle and slaughter +before things could come into their natural and rightful relations. +And so I fear it will have to be here. This annexation +of Alsace to Germany may seem to some a wonderful +stroke of political sagacity, or a military necessity, the gaining +of a great strategic point, but to our poor American +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> +judgment it seems both a blunder and a crime, that will yet +have to be atoned for with blood. It is a perpetual humiliation +and irritation to France; a constant defiance to another +and far more terrible war.</p> + +<p>The ancient cathedral suffered greatly during the bombardment. +It is said the Germans tried to spare it, and aimed +their guns away from it; but as it was the most prominent +object in the town, towering up far above everything else, it +could not but be hit many times. Cannon balls struck its +majestic spire, the loftiest in the world; arches and pinnacles +were broken; numbers of shells crashed through the +roof, and burst on the marble floor. Many of the windows, +with their old stained glass, which no modern art can equal, +were fatally shattered. It is a wonder that the whole edifice +was not destroyed. But its foundations were very solid, and +it stood the shock. Since the siege, of course, everything has +been done to cover up the rents and gaps, and to restore it to +its former beauty. And what a beauty it has, with outlines +so simple and majestic. How enormous are the columns +along the nave, which support the roof, and yet how they +seem to <i>spring</i> towards heaven, soaring upwards like overarching +elms, till the eye aches to look up to the vaulted +roof, that seems only like a lower sky. Except one other +cathedral—that of Cologne (under the very shadow of which +I am now writing)—it is the grandest specimen of Gothic +architecture which the Middle Ages have left to us.</p> + +<p>There is one other feature of Strasburg that has been +unaffected by political changes. One set of inhabitants have +not emigrated, but remain in spite of the German occupation—<i>the +storks</i>. Was anything ever so queer as to see these +long-legged, long-necked birds, sitting so tranquilly on the +roofs of the houses, flapping their lazy wings over the dwellings +of a populous city, and actually building their nests on +the tops of the chimneys? Anything so different from the +ordinary habits of birds, I had never seen before, and would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> +hardly have believed it now if I had not seen it. It makes +one feel as if everything was turned upside down, and the +very course of nature reversed, in this strange country.</p> + +<p>Another sign that we are getting out of our latitude, and +coming farther North, is the change of language. We found +that even in Switzerland. Around the Lake of Geneva, +French is universally spoken; but at Berne everybody +addressed us in German. In the Swiss Parliament speeches +are made in three languages—German, French, and Italian—since +all are spoken in some of the Cantons. As we did not +understand German, though familiar with French, we had +many ludicrous adventures with coachmen and railway employés, +which, though sometimes vexatious, gave us a good +deal of merriment. Of course there was nothing to do but to +take it good-naturedly. Generally when the adventure was +over, we had a hearty laugh at our own expense, though +inwardly thinking this was a heathen country, since they did +not know the language of Canaan, which, of course, is French +or English. In short, we have become fully satisfied that +English was the language spoken by Adam and Eve in +Paradise, and which ought to be spoken by all their descendants.</p> + +<p>But no harsh and guttural sounds, and no gloomy political +events, can destroy the pleasure of a journey along the Rhine. +The next day we resumed our course through the grand duchy +of Baden. At one of the stations a gentleman looking out +of a carriage window called me by name, and introduced +himself as Dr. Evans, of Paris—a countryman of ours, well +known to all who have visited the French capital, where he +has lived for a quarter of a century, and made for himself a +most honorable position in his profession, in both the American +and foreign community. I had known him when he first +came to Paris, just after the revolution of 1848. He was +then a young man, in the beginning of his successful +career. He has been yet more honorably distinguished as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> +the gallant American who saved the Empress in 1870. The +story is too well known to be repeated at length. The substance +may be given in a few sentences. When the news of +the surrender at Sedan of the Emperor and his whole army +reached Paris, it caused a sudden revolution—the Empire +was declared to have fallen, and the excited populace were +ready to burst into the palace, and the Empress might have +been sacrificed to their fury. She fled through the Louvre, +and calling a cab in the street, drove to the house of Dr. +Evans, whom she had long known. Here she was concealed +for the night, and the next day he took her in his own +carriage, hiding her from observation, and travelling rapidly, +but in a way to attract no attention, to the sea-coast, and did +not leave her till he had seen her safe in England. Connected +with this escape were many thrilling details, which +cannot be repeated here. I am very proud that she owed her +safety to one of my countrymen. It was pleasant to be +remembered by him after so many years. We got into the +same carriage, and talked of the past, till we separated at +Carlsruhe, from which he was going to Kissingen, while we +went to Stuttgart, to visit an American family who came to +Europe under my care in the Great Eastern in 1867, and +have continued to reside abroad ever since for the education +of their children. For such a purpose, Stuttgart is admirably +fitted. Though the capital of the Kingdom of Würtemberg, +it is a very quiet city. Young people in search of gayety +might think it dull, but that is its recommendation for those +who seek profit rather than amusement. The schools are +said to be excellent; and for persons who wish to spend a +few years abroad, pursuing their studies, it would be hard to +find a better place.</p> + +<p>To make this visit we were obliged to travel by night to +get back to the Rhine. We left Stuttgart at midnight. +Night riding on European railways, where there are no sleeping-cars, +is not very agreeable. However, in the first class +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> +carriages one can make a sort of half couch by pulling out +the cushioned seats, and thus bestowed we managed to pass +the night, which was not very long, as daybreak comes early +in this latitude, and at this season of the year.</p> + +<p>But fatigues vanish when at Mayence we go on board the +steamer, and are at last afloat on the Rhine—"the exulting +and abounding river." We forget the discomforts of the way +as we drop down this enchanted stream, past all the ruined +castles, "famed in story," which hang on the crests of the +hills. Every picturesque ruin has its legend, which clings to +it like vines to the mouldering wall. All day long we are +floating in the past, and in a romantic past. Tourists sit on +deck, with their guide-books in hand, marking every old +wall covered with ivy, and every crumbling tower, connected +with some tradition of the Middle Ages. Even prosaic individuals +go about repeating poetry. The best of guide-books +is Childe Harold. Byron has seized the spirit of the scene in +a few picturesque and animated stanzas, which bring the +whole panorama before us. How musical are the lines +beginning,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>The castled crag of Drachenfels,</p> +<p class="i1">Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,</p> +<p>Whose breast of waters broadly swells</p> +<p class="i1">Between the banks which bear the vine,</p> +<p>And hills all rich with blossomed trees,</p> +<p class="i1">And fields which promise corn and wine,</p> +<p>And scattered cities crowning these,</p> +<p class="i1">Whose far white walls along them shine.</p> +</div> + +<p>Thus floating onward as in a dream, we reached Cologne at +five o'clock Saturday afternoon, and found at the Hôtel du +Nord a very spacious and attractive hostelry, which made us +well content to stay quietly for two or three days.</p> + +<p>Cologne has got an ill name from Coleridge's ill-favored +compliment, which implied that its streets had not always +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> +the fragrance of that Cologne water which it exports to all +countries. But I think he has done it injustice for the sake +of a witty epigram. If he has not, the place has much improved +since his day, and if not yet quite a flower garden, is +at least as clean and decent as most of the Continental cities. +It has received a great impulse from the extension of railroads, +of which it is a centre, being in the direct line of +travel from England to the Rhine and Switzerland, and to +the German watering-places, and indeed to every part of +Central Europe. Hence it has grown rapidly, and become a +large and prosperous city.</p> + +<p>But to the traveller in search of sights, every object in +Cologne "hides its diminished head" in presence of one, the +cathedral, the most magnificent Gothic structure ever reared +by human hands. Begun six hundred years ago, it is not +finished yet. For four hundred years the work was suspended, +and the huge crane that stood on one of its towers, +as it hung in air, was a sad token of the great, but unfinished +design. But lately the German Government, with +that vigor which characterizes everything in the new empire, +has undertaken its completion. Already it has expended +two millions of dollars upon it, and holds out a hope that it +may be finished during this generation. To convey any idea +of this marvellous structure by a description, is impossible. +It is a forest in stone. Looking through its long nave and +aisles, one is more reminded of the avenues of New Haven +elms, than of any work of man. We ascended by the stone +steps to the roof, at least to the first roof, and then began to +get some idea of the vastness of the whole. Passing into +the interior at this height, we made the circuit of the gallery, +from which men looked very small who were walking about +on the pavement of the cathedral. The sacristan who had +conducted us thus far, told us we had now ascended one +hundred steps, and that, if we chose to mount a hundred +more, we could get to the main roof—the highest present accessible +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> +point—for the towers are not yet finished, which are +further to be surmounted by lofty spires. When complete, +the crosses which they lift into the air will be more than five +hundred feet above the earth!</p> + +<p>The Cathedral boasts great treasures and holy relics—such +as the bones of the Magi, the three Kings of the East, who +came to see the Saviour at his birth, which, whoso can believe, +is welcome to his faith. But the one thing which all +<i>must</i> believe, since it stands before their eyes, is the magnificence +of this temple of the Almighty. I am surprised to +see the numbers of people who attend the services, and +with an appearance of devotion, joining in the singing with +heart and voice. The Cathedral is our constant resort, as +it is close to our hotel, and we can go in at all hours, +morning, noon, and night. There we love to sit especially +at twilight, when the priests are chanting vespers, and listen +to their songs, and think of the absent and the dead. +We may wander far, and see many lofty structures reared to +the Most High, but nowhere do we expect to bow our heads +in a nobler temple, till we join with the worshippers before +the Throne. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XIII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">BELGIUM AND HOLLAND.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Amsterdam</span>, July 30th.</p> + +<p>If any of my readers should follow our route upon the +map, he will see that we take a somewhat zigzag course, +flying off here and there to see whatever most attracts attention. +The facilities of travel in Europe are so great, that one +can at any time be transported in a few hours into a new +country. The junior partner in this travelling company of +two has lately been reading Motley's histories, and been filled +with enthusiasm for the Netherlands, which fought so +bravely against Spain, and nothing would do but to turn +aside to see these Low Countries. So, instead of going east +from Cologne into the heart of Germany, we turned west to +make a short detour into Belgium and Holland. And indeed +these countries deserve a visit, as they are quite unique in +appearance and in character, and furnish a study by themselves. +They lie in a corner of the Continent, looking out +upon the North Sea, and seem to form a kind of eddy, +unaffected by the great current of the political life of Europe. +They do not belong to the number of the Great Powers, and +do not have to pay for "glory" by large standing armies and +perpetual wars.</p> + +<p>Belgium—which we first enter in coming from the Rhine—is +one of the smaller kingdoms still left on the map of +Europe not yet swallowed up by the great devourers of nations; +and which, if it has less glory, has more liberty and more +real happiness than some of its more powerful neighbors. If +it has not the form of a republic, yet it has all the liberty +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> +which any reasonable man could desire. Its standing army is +small—but forty or fifty thousand men; though in case of +war, it could put a hundred thousand under arms. But this +would be a mere mouthful for some of the great German +armies. Its security, therefore, lies not in its ability to +resist attack, but in the fact that from its very smallness it +does not excite the envy or the fear or the covetousness of its +neighbors, and that, between them all, it is very convenient +to have this strip of neutral territory. During the late war +between France and Germany it prospered greatly; the +danger to business enterprises elsewhere led many to look +upon this little country, as in the days of the Flood people +might have looked upon some point of land that had not yet +been reached by the waters that covered the earth, to which +they could flee for safety. Hence the disasters of others +gave a great impulse to its commercial affairs.</p> + +<p>Antwerp, where we ended our first day's journey, is a city +that has had a great history; that three hundred years ago +was one of the first commercial cities of Europe, the Venice +of the North, and received in its waters ships from all parts +of the earth. It has had recently a partial revival of its +former commercial greatness. The forest of masts now lying +in the Scheldt tells of its renewed prosperity.</p> + +<p>But strangers do not go to Antwerp to see fleets of ships, +such as they might see at London or Liverpool, but to see +that which is old and historic. Antwerp has one of the +notable Cathedrals of the Continent, which impresses +travellers most if they come directly from America. But +coming from Cologne, it suffers by comparison, as it has +nothing of the architectural magnificence, the heaven-soaring +columns and arches, of the great Minster of Cologne. And +then its condition is dilapidated and positively shabby. It is +not finished, and there is no attempt to finish it. One of the +towers is complete, but the other is only half way up, where +it has been capped over, and so remained for centuries, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> +perhaps will remain forever. And its surroundings are of +the meanest description. Instead of standing in an open +square, with ample space around it to show its full proportions, +it is hedged in by shops, which are backed up against +its very walls. Thus the architectural effect is half destroyed. +It is a shame that it should be left in such a state—that, +while Prussia, a Protestant country, is spending +millions to restore the Cathedral of Cologne, Belgium, a +Catholic country, and a rich one too (with no war on hand to +drain its resources), should not devote a little of its wealth +to keeping in proper order and respect this venerable monument +of the past.</p> + +<p>And yet not all the littleness of its present surroundings +can wholly rob the old Cathedral of its majesty. There it +stands, as it has stood from generation to generation, and +out from all this meanness and dirt it lifts its head towards +heaven. Though only one tower is finished, that is very +lofty (as any one will find who climbs the hundreds of stone +steps to the top, from which the eye ranges over almost +the whole of Belgium, a vast plain, dotted with cities and +villages), and being wrought in open arches, it has the appearance +of fretted work, so that Napoleon said "it looked as if +made of Mechlin lace." And there, high in the air, hangs a +chime of bells, that every quarter of an hour rings out some +soft aërial melody. It has a strange effect, in walking across +the Place St. Antoine, to hear this delicious <i>rain</i> dropping +down as it were out of the clouds. We almost wonder that +the market people can go about their business, while there is +such heavenly music in the upper air.</p> + +<p>But the glory of the Cathedral of Antwerp is within—not +in the church itself, but in the great paintings which it enshrines. +The interior is cold and naked, owing to the entire +absence of color to give it warmth. The walls are glaring +white. We even saw them <i>whitewashing</i> the columns and +arches. Could any means be found more effectual for belittling +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> +the impression of one of the great churches of the +Middle Ages? If taste were the only thing to be considered +in this world, I could wish Belgium might be annexed, for +awhile at least, to Germany, that that Government might +take this venerable Cathedral in hand, and, by clearing away +the rubbish around it, and proper toning of the walls within, +restore it to its former majesty and beauty.</p> + +<p>But no surroundings, however poor and cold, can destroy +the immortal paintings with which it is illumined and glorified. +Until I saw these, I could not feel much enthusiasm +for the works of Rubens, although those who worship the +old masters would consider it rank heresy to say so. Many +of his pictures seem to me artistic monstrosities, they are on +such a colossal scale. The men are all giants, and the women +all amazons, and even his holy children, his seraphs and +cupids, are fat Dutch babies. It seems as if his object, in +every painting of the human figure, were to display his +knowledge of anatomy; and the bodies are often twisted and +contorted as if to show the enormous development of muscle +in the giant limbs. This is very well if one is painting a +Hercules or a gladiator. But to paint common men and +women in this colossal style is not pleasing. The series of +pictures in the Louvre, in which Marie de Medicis is introduced +in all sorts of dramatic attitudes, never stirred my +admiration, as I have said more than once, when standing +before those huge canvases, although one for whose opinions +in such matters I had infinite respect, used to reply archly, +that I "could hardly claim to be an authority in painting." +I admit it; but that is my opinion nevertheless, which I adhere +to with all the proverbial tenacity of the "free and +independent American citizen."</p> + +<p>But ah, I do repent me now, as I come into the presence of +paintings whose treatment, like their subject, is divine. +There are two such in the Cathedral of Antwerp—the Elevation +of the Cross, and the Descent from the Cross. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> +latter is generally regarded as the masterpiece of Rubens; but +they are worthy of each other.</p> + +<p>In the Elevation of the Cross our Saviour has been nailed +to the fatal tree, which the Roman soldiers are raising to +plant it in the earth. The form is that of a living man. +The hands and feet are streaming with blood, and the body +droops as it hangs with all its weight on the nails. But the +look is one of life, and not of death. The countenance has +an expression of suffering, yet not of mere physical pain; the +agony is more than human; as the eyes are turned upward, +there is more than mortal majesty in the look—there is divinity +as well as humanity—it is the dying God. Long we sat +before this picture, to take in the wondrous scene which it +presents. He must be wanting in artistic taste, or religious +feeling, who can look upon it without the deepest emotion.</p> + +<p>In the Descent from the Cross the struggle is over: there +is Death in every feature, in the face, pale and bloodless, in +the limbs that hang motionless, in the whole body as it sinks +into the arms of the faithful attendants. If Rubens had +never painted but these two pictures, he would deserve to be +ranked as one of the world's great masters. I am content +to look on these, and let more enthusiastic worshippers admire +the rest.</p> + +<p>Leaving the tall spire of Antwerp in the distance, the +swift fire-horse skims like a swallow over the plains of Belgium, +and soon we are in Holland. One disadvantage of +these small States (to compensate for the positive good of +independence, and of greater commercial freedom) is, that +every time we cross a frontier we have to undergo a new +inspection by the custom-house authorities. To be sure, it +does not amount to much. The train is detained half an +hour, the trunks are all taken into a large room, and placed +on counters; the passengers come along with the keys in +their hands, and open them; the officials give an inquiring +look, sometimes turn over one or two layers of clothing, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> +see that it is all right; the trunks are locked up, the porters +replace them in the baggage-car, and the train starts on again. +We are amused at the farce, the only annoyance of which is +the delay. Within two days after we left Cologne, we had +crossed two frontiers, and had our baggage examined twice: +first, in going into Belgium, and, second, in coming into +Holland; we had heard three languages—nay, four—German +on the Rhine; then French at Antwerp (how good it seemed +to hear the familiar accents once more!); and the Flemish, +which is a dialect unlike either; and now we have this horrible +Dutch (which is "neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring," +but a sort of jaw-breaking gutturals, that seem not to +be spoken with lips or tongue, but to be coughed up from +some unfathomable depth in the Dutch breast); and we have +had three kinds of money—marks and francs, and florins or +guilders—submitting to a shave every time we change from +one into the other. Such are the petty vexations of travel. +But never mind, let us take them good-naturedly, leaping +over them gayly, as we do over this dike—and here we are in +Holland.</p> + +<p>Switzerland and Holland! Was there ever a greater contrast +than between the two countries? What a change for +us in these three weeks, to be up in the clouds, and now +down, actually <i>below</i> the level of the sea; for Holland is +properly, and in its normal state, <i>under water</i>, only the water +is drained off, and is kept off by constant watchfulness. The +whole land has been obtained by robbery—robbery from the +ocean, which is its rightful possessor, and is kept out of his +dominions by a system of earthworks, such as never were +drawn around any fortification. Holland may be described +in one word as an enormous Dutch platter, flat and even +hollow in the middle, and turned up at the edges. Standing +in the centre, you can see the <i>rim</i> in the long lines of circumvallation +which meet the eye as it sweeps round the horizon. +This immense <i>platitude</i> is intersected by innumerable canals, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> +which cross and recross it in every direction; and as if to +drive away the evil spirits from the country, enormous windmills, +like huge birds, keep a constant flapping in the air. +To relieve the dull monotony, these plains are covered with +cattle, which with their masses of black and white and red on +the green pastures, give a pretty bit of color to the landscape. +The raising of cattle is one of the chief industries of Holland. +They are exported in great numbers from Rotterdam to +London, so that "the roast beef of old England" is often +Dutch beef, after all. With her plains thus bedecked with +countless herds, all sleek and well fed, the whole land has an +aspect of comfort and abundance; it looks to be, as it is, a +land of peace and plenty, of fat cattle and fat men. As +moreover it has not much to do in the way of making war, +except on the other side of the globe, it has no need of a large +standing army; and the military element is not so unpleasantly +conspicuous as in France and Germany.</p> + +<p>Rotterdam is a place of great commercial importance. It +has a large trade with the Dutch Possessions in the East +Indies, and with other parts of the world. But as it has less +of historical interest, we pass it by, to spend a day at the +Hague, which is the residence of the Court, and of course +the seat of rank and fashion in the little kingdom. It is a +pretty place, with open squares and parks, long avenues of +stately trees, and many beautiful residences. We received a +good impression of it in these respects on the evening of our +arrival, as we took a carriage and drove to Scheveningen, two +or three miles distant on the sea-shore, which is the great resort +of Dutch fashion. It was Long Branch over again. +There were the same hotels, with long wide piazzas looking +out upon the sea; a beautiful beach sloping down to the +water, covered with bathing-houses, and a hundred merry +groups scattered here and there; young people engaged in +mild flirtations, which were quite harmless, since old dowagers +sat looking on with watchful eyes. Altogether it was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> +a very pretty scene, such as it does one good to see, as it +shows that all life and happiness are not gone out of this +weary world.</p> + +<p>As we drove back to the Hague, we met the royal carriage +with the Queen, who was taking her evening drive—a lady +with a good motherly face, who is greatly esteemed, not only +in Holland, but in England, for her intelligence and her +many virtues. She is a woman of literary tastes, and is fond +of literary society. I infer that she is a friend of our countryman, +Mr. Motley, who has done so much to illustrate the +history of Holland, from seeing his portrait the next day at +her Palace in the Wood—which was the more remarkable as +hanging on the wall of one of the principal apartments <i>alone</i>, +no other portrait being beside it, and few indeed anywhere, +except of members of the royal family.</p> + +<p>This "Wood," where this summer palace stands, is one +of the features of the Hague. It is called the Queen's Wood, +and is quite worthy of its royal name, being a forest chiefly +of beech-trees, through which long avenues open a retreat +into the densest silence and shade. It is a great resort for +the people of the Hague, and thither we drove after we +came in from Scheveningen. An open space was brilliantly +lighted up, and the military band was playing, and a crowd +of people were sitting in the open air, or under the trees, sipping +their coffee or ices, and listening to the music, which +rang through the forest aisles. It would be difficult to find, +in a place of the size of the Hague, a more brilliant company.</p> + +<p>But it was not fashion that we were looking for, but historical +places and associations. So the next morning we took a carriage +and a guide and drove out to Delft, to see the spot where +William the Silent, the great Prince of Orange, on whose +life it seemed the fate of the Netherlands hung, was assassinated; +and the church where he was buried, and where, +after three hundred years, his spirit still rules from its urn.</p> + +<p>Returning to the city, we sought out—as more interesting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +than Royal Palaces or the Picture Gallery, though we did justice +to both—the houses of the great commoners, John and +Cornelius De Witt, who, after lives of extraordinary devotion +to the public good, were torn to pieces by an infuriated populace; +and of Barneveld, who, after saving Holland by his wisdom +and virtue, was executed on some technical and frivolous +charge. We saw the very spot where he died, and the window +out of which Maurice (the son of the great William) +looked on at this judicial murder—the only stain on his long +possession of the chief executive power.</p> + +<p>Leaving the Hague with its tragic and its heroic memories, +we take our last view of Holland in Amsterdam. Was there +ever such a queer old place? It is like the earth of old—"standing +out of the water and in the water." It is intersected +with canals, which are filled with boats, loading and +unloading. The whole city is built on piles, which sometimes +sink into the mud, causing the superincumbent structures +to incline forward like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. In +fact, the houses appear to be drunk, and not to be able to +stand on their pins. They lean towards each other across the +narrow streets, till they almost touch, and indeed seem like +old topers, that cannot stand up straight, but can only just +hold on by the lamp-post, and are nodding to each other over +the way. I should think that in some places a long Dutchman's +pipe could be held out of one window, and be smoked +by a man on the other side of the street.</p> + +<p>But in spite of all that, in these old tumble-down houses, +under these red-tiled roofs, there dwells a brave, honest, free +people; a people that are slaves to no master; that fear God, +and know no other fear; and that have earned their right to +a place in this world by hard blows on the field of battle, +and on every field of human industry—on land and on sea—and +that are to-day one of the freest and happiest people on +the round earth.</p> + +<p>How we wished last evening that we had some of our +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> +American friends with us, as we rode about this old city—along +by the canals, over the bridges, down to the harbor, +and then for miles along the great embankment that keeps +out the sea. There are the ships coming and going to all +parts of the earth—the constant and manifold proofs that +Holland is still a great commercial country.</p> + +<p>And to-day we wished for those friends again, as we rode +to Broek, the quaintest and queerest little old place that ever +was seen—that looks like a baby-house made of Dutch tiles. +It is said to be the cleanest place in the world, in which respect +it is like those Shaker houses, where every tin pan is +scoured daily, and every floor is as white as broom and mop +can make it. We rode back past miles of fertile meadows, +all wrung from the sea, where cattle were cropping the rich +grass on what was once the bottom of the deep; and thus +on every hand were the signs of Dutch thrift and abundance.</p> + +<p>And so we take our leave of Holland with a most friendly +feeling. We are glad to have seen a country where there is +so much liberty, so much independence, and such universal +industry and comfort. To be sure, an American would find +life here rather <i>slow</i>; it would seem to him as if he were +being drawn in a low and heavy boat with one horse through +a stagnant canal; but <i>they</i> don't feel so, and so they are +happy. Blessings on their honest hearts! Blessings on the +stout old country, on the lusty burghers, and buxom women, +with faces round as the harvest moon! Now that we are +going away, the whole land seems to relax into a broad smile; +the very cattle look happy, as they recline in the fat meadows +and chew the cud of measureless content; the storks seem +sorry to have us go, and sail around on lazy wing, as if to +give us a parting salutation; and even the windmills begin +to creak on their hinges, and with their long arms wave us a +kind farewell. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XIV.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE NEW GERMANY AND ITS CAPITAL.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Berlin</span>, August 5th.</p> + +<p>The greatest political event of the last ten years in Europe—perhaps +the greatest since the battle of Waterloo—is the +sudden rise and rapid development of the German Empire. +When Napoleon was overthrown in 1815, and the allies +marched to Paris, the sovereignty of Europe, and the peace +of the world, was supposed to be entrusted to the Five Great +Powers, and of these five the least in importance was +Prussia. Both Russia and Austria considered themselves +giants beside her; England had furnished the conqueror of +Waterloo, and the troops which bore the brunt of that terrible +day, and the money that had carried on a twenty years' +war against Napoleon; and even France, terribly exhausted +as she was, drained of her best blood, yet, as she had stood so +long against all Europe combined, might have considered +herself still a match for any one of her enemies <i>alone</i>, and +certainly for the weakest of them all, Prussia. Yet to-day +this, which was the weakest of kingdoms, has grown to be +the greatest power in Europe—a power which has crushed +Austria, which has crushed France, which Russia treats with +infinite respect, and which would despise the interference of +England in Continental affairs.</p> + +<p>This acquisition of power, though recent in its manifestation, +has been of slow growth. The greatness of Prussia may +be said to have been born of its very humiliation. It was +after its utter overthrow at the battle of Jena, in 1806, when +Napoleon marched to Berlin, levied enormous subsidies, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> +appropriated such portions of the kingdom as he pleased, that +the rulers of Prussia saw that the reconstruction of their +State must begin from the very bottom, and went to work to +educate the people and reorganize the army. The result of +this severe discipline and long military training was seen +when, sixty years after Jena, Prussia in a six weeks' campaign +laid Austria at her feet, and was only kept from taking +Vienna by the immediate conclusion of peace. Four years +later came the French war, when King William avenged the +insults to his royal mother by Napoleon the First—whose +brutality, it is said, broke the proud spirit of the beautiful +Queen Louise, and sent her to an early grave—in the terrible +humiliation he administered to Napoleon the Third.</p> + +<p>But such triumphs were not wrought by military organization +alone, but by other means for developing the life and +vigor of the German race, especially by a system of universal +education, which is the admiration of the world. The Germans +conquered the French, not merely because they were +better soldiers, but because they were more intelligent men, +who knew how to read and write, and who could act more +efficiently because they acted intelligently.</p> + +<p>With her common schools and her perfect military +organization, Prussia has combined great political sagacity, +by which the fortunes of other States have been united with +her own. Such stupendous achievements as were seen in the +French war, were not wrought by Prussia alone, but by all +Germany. It was in foresight and anticipation of just such a +contingency that Bismarck had long before entered into an +alliance with the lesser German States, by which, in the +event of war, they were all to act together; and thus, when +the Prussian army entered the field, it was supported by +powerful allies from Saxony and Würtemberg and Bavaria.</p> + +<p>And so when the war was over, out of the old Confederation +arose an <span class="smcap">Empire</span>, and the King of Prussia was invited to take +upon himself the more august title of Emperor of Germany—a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> +title which recalls the line of the Cæsars; and thus has +risen up, in the very heart of the Continent—like an island +thrown up by a volcano in the midst of the sea—a power +which is to-day the most formidable in Europe.</p> + +<p>As Protestants, we cannot but feel a degree of satisfaction +that this controlling power should be centred in a Protestant +State, rather than in France or Austria; although I should +be sorry to think that our Protestant principles oblige us to +approve every high-handed measure undertaken against the +Catholics. We in America believe in perfect liberty in religious +matters, and are scrupulous to give to others the same +freedom that we demand for ourselves. Of course the relations +of things are somewhat changed in a country where the +Church is allied with the State, and the ministers of religion +are supported by the Government. But, without entering +into the question which so agitates Germany at the present +moment, our natural sympathies, both as Protestants and as +Americans, must always be on the side of the fullest religious +liberty.</p> + +<p>Besides the Church question there are other grave problems +raised by the present state of Germany:—such as, +whether the Empire is likely to endure, or to be broken to +pieces by the jealousy of the smaller States of the preponderance +of Prussia? and whether peace will continue, or there +will be a general war? But these are rather large questions to +be dispatched in a few pages. They are questions that will +<i>keep</i>, and may be discussed a year hence as well as to-day, <i>and +better</i>—since we may then regard them by the light of accomplished +<i>events</i>; whereas now we should have to indulge too +much in <i>prophecies</i>. I prefer therefore, instead of undertaking +to give lessons of political wisdom, to entertain my readers +with a brief description of Berlin.</p> + +<p>This can never be the most beautiful of European cities, +even if it should come in time to be the largest, for its situation +is very unfavorable; it lies too low. It seems strange +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> +that this spot should ever have been chosen for the site of a +great city. It has no advantages of position whatever, except +that it is on the little river Spree. But having chosen +this flat <i>prairie</i>, they have made the most of it. It has been +laid out in large spaces, with long, wide streets. At first, it +must have been, like Washington, a city of magnificent distances, +but in the course of a hundred years these distances +have been filled up with buildings, many of them of fine architecture, +so that gradually the city has taken on a stately +appearance. Since I was here in 1858, it has enlarged on +every side; new streets and squares have added to the size +and the magnificence of the capital; and the military element +is more conspicuous than ever; "the man on horseback" +is seen everywhere. Nor is this strange, for in that time +the country has had two great wars, and the German armies, +returning triumphant from hard campaigns, have filed in endless +procession, with banners torn with shot and shell, +through the Unter den Linden, past the statue of the great +Frederick, out of the Brandenburg gate to the Thiergarten, +where now a lofty column (like that in the Place Vendôme +at Paris), surmounted by a flaming statue of Victory, commemorates +the triumph of the German arms.</p> + +<p>Of course we did our duty heroically in the way of seeing +sights—such as the King's Castle and the Museum. But I +confess I felt more interest in seeing the great University, +which has been the home of so many eminent scholars, and is +the chief seat of learning on the Continent, than in seeing the +Palace; and in riding by the plain house in a quiet street, +where Bismarck lives, than in seeing all the mansions of the +Royal Princes, with soldiers keeping guard before the gates.</p> + +<p>The most interesting place in the neighborhood of Berlin, +of course, is Potsdam, with its historical associations, especially +with its memories of Frederick the Great. The day we +spent there was full of interest. An hour was given to the +New Palace—that is, one that <i>was</i> new a hundred years +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> +ago, but which at present is kept more for show than for use, +though one wing is occupied by the Crown Prince. Externally +it has no architectural beauty whatever, nothing to render +it imposing but <i>size</i>; but the interior shows many stately +apartments. One of these, called the Grotto, is quite +unique, the walls being crusted with shells and all manner of +stones, so that, entering here, one might feel that he had +found some cave of the ocean, dripping with coolness, and, +when lighted up, reflecting from all its precious stones a +thousand splendors. It was here that the Emperor entertained +the King of Sweden at a royal banquet a few weeks +ago. But palaces are pretty much all the same; we wander +through endless apartments, rich with gilding and ornament, +till we are weary of all this grandeur, and are glad when we +light on some quiet nook, like the modest little palace—if +palace it may be called—Charlottenhof, where Alexander von +Humboldt lived and wrote his works. I found more interest +in seeing the desk on which he wrote his Kosmos, and the +narrow bed on which the great man slept (he did not need +much of a bed, since he slept only four hours), than in all the +grand state apartments of ordinary kings.</p> + +<p>But Frederick the Great was not an ordinary king, and +the palace in which <i>he</i> lived is invested with the interest of +an extraordinary personality. Walking a mile through a +park of noble trees, we come to <i>Sans Souci</i> (a pretty name, +<i>Without Care</i>). This is much smaller than the New Palace, +but it is more home-like—it was built by Frederick the Great +for his own residence, and here he spent the last years of his +life. Every room is connected with him. In this he gave +audience to foreign ministers; at this desk he wrote. This +is the room occupied by Voltaire, whom Frederick, worshipping +his genius, had invited to Potsdam, but who soon got +tired of his royal patron (as the other perhaps got tired of +<i>him</i>), and ended the romantic friendship by running away. +And here is the room in which the great king breathed his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +last. He died sitting in his chair, which still bears the stains +of his blood, for his physicians had bled him. At that moment, +they tell us, a little mantel clock, which Frederick always +wound up with his own hand, stopped, and there it +stands now, with its fingers pointing to the very hour and +minute when he died. That was ninety years ago, and yet +almost every day of every year since strangers have entered +that room, to see where this king, this leader of armies, met +a greater Conqueror than he, and bowed his royal head to +the inevitable Destroyer.</p> + +<p>But that was not the last king who died in this palace. +When we were here in 1858, the present Emperor was not +on the throne, but his elder brother, whose private apartments +we then saw; and now we were shown them again, +with only this added: "In this room the old king died; in +that very bed he breathed his last." All remains just as he +left it; his military cap, with his gloves folded beside it; and +here is a cast of his face taken after his death. So do they +preserve his memory, while the living form returns no more.</p> + +<p>From the palace of the late king we drove to that of the +present Emperor. Babelsberg is still more interesting than +Sans Souci, as it is associated with living personages, who +occupy the most exalted stations. It is the home of the +Emperor himself when at Potsdam. It is not so large as the +New Palace, but, like Sans Souci, seems designed more for +comfort than for grandeur. It was built by King William +himself, according to his own taste, and has in it all the appointments +of an elegant home. The site is beautiful. It +stands on elevated ground (it seems a commanding eminence +compared with the flat country around Berlin), and looks out +on a prospect in which a noble park, and green slopes, descending +to lovely bits of water, unite to form what may be +called an English landscape—like that from Richmond on the +Hill, or some scene in the Lake District of England. The +house is worthy of such surroundings. We were fortunate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> +in being there when the Family were absent. The Empress +was expected home in a day or two; they were preparing the +rooms for her return; and the Emperor was to follow the next +week, when of course the house would be closed to visitors. +But now we were admitted, and shown through, not only the +State apartments, but the private rooms. Such an inspection +of the <i>home</i> of a royal family gives one some idea of their +domestic life; we seem to see the interior of the household. +In this case the impression was most charming. While +there was very little that was for show, there was everything +that was tasteful and refined and elegant. It was pleasant to +hear the attendant who showed us the rooms speak in terms +of such admiration, and even affection, of the Emperor, as +"a very kind man." One who is thus beloved by his dependents, +by every member of his household, cannot but +have some excellent traits of character. We were shown the +drawing-room and the library, and the private study of the +Emperor, the chair in which he sits, the desk at which he +writes, and the table around which he gathers his ministers—Bismarck +and Moltke, etc. We were shown also what a +New England housekeeper would call the "living rooms," +where he dined and where he slept. The ladies of our party +declared that the bed did not answer at all to their ideas of +royal luxury, or even comfort, the sturdy old Emperor having +only a single mattress under him, and that a pretty hard +one. Perhaps however he despises luxury, and prefers to +harden himself, like Napoleon, or the Emperor Nicholas, who +slept on a camp bedstead. He is certainly very plain in his +habits and simple in his tastes. Descending the staircase, +the attendant took from a corner and put in our hand the +Emperor's cane. It was a rough stick, such as any dandy in +New York would have despised, but the old man had cut it +himself many years ago, and now he always has it in his +hand when he walks abroad. And there through the window +we look down into the poultry yard, where the Empress, we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> +were told, feeds her chickens with her own hand every morning. +I was glad to hear this of the grand old lady. It +shows a kind heart, and how, after all, for the greatest as +well as the humblest of mankind, the simplest pleasures are +the sweetest. I dare say she takes more pleasure in feeding +her chickens than in presiding at the tedious court ceremonies. +Such little touches give a most pleasant impression +of the simple home-life of the Royal House of Prussia.</p> + +<p>Our last visit was to the tomb of Frederick the Great, who +is buried in the Garrison Church. There is nothing about it +imposing to the imagination, as in the tomb of Napoleon at +Paris. It is only a little vault, which a woman opens with a +key, and lights a tallow candle, and you lay your hand on the +metallic coffin of the great King. There he lies—that fiery +spirit that made war for the love of war, that attacked +Austria, and seized Silesia, more for the sake of the excitement +of the thing, and, as he confessed, "to make people talk +about him," than because he had the slightest pretence to +that Austrian province; who, though he wanted to be a +soldier, yet in his first battle ran away as fast as his horse +could carry him, and hid himself in a barn; but who afterwards +recovered control of himself, and became the greatest +captain of his time. He it was who carried through the +Seven Years' War, not only against Austria, but against +Europe, and who held Silesia against them all. "The Continent +in arms," says Macaulay, "could not tear it from +that iron grasp." But now the warrior is at rest; that figure, +long so well known, no more rides at the head of armies. In +this bronze coffin lies all that remains of Frederick the Great:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle,</p> +<p>No sound shall awake him to glory again."</p> +</div> + +<p>Speaking of tombs—as of late my thoughts "have had +much discourse with death"—the most beautiful which I +have ever seen anywhere is that of Queen Louise, the mother +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +of the present Emperor, in the Mausoleum at Charlottenburg. +The statue of the Queen is by the famous German sculptor, +Rauch. When I first saw it years ago, it left such an impression +that I could not leave Berlin without seeing it again +and we drove out of the city several miles for the purpose. +It is in the grounds attached to one of the royal palaces +but we did not care to see any more palaces, if only we could +look again on that pure white marble form. At the end of a +long avenue of trees is the Mausoleum—a small building +devoted only to royal sepulture—and there, in a subdued +light, stretched upon her tomb, lies the beautiful Queen. +Her personal loveliness is a matter of tradition; it is preserved +in innumerable portraits, which show that she was one of the +most beautiful women of her time. That beauty is preserved +in the reclining statue. The head rests on a marble pillow, +and is turned a little to one side, so as to show the perfect +symmetry of the Grecian outlines. It is a sweet, sad face +(for she had sorrows that broke her queenly heart); but now +her trials are ended, and how calmly and peacefully she sleeps! +The form is drooping, as if she slumbered on her bed; she +seems almost to breathe; hush, the marble lips are going to +speak! Was there ever such an expression of perfect repose? +It makes one "half in love with blissful death." It brought +freshly to mind the lines of Shelley in Queen Mab:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>How wonderful is Death!</p> +<p class="i1">Death and his brother Sleep!</p> +<p>One, pale as yonder waning moon,</p> +<p class="i1">With lips of lurid blue;</p> +<p class="i1">The other, rosy as the morn</p> +<p>When throned on ocean's wave,</p> +<p class="i1">It blushes o'er the world:</p> +<p>Yet both so passing wonderful!</p> +</div> + +<p>By the side of the statue of the Queen reposes, on another +tomb, that of her husband—a noble figure in his military +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> +cloak, with his hands folded on his breast. The King survived +the Queen thirty years. She died in her youth, in 1810; he +lived till 1840; but his heart was in her tomb, and it is fitting +that now they sleep together.</p> + +<p>On the principle of rhetoric, that a description should end +with that which leaves the deepest impression, I end my letter +here, with the softened light of that Mausoleum falling on +that breathing marble; for in all my memories of Berlin, no +one thing—neither palace, nor museum, nor the statue of +Frederick the Great, nor the Column of Victory—has left in +me so deep a feeling as the silent form of that beautiful +Queen. Queen Louise is a marked figure in German history, +being invested with touching interest by her beauty and her +sorrow, and early death. I like to think of such a woman +as the mother of a royal race, now actors on the stage. It +cannot but be that the memory of her beauty, associated with +her patriotism, her courage, and her devotion, should long +remain an inheritance of that royal line, and their most precious +inspiration. May the young princes, growing up to be +future kings and emperors, as they gather round her tomb, +tenderly cherish her memory and imitate her virtues! +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XV.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">AUSTRIA—OLD AND NEW.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Vienna</span>, August 12th.</p> + +<p>We are taking such a wide sweep through Central Europe, +travelling from city to city, and country to country, that my +materials accumulate much faster than I can use them. +There are three cities which I should be glad to describe in +detail—Hamburg, Dresden, and Prague. Hamburg, to which +we came from Amsterdam, perhaps appears more beautiful +from the contrast, and remains in our memory as the fairest +city of the North. Dresden, the capital of Saxony, is also a +beautiful city, and attracts a great number of English and +American residents by its excellent opportunities of education, +and from its treasures of art, in which it is richer than +any other city in Germany. Our stay there was made most +pleasant by an American family whom we had known on the +other side of the Atlantic, who gave us a cordial welcome, +and under whose roof we felt how sweet is the atmosphere +of an American home. The same friends, when we left, accompanied +us on our way into the Saxon Switzerland, conducting +us to the height of the Bastei, a huge cliff, which +from the very top of a mountain overhangs the Elbe, which +winds its silver current through the valley below, while on +the other side of the river the fortress-crowned rock of Konigstein +lifts up its head, like Edinburgh Castle, to keep ward +and watch over the beautiful kingdom of Saxony.</p> + +<p>And there is dear old Prague, rusty and musty, that in +some quarters has such a tumble down air that it seems as if +it were to be given up to Jews, who were going to convert +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +it into a huge Rag Fair for the sale of old clothes, and yet +that in other quarters has new streets and new squares, and +looks as if it had caught a little of the spirit of the modern +time. But the interest of Prague to a stranger must be +chiefly historical—for what it has been rather than for what +it is. These associations are so many and so rich, that to +one familiar with them, the old churches and bridges, and +towers and castles, are full of stirring memories. As we rode +across the bridge, from which St. John of Nepomuc was +thrown into the river, five hundred years ago, because he +would not betray to a wicked king the secret which the +queen had confided to him in the confessional, up to the +Cathedral where a gorgeous shrine of silver keeps his dust, +and perpetuates his memory, the lines of Longfellow were +continually running in my mind:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I have read in some old marvellous tale,</p> +<p class="i1">Some legend strange and vague,</p> +<p>That a midnight host of spectres pale</p> +<p class="i1">Beleaguered the walls of Prague.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,</p> +<p class="i1">With the wan moon overhead,</p> +<p>There stood, as in an awful dream,</p> +<p class="i1">The army of the dead.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>It needs but little imagination on the spot to call up indeed +an "army of the dead." Standing on this old bridge, one could +almost hear, above the rushing Moldau, the drums of Zisca +calling the Hussites to arms on the neighboring heights, a +battle sound answered in a later century by the cannon of +Frederick the Great. Above us is the vast pile of the Hradschin, +the abode of departed royalties, where but a few weeks +ago poor old Ferdinand, the ex-Emperor of Austria, breathed +his last. He was almost an imbecile, who sat for many +years on the throne as a mere figurehead of the State, and +who was perfectly harmless, since he had little more to do +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +with the Government than if he had been a log of wood; +but who, when the great events of 1848 threatened the overthrow +of the Empire, was hurried out of the way to make +room for younger blood, and his nephew, Francis Joseph, +came to the throne. He lived to be eighty-two years old, yet +so utterly insignificant was he that almost the only thing he +ever said that people remember, was a remark that at one time +made the laugh of Vienna. Once in a country place he tasted +of some dumplings, a wretched compound of garlic and all +sorts of vile stuff, but which pleased the royal taste, and +which on his return to Vienna he ordered for the royal table, +greatly to the disgust of his attendants, to whom he replied, +"I am Kaiser, and I will have my dumplings!" This got +out, and caused infinite merriment. Poor old man! I +hope he had his dumplings to the last. He was a weak, +simple creature; but he is gone, and has been buried with +royal honors, and sleeps with the Imperial house of Austria +in the crypt of the Church of the Capuchins in Vienna.</p> + +<p>But all these memories of Prague, personal or historical, +recent or remote, I must leave, to come at once to the Austrian +capital, one of the most interesting cities of Europe. +Vienna is a far more picturesque city than Berlin. It is +many times older. It was a great city in the Middle Ages, +when Berlin had no existence. The Cathedral of St. Stephen +was erected hundreds of years before the Elector of Brandenburg +chose the site of a town on the Spree, or Peter the +Great began to build St. Petersburg on the banks of the +Neva. Vienna has played a great part in European history. +It long stood as a barrier against Moslem invasion. Less +than two hundred years ago it was besieged by the Turks, +and nothing but its heroic resistance, aided by the Poles, +under John Sobieski, prevented the irruption of Asiatic barbarians +into Central Europe. From the tower of St. Stephen's +anxious watchers have often marked the tide of battle, +as it ebbed and flowed around the ancient capital, from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +time when the plain of the Marchfeld was covered with the +tents of the Moslems, to that when the armies of Napoleon, +matched against those of Austria, fought the terrible battles +of Aspern, Essling, and Wagram.</p> + +<p>But if Vienna is an old city, it is also a new one. In +revisiting Germany, I am constantly struck with the contrast +between what I see now, and what I saw in 1858. Then +Vienna was a pleasant, old-fashioned city, not too large for +comfort, strongly fortified, like most of the cities of the Middle +Ages, with high walls and a deep moat encompassing it +on all sides. Now all has disappeared—the moat has been +filled up, and the walls have been razed to the ground, and +where they stood is a circle of broad streets called the +Ring-strasse, like the Boulevards of Paris. The city thus +let loose has burst out on all sides, and great avenues and +squares, and parks and gardens, have sprung into existence +on every hand. The result is a far more magnificent capital +than the Vienna which I knew seventeen years ago.</p> + +<p>Nor are the changes less in the country than in the capital. +There have been wars and revolutions, which have shaken +the Empire so that its very existence was in danger, but out +of which it has come stronger than ever. Austria is the +most remarkable example in Europe of <i>the good effects of a +thorough beating</i>. Twice, since I was here before, she has +had a terrible humiliation—in 1859 and in 1866—at Solferino +and at Sadowa.</p> + +<p>In 1858 Austria was slowly recovering from the terrible +shock of ten years before, the Revolutionary Year of 1848. +In '49 was the war in Hungary, when Kossuth with his fiery +eloquence roused the Magyars to arms, and they fought with +such vigor and success, that they threatened to march on +Vienna, and the independence of Hungary might have been +secured but for the intervention of Russia. Gorgei surrendered +to a Russian army. Then came a series of bloody +executions. The Hungarian leaders who fell into the hands +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> +of the Austrians, found no pity. The illustrious Count Louis +Batthyani was sent to the scaffold. Kossuth escaped only by +fleeing into Turkey. Gen. Bem turned Mussulman, saying +that "his only religion was love of liberty and hatred of +tyranny," and served as a Pacha at the head of a Turkish +army. It is a curious illustration of the change that a few +years have wrought, that Count Andrassy, who was concerned +with Batthyani in the same rebellion, and was also sentenced +to death, but escaped, is now the Prime Minister of Austria. +But then vengeance ruled the hour. The bravest Hungarian +generals were shot—chiefly, it was said at the time, by the +Imperious will of the Archduchess Sophia, the mother of +Francis Joseph. There is no hatred like a woman's, and she +could not forego the savage delight of revenge on those who had +dared to attack the power of Austria. Proud daughter of the +Cæsars! she was yet to taste the bitterness of a like cruelty, +when her own son, Maximilian, bared his breast to a file of +Mexican soldiers, and found no mercy. I thought of this +to-day, as I saw in the burial-place of the Imperial family, +near the coffin of that haughty and unforgiving woman, the +coffin of her son, whose poor body lies there pierced with a +dozen balls.</p> + +<p>But for the time Austria was victorious, and in the flush +of the reaction which was felt throughout Europe, began to +revive the old Imperial absolutism, the stern repression of +liberty of speech and of the press, the system of passports and +of spies, of jealous watchfulness by the police, and of full +submission to the Church of Rome.</p> + +<p>Such was the state of things in 1858; and such it might +have remained if the possessors of power had not been rudely +awakened from their dreams. How well I remember the +sense of triumph and power of that year. The empire of +Austria had been fully restored, including not only its present +territory, but the fairest portion of Italy—Lombardy +and Venice. To complete the joy of the Imperial house, an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> +heir had just been born to the throne. I was present in the +cathedral of Milan when a solemn Te Deum was performed +in thanksgiving for that crowning gift. Maximilian was then +Viceroy in Lombardy. I see him now as, with his young +bride Carlotta, he walked slowly up that majestic aisle, surrounded +by a brilliant staff of officers, to give thanks to +Almighty God for an event which seemed to promise the +continuance of the royal house of Austria, and of its Imperial +power to future generations. Alas for human foresight! +In less than one year the armies of France had crossed the +Alps, a great battle had been fought at Solferino, and Lombardy +was forever lost to Austria, and a Te Deum was performed +in the cathedral of Milan for a very different occasion, +but with still more enthusiastic rejoicing.</p> + +<p>But that was not the end of bitterness. Austria was not +yet sufficiently humiliated. She still clung to her old +arbitrary system, and was to be thoroughly converted only +by another administration of discipline. She had still +another lesson to learn, and that was to come from another +source, a power still nearer home. Though driven out of a +part of Italy, Austria was still the great power in Germany. +She was the most important member of the Germanic Confederation, +as she had a vote in the Diet at Frankfort proportioned +to her population, although two-thirds of her +people were not Germans. The Hungarians and the Bohemians +are of other races, and speak other languages. But +by the dexterous use of this power, with the alliance of +Bavaria and other smaller States, Austria was able always +to control the policy and wield the influence of Germany. +Prussia was continually outvoted, and her political influence +reduced to nothing—a state of things which became the more +unendurable the more she grew in strength, and became conscious +of her power. At length her statesmen saw that the +only hope of Prussia to gain her rightful place and power in +the councils of Europe, was <i>to drive Austria out of Germany</i>—to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> +compel her to withdraw entirely from the Confederation. +It was a bold design. Of course it meant war; but +for this Prussia had been long preparing. Suddenly, like a +thunderbolt from a clear sky, came the war of 1866. Scarcely +was it announced before a mighty army marched into Bohemia, +and the battle of Sadowa, the greatest in Europe since +Waterloo, ended the campaign. In six weeks all was over. +The proud house of Austria was humbled in the dust. Her +great army, that was to capture Berlin, was crushed in one +terrible day, and the Prussians were on the march for +Vienna, when their further advance was stopped by the +conclusion of peace.</p> + +<p>This was a fearful overthrow for Austria. But good comes +out of evil. It was the day of deliverance for Hungary and +for Italy. Man's extremity is God's opportunity, and the +king's extremity is liberty's opportunity. Up to this hour +Francis Joseph had obstinately refused to grant to Hungary +that separate government to which she had a right by the +ancient constitution of the kingdom, but which she had till +then vainly demanded. But at length the eyes of the young +emperor were opened, and on the evening of that day which +saw the annihilation of his military power, it is said, he sent +for Deak, the leader of the Hungarians, and asked "If he +should <i>then</i> concede all that they had asked, if they would +rally to his support so as to save him?" "Sire," said the +stern Hungarian leader, "<i>it is too late</i>!" Nothing remained +for the proud Hapsburg but to throw himself on the mercy of +the conqueror, and obtain such terms as he could. Venice +was signed away at a stroke. In his despair he telegraphed +to Paris, giving that beautiful province to Napoleon, to secure +the support of France in his extremity, who immediately +turned it over to Victor Emmanuel, thus completing the unity +of Italy.</p> + +<p>The results in Germany were not less important. As the +fruit of this short, but decisive campaign, Austria, besides +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> +paying a large indemnity for the expenses of the war, finally +withdrew wholly from the German Confederation, leaving +Prussia master of the field, which proceeded at once to form +a new Confederation with itself at the head.</p> + +<p>After such repeated overthrows and humiliations, one +would suppose that Austria was utterly ruined, and that the +proud young emperor would die of shame. But, "sweet are +the uses of adversity." Humiliation is sometimes good for +nations as for individuals, and never was it more so than +now. The impartial historian will record that these defeats +were Austria's salvation. The loss of Italy, however mortifying +to her pride, was only taking away a source of constant +trouble and discontent, and leaving to the rest of the empire +a much more perfect unity than it had before.</p> + +<p>So with the independence of Hungary; while it was an +apparent loss, it was a real gain. The Magyars at last obtained +what they had so long been seeking—a separate administration, +and Francis Joseph, Emperor of Austria, was +crowned at Pesth, King of Hungary. By this act of wise +conciliation five millions of the bravest people in Europe +were converted from disaffected, if not disloyal, subjects, +into contented and warmly attached supporters of the House +of Austria, the most devoted as they are the most warlike +defenders of the throne and the Empire.</p> + +<p>Another result of this war was the emancipation of the +Emperor himself from the Pope. Till then, Austria had +been one of the most extreme Catholic powers in Europe. +Not Spain itself had been a more servile adherent of Rome. +The Concordat gave all ecclesiastical appointments to the +Pope. But the thunder of the guns of Sadowa destroyed +a great many illusions—among them that of a ghostly power +at Rome, which had to be conciliated as the price of temporal +prosperity as well as of eternal salvation. This illusion is +now gone; the Concordat has been repealed, and Austria has +a voice in the appointment of her own bishops. The late +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> +Prime Minister, Count Beust, was a Protestant. In her treatment +of different religious faiths, Austria is so liberal as to +give great sorrow to the Holy Father, who regards it as almost +a kingdom that has apostatized from the faith.</p> + +<p>The same liberality exists in other things. There is none +of the petty tyranny which in former days vexed the souls of +foreigners, by its strict surveillance and espionage. Now no +man in a cocked hat demands your passport as you enter the +city, nor asks how long you intend to stay; no agent of the +police hangs about your table at a public café to overhear +your private conversation, and learn if you are a political +emissary, a conspirator in disguise; no officer in the street +taps you on your shoulder to warn you not to speak so loud, +or to be more careful of what you say. You are as free to +come and go as in America, while the restrictions of the +Custom House are far less annoying and vexatious than in +the United States. All this is the blessed fruit of Austria's +humiliation.</p> + +<p>It should be said to the praise of the Emperor, that he has +taken his discipline exceedingly well. He has not pouted or +sulked, like an angry schoolboy, or refused to have anything +to do with the powers which have inflicted upon him such +grievous humiliations. He has the good sense to recognize +the political necessities of States as superior to the feelings +of individuals. Kings, like other men, must bow to the +inevitable. Accordingly he makes the best of the case. He +did not refuse to meet Napoleon after the battle of Solferino, +but held an interview of some hours at Villafranca, in which, +without long preliminaries, they agreed on an immediate +peace. He afterwards visited his brother Emperor in Paris +at the time of the Great Exposition in 1867. Within the +last year he has paid a visit to Victor Emmanuel at Venice, +and been received with the utmost enthusiasm by the Italian +people. They can afford to welcome him now that he is no +longer their master. Since they have not to see in him a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> +despotic ruler, they hail him as the nation's guest, and as he +sails up the Grand Canal, receive him with loud cheers and +waving of banners. And he has received more than once +the visits of the Emperor William, who came to Vienna at +the time of the Exposition two years since, and who has met +him at a watering-place this summer, of which the papers +gave full accounts, dwelling on their hearty cordiality, as +shown in their repeated hand-shakings and embracings. It +may be said that these are little things, but they are not +little things, for such personal courtesies have a great deal to +do with the peace of nations.</p> + +<p>In another respect, the discipline of adversity has been +most useful to Austria. By hard blows it has knocked the +military spirit out of her, and led her to "turn her thoughts +on peace." Of course the military element is still very +strong. Vienna is full of soldiers. Every morning we hear +the drum beat under our windows, and files of soldiers go +marching through the streets. Huge barracks are in every +part of the city, and a general parade would show a force of +many thousands of men. The standing army of Austria is +one of the largest in Europe. But in spite of all this parade +and show, the military <i>spirit</i> is much less rampant than +before. Nobody wants to go to war with any of the Great +Powers. They have had enough of war for the present.</p> + +<p>Austria has learned that there is another kind of greatness +for nations than that gained in fighting battles, viz., cultivating +the arts of peace. Hence it is that within the last nine +years, while there have been no victories abroad, there have +been great victories at home. There has been an enormous +development of the internal resources of the country. Railroads +have been extended all over the Empire; commerce has +been quickened to a new life. Great steamers passing up +and down the Danube, exchange the products of the East +and the West, of Europe and Asia. Enterprises of all kinds +have been encouraged. The result was shown in the Exposition +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> +of two years ago, when there was collected in this city +such a display of the products of all lands, as the world had +never seen. Those who had been at all the Great Exhibitions +said that it far surpassed those of London and Paris. +All the luxurious fabrics of the East, and all the most delicate +and the most costly products of the West, the fruit of +manifold inventions and discoveries—with all that had been +achieved in the useful arts, the arts whose success constitutes +civilization—were there spread before the dazzled eye. Such +a Victory of Peace could not have been achieved without the +previous lesson of Defeat in War.</p> + +<p>Still further learning wisdom from her conquerors, Austria +has entered upon a general system of education, modelled +upon that of Prussia, which in the course of another generation +will transform the heterogeneous populations spread over +the vast provinces, extending from Italy and Germany to +Turkey, which make up the thirty-four millions of the Austrian +Empire.</p> + +<p>Thus in many ways Austria has abandoned her traditional +conservative policy, and entered on the road of progress. +She may now be fairly reckoned among the liberal nations of +Europe. The Roman Catholic religion is still the recognized +religion of the State, but the Pope has lost that control which +he had a few years ago; Vienna is much more independent +of Rome, and Protestants have quite as much liberty of <i>opinion</i>, +and I think more liberty of <i>worship</i>, than in Republican +France.</p> + +<p>Of course there is still much in the order of things which +is not according to our American ideas. Austria is an ancient +monarchy, and all civil and even social relations are framed +on the monarchical system. Everything revolves around the +Emperor, as the centre of the whole. We visit palace after +palace, and are told that all are for the Emperor. Even his +stables are one of the sights of Vienna, where hundreds of +blooded horses are for the use of the Imperial household. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> +There are carriages, too many to be counted, covered with +gold, for four, six, or eight horses. One of these is two +hundred years old, with panels decorated with paintings by +Rubens. It seems, indeed, as if in these old monarchies the +sovereign applied to himself, with an arrogance approaching +to blasphemy, the language which belongs to God alone—that +"of him, and through him, and to him, are all things."</p> + +<p>Personally I can well believe that the Emperor is a very +amiable as well as highly intelligent man, and that he seeks +the good of his people. He has been trained in the school of +adversity, and has learned that empires may not last forever +and that dynasties may be overthrown. History is full of +warnings against royal pride and ambition. Who can stand +by the coffin of poor Maria Louisa, as it lies in the crypt of +the Church of the Capuchins, without thinking of the strange +fate of that descendant of Maria Theresa, married to the +Great Napoleon? In the Royal Treasury here, they show +the cradle, wrought in the rarest woods, inlaid with pearl and +gold, and lined with silk, that was made for the infant son of +Napoleon, the little King of Rome. What dreams of ambition +hovered about that royal cradle! How strange seemed +the contrast when we visited the Palace at Schonbrunn, and +entered the room which Napoleon occupied when he besieged +Vienna, and saw the very bed in which he slept, and were +told that in that same bed the young Napoleon afterwards +breathed his last! So perished the dream of ambition. The +young child for whom Napoleon had divorced Josephine and +married Maria Louisa, who was to perpetuate the proud +Imperial line, died far from France, while his father had +already ended his days on the rock of St. Helena!</p> + +<p>But personally no one can help a kindly feeling towards +the Emperor, and towards the young Empress also, as he hears +of her virtues and her charities.</p> + +<p>Nor can one help liking the Viennese and the Austrians. +They are very courteous and very polite—rather more so, if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> +the truth must be told, than their German neighbors. Perhaps +great prosperity has been bad for the Prussians, as adversity +has been good for the Austrians. At any rate the former +have the reputation in Europe of being somewhat brusque in +their manners. Perhaps they also need a lesson in humiliation, +which may come in due time. But the Austrians are +proverbially a polite people. They are more like the French. +They are gay and fond of pleasure, but they have that instinctive +courtesy, which gives such a charm to social intercourse.</p> + +<p>And so we go away from Vienna with a kindly feeling for +the dear old city—only hoping it may not be spoiled by too +many improvements—and with best wishes for both Kaiser +and people. They have had a hard time, but it has done them +good. By such harsh instruments, by a discipline very bitter +indeed, but necessary, has the life of this old empire been +renewed. Thus aroused from its lethargy, it has shaken off +the past, and entered on a course of peaceful progress with +the foremost nations of Europe. Those who talk of the +"effete despotisms" of the Old World, would be amazed at +the signs of vitality in this old but <i>not</i> decaying empire. +Austria is to-day one of the most prosperous countries in +Europe. There is fresh blood at her heart, and fresh life +coursing through her aged limbs. And though no man or +kingdom can be said to be master of the future, it has as fair +a chance of long existence as any other power on the continent. +The form of government may be changed; there may +be internal revolutions; Bohemia may obtain a separate +government like Hungary; but whatever may come, there +will always be a great and powerful State in Eastern Europe, +on the waters of the Danube.</p> + +<p>We observed to-day that they were repairing St Stephen's, +and were glad to think that that old cathedral, which has +stood for so many ages, and whose stone pavement has been +worn by the feet of many generations, may stand for a thousand +years to come. May that tower, which has looked down +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> +on so many battle-fields, as the tide of war has ebbed and +flowed around the walls of Vienna, hereafter behold from its +height no more scenes of carnage like that of Wagram, but +only see gathered around its base one of the most beautiful +of European capitals—the heart of a great and prosperous +Empire. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XVI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.—OUT-DOOR LIFE OF THE +GERMAN PEOPLE.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Vienna</span>, August 13th.</p> + +<p>No description of Germany—no picture of German life +and manners—can be complete which does not give some account +of the out-door recreations of the people; for this is a +large part of their existence; it is a feature of their national +character, and an important element in their national life. +To know a people well, one must see them not only in business, +but in their lighter hours. One may travel through +Germany from the Baltic to the Adriatic, and see all the +palaces and museums and picture galleries, and yet be +wholly ignorant of the people. But if he has the good fortune +to know a single German family of the better class, into +which he may be received, not as a stranger, but as a guest +and a friend—where he can see the interior of a German +<i>home</i>, and mark the strong affection of parents and children, +of brothers and sisters—he will get a better idea of the real +character of the people, than by months of living in hotels. +Next to the sacred interior of the home, the <i>public garden</i> +is the place where the German appears with least formality +and disguise, and in his natural character.</p> + +<p>Since I came to Europe, I have been in no mood to seek +amusement. Indeed if I had followed my own impulse, it +would have been to shun every public resort, to live a very +solitary life, going only to the most retired places, and seeking +only absolute seclusion and repose. But that is not good +for us in moments of sorrow. The mind is apt to become +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> +morbid and gloomy. This is not the lesson which those who +have gone before would have us learn. On the contrary, +they desire to have us happy, and bid us with their dying +breath seek new activity, new scenes, and new mental occupation, +to bind us to life.</p> + +<p>Besides, I have had not only myself to consider, but a +young life beside me. In addition to that, we have now a +third member of our party. At Hamburg we were joined by +my nephew, a lieutenant in the Navy, who is attached to the +Flagship Franklin, now cruising in the Baltic, and who obtained +leave of absence for a month to join his sister, and is +travelling with us in Germany. He is a fine young officer +full of life, and enters into everything with the greatest zest. +So, beguiled by these two young spirits, I have been led to +see more than I otherwise should of the open-air life and +recreations of these simple-hearted Germans; and I will +briefly describe what I have seen, as the basis of one or two +reflections.</p> + +<p>To begin with Hamburg. This is one of the most beautiful +cities in Germany. One part is indeed old and dingy, in +which the narrow streets are overhung with houses of a former +century, now gone to decay. But as we go back from +the river, we mount higher, and come into an entirely different +town, with wide streets, lined with large and imposing buildings. +This part of the city was swept by a great fire a few +years ago, and has been very handsomely rebuilt. But the +peculiar beauty of Hamburg is formed by a small stream, the +Alster, which runs through the city, and empties into the +Elbe, and which is dammed up so as to form what is called +by courtesy a lake, and what is certainly a very pretty sheet +of water. Around this are grouped the largest hotels, and +some of the finest buildings of the city, and this is the centre +of its joyous life, especially at the close of the day. When +evening comes on, all Hamburg flocks to the "Alster-dam." +Our hotel was on this lake, and from our windows we had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> +every evening the most animated scene. The water was +covered with boats, among which the swans glided about +without fear. The quays were lighted up brilliantly, and +the cafés swarmed with people, all enjoying the cool evening +air. Both sexes and all ages were abroad to share in the +general gayety of the hour.</p> + +<p>Some rigid moralists might look upon this with stern eyes, +as if it were a scene of sinful enjoyment, as if men had no +right thus to be happy in this wicked world. But I confess I +looked upon it with very different feelings. The enjoyment +was of the most simple and innocent kind. Families were +all together, father and mother, brothers and sisters, while +little children ran about at play. I have rarely looked on a +prettier scene, and although I had no part nor lot in it, +although I was a stranger there, and walked among these +crowds alone, still it did my heart good to see that there was +so much happiness in this sad and weary world.</p> + +<p>From Hamburg we came to Berlin, where the same features +were reproduced on a larger scale. As we drove through +the streets at ten o'clock at night we passed a large public +garden, brilliantly lighted up, and thronged with people, +from which came the sound of music, and were told that it +was one of the most fashionable resorts of the capital; and +so the next evening—after a day at Potsdam, where we were +wearied with sight-seeing—we took our rest here. Imagine +a vast enclosure lighted up with hundreds of gas-jets, and +thronged with thousands of people, with <i>three</i> bands of music +to relieve each other. There were hundreds of little tables, +each with its group around it, all chatting with the utmost +animation.</p> + +<p>The next day we drove to Charlottenburg, to visit the old +palaces and the exquisite mausoleum of the beautiful Queen +Louise, and on our return stopped to take our dinner at the +Flora—an enclosure of several acres, laid out like a botanical +garden. A large conservatory, called the Palm Garden, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> +keeps under cover such rare plants and trees as would +not grow in the cold climate; and here one is in a tropical +scene. This answers the purpose of a Winter Garden, as +great banks of flowers and of rare plants are in full bloom +all the winter long; and here the rank and fashion of Berlin +can gather in winter, and with the air filled with the perfume +of flowers, forget the scene without—the naked trees +and bitter winds and drifting snows—while listening to +musical concerts given in an immense hall, capable of holding +several thousand people. These are the festivities of winter. +But now, as it is midsummer, the people prefer to be +out of doors; and here, seated among the rest, we take our +dinner, entertained (as sovereigns are wont to entertain their +royal guests at State dinners) with a band of music in the +intervals of the feast, which gives a new zest, a touch of Oriental +luxury, to our very simple repast.</p> + +<p>At Dresden we were at the Hôtel Bellevue, which is close to +the Elbe, and there was a public garden on the bank of the +river, right under our windows. Every evening we sat on +the terrace attached to the hotel, and heard the music, and +watched the pleasure boats darting up and down the river.</p> + +<p>But of all the cities of Germany, the one where this out-door +life is carried to the greatest perfection, is here in +Vienna. We arrived when the weather was very hot. For +the first time this summer in Europe we were really oppressed +with the heat. The sun blazed fiercely, and as we +drove about the city seeing sights, we felt that we were martyrs +suffering in a good cause. We were told that the heat +was very unusual. The only relief and restoration after such +days was an evening ride. So as the sun was setting we took +a carriage and made the circuit of the Ring-strasse, the boulevards +laid out on the site of the old walls, ending with the +Prater, that immense park, where two years ago the Great +Exposition was held, and where the buildings still stand. +This is the place of concourse of the Viennese on gala days, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> +when the Emperor turns out, and all the Austrian and Hungarian +nobility, with their splendid equipages (the Hungarians +have an Oriental fondness for gilded trappings), making +a sight which is said to be more dazzling than can be seen +even in the Hyde Park of London, or the Bois de Boulogne +at Paris. Just now, of course, all this fashionable element +has fled the city, and is enjoying life at the German watering +places. But as there are still left seven or eight hundred +thousand people, they must find some way to bear the heats +of summer; and so they flock to the Prater. The trees are all +ablaze with light; half a dozen bands of music are in full +blast, and "all the world is gay." It is truly "a midsummer +night's dream." I was especially attracted to a concert +garden where the band, a very large one, was composed of +women. To be sure there were half a dozen men sprinkled +among the performers, but they seemed to have subordinate +parts—only blowing away at the wind instruments—while +all the stringed instruments were played by delicate female +hands. It was quite pretty to see how deftly they held the +violins, and what sweet music they wrung from the strings. +Two or three young maidens stood beside the bass-viols, +which were taller than themselves, and a trim figure, that +might have been that of a French <i>vivandière</i>, beat the drum. +The conductor was of course a woman, and marshalled her +forces with wonderful spirit. I don't know whether the +music was very fine or not (for I am not a judge in such matters), +but I applauded vigorously, because I liked the independence +of the thing, and have some admiration, if not +sympathy, for the spirit of those heroic reformers, who wish +to "put down these men."</p> + +<p>But the chief musical glory of Vienna is the Volksgarten, +where Strauss's famous band plays, and there we spent our +last night in Vienna. It is an enclosure near the Palace, +and the grounds belong to the Emperor, who gives the use of +them (so we were told) to the son of his old nurse, who devotes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +them to the purpose of a public garden, and to musical +concerts. Besides Strauss's band, there was a military band, +which played alternately. As we entered it was executing an +air which my companions recognized as from "William Tell," +and they pointed out to me the beautiful passages—those +which imitated the Alpine horns, etc. Then Strauss came to +the front—not Johann (who has become so famous that the +Emperor has appropriated him to himself, so that he can +now play only for the royal family and their guests), but his +brother, Edward. He is a little man, whose body seems to +be set on springs, and to be put in motion by music. While +leading the orchestra, of some forty performers, he was as +one inspired—he fairly danced with excitement; it seemed +as if he hardly touched the earth, but floated in air, his body +swaying hither and thither to the sound of music. When he +had finished, the military band responded, and so it continued +the whole evening.</p> + +<p>The garden was illuminated not only with gas lamps, but +with other lights not set down in the programme. The day +had been terribly hot, and as we drove to the garden, dark +masses of cloud were gathering, and soon the rain began to +come down in earnest. The people who were sitting under +the trees took refuge in the shelter of the large hall; and +there, while incessant flashes of lightning lighted up the +garden without, the martial airs of the military band were +answered by the roll of the thunder. This was an unexpected +accompaniment to the music, but it was very grateful, +as it at once cleared and cooled the air, and gave +promise of a pleasant day for travelling on the morrow.</p> + +<p>I might describe many similar scenes, though less brilliant, +in every German city, but these are enough to give a picture +of the open-air life and recreations of the German people. +And now for the moral of the tale. What is the influence +of this kind of life—is it good or bad? What lesson does +it teach to us Americans? Does it furnish an example to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> +imitate, or a warning to avoid? Perhaps something of +both.</p> + +<p>Certainly it is a good thing that it leads the people to +spend some hours of every day in the open air. During +hours of business they are in their offices or their shops, and +they need a change; and <i>anything</i> which tempts them out +of doors is a physical benefit; it quiets their nerves, and +cools their blood, and prepares them for refreshing sleep. So +far it is good. Every open space in the midst of a great +population is so much breathing space; the parks of a city +are rightly called its <i>lungs</i>; and it is a good thing if once a +day all classes, rich and poor, young and old, can get a long +draught of fresh, pure air, as if they were in the country.</p> + +<p>Next to the pleasure of sitting in the open air, the attraction +of these places is the <i>music</i>. The Germans are a music-loving +people. Luther was an enthusiast for music, and +called any man a <i>fool</i>, a dull, heavy dolt, whose blood was +not stirred by martial airs or softer melodies. In this he is +a good type of the German people. This taste is at once cultivated +and gratified by what they hear at these public resorts. +I cannot speak with authority on such matters, but my +companions identified almost every air that was played as +from some celebrated piece of music, the work of some great +master, all of whom are familiar in Germany from Mozart to +Mendelssohn. The constant repetition of such music by +competent and trained bands, cannot but have a great effect +upon the musical education of the people.</p> + +<p>And this delightful recreation is furnished very <i>cheaply</i>. +In New York to hear Nilsson, opera-goers pay three or four +dollars. But here admission to the Volksgarten, the most +fashionable resort in Vienna, is but a florin (about fifty +cents); to the Flora, in Berlin, it was but a mark, which is +of the value of an English shilling, or a quarter of a dollar; +while many of the public gardens are <i>free</i>, the only compensation +being what is paid for refreshments. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span></p> + +<p>One other feature of this open-air life and recreation has +been very delightful to me—its domestic character. It is +not a solitary, selfish kind of pleasure, as when men go off by +themselves to drink or gamble, or indulge in any kind of +dissipation. When men go to these public gardens, on the +contrary, <i>they take their wives and their sisters with them</i>. +Often we see a whole family, down to the children, grouped +around one of these tables. They sit there as they would +around their own tea-table at home. The family life is not +broken by this taking of their pleasure in public. On the +contrary, it is rather strengthened; all the family ties are +made the closer by sharing their enjoyments together.</p> + +<p>And these pleasures are not only <i>domestic</i>, but <i>democratic</i>. +They are not for the rich only, but for all classes. Even +the poor can afford the few pence necessary for such an +evening, and find in listening to such music in the open air +the cheapest, as well as the simplest and purest enjoyment.</p> + +<p>The <i>drawbacks</i> to these public gardens are two—the smoking +and the beer-drinking. There are hundreds of tables, each +with a group around it, all drinking beer, and the men all +smoking. These features I dislike as much as anybody. I +never smoked a cigar in my life, and do not doubt that it +would make me deadly sick. Mr. Spurgeon may say that he +"smokes a cigar to the glory of God"; that as it quiets his +nerves and gives him a sound night's sleep, it is a means of +grace to him. All I can say is, that it is not a means of +grace to <i>me</i>, and that as I have been frequently annoyed and +almost suffocated by it, I am afraid it has provoked feelings +anything but Christian.</p> + +<p>As for the drinking, there is one universal beverage—<i>beer</i>. +This is a thin, watery fluid, such as one might make by putting +a spoonful of bitter herbs in a teapot and boiling them. +To me it seemed like cold water spoiled. Yet others argue +that it is cold water improved. On this question I have +had many discussions since I came to Germany. The people +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> +take to beer as a thing of course, as if it were the beverage +that nature had provided to assuage their thirst, and when +they talk to you in a friendly way, will caution you especially +to beware of drinking the water of the country! Why they +should think this dangerous, I cannot understand, for surely +they do not drink enough of it to do them any harm. Of +course, in passing from country to country, one needs to use +prudence in drinking the water, as in other changes of diet, +but the danger from that source is greatly exaggerated. +Certainly I have drunk of water freely everywhere in Europe, +without any injury. Yet an American physician, who +certainly has no national prejudice in favor of beer, gravely +argues with me that it is the most simple, refreshing, and +healthful beverage, and points to the physique of the Germans +in proof that it does them no injury. Perhaps used +in moderation, it may not. But certainly no argument will +convince me that drinking it in such quantities as some do—eight, +ten, or a dozen quart mugs a day!—is not injurious. +When a man thus <i>swills</i> beer—there is no other word to express +it—he seems to me like a pig at the trough.</p> + +<p>But of course I do not mean that the greater number of +Germans drink it in any such quantities, or to a degree that +would be considered excessive, if it is to be drunk <i>at all</i>. I +was at first shocked to see men and women with these foaming +goblets before them, but I observed that, instead of drinking +them off at a draught as those who take stronger drinks +are wont to do, they let them stand, occasionally taking a sip, +a single glass often lasting the whole evening. Indeed it +seemed as if many ordered a glass of beer on entering a public +garden, rather as a matter of custom, and as a way of +paying for the music. For this they gave a few kreutzers +(equal to a few pence), and for such a trifle had the freedom +of the garden, and the privilege of listening to excellent +music.</p> + +<p>But if we cannot enter into any eulogium of German beer +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> +at least it has this <i>negative</i> virtue: it does not make people +drunk. It is not like the heavy ales or porters of England. +This is a fact of immense consequence, that the universal +beverage of forty millions of people is not intoxicating. Of +course I do not mean to say that it is impossible for one to +have his head swim by taking it in some enormous quantity. +I only give my own observation, which is that I have seen +thousands taking their beer, and never saw one in any degree +affected by it. I give, therefore, the evidence of my senses, +when I say that this beer does not make men drunk, it does +not steal away their brains, or deprive them of reason.</p> + +<p>No reader of any intelligence can be so silly as to interpret +this simple statement of a fact as arguing for the introduction +of beer gardens in America. They are coming quite +fast enough. [If I were to have a beer garden, it should be +<i>without the beer</i>.] But as between the two, I do say that the +beer gardens of Germany are a thousand times better than +the gin shops of London, or even the elegant "sample +rooms" of New York. In the latter men drink chiefly fiery +wines, or whiskey, or brandy, or rum; they drink what +makes them beasts—what sends them reeling through the +streets, to carry terror to their miserable homes; while in +Germany men drink what may be very bitter and bad-tasting +stuff, but what does not make one a maniac or a brute. +No man goes home from a beer garden to beat his wife and +children, because he has been made a madman by intoxication. +On the contrary, he has had his wife and children +with him; they have all had a breath of fresh air, and +enjoyed a good time together.</p> + +<p>Such are the simple pleasures of this simple German people—a +people that love their homes, their wives and children, +and whatever they enjoy wish to enjoy it together.</p> + +<p>Now may we not learn something from the habits of a foreign +people, as to how to provide cheap and innocent recreations +for our own? Is there not some way of getting the good +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> +without the evil, of having this open-air life without any evil +accompaniments? The question is one of recreation, <i>not of +amusements</i>, which is another thing, to be considered by +itself. In these public gardens there are no games of any kind—not +so much as a Punch and Judy, or a hand-organ with a +monkey—nothing but sitting in the open air, enjoying conversation, +and listening to music.</p> + +<p>This question of popular recreations, or to put it more +broadly, <i>how a people shall spend their leisure hours</i>—hours +when they are not at work nor asleep—is a very serious +question, and one closely connected with public morals. In +the life of every man in America, even of the hard-worked +laborer, there are several hours in the day when he is not +bending to his task, and when he is not taking his meals. +The work of the day is over, he has had his supper, but it is +not time to go to bed. From seven to nine o'clock he has a +couple of hours of leisure. What shall he do with them? It +may be said he ought to spend them in reading. No doubt +this would be very useful, but perhaps the poor man is too +jaded to fix his mind on a book. What he needs is diversion, +recreation, something that occupies the mind without +fatiguing it; and what so charming as to sit out of doors in +the summer time, in the cool of the evening, and listen to +music, not being fixed to silence as in a concert room, but +free to move about, and talk with his neighbors? If there +could be in every large town such a retreat under the shade +of the trees, where tired workmen could come, and bring +their wives and children with them, it would do a great deal +to keep them out of drinking saloons and other places of evil +resort.</p> + +<p>For want of something of this kind the young men in our +cities and in our country villages seek recreation where they +can find it. In cities, young men of the better class resort to +clubs. This club life has eaten into the domestic life of our +American families. The husband, the son and brother, are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> +never at home. Would it not be better if they could +have some simple recreation which the whole family could +enjoy together? In country villages young men meet at the +tavern, or in the street, for want of a little company. I have +seen them, by twenty or thirty, sitting on a fence in a row, +like barnyard fowls, where, it is to be feared, their conversation +is not of the most refined character. How much better +for these young fellows to be <i>somewhere</i> where they could be +with their mothers and sisters, and all have a good time +together! If they must have something in the way of +refreshment (although I do not see the need of anything; +"have they not their houses to eat and drink in?"), let it +be of the simplest kind—something very <i>cheap</i>, for they have +no money to waste—and something which shall at least do +them no injury—ices and lemonade, with plenty of what is +better than either for a hot summer evening, pure, delicious +cold water.</p> + +<p>I have great confidence in the power of <i>music</i>, especially in +that which is popular and universal. Expensive concerts, +with celebrated singers, are the pleasure of the rich. But a +village glee-club or singing-school calls out home talent, and +no concert is so like a country fête as that in which the young +folks do their own singing.</p> + +<p>With these pictures of German life and manners, and the +reflections they suggest, I leave this subject of Popular +Recreations to those who are older and wiser than I. I +know that the subject is a very delicate one to touch. It is +easy to go too far, and to have one's arguments perverted to +abuse. And yet, in spite of all this, I stand up for recreation +as a necessity of life. <i>Recreation is not dissipation.</i> +Calvin pitching quoits may not seem to us quite as venerable +a figure as Calvin writing his Institutes, or preaching in the +Cathedral of Geneva; and yet he was doing what was just and +necessary. The mind must unbend, and the body too. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> +believe hundreds of lives are lost every year in America for +want of this timely rest and recreation.</p> + +<p>Some traveller has said that America is the country in +which there is less suffering, and less enjoyment, than in +any other country in the world. I am afraid there is some +truth in this. Certainly we have not cultivated the art of +enjoying ourselves. We are too busy. We are all the time +toiling to accumulate, and give ourselves little time to enjoy. +And when we do undertake it, it is a very solemn business +with us. Nothing is more dreary than the efforts of some +of our good people to enjoy themselves. They do not know +how, and make an awkward shift of it. They put it off to a +future year, when their work shall be all done, and they will +go to Europe, and do up their travelling as a big job. Thus +their very pleasures are forced, artificial, and expensive. And +little pleasure they get after all! Many of these people we +have met wandering about Europe, forlorn and wretched +creatures, exiles from their own country, yet not at home in +any other. They have not learned the art, which the Germans +might teach them, of simple pleasures, and of <i>enjoying +a little every day</i>. This American habit of work without +rest, is a wretched economy of life, which can be justified +neither by reason nor religion. There is no piety in such +self-sacrifice as this, since it is for no good object, but only +from a selfish and miserly greed for gain. Men were not +made to be mere drudges or slaves. Hard work, <i>duly intermixed +with rest and recreation</i>, is the best experience for +every one of us, and the true means by which we can best +fulfil our duty to God and to man.</p> + +<p>Religion has received a great injury when it has been +identified with asceticism and gloom. If there is any class of +men who are my special aversion, it is those moping, melancholy +owls, who sit on the tree of life, and frown on every +innocent human joy. Sorrow I can understand (for I have +tasted of its bitter cup), and grief of every kind, penitence for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> +wrong, and deep religious emotion; but what I cannot understand, +nor sympathize with, is that sour, sullen, morose temper, +which looks sternly even on the sports of children, and +would hush their prattle and glee. Such a system of repression +is false in philosophy, and false in morals. It is bad +intellectually. Never was a truer saying than that in the +old lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>All work and no play</p> +<p>Makes Jack a dull boy.</p> +</div> + +<p>And it is equally bad for the moral nature. Fathers and +mothers, you must make your children happy, if you would +make them good. You must surround them with an atmosphere +of affection and enjoyment, if you would teach them +to love you, and to love GOD. It is when held close in their +mothers' arms, with tender eyes bent over them, that children +first get some faint idea of that Infinite Love, of which +maternal fondness is but the faint reflection. How wisely +has Cowper, that delicate and tender moralist, expressed the +proper wish of children:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>With books, or work, or healthful play,</p> +<p class="i1">May my first years be passed,</p> +<p>That I may give for every day</p> +<p class="i1">A good account at last.</p> +</div> + +<p>Such a happy childhood is the best nursery for a brave +and noble manhood.</p> + +<p>I write on this subject very seriously, for I know of few +things more closely connected with public morals. I do not +argue in favor of recreation because seeking any indulgence +for myself. I have been as a stranger in all these scenes, +and never felt soberer or sadder in my life than when listening +for hours to music. But what concerns one only, matters +little; but what concerns the public good, matters a great +deal. And I give my opinion, as the result of much observation, +that any recreation which promotes innocent enjoyment, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> +which is physically healthy and morally pure, which keeps +families together, and thus unites them by the tie of common +pleasures (a tie only less strong than that of common sorrow), +is a social influence that is friendly to virtue, and to all which +we most love and cherish, and on the whole one of the cleanest +and wholesomest things in this wicked world.</p> + +<p>Often in my dreams I think of that better time which is +coming, when even pleasure shall be sanctified; when no +human joy shall be cursed by being mixed with sin and +followed by remorse; when all our happiness shall be pure +and innocent, such as God can smile upon, and such as leaves +no sting behind. That will be a happy world, indeed, when +mutual love shall bless all human intercourse:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Then shall wars and tumults cease,</p> +<p class="i1">Then be banished grief and pain;</p> +<p>Righteousness, and joy, and peace,</p> +<p class="i1">Undisturbed, shall ever reign.</p> +</div> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XVII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span></p> + +<p class="chead">THE PASSION PLAY AND THE SCHOOL OF THE CROSS.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Ober-Ammergau</span>, Bavaria, Aug. 22d.</p> + +<p>My readers probably did not expect to hear from me in +this lonely and remote part of the world. Perhaps some of +them never heard of such a place as Ober-Ammergau, and do +not know what should give it a special interest above hundreds +of other places. Let me explain. Ober-Ammergau +is a small village in the Bavarian Alps, where for the last +two hundred years has been performed, at regular intervals, +<span class="smcap">the Passion Play</span>—that is, a dramatic representation, in +which are enacted before us the principal events, and particularly +the closing scenes, in the life of our Lord. The idea of +such a thing, when first suggested to a Protestant mind, is +not only strange, but repulsive in the highest degree. It +seems like holding up the agonies of our Saviour to public +exhibition, dragging on the stage that which should remain +an object of secret and devout meditation. When I first +heard of it—which was some years ago, in America—I was +shocked at what seemed the gross impiety of the thing; and +yet, to my astonishment, several of the most eminent ministers +of the city of New York, both Episcopal and Presbyterian, +who had witnessed it, told me that it was performed in the +most religious spirit, and had produced on them an impression +of deep solemnity. Such representations were very +common in the Middle Ages; I believe they continued longest +in Spain, but gradually they died out, till now this is the +only spot in Europe where the custom is still observed. It +has thus been perpetuated in fulfilment of a vow made two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> +centuries ago; and here it may be continued for centuries to +come. A performance so extraordinary, naturally excites +great curiosity. As it is given only once in ten years, the +interest is not dulled by too frequent repetition; and whoever +is on the Continent in the year of its observance, must +needs turn aside to see this great sight. At such times this +little mountain village is thronged with visitors, not only +from Bavaria and other Catholic countries, but from England +and America.</p> + +<p>This is not the year for its performance. It was given in +1870, and being interrupted by the Franco-German war, was +resumed and completed in 1871. The next regular year +will be 1880. But this year, which is midway between the +two decennial years, has had a special interest from a present +of the King of Bavaria, who, wishing to mark his sense +of the extraordinary devotion of this little spot in his dominions, +has made it a present of a gigantic cross, or rather +three crosses, to form a "Calvary," which is to be erected on +a hill overlooking the town. In honor of this royal gift, it +was decided to have this year a special representation, not +of the full Passion Play, but of a series of Tableaux and +Acts, representing what is called <span class="smcap">the School of the +Cross</span>—that is, such scenes from the Old and New Testaments +as converge upon that emblem of Christ's death and +of man's salvation. This is not in any strict sense a Play, +though intended to represent the greatest of all tragedies, but +a series of Tableaux Vivants, in some cases (only in those +from the Old Testament) the statuesque representation being +aided by words from the Bible in the mouths of the actors +in the scene. The announcement of this new sacred drama +(if such it must be called) reached us in Vienna, and drew +us to this mountain village; and in selecting such subjects as +seem most likely to interest my readers, I pass by two of the +most attractive places in Southern Germany—Salzburg which +is said to be "the most beautiful spot in Europe," where we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> +spent three days; and Munich, with its Art Galleries, where +we spent four—to describe this very unique exhibition, so +unlike anything to be seen in any other part of the world.</p> + +<p>We left Munich by rail, and, after an hour's ride, varied +our journey by a sail across a lake, and then took to a diligence, +to convey us into the heart of the mountains. Among +our companions were several Catholic priests, who were +making a pilgrimage to Ober-Ammergau as a sacred place. +The sun had set before we reached our destination. As we +approached the hamlet, we found wreaths and banners hung +on poles along the road—the signs of the fête on the morrow. +As the resources of the little place were very limited, +the visitors, as they arrived, had to be quartered among the +people of the village. We had taken tickets at Munich +which secured us at least a roof over our heads, and were +assigned to the house of one of the better class of peasants, +where the good man and good wife received us very kindly, +and gave us such accommodations as their small quarters +allowed, showing us to our rooms up a little stair which was +like a ladder, and shutting us in by a trap-door. It gave us +a strange feeling of distance and loneliness, to find ourselves +sleeping in such a "loft," under the roof of a peasant among +the mountains of Bavaria.</p> + +<p>The morning broke fair and bright, and soon the whole +village was astir. Peasants dressed in their gayest clothes +came flocking in from all the countryside. At nine o'clock +three cannon shots announced the commencement of the fête. +The place of the performance was on rising ground, a little +out of the village, where a large barn-like structure had +been recently erected, which might hold a thousand people. +Formerly when the Passion Play was performed, it was +given in the open air, no building being sufficient to contain +the crowds which thronged to the unaccustomed spectacle. +This rude structure is arranged like a theatre, with a stage +for the actors, and the rest of the house divided off into +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +seats, the best of which are generally occupied by strangers +while the peasant population crowd the galleries. We had +front seats, which were only separated from the stage by the +orchestra, which deserves a word of praise, since the music +was both <i>composed</i> and performed wholly by such musical +talent as the little village itself could provide.</p> + +<p>At length the music ceased, and the <i>choir</i>, which was composed +of thirteen persons in two divisions, entered from opposite +sides of the stage, and "formed in line" in front of +the curtain. The choir takes a leading part in this extraordinary +performance—the same, indeed, that the chorus does +in the old Greek tragedy, preceding each act or tableau with +a recitation or a hymn, designed as a prelude to introduce +what is to follow, and then at the close of the act concluding +with what preachers would call an "improvement" or "application." +In this opening chant the chorus introduced the +mighty story of man's redemption, as Milton began his Paradise +Lost, by speaking</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit</p> +<p>Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste</p> +<p>Brought death into the world, and all our woe.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was a sort of recitative or plaintive melody, fit keynote +of the sad scenes that were to follow. The voices ceased, +and the curtain rose.</p> + +<p>The first Biblical characters who appeared on the stage +were Cain and Abel, who were dressed in skins after the +primitive fashion of our race. Abel, who was of light complexion +and hair, was clad in the whitest and softest sheep's +wool; while Cain, who was dark-featured, and of a sinister +and angry countenance, was covered with a flaming leopard's +skin, as best betokened the ferocity of his character. In the +background rose the incense of Abel's offering. Cain was +disturbed and angry; he spoke to his brother in a harsh +voice. Abel replied in the gentlest accents, trying to soften +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> +his brother's heart and turn away his wrath. Father Adam, +too, appears on the scene, using his parental authority to +reconcile his children; and Eve comes in, and lays her light +hand on the arm of her infuriated son, and tries to soothe +him to a gentler mood. Even the Angel of the Lord steps +forth from among the trees of the Garden, to warn the guilty +man of the evil of unbridled rage, and to urge him to timely +repentance, that his offering may be accepted. These united +persuasions for the moment seem to be successful, and there +is an apparent reconciliation between the brothers; Cain falls +on Abel's neck, and embraces him. Yet even while using +the language of affection, he has a club in his hand, which +he holds behind him. But the fatal deed is not done upon +the stage; for throughout the play there is an effort to keep +out of sight any repulsive act. So they retire from the scene. +But presently nature itself announces that some deed of +violence and blood is being done; the lightnings flash and +thunders roll; and Adam reappears, bearing Abel in his aged +arms, and our first parents together indulge in loud lamentations +over the body of their murdered son.</p> + +<p>This story of Cain and Abel occupied several short acts, +in which the curtain rose and fell several times, and at the +end of each the chorus came upon the stage to give the moral +of the scene.</p> + +<p>In the dialogues the speakers follow closely the Old Testament. +If occasional sentences are thrown in to give a little +more fulness of detail, at least there is no departure from the +general outline of the sacred narrative. It is the story of +the first crime, the first shedding of human blood, told in a +dramatic form, by the personages themselves appearing on +the stage.</p> + +<p>These scenes from the Old Testament were mingled with +scenes from the New, the aim being to use one to illustrate +the other—the antitype following the type in close succession. +Thus the <i>pendant</i> of the former scenes (to adopt a word much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> +used by artists when one picture is hung on a wall over +against another) was now given in the corresponding crime +which darkens the pages of the New Testament history—the +betrayal of Christ. But there was this difference between +the scenes from the Old Testament and those from the New: +in the latter <i>there was no dialogue whatever, and no action</i>, as +if it was all too sacred for words—nothing but the tableau, +the figures standing in one attitude, fixed and motionless. +First there was the scene of Christ driving the money-changers +from the temple. Here a large number of figures—I +should think twenty or thirty—appeared upon the stage, and +held their places with unchanging look. Not one moved; +they scarcely breathed; but all stood fixed as marble. All +the historic characters were present—the priests in their +robes (the costumes evidently having been studied with great +care), and the Pharisees glaring with rage upon our Lord, as +with holy indignation He spurns the profane intruders from +the sacred precincts.</p> + +<p>Then there is the scene of Judas betraying Christ. We +see him leading the way to the spot where our Saviour kneels +in prayer; the crowd follow with lanterns; there are the +Roman soldiers, and in the background are the priests, the +instigators of this greatest of crimes.</p> + +<p>In another scene Judas appears again overwhelmed with +remorse, casting down his ill-gotten money before the priests, +who look on scornfully, as if bidding him keep the price of +blood, and take its terrible consequences.</p> + +<p>As might be supposed, the part of Judas is one not to be +particularly desired, and we cannot look at a countenance +showing a mixture of hatred and greed, without a strong +repugnance. There was a story that the man who acted +Judas in the Passion Play in 1870 had been killed in the +French war, but this we find to be an error. It was a very +natural invention of some one who thought that a man +capable of such a crime ought to be killed. But the old +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> +Judas is still living, and, off from the stage, is said to be one +of the most worthy men of the village.</p> + +<p>Having thus had set before us the most sticking illustrations +of human guilt, in the first crime that ever stained the +earth with blood, and in the greatest of all crimes, which +caused the death of Christ, we have next presented the +method of man's redemption. The chorus again enters upon +the stage, and recites the story of the fall, how man sinned, +and was to be recovered by the sacrifice of one who was to be +an atonement for a ruined world. Again the curtain rises, +and we have before us the high priest Melchisedec, in whose +smoking altar we see illustrated the idea of sacrifice.</p> + +<p>The same idea takes a more terrible form in the sacrifice +of Isaac. We see the struggles of his father Abraham, who +is bowed with sorrow, and the heart-broken looks of Sarah, +his wife. The latter part, as it happened, was taken by a +person of a very sweet face, the effect of which was heightened +by being overcast with sadness, and also by the Oriental +costume, which, covering a part of the face, left the dark eyes +which peered out from under the long eyelashes, to be turned +on the beholders. Everything in the appearance of Abraham, +his bending form and flowing beard, answered to the +idea of the venerable patriarch. The <i>couleur locale</i> was preserved +even in the attendants, who looked as if they were +Arabian servants who had just dismounted from camels at the +door of the tent. Isaac appears, an innocent and confiding +boy, with no presumption of the dark and terrible fate that is +impending over him. And when the gentle Sarah appears, +tenderly solicitous for the safety of her child, the coldest +spectator could hardly be unmoved by a scene pictured with +such touching fidelity. It is with a feeling of relief that, +as this fearful tragedy approaches its consummation, we hear +the voice of the angel, and behold that the Lord has himself +provided a sacrifice.</p> + +<p>But all these scenes of darkness and sorrow, of guilt and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> +sacrifice, are now to find their culmination and their explanation +in the death of our Lord, to which all ancient types converge, +and on which all ancient symbols cast their faint and +flickering, but not uncertain, light. As the scenes approach +this grand climax, they grow in pathos and solemnity. Each +is more tender and more effective than the last.</p> + +<p>One of the most touching, as might be supposed, is that of +the Last Supper, in which we recognize every one of the disciples, +so closely has the grouping been studied from the +painting of Leonardo da Vinci and other old masters with +whom this was a favorite subject. There are Peter and John +and the rest, all turning with an eager, anxious look towards +their Master, and all with an indescribable sadness on their +faces. Again the scene changes, and we see our Lord in the +Garden of Gethsemane. There are the three disciples slumbering, +overcome with weariness and sorrow; and there on the +sacred mount at midnight</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"The suffering Saviour prays alone."</p> +</div> +<p>Again the curtain falls, and the chorus, in tones still more +plaintive and mournful, announce that the end is near. The +curtain rises, and we behold <span class="smcap">the Crucifixion</span>. Here there +are thirty or forty persons introduced. In the foreground +are three or four figures "casting lots," careless of the awful +scene that is going on above them. The Roman soldier is +looking upward with his spear. The three Marys are at the +feet of their Lord; <i>Mary Magdalen nearest of all, with her +arms clasped around the cross</i>; Mary, the mother of Christ, +looking up with weeping eyes; and a little farther Mary, the +wife of Cleophas. The two thieves are hanging, with their +arms thrown over the cross-tree, as they are represented in +many of the paintings of the Crucifixion. But we scarcely +notice them, as all eyes are fixed on the Central Figure. The +man who takes the part of the Christus in this Divine Tragedy, +has made a study of it for years, and must have trained +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> +himself to great physical endurance for a scene which must +tax his strength to the utmost. His arms are extended, his +hands and feet seem to be pierced with the nails, and flowing +with blood. Even without actual wounds the attitude itself +must be extremely painful. How he could support the +weight of his body in such a posture was a wonder to all. It +was said that he rested one foot on something projecting from +the cross, but even then it seemed incredible that he could +sustain such a position for more than a single instant. Yet +in the performance of the Passion Play it is said that he +remains thus suspended twenty minutes, and is then taken +down, almost in a fainting condition.</p> + +<p>Some may ask, How did the sight affect me? Twenty-four +hours before I could not have believed that I could look +upon it without a feeling of horror, but so skilfully had the +points of the sacred drama been rendered thus far, that my +feelings had been wound up to the highest pitch, and when +the curtain rose on that last tremendous scene, I was quite +overcome, the tears burst from my eyes, I felt as never +before, under any sermon that I ever heard preached, how +solemn and how awful was the tragedy of the death of the Son +of God. So excited were we, and to appearance all in the +building, that it was a relief when the curtain fell.</p> + +<p>As if to give a further relief to the over-wrought feelings +of the audience, occasioned by this mournful sight, the next +scene was of a different character. It was not the Resurrection, +though it might have been intended to symbolize it, as +in it the actor appears as if he had been brought back from +the dead. It is the story of Joseph, which is introduced to +illustrate the method of Divine Providence, by which is +brought "Light out of Darkness." We see the aged form +of Jacob, bowed with grief at the loss of his son. Then +comes the marvellous succession of events by which the +darkness is turned to light. Bewildered at the news of his +son being in Egypt, at first he cannot believe the good tidings, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> +till at length convinced, he rises up saying "Joseph +my son, is yet alive; I will go and see him before I die." +Then follows the return to Egypt, and the meeting with him +who was dead and is alive again, when the old man falls upon +his neck, and Joseph's children (two curly-headed little fellows +whom we had the privilege of kissing before the day +was over) were brought to his knees to receive his blessing. +This was a domestic rather than a tragic scene, and such is +the natural pathos of the story, that it touched every heart.</p> + +<p>The last scene of all was the Ascension, which was less +impressive than some that had gone before, as it could of +course only be imperfectly represented. The Saviour appears +standing on the mount, with outstretched hands, in the midst +of his disciples, but there the scene ends, as it could go no +further; there could be no descending cloud to receive him +out of their sight.</p> + +<p>With this last act the curtain fell. The whole representation +had occupied three hours.</p> + +<p>Now as to the general impression of this extraordinary +scene: As a piece of <i>acting</i> it was simply wonderful. The +parts were filled admirably. The characters were perfectly +kept. Even the costumes were as faithfully reproduced as in +any of those historical dramas which are now and then put +upon the stage, such as tragedies founded on events in ancient +Greek or Roman history, where the greatest pains are taken to +render every detail with scrupulous fidelity. This is very extraordinary, +especially when it is considered that this is all +done by a company of Bavarian peasants, such as might be +found in any Alpine village. The explanation is, that this +representation is <i>the great work of their lives</i>. They have +their trades, like other poor people, and work hard for a living. +But their great interest, that which gives a touch of poetry to +their humble existence, and raises them above the level of +other peasants, is the representation of this Passion Play. +This has come down to them from their fathers. It has been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> +acted among them for two hundred years. There are traditions +handed down from one generation to another of the +way in which this or that part should be performed. In the +long intervals of ten years between one representation and +another, they practice constantly upon their several parts, so +that at the last they attain a wonderful degree of perfection.</p> + +<p>As to the <i>propriety</i> of the thing: To our cold Protestant +ideas it seems simply monstrous, a horrid travesty of the +most sacred scenes in the Word of God. So I confess it +would appear to me if done by others. <i>Anywhere else</i> what +I have witnessed would appear to me almost like blasphemy; +it would be <i>merely acting</i>, and that of the worst kind, in +which men assume the most sacred characters, even that of +our blessed Lord himself.</p> + +<p>But this impression is very much changed when we consider +that here all this is done in a spirit of devotion. These +Bavarian peasants are a very religious people (some would +prefer to call it superstition), but whatever it be, it is <i>universal</i>. +Pictures of saints and angels, or of Christ and the +Virgin Mary, are seen in every house; crosses and images, +and shrines are all along the roads. Call it superstition if +you will, but at least the feeling of religion, the feeling of +a Divine Power, is present in every heart; they refer everything +to supernatural agencies; they hear the voice of God in +the thunder that smites the crest of the hills, or the storm +that sweeps through their valleys.</p> + +<p>And so when they come to the performance of this Passion +Play, it is not as unbelievers, whose offering would be an +offence, "not being mixed with faith in them that did it." +They believe, and therefore they speak, and therefore they +act. And so they go through their parts in the most devout +spirit. Whenever the Passion Play is to be performed, all +who are to take part in it <i>first go to the communion</i>; and +thus with hearts penitent and subdued, they come to assume +these sacred characters, and speak these holy words. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span></p> + +<p>And so, while the attempt to transport the Passion Play +anywhere else would be very repulsive, it may be left where +it is, in this lonely valley of the Bavarian mountains, an +unique and extraordinary relic of the religious customs of the +Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>But while one such representation is quite enough, and we +are well content that it should stand alone, and there should +be not another, yet he must be a dull observer who does not +derive from it some useful hints both as to the power of the +simplest religious truth, and the way of presenting it.</p> + +<p>Preachers are not actors, and when some sensational +preachers try to introduce into the pulpit the arts which they +have learned from the stage, they commonly make lamentable +failures. To say that a preacher is theatrical, is to stamp +him as a kind of clerical mountebank. And yet there is a +use of the dramatic element which is not forced nor artificial, +which on the contrary is the most simple and natural way of +speaking. The dramatic element is in human nature. +Children use gestures in talking, and vary their tones of +voice. They never stand stiff as a post, as some preachers +do. The most popular speakers are dramatic in their style. +Cough, the temperance lecturer, who has probably addressed +more and larger audiences in America and Great Britain +than any other man living, is a consummate actor. His art +of mimicry, his power of imitating the expression of countenance +and tones of voice, is wonderful. And our eloquent +friend Talmage, in Brooklyn, owes much of his power to the +freedom with which he walks up and down his platform, +which is a kind of stage, and throws in incidents to illustrate +his theme, often acting, as well as relating them, with great +effect.</p> + +<p>But not only is the dramatic element in human nature, it +is in the Bible, which runs over with it. The Bible is not +merely a volume of ethics. It is full of narrative, of history +and biography, and of dialogue. Many of the teachings +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> +of our Saviour are in the form of conversations, of +which it is quite impossible to give the full meaning and +spirit, without changes of manner and inflections of voice. +Take such an exquisite portion of the Old Testament as the +story of Ruth, or that of Joseph and his brethren. What +an outrage upon the sacred word to read such sweet and tender +passages in a dull and monotonous voice, as if one had +not a particle of feeling of their beauty. One might ask +such a reader "Understandest thou what thou readest?" +and if he is too dull to learn otherwise, these simple Bavarian +peasants might teach him to throw into his reading +from the pulpit a little of the pathos and tenderness +which they give to the conversations of Joseph with his +father Jacob.</p> + +<p>Of course, in introducing the dramatic element into the +pulpit, it is to be done with a close self-restraint, and with +the utmost delicacy and tenderness. But so used, it may +subserve the highest ends of preaching. Of this a very illustrious +example is furnished in the annals of the American +pulpit, in the Blind Preacher of Virginia, the impression of +whose eloquence is preserved by the pen of William Wirt. +When that venerable old man, lifting his sightless eyeballs to +heaven, described the last sufferings of our Lord, it was +with a manner adapted to the recital, as if he had been a +spectator of the mournful scene, and with such pathos in his +tones as melted the whole assembly into tears, and the excitement +seemed almost beyond control; and the stranger held +his breath in fear and wonder how they were ever to be let +down from that exaltation of feeling. But the blind man +held them as a master. He paused and lifted his hands to +heaven, and after a moment of silence, repeated only the +memorable exclamation of Rousseau: "Socrates died like a +philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God!" In this marvellous +eloquence the preacher used the dramatic element as +truly as any actor in the Passion Play, the object in both +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> +cases being the same, to bring most vividly before the mind +the life and death of the Son of God.</p> + +<p>And is not that the great object, and the great subject, of +all our preaching? The chief lesson which I have learned +to-day, concerns not the <i>manner</i>, but the <i>substance</i>, of what +we preach. This Passion Play teaches most impressively, +that the one thing which most interests all, high and low, +rich and poor, is the simple story of Jesus Christ, and that +the power of the pulpit depends on the vividness with which +Christ and His Cross are brought, if not before the <i>eyes</i>, at +least before the <i>minds</i> and hearts of men. It is not eloquent +essays on the beauty of virtue, or learned discussions on the +relations of Science and Religion, that will ever touch the +heart of the world, but the old, old story of that Divine life, +told with the utmost simplicity and tenderness. I think it +lawful to use any object which can bring me nearer to Him. +That which has been conceived in superstition may minister +to a devout spirit. And so I never see one of these crosses +by the roadside without its turning my thoughts to Him who +was lifted up upon it, and in my secret heart I whisper, +"O Christ, Redeemer of the world, be near me now!"</p> + +<p>Some, I know, will think this a weak sentimentalism, or +even a sinful tolerance of superstition. But with all proper +respect for their prejudices, I must hail my Saviour wherever +I can find Him, whether in the city or the forest, or on +the mountain. What a consolation there is in carrying that +blessed image with us, wherever we go! How it stills our +beating hearts, and dries our tears, to think of Him who has +borne our griefs and carried our sorrows! Often do I +repeat to myself those sweet lines of George Herbert:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>Christ leads us through no darker rooms</p> +<p class="i1">Than He went through before;</p> +<p>Whoso into God's kingdom comes</p> +<p class="i1">Must enter by this door.</p> +</div> + +<p>I do not like to speak of my own feelings; for they are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> +too private and sacred, and I shrink from any expression of +them. But all this summer, while wandering in so many +beautiful scenes, among lakes and mountains, I have felt the +strongest religious craving. I have been looking for something +which I did not find either in the populous city, or in +the solitary place where no man was. Something had vanished +from the earth, the absence of which could only be +supplied by an invisible presence and spiritual grace. Amid +great scenes of nature one is very lonely; and especially if +there be a hidden weight that hangs heavy on the heart, he +feels the need of a Presence of which "The deep saith, It +is not in me," and Nature saith, "It is not in me." What is +this but the human soul groping after God, if haply it may +find him? The psalmist has expressed it in one word, when +he says, "My heart and my flesh crieth out for the living +God." How often has that cry been wrung from my heart +in lonely and desolate hours, when standing on the deck of a +ship, or on the peak of a mountain! And wherever I see +any sign of religion, I am comforted; and so as I look +around, and see upon all these hills the sign of the cross, I +think of Him who died for me, and the cry which has so often +been lifted up in distant lands, goes up here from the heart +of the Bavarian Alps: "O Lamb of God, that takest away +the sin of the world, grant me Thy peace!" +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XVIII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE TYROL AND LAKE COMO.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Cadenabbia, Lake Como</span>, August 30th.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Dr. Bellows of New York is to blame—or "to +praise"—for our last week's wanderings; for he it was who +advised me by no means to leave out the Tyrol in our European +tour—and if he could have seen all the delight of these +few days, I think he would willingly take the responsibility. +The Tyrol is less visited than Switzerland; it is not so overrun +with tourists (and this is a recommendation); but it is +hardly less worthy of a visit. To be sure, the mountains are +not quite so high as Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn (there +are not so many snow-clad peaks and glaciers), but they are +high enough; there are many that pierce the clouds, and the +roads wind amid perpetual wildness, yet not without beauty +also, for at the foot of these savage mountains lie the loveliest +green valleys, which are inhabited by a simple, brave people, +who have often defended their Alpine passes with such valor +as has made them as full of historical interest as they are of +natural grandeur.</p> + +<p>Innsbruck is the capital of the Tyrol, and the usual starting +point for a tour—but as at Ober-Ammergau we were to the +west, we found a nearer point of departure at Partenkirchen, +a small town lying in the lap of the mountains, from which a +journey through Lermos, Nassereit, Imst, Landeck and Mals, +leads one through the heart of the Tyrol, ending with the +Stelvio Pass, the highest over the Alps. It is a long day's +ride to Landeck, but we ordered a carriage with a pair of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> +stout horses, and went to our rest full of expectation of what +we should see on the morrow.</p> + +<p>But the night was not promising; the rain fell in torrents, +and the morning was dark and lowering; but "he that +regardeth the clouds shall not reap," so with faith we set out, +and our faith was rewarded, for soon the clouds broke away, +and though they lingered in scattered masses, sufficient to +shade us from the oppressive heat of the sun, they did not +obscure the sight of the mountains and the valleys. The +rains had laid the dust and cooled the air, and all day long +we were floating through a succession of the most varied +scenes, in which there was a mingled wildness and beauty +that would have delighted our landscape artists.</p> + +<p>The villages are less picturesque than the country. They +are generally built very compact, apparently as a security +against the winter, when storms rage through these valleys, +and there is a feeling of safety in being thus "huddled" +together. The houses are of stone, with arched passage-ways +for the horses to be driven into a central yard. They look +very solid, but they are not tasteful. There are not good +accommodations for travellers. There are as yet none of +those magnificent hotels which the flood of English tourists +has caused to be built at every noted point in Switzerland; in +the Tyrol one has to depend on the inns of the country, and +these, with a few exceptions, are poor. Looking through the +one long, narrow street of a Tyrolean village, one sees little +that is attractive, but much to the contrary. Great heaps of +manure lie exposed by the roadside, and often not only +before the barns, but before the houses. These seem to be +regarded as the agricultural riches of the cultivators of the +soil, and are displayed with as much pride as a shepherd would +take in showing his flocks and herds. These features of a +hamlet in the Tyrol a traveller regards with disgust, and we +used often to think of the contrast presented to one of our +New England villages, the paradise of neatness and comfort. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> + +<p>Such things seem to show an utter absence of taste; and +yet this people are very fond of flowers. Almost every +house has a little patch of ground for their cultivation, and +the contrast is most strange between the filth on one side and +the beauty and bloom on the other.</p> + +<p>Another feature which strikes one, is the universal reverence +and devotion. The Tyrolese, like the peasants of Bavaria, +are a very religious people. One can hardly travel a +mile without coming to a cross or a shrine by the wayside, +with an image of Christ and the Virgin. Often on the +highest points of the mountains, where only the shepherd +builds his hut, that he may watch his flocks in the summer +as they feed on those elevated pastures, may be seen a little +chapel, whose white spire, gleaming in the sunset, seems as +strange and lonely as would a rude chapel built by a company +of miners on some solitary peak of the Rocky Mountains.</p> + +<p>These summer pastures are a feature of the Tyrol. High +up on the sides of the mountains one may descry here and +there, amid the masses of rock, or the pine forest, a little +oasis of green (called an <i>Alp</i>), where a few rods of more level +ground permit of cultivation. It would seem as if these +heights were almost inaccessible, as if only the chamois could +clamber up such rocks, or find a footing where only stunted +pines can grow. Yet so industrious are these simple Tyroleans, +and so hard-pressing is the necessity which compels +them to use every foot of the soil, that they follow in the +path of the chamois, and turn even the tops of the mountains +into greenness, and plant their little patches almost on the +edge of the snows. Wherever the grass can grow, the cattle +and goats find sustenance on the scanty herbage. To these +mountain pastures they are driven, so soon as the snows +have melted off from the heights, and the tender grass begins +to appear, and there they are kept till the return of cold compels +them to descend. We used often to look through our +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> +spyglass at the little clusters of huts on the very tops of the +mountains, where the shepherds, by coming together, try to +lighten a little the loneliness of their lot, banished for the +time from all other human habitations. But what a solitary +existence—the only sound that greets their ears the tinkling +of the cow-bells, or the winding of the shepherd's horn, or the +chime of some chapel bell, which, perched on a neighboring +height, sends its sweet tones across the valley. Amid +such scenes, we rode through a dozen villages, past hills +crowned with old castles, and often looked down from the +mountain sides into deep hollows glistening with lakes. As +we came into the valley of the Inn, we remembered that this +was all historic ground. The bridges over which we passed +have often been the scene of bloody conflicts, and in these +narrow gorges the Tyrolese have rolled down rocks and trees +on the heads of their invaders.</p> + +<p>We slept that night at Landeck, in a very decent, comfortable +inn, kept by a good motherly hostess. The next morning +we exchanged our private carriage for the <i>stellwaggen</i>, a +small diligence which runs to Mals. Our journey was now +made still more pleasant by falling in with a party of three +clergymen of the Church of England—all rectors of important +churches in or near London, who had been, like ourselves, to +Ober-Ammergau, and were returning through the Tyrol. +They had been also to the Old Catholic Conference at Bonn, +where they met our friend Dr. Schaff. They had much to +say of the addresses of Dr. Döllinger, and of the Old Catholic +movement, of which they had not very high expectations, +although they thought its influence, as far as it went, was +good. We travelled together for three days. I found them +(as I have always found clergymen of the Church of England) +men of culture and education, as well as gentlemen in their +manners. They proved most agreeable travelling companions, +and their pleasant conversation, as we rode together, or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> +walked up the steep ascents of the mountains, gave an additional +enjoyment to this most delightful journey.</p> + +<p>This second day's ride led us over the Finstermünz Pass +in which all the features of Tyrolean scenery of the day before +were repeated with increasing grandeur. For many miles +the line of the Tyrol is close to that of Switzerland; across a +deep gorge, through which flows a rapid river, lies the Engadine, +which of late years has been a favorite resort of Swiss +tourists, and where our friend Prof. Hitchcock with his +family has been spending the summer at St. Moritz.</p> + +<p>Towards the close of the day we descried in the distance a +range of snowy summits, and were told that this was the +chain that we were to cross on the morrow.</p> + +<p>But all the experiences of those two days—in which we +thought our superlatives were exhausted—were surpassed on +the third as we crossed the Pass of the Stelvio. This is the +highest pass in Europe, and on this day it seemed as if we +were scaling heaven itself. Having a party of five, we procured +a diligence to ourselves. We set out from Mals at six +o'clock in the morning, and crossing the rushing, foaming +Adige, began the ascent. Soon the mountains close in upon +us, the Pass grows narrower and steeper; the horses have to +pull harder; we get out and walk, partly to relieve the hard-breathing +animals, but more to see at every turn the savage +wildness of the scenery. How the road turns and twists in +every way to get a foothold, doubling on itself a hundred +times in its ascent of a few miles. And look, how the grandeur +grows as we mount into this higher air! The snow-peaks +are all around us, and the snow melting in the fiery sun, feeds +many streams which pour down the rocky sides of the mountains +to unite in the valley below, and which filled the solitudes +with a perpetual roar.</p> + +<p>After such steady climbing for seven hours, at one o'clock +we reached a resting place for dinner (where we halted an +hour), a shelf between the mountains, from which, as we were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> +now above the line of trees, and no forests intercepted the +view, we could see our way to the very summit. The road +winds in a succession of zigzags up the side of the mountain. +The distance in an air line is not perhaps more than two +miles, though it is six and a half by the road, and it took us +just two hours to reach the top. At length at four o'clock +we reached the point, over nine thousand feet above the +level of the sea, where a stone monument marks at once the +summit of the Pass and the dividing line between the Tyrol +and Lombardy. All leaped from the carriage in delight, to +look around on the wilderness of mountains. To the left was +the great range of the Ortler Alps, with the Ortler Spitze +rising like a white dome above them all. At last we were +among the snows. We were above the line of vegetation, +where not a tree grows, nor a blade of grass—where all is barrenness +and desolation.</p> + +<p>The Stelvio is utterly impassable the greater part of the +year. In a few weeks more the snows will fall. By the end +of September it is considered unsafe, and the passage is +attempted at one's peril, as the traveller may be caught in a +storm, and lost on the mountain.</p> + +<p>Perhaps some of my readers will ask, what we often asked, +What is the use of building a road amid these frightful solitudes, +when it cannot be travelled the greater part of the +year? What is the use of carrying a highway up into the +clouds? Why build such a Jacob's ladder into heaven itself, +since after all this is not the way to get to heaven? It +must have cost millions. But there is no population along +the road to justify the expense. It could not be built for a +few poor mountaineers. And yet it is constructed as solidly +as if it were the Appian way leading out of Rome. It is an +immense work of engineering. For leagues upon leagues it +has to be supported by solid stone-work to prevent its being +washed away by torrents. The answer is easy. It is a military +road, built, if not for purposes of conquest, yet to hold +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> +one insecure dominion. Twenty years ago the upper part of +Italy was a dependency of Austria, but an insecure one, always +in a chronic state of discontent, always on the verge of +rebellion. This road was built to enable the government at +Vienna to move troops swiftly through the Tyrol over this +pass, and pour them down upon the plains of Lombardy. +Hannibal and Cæsar had crossed the Alps, but the achievement +was the most daring in the annals of ancient warfare. +Napoleon passed the Great St. Bernard, but he felt the +need of an easier passage for his troops, and constructed the +Simplon, not from a benevolent wish to benefit mankind, but +simply to render more secure his hold upon Italy, as he +showed by asking the engineers who came to report upon the +progress of the work, "When will the road be ready to pass +over the cannon?" Such was the design of Austria in building +the road over the Stelvio. But man proposes and God +disposes. It was built with the resources of an empire, and +now that it is finished, Lombardy, by a succession of events +not anticipated in the royal councils, falls to reunited Italy, +and this road, the highest in Europe, remains, not a channel +of conquest, but a highway of civilization.</p> + +<p>But here we are on the top of the Pass, from which we can +look into three countries—an empire, a kingdom, and a republic. +Austria is behind us, and Italy is before us, and +Switzerland, throned on the Alps, stands close beside us. +After resting awhile, and feasting our eyes on the glorious +sight, we prepare to descend.</p> + +<p>We are not out of the Tyrol, even when we have crossed +the frontier, for there is an Italian as well as an Austrian +Tyrol, which has the same features, and may be said to extend +to Lake Como.</p> + +<p>The descent from the Stelvio is quite as wonderful as the +ascent. Perhaps the impression is even greater, as the descent +is more rapid, and one realizes more the awful height +and depth, as he is whirled down the pass by a hundred zigzag +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> +turns, over bridges and through galleries of rock, till at +last, at the close of a long summer's day, he reaches the +Baths of Bormio, and plunging into one of the baths, for +which the place is so famous, washes away the dust of the +journey, and rests after the fatigue of a day never to be forgotten, +in which he made the Pass of the Stelvio.</p> + +<p>For one fond of mountain climbing, who wished to make +foot excursions among the Alps, there are not many better +points than this of the Baths of Bormio. It is under the +shadow of the great mountains, yet is itself only about four +thousand feet high, so that it is easily accessible from below, +yet it is nearly half-way up to the heights above.</p> + +<p>But we were on our way to Italy, and the next day continued +our course down the valley of the Adda. Hour after +hour we kept going down, down, till it seemed as if we +must at last reach the very bottom of the mountains, where +their granite foundations are embedded in the solid mass of +the planet. But this descent gave us a succession of scenes +of indescribable beauty. Slowly the valley widened before +us. The mountains wore a rugged aspect. Instead of sterile +masses of rock, mantled with snows, and piercing the clouds, +they began to be covered with pines, which, like moss upon +rocks, softened and beautified their rugged breasts. As we +advanced still farther, the slopes were covered with vineyards; +we were entering the land of the olive and the vine; +terrace on terrace rose on the mountain side; every shelf +of rock, or foot of ground, where a vine could grow, was +covered. The rocky soil yields the most delicious grapes. +Women brought us great clusters; a franc purchased enough +for our whole party. The industry of the people seemed +more like the habits of birds building their nests on every +point of vantage, or of bees constructing their precious combs +in the trunks of old trees or in the clefts of the rocks, than +the industry of human creatures, which requires some +little "verge and scope" for its manifestations. And now +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> +along the banks of the Adda are little plots of level ground, +which admit of other cultivation. Olives trees are mingled +with the vines. There are orchards too, which remind us of +New England. Great numbers of mulberry trees are grown +along the road, for the raising of silk is one of the industries +of Lombardy, and there are thousands of willows by the +water-courses, from which they are cutting the lithe and supple +branches, to be woven into baskets. It is the glad summer +time, and the land is rejoicing with the joy of harvest. +"The valleys are covered over with corn; they shout for joy; +they also sing." It was a warm afternoon, and the people +were gathering in the hay; and a pretty sight it was to see +men and women in the fields raking the rows, and very sweet +to inhale the smell of the new-mown hay, as we whirled along +the road.</p> + +<p>These are pretty features of an Italian landscape; I wish +that the impression was not marred by some which are less +pleasant. But the comfort of the people does not seem to +correspond to their industry. There is no economy in their +labor, everything is done in the old-fashioned way, and in +the most wasteful methods. I did not see a mowing or a +reaping machine in the Tyrol, either on this or the other +side of the mountains. They use wooden ploughs, drawn by +cows as often as by oxen, and so little management have they, +that one person is employed, generally a woman, to lead the +miserable team, or rather pull them along. I have seen a +whole family attached to a pair of sorry cattle—the man holding +the plough, the woman pulling the rope ahead, and a +poor little chap, who did his best, whipping behind. The +crops are gathered in the same slipshod way. The hay is all +carried in baskets on the backs of women. It was a pitiful +sight to see them groaning under their loads, often stopping +by the roadside to rest. I longed to see one of our Berkshire +farmers enter the hay-field with a pair of lusty oxen +and a huge cart, which would transport at a single load +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> +a weight, such as would break the backs of all the women in +an Italian village.</p> + +<p>Of course women subjected to this kind of work, are soon +bent out of all appearance of beauty; and when to this is +added the goitre, which prevails to a shocking extent in +these mountain valleys, they are often but wretched hags in +appearance.</p> + +<p>And yet the Italians have a "gift of beauty," if it were +only not marred by such untoward circumstances. Many a +bright, Spanish-looking face looked out of windows, and +peered from under the arches, as we rattled through the villages; +and the children were almost always pretty, even +though in rags. With their dark brown faces, curly hair, +and large, beautiful eyes, they might have been the models of +Murillo's beggars.</p> + +<p>We dined at Tirano, in a hotel which once had been a +monastery, and whose spacious rooms—very comfortable +"cells" indeed—and ample cellars for their wines, and large +open court, surrounded with covered arches, where the good +fathers could rest in the heat of the day, showed that these +old monks, though so intent on the joys of the next world, +were not wholly indifferent to the "creature comforts" of +this.</p> + +<p>Night brought us to Sondrio, where in a spacious and comfortable +inn, which we remember with much satisfaction +after our long rides, we slept the sleep of innocence and +peace.</p> + +<p>And now we are fairly entered into Italy. The mountains +are behind us, and the lakes are before us. Friday brought +us to Lake Como, and we found the relief of exchanging our +ride in a diligence along a hot and dusty road for a sail over +this most enchanting of Italian, perhaps I might say of +European, lakes; for after seeing many in different countries, +it seems to me that this is "better than all the waters" of +Scotland or Switzerland. It is a daughter of the Alps, lying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> +at their feet, fed by their snows, and reflecting their giant +forms in its placid bosom. And here on its shores we have +pitched our tent to rest for ten days. For three months we +have been travelling almost without stopping, sometimes, to +avoid the heat, riding all night—as from Amsterdam to Hamburg, +and from Prague to Vienna. The last week, though +very delightful, has been one of great fatigue, as for four +days in succession we rode twelve or thirteen hours a day in +a carriage or diligence. After being thus jolted and knocked +about, we are quite willing to rest. Nature is very well, +but it is a pleasant change once in a while to return to civilization; +to have the luxury of a bath, and to sleep quietly in +our beds, like Christians, instead of racing up and down in the +earth, as if haunted by an evil spirit. And so we have decided +to "come apart and rest awhile," before starting on +another campaign.</p> + +<p>We are in the loveliest spot that ever a tired mortal chose +to pillow his weary head. If any of my readers are coming +abroad for a summer, and wish for a place of <i>rest</i>, let me +recommend to them this quiet retreat. Cadenabbia! it hath +a pleasant sound, and it is indeed an enchanting spot. The +mountains are all around us, to shut out the world, and the +gentle waters ripple at our feet. We do not spend the time +in making excursions, for in this balmy air it is a sufficient +luxury to exist. We are now writing at a table under an +avenue of fine old trees, which stretch along the lake to +the Villa Carlotta, a princely residence, which belongs to a +niece of the Emperor of Germany, where oranges and lemons +are growing in the open air, and hang in clusters over our +heads, and where one may pick from the trees figs and pomegranates. +Here we sit in a paradise of beauty, and send our +loving thoughts to friends over the sea.</p> + +<p>And then, if tired of the shore, we have but to step into a +boat, and float "at our own sweet will." This is our unfailing +resource when the day is over. Boats are lying in front +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> +of the hotel, and strong-armed rowers are ready to take us +anywhere. Across the lake, which is here but two miles +wide, is Bellaggio, with its great hotels along the water, and +its numerous villas peering out from the dense foliage of trees. +How they glow in the last rays of the sunset, and how brilliant +the lights along the shore at evening. Sometimes we +sail across to visit the villas, or to look among the hotels for +friendly American names. But more commonly we sail up +and down, only for the pleasure of the motion, now creeping +along by the shore, under the shadow of the mountains, and +now "launching out into the deep," and rest, like one +becalmed, in the middle of the lake. We do not want to go +anywhere, but only to float and dream. Row gently, boatman! +Softly and slowly! <i>Lentissimo!</i> Hush, there is music +on the shore. We stop and listen:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"My soul was an enchanted boat,</p> +<p>That like a sleeping swan did float,</p> +<p>Upon the waves of that sweet singing."</p> +</div> + +<p>But better than music or the waters is the heaven that is +above the waters, and that is reflected in the tranquil bosom +of the lake. Leaning back on the cushioned seat, we look up +to the stars as old friends, as they are the only objects that +we recognize in the heavens above or the earth beneath. +How we come to love any object that is familiar. I confess +it is with a tender feeling that I look up to constellations +that have so often shined upon me in other lands, when other +eyes looked up with mine. How sweet it is, wherever we go, +to have at least one object that we have seen before; one +face that is not strange to us, the same on land or sea, in +Europe and America. Thus in our travels I have learned to +look up to the stars as the most constant friends. They are +the only things in nature that remain faithful. The mountains +change as we move from country to country. The rivers +know us not as they glide away swiftly to the sea. But the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> +stars are always the same. The same constellations glow in +the heavens to-night that shone on Julius Cæsar when he led +his legions through these mountains to conquer the tribes of +Germany. Cæsar is gone, and sixty generations since, but +Orion and the Pleiades remain. The same stars are here +that shone on Bethlehem when Christ was born; the same +that now shine in distant lands on holy graves; and that will +look down with pitying eyes on our graves when we are gone. +Blessed lights in the heavens, to illumine the darkness of our +earthly existence! Are they not the best witnesses for our +Almighty Creator,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Forever singing as they shine</p> +<p>The hand that made us is Divine?"</p> +</div> + +<p>He who hath set his bow in the cloud, hath set in the firmament +that is above the clouds, these everlasting signs of His +own faithfulness. Who that looks up at that midnight sky +can ever again doubt His care and love, as he reads these +unchanging memorials of an unchanging God? +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XIX.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE CITY IN THE SEA.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Venice</span>, Sept 18th.</p> + +<p>It was with real regret that we left Lake Como, where we +had passed ten very quiet but very happy days. But all +things pleasant must have an end, and so on Monday morning +we departed. Steamers ply up and down the lake, but +as none left at an hour early enough to connect with a train +that reached Venice the same evening, we took a boat and +were rowed to Lecco. It was a three hours' pull for two +strong men; but as we left at half-past seven, the eastern +mountains protected us from the heat of the sun, and we +glided swiftly along in their cool shadows. Not a breath of +air ruffled the bosom of the lake. Everything in this parting +view conspired to make us regret a scene of which we +were taking a long, perhaps a last, farewell.</p> + +<p>At Lecco we came back to railroads, which we had not +seen since the morning we left Munich for Ober-Ammergau, +more than two weeks before, and were soon flying over a +cultivated country, where orchards of mulberry trees (close-trimmed, +so as to yield a second crop of leaves the same season) +gave promise of the rich silks of Lombardy, and vines +covered all the terraced slopes of the hills.</p> + +<p>In the carriage with us was a good old priest, who was +attached to St. Mark's in Venice, with whom we fell in conversation, +and who gave us much information about the +picturesque country through which we were passing. Here, +where the land is smiling so peacefully, among these very +hills, "rich with corn and wine," was fought the great battle +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> +in which Venice defeated Frederick Barbarossa, and thus +saved the cause of Italian independence.</p> + +<p>At Bergamo we struck the line from Milan to Venice, and +while waiting an hour for the express train, sauntered off +with the old priest into the town, which was just then alive +with the excitement of its annual fair. The peasants had +come in from all the country round—men and women, boys +and girls—to enjoy a holiday, bringing whatever they had to +sell, and seeking whatever they had to buy. One might imagine +that he was in an old-fashioned "cattle show" at home. +Farmers had brought young colts which they had raised for +the market, and some of the brawny fellows, with broad-brimmed +hats, answered to the drovers one may see in Kansas, +who have driven the immense herds of cattle from Texas. +In another part of the grounds were exposed for sale the +delicate fabrics and rich colors which tempt the eye of +woman: silks and scarfs and shawls, with many of the sex, +young and old, looking on with eager eyes. And there were +sports for the children. A merry-go-round picked up its +load of little creatures, who, mounted on wooden horses, +were whirled about to their infinite delight at a penny +apiece—a great deal of happiness for a very little money. +And there were all sorts of shows going on—little enclosures, +where something wonderful was to be seen, the presence of +which was announced by the beating of a drum; and a big +tent with a circus, which from the English names of the performers +may have been a strolling company from the British +Islands, or possibly from America! It would be strange indeed, +if a troupe of Yankee riders and jumpers had come all +the way to Italy, to make the country folk stare at their surprising +feats. And there was a menagerie, which one did +not need to enter: for the wild beasts painted on the outside +of the canvas, were no doubt much more ferocious and terrible +to behold than the subdued and lamb-like creatures within. +Is not a Country Fair the same thing all over the world? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p> + +<p>At length the train came rushing up, and stopping but a +moment for passengers, dashed off like a race-horse over the +great plain of Lombardy. But we must not go so fast as to +overlook this historic ground. Suddenly, like a sheet of silver, +unrolls before us the broad surface of the Lago di Garda, +the greatest of the Italian lakes, stretching far into the +plain, but with its head resting against the background of +the Tyrolean Alps. What memories gather about these +places from the old Roman days! In yonder peninsula in +the lake, Catullus wrote his poems; in Mantua, a few miles +to the south, Virgil was born; while in Verona an amphitheatre +remains in excellent preservation, which is second +only to the Coliseum. In events of more recent date this +region is full of interest. We are now in the heart of the +famous Quadrilateral, the Four great Fortresses, built to +overawe as well as defend Upper Italy. All this ground was +fought over by the first Napoleon in his Italian campaigns; +while near at hand is the field of Solferino, where under Napoleon +III. a French army, with that of Victor Emmanuel, +finally conquered the independence of Italy.</p> + +<p>More peaceful memories linger about Padua, whose +University, that is over six hundred years old, was long one +of the chief seats of learning in Europe, within whose walls +Galileo studied; and Tasso and Ariosto and Petrarch; and +the reformer and martyr Savonarola.</p> + +<p>But all these places sink in interest, as just at evening we +reach the end of the main land, and passing over the long +causeway which crosses the Lagune, find ourselves in +<span class="smcap">Venice</span>. It seems very prosaic to enter Venice by a railroad, +but the prose ceases and the poetry begins the instant +we emerge from the station, for the marble steps descend to +the water, and instead of stepping into a carriage we step +into a gondola; and as we move off we leave behind the firm +ground of ordinary experience, and our imagination, like our +persons, is afloat. Everything is strange and unreal. We +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> +are in a great city, and yet we cannot put our feet to the +ground. There is no sound of carriages rattling over the +stony streets, for there is not a horse in Venice. We cannot +realize where and what we are. The impression is greatly +heightened in arriving at night, for the canals are but dimly +lighted, and darkness adds to the mystery of this city of +silence. Now and then we see a light in a window, and +somebody leans from a balcony; and we hear the plashing of +oars as a gondola shoots by; but these occasional signs of +life only deepen the impression of loneliness, till it seems as if +we were in a world of ghosts—nay, to be ghosts ourselves—and +to be gliding through misty shapes and shadows; as if +we had touched the black waters of Death, and the silent +Oarsman himself were guiding our boat to his gloomy realm. +Thus sunk in reverie, we floated along the watery streets, +past the Rialto, and under the Bridge of Sighs, to the Hotel +Danieli on the Grand Canal, just behind the Palace of the +Doges.</p> + +<p>When the morning broke, and we could see things about +us in plain daylight, we set ourselves, like dutiful travellers, +to see the sights, and now in a busy week have come to know +something of Venice; to feel that it is not familiar <i>ground</i>, +but familiar <i>water</i>, familiar canals and bridges, and churches +and palaces. We have been up on the Campanile, and +looked down upon the city, as it lies spread out like a map +under our eye, with all its islands and its waters; and we +have sailed around it and through it, going down to the +Lido, and looking off upon the Adriatic; and then coursing +about the Lagune, and up and down the Grand Canal and +the Giudecca, and through many of the smaller canals, which +intersect the city in every direction. We have visited the +church of St. Mark, rich with its colored marbles and +mosaics, and richer still in its historic memories; and the +Palace where the Doges reigned, and the church where they +are buried, the Westminster Abbey of Venice, where the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> +rulers of many generations lie together in their royal house of +death; we have visited the Picture Galleries, and seen the +paintings of Titian and the statues of Canova, and then +looked on the marble tombs in the church of the Frati, where +sleep these two masters of different centuries. Thus we have +tried to weave together the artistic, the architectural, and the +historical glories of this wonderful city.</p> + +<p>There is no city in Europe about which there is so much +of romance as Venice, and of <i>real</i> romance (if that be not a +contradiction), that is, of romance founded on reality, for +indeed the reality is stranger than fiction. Its very aspect +dazzles the eye, as the traveller approaches from the east, +and sees the morning sun reflected from its domes and +towers. And how like an apparition it seems, when he +reflects that all that glittering splendor rests on the unsubstantial +sea. It is a jewel set in water, or rather it seems +to rise, like a gigantic sea-flower, out of the waves, and to +spread a kind of tropical bloom over the far-shining expanse +around it.</p> + +<p>And then its history is as strange and marvellous as any +tale of the Arabian Nights. It is the wildest romance turned +into reality. Venice is the oldest State in Europe. The +proudest modern empires are but of yesterday compared with +it. When Britain was a howling wilderness, when London +and Paris were insignificant towns, the Queen of the Adriatic +was in the height of its glory. Macaulay says the +Republic of Venice came next in antiquity to the Church of +Rome. Thus he places it before all the kingdoms of Europe, +being antedated only by that hoary Ecclesiastical +Dominion, which (as he writes so eloquently in his celebrated +review of Ranke's History of the Popes) began to live before +all the nations, and may endure till that famous New Zealander +"shall take his stand, in the midst of a vast solitude, +on a broken arch of London Bridge, to sketch the nuns of +St. Paul's." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span></p> + +<p>And this history, dating so far back, is connected with +monuments still standing, which recall it vividly to the +modern traveller. The church of St. Mark is a whole +volume in itself. It is one of the oldest churches in the +world, boasting of having under its altar the very bones of +St. Mark, and behind it alabaster columns from the Temple +of Solomon, while over its ancient portal the four bronze +horses still stand proudly erect, which date at least from the +time of Nero, and are perhaps the work of a Grecian sculptor +who lived before the birth of Christ. And the Palace of +the Doges—is it not a history of centuries written in stone? +What grand spectacles it has witnessed in the days of +Venetian splendor! What pomp and glory have been +gathered within its walls! And what deliberations have +been carried on in its council chambers; what deeds of +patriotism have been there conceived, and also what conspiracies +and what crimes! And the Prison behind it, with +the Bridge of Sighs leading to it, does not every stone in +that gloomy pile seem to have a history written in blood and +tears?</p> + +<p>But the part of Venice in European history was not only +a leading one for more than a thousand years, but a noble +one; it took the foremost place in European civilization, +which it preserved after the barbarians had overrun the +Roman Empire. The Middle Ages would have been Dark +Ages indeed, but for the light thrown into them by the +Italian Republics. It was after the Roman empire had fallen +under the battle-axes of the German barbarians that the ancient +Veneti took refuge on these low-lying islands, finding +a defence in the surrounding waters, and here began to +build a city in the sea. Its position at the head of the +Adriatic was favorable for commerce, and it soon drew to itself +the rich trade of the East. It sent out its ships to all +parts of the Mediterranean, and even beyond the Pillars of +Hercules. And so, century after century, it grew in power +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> +and splendor, till it was the greatest maritime city in the +world. It was the lord of the waves, and in sign of its +supremacy, it was <i>married to the sea</i> with great pomp and +magnificence. In the Arsenal is shown the model of the +Bucentaur, that gilded barge in which the Doge and the Senate +were every year carried down the harbor, and dropping a +ring of gold and gems (large as one of those huge doorknockers +that in former days gave dignity to the portals of +great mansions) into the waves, signified the marriage of +Venice to the sea.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> It was the contrast of this display of +power and dominion with the later decline of Venetian +commerce, that suggested the melancholy line,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord."</p> +</div> + +<p>But then Venice was as much mistress of the sea as England +is to-day. She sat at the gates of the Orient, and</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"The gorgeous East with richest hand</p> +<p>Showered upon her barbaric pearl and gold."</p> +</div> + +<p>Then arose on all her islands and her waters those structures +which are to this day the wonder of Europe. The Grand +Canal, which is nearly two miles long, is lined with palaces, +such as no modern capital can approach in costliness and +splendor.</p> + +<p>And Venice used her power for a defence to Christendom +and to civilization, the former against the Turks, and the latter +against Northern barbarians. When Frederick Barbarossa +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> +came down with his hordes upon Italy, he found his +most stubborn enemy in the Republic of Venice, which kept +up the contest for more than twenty years, till the fierce old +Emperor acknowledged a power that was invincible, and +here in Venice, in the church of St. Mark, knelt before the +Pope Alexander III. (who represented, not Rome against +Protestantism, but Italian independence against German oppression), +and gave his humble submission, and made peace +with the States of Italy which, thanks to the heroic resistance +of Venice, he could not conquer.</p> + +<p>Hardly was this long contest ended before the power of +Venice was turned against the Turks in the East. Venetians, +aided by French crusaders, and led by a warrior +whose courage neither age nor blindness could restrain ("Oh +for one hour of blind old Dandolo!"), captured Constantinople, +and Venetian ships sailing up and down the Bosphorus +kept the conquerors of Western Asia from crossing into Europe. +The Turks finally passed the straits and took Constantinople; +but the struggle of the Cross and the Crescent, +as in Spain between the Spaniard and the Moor, was kept +up over a hundred years longer, and was not ended till the +battle of Lepanto in 1571. In the Arsenal they still preserve +the flag of the Turkish admiral captured on that great +day, with its motto in Arabic, "There is no God but God, +and Mohammed is his prophet." We can hardly realize, now +that the danger is so long past, how great a victory, both for +Christendom and for civilization, was won on that day when +the scattered wrecks of the Turkish Armada sank in the +blood-dyed waters of the Gulf of Corinth.</p> + +<p>These are glorious memories for Venice, which fully justify +the praises of historians, and make the splendid eulogy of +Byron as true to history as it is beautiful in poetry. In +Venice, as on the Rhine, I have found Childe Harold the +best guide-book, as the poet paints a picture in a few immortal +lines. Never was Venice painted, even by Canaletto, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> +more to the eye than in these few strokes, which bring the +whole scene before us:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i2">I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,</p> +<p class="i2">A palace and a prison on each hand,</p> +<p class="i2">I saw from out the waves her structures rise,</p> +<p class="i2">As by the stroke of the enchanter's wand,</p> +<p class="i2">A thousand years their cloudy wings expand</p> +<p class="i2">Around me, and a dying glory smiles</p> +<p class="i2">O'er the far times when many a subject land</p> +<p class="i2">Looked to the winged lion's marble piles,</p> +<p>Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.</p> +</div> + +<p>But poets are apt to look at things <i>only</i> in a poetical +light, and to admire and to celebrate, or to mourn, according +to their own royal fancies, rather than according to the sober +prose of history. The picture of the magnificence of Venice +is true to the letter, for indeed no language can surpass the +splendid reality. But when the poet goes farther and +laments the loss of its independence, as if it were a loss to +liberty and to the world, the honest student of history will +differ from him. That he should mourn its subjection, or +that of any part of Italy, to a foreign power, whether Austria +or France, we can well understand. And this was perhaps +his only real sorrow—a manly and patriotic grief—but +at times he seems to go farther, and to regret the old gorgeous +mediæval state. Here we cannot follow him. Poetry +is well, and romance is well, but truth is better; and the +truth, as history records it, must be confessed, that Venice, +though in name a republic, was as great a despotism as any +in the Middle Ages. The people had no power whatever. +It was all in the hands of the nobles, some five hundred of +whom composed the Senate, and elected the famous Council +of Ten, by which, with the Senate, was chosen the Council +of Three, who were the real masters of Venice. The Doge, +who was generally an old man, was a mere puppet in their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> +hands, a venerable figure-head of the State, to hide what was +done by younger and more resolute wills. The Council of +Three were the real Dictators of the Republic, and the Tribunal +of the Inquisition itself was not more mysterious or +more terrible. By some secret mode of election the names +of those who composed this council were not known even to +their associates in the Senate or in the Council of Ten. They +were a secret and therefore wholly irresponsible tribunal. +Their names were concealed, so that they could act in the +dark, and at their will strike down the loftiest head. Once +indeed their vengeance struck the Doge himself. I have +had in my hands the very sword which cut off the head of +Marino Faliero more than five hundred years ago. It is a +tremendous weapon, and took both hands to lift it, and must +have fallen upon that princely neck like an axe upon the +block. But commonly their power fell on meaner victims. +The whole system of government was one of terror, kept up +by a secret espionage which penetrated every man's household, +and struck mortal fear into every heart. The government +invited accusations. The "lion's mouth"—an aperture +in the palace of the Doges—was always open, and if a +charge against one was thrown into it, instantly he was +arrested and brought before this secret tribunal, by which he +might be tried, condemned, sentenced, and executed, without +his family knowing what had become of him, with only horrible +suspicions to account for his mysterious disappearance.</p> + +<p>In going through the Palace of the Doges one is struck +with the gorgeousness of the old Venetian State. All that +is magnificent in architecture; and all that is splendid in +decoration, carving, and gilding, spread with lavish hand +over walls and doors and ceiling; with every open space or +panel illumined by paintings by Titian or some other of the +old Venetian masters—are combined to render this more +than a "royal house," since it is richer than the palaces of +kings. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span></p> + +<p>But before any young enthusiast allows his imagination +to run away with him, let him explore this Palace of the +Doges a little farther. Let him go into the Hall of the +Council of Three, and observe how it connects conveniently +by a little stair with the Hall of Torture, where innocent +persons could soon be persuaded to accuse themselves of +deadly crimes; and how it opens into a narrow passage, +through which the condemned passed to swift execution. +Then let him go down into the dungeons, worse than death, +where the accused were buried in a living tomb. Byron +himself, in a note to Childe Harold, has given the best answer +to his own lamentation over the fall of the Republic of +Venice.<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>We shall therefore waste no tears over the fall of the old +Republic of Venice, even though it had existed for thirteen +hundred years. In its day it had acted a great part in European +history, and had often served the cause of progress, +when it preserved Christendom from the Turks, and civilization +from the Barbarians. But it had accomplished its +end, and its time had come to die; and though the poet so +musically mourns that</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p>In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more,</p> +<p>And silent rows the songless gondolier,</p> +</div> + +<p>yet in the changes which have come, we cannot but recognize +the passing away of an old state of things, to be succeeded +by a better. Even the spirit of Byron would be +satisfied, could he open his eyes <i>now</i>, and see Venice rid at +last of a foreign yoke, and restored to her rightful place, +as a part of free and united Italy.</p> + +<p>Though Venice is a city which does not change in its external +appearance, and looks just as it did when I was here +seventeen years ago, I observe <i>one</i> difference; the flag that +is flying from all the public buildings is not the same. Then +the black eagles of Austria hovered over the Square of St. +Mark; and as we sat there in the summer evening, Austrian +officers were around us, in front of the cafés, and the music +was by an Austrian band. Now there is music still, and on +summer nights the old Piazza is thronged as ever; but I hear +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> +another language in the groups—the hated foreigner, with +his bayonets, is not here. The change is every way for the +better. The people breathe freely, and political and national +life revives in the air of liberty.</p> + +<p>Venice is beginning to have also a return of its commercial +prosperity. Of course it can never again be the mistress of +the sea, as other great commercial states have sprung up beyond +the Mediterranean. The glory of Venice culminated +about the year 1500. Eight years before that date, an Italian +sailor—though not a Venetian, but a Genoese—had discovered, +lying beyond the western main, a New World. In +less than four centuries, the commerce which had flourished +on the Adriatic was to pass to England, and that other English +Empire still more remote. Venice can never regain her +former supremacy. Civilization has passed, and left her +standing in the sea. But though she can never again take +the lead of other nations, she may still have a happy and +a prosperous future. There is the commerce of the Mediterranean, +for which, as before, she holds a commanding position +at the head of the Adriatic. For some days has been lying +in the Grand Canal, in front of our hotel, a large steamer of +the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company, the Delhi, +and on Friday she sailed for Alexandria and Bombay! The +transference of these ships to Venice as a point of departure, +will help its commerce with the East and with India.</p> + +<p>One thing we may be allowed to hope, as a friend of Venice +and of Italy—that its policy will be one of peace. In the +Arsenal we found models of ironclads and other ships of war, +built or building; but I confess I felt rather glad to hear the +naval officer who showed them to us confess (though he did +it with a tone of regret) that their navy was not large compared +with other European navies, and that the Government +was not doing <i>much</i> to increase it, though it is building dry +docks here in Venice, and occasionally adds a ship to the +fleet. Yet what does Italy want of a great navy? or a great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> +army? They eat up the substance of the country; and it +has no money to waste on needless armaments. Besides, +Italy has no enemy to fear, for both France and Germany +are friendly; to France she owes the deliverance of Lombardy, +and to Germany that of Venice. And even Austria +is reconciled. Last April the Emperor made a visit to Venice, +and was received by Victor Emmanuel, and was rowed +up the Grand Canal with a state which recalled the pomp of +her ancient days of glory.</p> + +<p>The future therefore of Venice and of Italy is not in war, +but in peace. Venice has had enough of war in former centuries—enough +of conflicts on land and sea. She can now +afford to live on this rich inheritance of glory. Let her +cherish the memory of the heroic days of old, but let her not +tempt fortune by venturing again into the smoke of battle. +Let her keep in her Arsenal the captured flags taken from the +Turks at Lepanto; let the three tall masts of cedar, erected +in the Square of St. Mark three hundred and seventy years +ago, to commemorate the conquest of Cyprus, Candia, and +Morea, still stand as historical mementoes of the past; but +it is no sacrifice of pride that they no longer bear the banners +of conquered provinces, since from their lofty and +graceful heads now floats a far prouder ensign—the flag of +one undivided Italy.</p> + +<p>If I were to choose an emblem of what the future of this +country should be, I would that the arms of Venice might be +henceforth, not the <i>winged lion</i> of St. Mark, but the <i>doves</i> of +St. Mark: for these equally belong to Venice, and form not +only one of its prettiest sights, but one connected with historical +associations, that make them fit emblems both of +peace and of victory. The story is that at the siege of Candia, +in the beginning of the Thirteenth century, Admiral Dandolo +had intelligence brought to him by carrier-pigeons which +helped him to take the island, and that he used the same +swift-winged heralds to send the news to Venice. And so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> +from that day to this they have been protected, and thus +they have been the pets of Venice for six hundred years. +They seem perfectly at home, and build their nests on the +roofs and under the eaves of the houses, even on the Doge's +Palace and the Church of St. Mark. Not the swallow, but +the dove hath found a nest for herself on the house of the +Lord. I see them nestling together on the Bridge of Sighs, +thinking not of all the broken hearts that have passed along +that gloomy arch. A favorite perch at evening is the heavy +cross-bars of the prison windows; there they sleep peacefully, +where lonely captives have looked up to the dim light, and +sighed in vain for liberty. From all these nooks and corners +they flock into the great square in the day-time, and walk +about quite undisturbed. It has been one of our pleasures to +go there with bread in our pockets, to feed them. At the +first sign of the scattered crumbs, they come fluttering down +from the buildings around, running over each other in their +eagerness, coming up to my feet, and eating out of my hand. +Let these beautiful creatures—the emblems of peace and the +messengers of victory—be wrought as an armorial bearing on +the flag of the new Italy—white doves on a blue ground, as +if flying over the sea—their outspread wings the fit emblems +of those sails of commerce, which, we trust, are again to go +forth from Venice and from Genoa, not only to all parts of +the Mediterranean, but to the most distant shores! +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XX.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">MILAN AND GENOA.—A RIDE OVER THE CORNICHE ROAD.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Genoa</span>, September 20th.</p> + +<p>The new life of Italy is apparent in its cities more than in +the country. A change of government does not change the +face of nature. The hills that bear the olive and the vine, +were as fresh and green under the rule of Austria as they are +now under that of Victor Emmanuel. But in the cities and +large towns I see a marked change, both in the places themselves, +and in the manner and spirit of the people. Then +there was an universal lethargy. Everything was fixed in a +stagnation, like that of China. There was no improvement, +and no attempt at any. The incubus of a foreign yoke +weighed like lead on the hearts of the people. Their depression +showed itself in their very countenances, which had a +hopeless and sullen look. Now this is gone. The Austrians +have retired behind the mountains of the Tyrol, and Italy at +last is free from the Alps to the Adriatic. The moral effect +of such a political change is seen in the rebound from a state +of despair to one of animation and hope. When a people are +free, they have courage to attempt works of improvement, +knowing that what they do is not for the benefit of foreign +masters, but for themselves and their children. Hence the +new life which I see in the very streets of Milan and Genoa. +Everywhere improvements are going on. They are tearing +down old houses, and building new ones; opening new +streets and squares, and levelling old walls, that wide boulevards +may take their place. In Milan I found them clearing +away blocks of houses in front of the Duomo, to form an open +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> +square, sufficient to give an ample foreground for the Cathedral. +And they were just finishing a grand Arcade, with an +arched roof of iron and glass, like the Crystal Palace, beneath +which are long rows of shops, as well as wide open spaces, +where the people may gather in crowds, secure both from +heat and cold, protected alike from the rains of summer and +the snows of winter. The Emperor of Germany, who is +about to pay a visit to Italy, will find in Milan a city not so +large indeed, but certainly not less beautiful, than his own +northern capital.</p> + +<p>One beauty it has which Berlin can never have—its Cathedral. +If I had not exhausted my epithets of admiration +on the Cathedrals of Strasburg and Cologne, I might attempt +a description of that of Milan; but indeed all words seem +feeble beside the reality. One contrast to the German +Cathedrals is its lighter exterior. It is built of marble, +which under an Italian sky has preserved its whiteness, and +hence it has not the cold gray of those Northern Minsters +blackened by time. Nor has it any such lofty towers soaring +into the sky. The impression at first, therefore, is one +of beauty rather than of grandeur. In place of one or two +such towers, standing solitary and sublime, its buttresses +along the sides shoot up into as many separate pinnacles, +surmounted by statues, which, as they gleam in the last rays +of sunset, or under the full moon, seem like angelic sentinels +ranged along the heavenly battlements. These details of +the exterior draw away the eye from the vastness of the +structure as a whole, which only bursts upon us as we enter +within. There we recognize its immensity in the remoteness +of objects. A man looks very small at the other end of the +church. Service may be going on at half a dozen side +chapels without attracting attention, except as we hear +chanting in the distance; and the eye swims in looking up at +the vaulted roof. Behind the choir, three lofty windows of +rich stained glass cast a soft light on the vast interior. If I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> +lived in Milan, I should haunt that Cathedral, since it is a +spot where one may always be <i>alone</i>, as if he were in the +depths of the forest, and may indulge his meditations undisturbed.</p> + +<p>But there is another church, of much more humble proportions, +which has a great historical interest, that of St. +Ambrose, the author of the Te Deum, through which he has +led the worship of all the generations since his day, and +whose majestic anthem "We praise Thee, O God, we acknowledge +Thee to be the Lord," will continue to resound in +the earthly temples till it is caught up by voices around the +throne. St. Ambrose gave another immortal gift to the +Church in the conversion of St. Augustine, the greatest of +the Fathers, whose massive theology has been the study +alike of Catholics and Protestants—of Bossuet and Luther +and Calvin.</p> + +<p>Near the church of St. Ambrose one may still see the mutilated +remains of the great work of Leonardo da Vinci—the +Last Supper—painted, as everybody knows, on the walls of +the refectory of an old monastery, where it has had all sorts +of bad usage till it has been battered out of shape, but where +still Christ sits in the midst of His disciples, looking with +tender and loving eyes around on that circle which He should +not meet again till He had passed through His great agony. +The mutilation of such a work is a loss to the world, but it +is partly repaired by the many excellent copies, and by the +admirable engravings, in which it has been reproduced.</p> + +<p>From Milan to Genoa is only a ride of five hours, and we +are once more by the sea. One must be a dull and emotionless +traveller who does not feel a thrill as he emerges from a +long tunnel and sees before him the Mediterranean. There +it lies—the Mare Magnum of the ancients, which to those +who knew not the oceans as we know them, seemed vast +and measureless; "the great and wide sea," of which the +Psalmist wrote; towards which the prophet looked from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> +Mount Carmel, till he descried rising out of it a cloud like a +man's hand; the sea "whose shores are empires," around +which the civilization of the world has revolved for thousands +of years, passing from Egypt to Greece, to Rome, to +France and Spain, but always lingering, whether on the side +of Europe or Africa, somewhere along that enchanted coast.</p> + +<p>Here is Genoa—Genoa Superba, as they named her centuries +ago—and that still sits like a queen upon the waters, +as she looks down so proudly from her amphitheatre of hills +upon the bay at her feet. Genoa with Venice divided the +maritime supremacy of the Middle Ages, when her prows +were seen in all parts of the Mediterranean. The glory of +those days is departed, but, like Venice, her prosperity is +reviving under the influence of liberty. To Americans +Genoa will always have a special interest as the city of +Christopher Columbus. It was pleasant, in emerging from +the station, to see in the very first public square a monument +worthy of his great name, to the discoverer of the New +World.</p> + +<p>Genoa is a convenient point from which to take an excursion +over the Corniche road—one of the most famous roads +in Europe, running along the Riviera, or the coast of the +Mediterranean, as far west as Nice. A railroad now follows +the same route, but as it passes through a hundred tunnels, +more or less, the traveller is half the time buried in the earth. +The only way to see the full beauty of this road is to take a +carriage and drive over it, so as to get all the best points of +view. The whole excursion would take several days. To +economize our time we went by rail from Genoa to San Remo, +where the most picturesque part of the road begins, and from +there took a basket carriage with two spirited ponies to drive +to Nice, a good day's journey over the mountains. The day +was fair, not too hot nor too cool. The morning air was +exhilarating, as we began our ride along the shore, winding +in and out of all the little bays, sweeping around the promontories +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> +that jut into the sea, and then climbing high up on the +spurs of the mountains, which here slope quite down to the +coast, from which they take the name of the Maritime Alps. +The special beauty of this Riviera is that it lies between the +mountains and the sea. The hills, which rise from the very +shore, are covered not with vines but with olives—a tree +which with its pale yellow leaves, somewhat like the willow +is not very attractive to the eye, especially when, as now +withered by the fierce summer's heat, and covered with the +summer's dust. There has been no rain for two months, and +the whole land is burnt like a furnace. The leaves are +scorched as with the breath of a sirocco. But when the +autumn rains descend, we can well believe that all this barrenness +is turned into beauty, as these slopes are then green, +both with olive and with orange groves.</p> + +<p>In the recesses of the hills are many sheltered spots, protected +from the northern winds, and open to the southern +sun, which are the favorite resorts of invalids for the winter, +as here sun and sea combine to give a softened air like that +of a perpetual spring. When winter rages over the north of +Europe, when snow covers the open country, and even drifts +in the streets of great capitals, then it seems as if sunshine +and summer retreated to the shores of the Mediterranean, +and here lingered among the orange gardens that look out +from the terraced slopes upon the silver sea. The warm +south wind from African deserts tempers the fierceness of the +northern blasts. And not only invalids, but people of wealth +and fashion, who have the command of all countries and +climates, and who have only to choose where to spend the +winter with least of discomfort and most of luxury and pleasure, +flock to these resorts. Last winter the Empress of +Russia took up her quarters at San Remo, to inhale the +balmy air—a simple luxury, which she could not find in her +palace at St. Petersburg. And Prince Amadeus, son of the +king of Italy, who himself wore a crown for a year, occupied +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> +a villa near by, and found here a tranquil happiness which he +could never find on the troubled throne of Spain. A still +greater resort than San Remo is Mentone, which for the +winter months is turned into an English colony, with a sprinkling +of Americans, who altogether form a society of their +own, and thus enjoy, along with this delicious climate, the +charms of their English and American life.</p> + +<p>It is a pity that there should be a serpent in this garden +of Paradise. But here he is—a huge green monster, twining +among the flowers and the orange groves. Midway between +Mentone and Nice is the little principality of Monaco, the +smallest sovereignty in Europe, covering only a rocky peninsula +that projects into the sea, and a small space around it. +But small as it is, it is large enough to furnish a site for a +pest worse than a Lazaretto—worse than the pirates of the +Barbary coast that once preyed on the commerce of the Mediterranean—for +here is the greatest gambling house in Europe. +The famous—or infamous—establishments that so long flourished +on the Rhine, at Homburg and Baden Baden, drawing +hundreds and thousands into their whirlpools of ruin, have +been broken up since the petty principalities have been absorbed +in the great German empire. Thus driven from one +point to another, the gamblers have been, like the evil spirit, +seeking rest and finding none, till at last, by offering a large +sum—I heard that it was four hundred thousand francs +(eighty thousand dollars) a year—to the Prince of Monaco, +they have induced him to sell himself to the Devil, and to +allow his petty State to become a den of thieves. Hearing +of this notorious establishment, I had a curiosity to see it, +and so we were driven to Monte Carlo, which is the pretty +name for a very bad place. Surely never was the palace of +pleasure decked with more attractions. The place has been +made like a garden. Extensive grounds have been laid out, +where orange trees and palms are in full bloom. Winding +walks conduct the visitor to retired and shady retreats. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> +building itself is of stately proportions, and one goes up the +steps as if he were ascending a temple. Within the broad +vestibule servants in livery receive the stranger with studied +politeness, as a welcome guest, and with courtly smiles bow +him in. The vestibule opens into a large assembly room for +concerts and dancing, where one of the finest bands in Europe +discourses delicious music. Entrance is free everywhere, +except into the gaming-room, which however requires only +your card as a proof of your respectability. One must give +his name, and country, and profession! See how careful +they are to have only the most select society. I was directed +to the office, where two secretaries, of sober aspect, who +looked as if they might be retired Methodist clergymen, required +my name and profession. I felt that I was getting on +rather dangerous ground, but answered by giving only my +surname and the profession of editor, and received a card of +admission, and passed in. We were in a large hall, with +lofty ceiling, and walls decorated in a style that might become +an apartment in a royal palace. There were three tables, at +two of which gaming was going on. At the third the gamblers +sat around idle, waiting for customers, for "business" +is rather slack just now, as the season has not begun. A few +weeks later, when the hotels along the sea are filled up, the +place will be thronged, and all these tables will be kept going +till midnight. At the two where play was in progress, we +stood apart and watched the scene. There was a long table, +covered with green cloth (I said it was a <i>green</i> monster), over +which were scattered piles of gold and silver, and around +which were some twenty-five persons, mostly men, though +there were two or three women (it is well known that some +of the most infatuated and desperate gamblers at Baden Baden +were women). The game was what is known as <i>roulette</i> or +<i>rouge et noir</i> [red and black].<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> You lay down a piece of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> +coin, a napoleon or a sovereign, or, if you cannot afford that, +a five-franc piece, for they are so democratic that they are +willing to take the small change of the poor, as well as the +hundred or thousand francs of the rich. The wager is that, +when a horizontal wheel which is sunk in the table—the <i>roulette</i>—is +set revolving, a little ball like a boy's marble, which +is set whirling in it, will rest on the black or red spot. Of +course the thing is so managed that the chances are many to +one that you will lose your money. But it <i>looks</i> fair, and the +greenhorn is easily persuaded that it is an even chance, and +that he is as likely to win as to lose, until experience makes +him a sadder and a wiser man. Of those about the table, it +was quite apparent, even to my inexperienced eye, that the +greater part were professional gamblers. There is a look +about them that is unmistakable. My companion, who had +looked on half curious and half frightened, and who shrank +up to my side (although everything is kept in such order, +and with such an outward show of respectability, that there +is no danger), remarked the imperturbable coolness of the +players. The game proceeded in perfect silence, and no one +betrayed the least emotion, whether he lost or won. But I +explained to her that this was probably owing in part to the +fact that they were mostly employés of the establishment, and +had no real stake in the issue; but if they were <i>not</i>, a practised +gambler never betrays any emotion. This is a part of +his trade. He schools himself to it as an Indian does, who +scorns to show suffering, even if he is bound at the stake. I +noticed only one man who seemed to take his losses to heart. +I presumed he was an outsider, and as he lost heavily, his +face flushed, but he said nothing. This is the general course +of the game. Not a word is spoken, even when men are +losing thousands. Instances have occurred in which men +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> +gambled away their last dollar, and then rose from the table +and blew out their brains—which interrupted the play disagreeably +for a few moments; but the body was removed, the +blood washed away, and the game proceeded as usual.</p> + +<p>When we had watched the silent spectacle for half an hour, +we felt that we had quite enough, and after strolling through +the grounds and listening to the music, returned to our carriage +and drove off, moralizing on the strange scene we had +witnessed.</p> + +<p>Did I regret that I had been to see this glittering form of +temptation and sin? On the contrary, I wished that every +pastor in New York could have stood there and looked on +at that scene. We have had quite enough of firing at all +kinds of wickedness <i>at long range</i>. It is time to move our +batteries up a little nearer, and engage the enemy at close +quarters. If those pastors had seen what we saw in that half +hour, they would realize, as they cannot now, the dangers to +which young men are exposed in our cities. They would see +with their own eyes how broad is the road, and how alluring +it is made, that leads to destruction, and how many there be +that go in thereat. I look upon Monte Carlo as the very +mouth of the pit, covered up with flowers, so that giddy +creatures dance along its perilous edge till it crumbles under +their feet. Thousands who come here with no intention of +gambling, put down a small sum "just to try their luck," +and find that "a fool and his money are soon parted." +Many do not end with losing a few francs, or even a few +sovereigns. It is well if they do not leave behind them what +they can ill afford to lose. Very many young men leave +what is not their own. That such a place of temptation +should be allowed to exist here in this lovely spot on the +shores of the Mediterranean, is a disgrace to Monaco, and to +the powers on both sides of it, France and Italy, which, if +they have no legal right to interfere, might by a vigorous +protest put an end to the accursed thing. Probably it will +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> +after awhile provoke its own destruction. I should be glad +to see the foul nest of gamblers that have congregated here, +broken up, and the wretches sent to the galleys as convicts, +or forced in some way to earn an honest living.</p> + +<p>But is not this vice of gambling very wide-spread? Does +it not exist in more forms than one, and in more countries +than the little State of Monaco? I am afraid the vice lies +deep in human nature, and may be found in some shape in +every part of the world. Is there not a great deal of gambling +in Wall street? When men <i>bet</i> on the rise and fall of +stocks, when they sell what they do not possess, or buy that +for which they have no money to pay, do they not risk their +gains or losses on a chance, as much as those who stake +thousands on the turning of a wheel, on a card or a die? +It is the old sin of trying to get the fruits of labor without +labor, <i>to get something for nothing</i>, that is the curse of all +modern cities and countries, that demoralizes young men in +New York and San Francisco, as well as in Paris and London. +The great lesson which we all need to learn, is the +duty and the dignity of labor. When a man never claims +anything which he does not work for, then he may feel an +honest pride in his gains, and may slowly grow in fortune +without losing the esteem of the good, or his own manly self-respect.</p> + +<p>Leaving this gorgeous den of thieves behind us, we haste +away to the mountains; for while the railroad seeks its +level path along the very shore of the sea, the Corniche road, +built before railroads were thought of, finds its only passage +over stupendous heights. We have now to climb a spur of +the Alps, which here pushes its great shoulder close to the +sea. It is a toilsome path for our little ponies, but they pull +up bravely, height after height. Every one we mount, we hope +to find the summit; but we keep going on and on, and up and +up, till it seems like a Jacob's Ladder, which reaches to +Heaven. When on one of the highest points, we look right +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> +down into Monte Carlo as into the crater of a volcano. It +does not burn or smoke, but it has an open mouth, and many +there be that there go down quick into hell.</p> + +<p>We are at last on the top, and pass on from one peak to +another, all the time enjoying a wide outlook over the blue +Mediterranean, which lies calmly at the foot of these great +mountains, with only a white sail here and there dotting the +mighty waters.</p> + +<p>It was nearly sunset when we came in sight of Nice, gleaming +in the distance on the sea-shore. We had been riding all +day, and our driver, a bright young Savoyard, seemed eager +to have the long journey over, and so he put his ponies to +their speed, and we came down the mountain as if shot out +of a gun, and rattled through the streets of Nice at such a +break-neck pace, that the police shouted after us, lest we +should run over somebody. But there was no stopping our +little Jehu, and on we went at full speed, till suddenly he +reined us up with a jerk before the hotel.</p> + +<p>In the old days when I first travelled in the south of +Europe, Nice was an Italian town. It belonged to the +small kingdom of Sardinia. But in 1860, as a return +for the help of Napoleon in the campaign of 1859 against +Austria, by which Victor Emmanuel gained Lombardy, it +was ceded with Savoy to France, and now is a French +city. I think it has prospered by the change. It has grown +very much, until it has some fifty thousand inhabitants. Its +principal attraction is as a winter resort for English and +Americans. There are a number of Protestant churches, +French and English. The French Evangelical church has +for its pastor Rev. Leon Pilatte, who is well known in +America.</p> + +<p>It was now Saturday night, and the Sabbath drew on. +Never was its rest more grateful, and never did it find us in +a more restful spot. Everybody comes here for repose, to +find rest and healing. The place is perhaps a little saddened +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> +by the presence of so many invalids, some of whom come +here only to die. In yonder hotel on the shore, the +heir of the throne of all the Russias breathed his last a +few winters ago. These clear skies and this soft air could +not save him, even when aided by all the medical skill of +Europe. I should not have great faith in the restoring +power of this or of any climate for one far gone in consumption. +But certainly as a place of <i>rest</i>, if it is permitted to +man to find rest anywhere on earth, it must be here, with +the blue skies above, and the soft flowery earth below, and +with no sound to disturb, but only the murmur of the moaning, +melancholy sea.</p> + +<p>But a traveller is not allowed to rest. He comes not to +<i>stay</i>, but only to <i>see</i>—to look, and then to disappear; and +so, after a short two days in Nice, we took a quick return by +night, and in eight hours found ourselves again in Genoa. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">IN THE VALE OF THE ARNO.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Florence</span>, September 27th.</p> + +<p>We are getting more into the heart of Italy as we come +farther south. In the old Roman days the country watered +by the Po was not a part of Italy; it was Cisalpine Gaul. +This we leave behind as we turn southward from Genoa. +The road runs along the shore of the Mediterranean; it is a +continuation of the Riviera as far as Spezzia, where we leave +the sea and strike inland to Pisa, one of the Mediæval cities, +which in its best days was a rival of Genoa, and which has +still some memorials of its former grandeur. Here we spent +a night, and the next morning visited the famous Leaning +Tower, and the Cathedral and Baptistery, and the Campo +Santo (filled with earth brought from Jerusalem in fifty-three +ships, that the faithful might be buried in holy ground), and +then pursued our way along the Valley of the Arno to +Florence.</p> + +<p>And now the inspiration of the country, the <i>genius loci</i>, +comes upon us more and more. We are in Tuscany, one of +the most beautiful portions of the whole peninsula. We are +favored by the season of the year. Before we came abroad I +consulted some of my travelled friends as to the best time of +the year to visit Italy. Most tourists come here in the +winter. Rome especially is not thought to be safe till late +in the autumn. But Dr. Bellows told me that, so far from +waiting for cold weather, he thought Italy could be seen in +its full beauty <i>only</i> in an earlier month, when the country +was still clothed with vegetation. Certainly it is better to see +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> +it in its summer bloom, or in the ripeness of autumn, than +when the land is stripped, when the mountains are bleak and +bare, when there is not a leaf on the vine or the fig-tree, and +only naked branches shiver in the wintry wind. We have come +at a season when the earth has still its glory on. The vineyards +are full of the riches of the year; the peasants are now +gathering the grapes, and we have witnessed that most picturesque +Italian scene, the vintage. Dark forests clothe the +slopes of the Apennines. At this season there is a soft, hazy +atmosphere, like that of our Indian summer, which gives a +kind of purple tint to the Italian landscapes. The skies are +fair, but not more fair than that heaven of blue which bends +over many a beloved spot in America. Nor is the vegetation +richer, nor are the landscapes more lovely, than in our own +dear vales of Berkshire. Even the Arno at this season, like +most of the other rivers of Italy, is a dried up bed with only +a rivulet of muddy water running through it. Later in the +autumn, when the rains descend; or in the spring, when the +snows melt upon the mountains, it is swollen to such a height +that it often overflows its banks, and the full stream rushes +like a torrent. But at present the mighty Arno, of which +poets have sung so much, is not so large as the Housatonic, +nor half so beautiful as that silver stream, on whose banks the +meadows are always fresh and green, and where the waters +are pure and sparkling that ripple over its pebbled bed.</p> + +<p>But the position of Florence is certainly one of infinite +beauty, lying in a valley, surrounded by mountains. The +approach to it by a railroad, when one gets his first view +from a level, is much less picturesque than in the old days +when we travelled by <i>vettura</i>, and came to it over the Apennines, +and after a long day's journey reached the top of a +distant hill, from which we saw Florence afar off, sitting +like a queen in the Valley of the Arno, the setting sun +reflected from the Duomo and the Campanile, and from all +its domes and towers. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span></p> + +<p>In this Valley of Paradise we have spent a week, visiting +the galleries of pictures, and making excursions to Fiesolé +and other points of view on the surrounding hills, from +which to look down on as fair a scene as ever smiled beneath +an Italian sun.</p> + +<p>Florence is in many respects the most attractive place in +Italy, as it unites the charms of art with those of modern +life; as it exists not only in the dead past, but in the living +present. It is a large, thriving, prosperous city, and has +become a great resort of English and Americans, who gather +here in the winter months, and form a most agreeable society. +There are a number of American sculptors and painters, +whose works are well known on the other side of the +Atlantic. Some of their studios we visited, and saw abundant +evidence, that with all our intensely practical life, the +elements of taste and beauty, and of a genius for art, are not +wanting in our countrymen.</p> + +<p>Florence has had a material growth within a few years, +from being for a time the capital of the new kingdom of +Italy. When Tuscany was added to Sardinia, the capital +was removed from Turin to Florence as a more central city, +and the presence of the Court and the Parliament gave a new +life to its streets. Now the Court is removed to Rome, but +the impulse still remains, and in the large squares which +have been opened, and the new buildings which are going +up, one sees the signs of life and progress. To be sure, there +is not only <i>growing</i> but <i>groaning</i>, for the taxes are fearfully +high here, as everywhere in Italy. The country is bearing +burdens as heavy as if it were in a state of war. If only +Italy were the first country in Europe to reduce her armaments, +she could soon lighten the load upon her people.</p> + +<p>But leaving aside all political and financial questions, +one may be permitted to enjoy this delightful old city, +with its treasures of art, and its rich historical memories. +Florence has lately been revelling in its glories of old days +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> +in a celebration of the four hundredth anniversary of the +birth of Michael Angelo—as a few years since it celebrated +the six hundredth anniversary of the birth of Dante. Surely +few men in history better deserve to be remembered than +Michael Angelo, whose rugged face looks more like that +of a hard-headed old Scotchman, than of one who belonged +to the handsome Italian race. And yet that brain was full +of beautiful creations, and in his life of eighty-nine years +he produced enough to leave, not only to Florence, but to +Rome, many monuments of his genius. He was great in +several forms of art—as painter, sculptor, and architect—and +even had some pretension to be a poet. He was the +sculptor of David and Moses; the painter of the Last Judgment +and the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, and the architect +who built St. Peter's. And his character was equal to +his genius. He was both religious and patriotic, not only +building churches, but the fortifications that defended +Florence against her enemies. Such was Michael Angelo—a +simple, grand old man, whose name is worthy to live with +the heroes of antiquity.</p> + +<p>We were too late to enjoy the fétes that were given at this +anniversary, and were only able to be present at the performance +of Verdi's Requiem, which concluded the whole. This +sublime composition was written for the great Italian author +Manzoni, and to be sung in the Cathedral of Milan, whose +solemn aisles were in harmony with its mournful and majestic +strains. Now it would have seemed more fitting in the +Duomo of Florence than in a theatre, though perhaps the +latter was better constructed for an orchestra and an audience. +The performance of the Requiem was to be the great +musical event of the year; we had heard the fame of it at +Milan and at Venice, and having seen what Italy could show in +one form of art, we were now able to appreciate it in another. +Months had been spent in preparation. Distinguished singers +were to lead in the principal parts, while hundreds were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> +to join their voices in the tremendous chorus. On the night +that we witnessed the representation, the largest theatre in +Florence was crowded from pit to dome, although the price +of admission was very high. In the vast assembly was comprised +what was most distinguished in Florence, with representatives +from other cities of Italy, and many from other +countries. The performance occupied over two hours. It +began with soft, wailing melodies, such as might be composed +to soothe a departing soul, or to express the wish of survivors +that it might enter into its everlasting rest. Then succeeded +the <span class="smcap">Dies Iræ</span>—the old Latin hymn, which for centuries has +sounded forth its accents of warning and of woe. Those +who are familiar with this sublime composition will remember +the terrific imagery with which the terrors of the Judgment +are presented, and can imagine the effect of such a hymn rendered +with all the power of music. We had first a quiet, +lulling strain—almost like silence, which was the calm before +the storm. Then a sound was heard, but low, as of something +afar off, distant and yet approaching. Nearer and nearer it +drew, swelling every instant, till it seemed as if the trumpets +that should wake the dead were stirring the alarmed air. +At last came a crash as if a thunder peal had burst in the +building. This terrific explosion, of course, was soon relieved +by softer sounds. There were many and sudden transitions, +one part being given by a single powerful voice, or by two or +three, or four, and then the mighty chorus responding +with a sound like that of many waters. After the Dies Iræ +followed a succession of more gentle strains, which spoke of +Pardon and Peace. The <i>Agnus Dei</i> and other similar parts +were given with a tenderness that was quite overpowering. +Those who have heard the Oratorio of the Messiah, and +remember the melting sweetness of such passages as "He +leadeth me beside the still waters," and "I know that my +Redeemer liveth," can form an idea of the marvellous effect. +I am but an indifferent judge of music, but I could not but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> +observe how much grander such a hymn as the Dies Iræ +sounds in the original Latin than in any English version. +<i>Eternal rest</i> are sweet words in English, but in music +they can never be rendered with the effect of the Latin +<span class="s08">REQUIEM SEMPITERNAM</span>, on which the voices of the most powerful +singers lingered and finally died away, as if bidding +farewell to a soul that was soaring to the very presence of +God. This Requiem was a fitting close to the public celebrations +by which Florence did honor to the memory of her +illustrious dead.</p> + +<p>Michael Angelo is buried in the church of Santa Croce, +and near his tomb is that of another illustrious Florentine, +whose name belongs to the world, and to the <i>heavens</i>—"the +starry Galileo." We have sought out the spots associated +with his memory—the house where he lived and the room +where he died. The tower from which he made his observations +is on an elevation which commands a wide horizon. +There with his little telescope—a very slender tube and very +small glass, compared with the splendid instruments in our +modern observatories—he watched the constellations, as they +rose over the crest of the Apennines, and followed their shining +path all night long. There he observed the mountains in +the moon, and the satellites of Jupiter. What a commentary +on the intelligence of the Roman Catholic Church, that +such a man should be dragged before the Inquisition—before +ignorant priests who were not worthy to untie his shoes—and +required, under severe penalties, to renounce the doctrine +of the revolution of the globe. The old man yielded +in a moment of weakness, to escape imprisonment or death, +but as he rose from his knees, his spirit returned to him, and +he exclaimed "<i>But still it moves!</i>" A good motto for reformers +of all ages. Popes and inquisitors may try to stop +the revolution of the earth, but still it moves!</p> + +<p>There is another name in the history of Florence, which +recalls the persecutions of Rome—that of Savonarola. No +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> +spot was more sacred to me than the cell in the Monastery, +where he passed so many years, and from which he issued, +crucifix in hand (the same that is still kept there as a holy +relic), to make those fiery appeals in the streets of Florence, +which so stirred the hearts of the people, and led at last to +his trial and death. A rude picture that is hung on the +wall represents the final scene. It is in the public square, +in front of the Old Palace, where a stage is erected, and +monks are conducting Savonarola and two others who suffered +with him, to the spot where the flames are kindled. +Here he was burnt, and his ashes thrown into the Arno. +But how impotent the rage that thought thus to stifle such a +voice! His words, like his ashes, have gone into the air, +and the winds take them up and carry them round the world. +Henceforth his name belongs to history, and in the ages to +come will be whispered by</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Those airy tongues that syllable men's names,</p> +<p>On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses."</p> +</div> + +<p>It is a proof of the decline of Italy under the oppression +of a foreign yoke—of the paralysis of her intellectual as +well as her political life—that she has produced no name to +equal these in four hundred years. For though Byron eulogizes +so highly, and perhaps justly, Alfieri and Canova, it +would be an extravagant estimate which should assign them +a place in the Pantheon of History beside the immortals of +the Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>And yet Italy has not been wholly deserted of genius or +of glory in these later ages. In the darkest times she has +had some great writers, as well as painters and sculptors, +and in the very enthusiasm with which she now recalls in her +celebrations the names of Dante and Michael Angelo, we +recognize a spirit of life, an admiration for greatness, which +may produce in the future those who may rank as their +worthy successors. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span></p> + +<p>Within a few years Florence has become such a resort of +strangers that some of its most interesting associations are +with its foreign residents. In the English burying ground +many of that country sleep far from their native island. +Some, like Walter Savage Landor and Mrs. Browning, had +made Florence their home for years. Italy was their adopted +country, and it is fit that they sleep in its sunny clime, beneath +a southern sky. So of our countryman Powers, who +was a resident of Florence for thirty-five years, and whose +widow still lives here in the very pretty villa which he built, +with her sons and daughter married and settled around her, +a beautiful domestic group. In the cemetery I sought another +grave of one known to all Americans. On a plain +stone of granite is inscribed simply the name</p> + +<p class="grave"> +THEODORE PARKER,<br /> +Born at Lexington, Massachusetts,<br /> +In the United States of America,<br /> +August 24th, 1810.<br /> +Died in Florence<br /> +May 10th, 1860.</p> + +<p>One could preach a sermon over that grave, for in that +form which is now but dust, was one of the most vigorous +minds of our day, a man of prodigious force, an omnivorous +reader, and a writer and lecturer on a great variety of subjects, +who in his manifold forms of activity, did as much to +influence the minds of his countrymen as any man of his +time. He struck fierce blows, right and left, often doing +more ill than good by his crude religious opinions, which he +put forth as boldly as if they were the accepted faith of all +mankind; but in his battle for Liberty rendering services +which the American people will not willingly let die.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Browning's epitaph is still briefer. There is a +longer inscription on a tablet in the front of the house which +was her home for so many years, placed there by the municipal +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> +government of Florence. There, as one looks up to +those <span class="smcap">Casa Guidi Windows</span>, which she has given as a name +to a volume of her poems, he may read that "In this house +lived and died <span class="smcap">Elizabeth Barrett Browning</span>, who by her +genius and her poetry made a golden link between England +and Italy." But on her tomb, which is of pure white marble, +is only</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p><span class="smcap">E. B. B. Ob. 1861.</span></p> +</div> + +<p>But what need of more words to perpetuate a name that +is on the lips of millions; or to speak of one who speaks for +herself in the poetry she has made for nations; whose very +voice thus lives in the air, like a strain of music, and goes +floating down the ages, singing itself to immortality? +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">OLD ROME AND NEW ROME.—RUINS AND RESURRECTION.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Rome</span>, October 8th.</p> + +<p>At last we are in Rome! We reached here a week ago, +on what was to me a very sad anniversary, as on the first of +October of last year I came from the country, bringing one +who was never to return. Now, as then, the day was sadly +beautiful—rich with the hues of autumn, when nature is +gently dying, a day suited to quiet thoughts and tender memories. +It was late in the afternoon when we found ourselves +racing along the banks of the Tiber—"the yellow Tiber" it +was indeed, as its waters were turbid enough—and just as +the sun was setting we shot across the Campagna, and when +the lamps were lighted were rattling through the streets of +the Eternal City.</p> + +<p>To a stranger coming here there is a double interest; for +there are two cities to be studied—old Rome and new Rome—the +Rome of Julius Cæsar, and the Rome of Pius IX. and +Victor Emmanuel. In point of historical interest there is no +comparison, as the glory of the ancient far surpasses that of +the modern city. And it is the former which first engages +our attention.</p> + +<p>How strange it seemed to awake in the morning and feel +that we were really in the city that once ruled the world! +Yes, we are on the very spot. Around us are the Seven +Hills. We go to the top of the Capitol and count them all. +We look down to the river bank where Romulus and Remus +were cast ashore, like Moses in the bulrushes, left to die, and +where, according to the old legend, they were suckled by a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> +wolf; and where Romulus, when grown to man's estate, began +to build a city. Antiquarians still trace the line of his ancient +wall. On the Capitol Hill is the Tarpeian Rock, from which +traitors were hurled. And under the hill, buried in the +earth, one still sees the massive arch of the Cloaca Maxima, +the great sewer, built by the Tarquins, through which all the +waste of Rome has flowed into the Tiber for twenty-five hundred +years; and there are the pillars of the ancient bridge—so +they tell us—held by a hero who must have been a Hercules, +of whom and his deed Macaulay writes in his "Lays of +Ancient Rome" how, long after, in the traditions of the +people,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Still was the story told,</p> +<p>How well Horatius kept the bridge,</p> +<p>In the brave days of old."</p> +</div> + +<p>Looking around the horizon every summit recalls historical +memories. There are the Sabine Hills, where lived the tribe +from which the early Romans (who were at first, like some of +our border settlements, wholly a community of men,) helped +themselves to wives. Yonder, to the south, are the Alban +Hills; and there, in what seems the hollow of a mountain, +Hannibal encamped with his army, looking down upon Rome. +In the same direction lies the Appian Way, lined for miles +with tombs of the illustrious dead. Along that way often +came the legions returning from distant conquests, "bringing +many captives home to Rome," with camels and elephants +bearing the spoils of Africa and the East.</p> + +<p>These recollections increase in interest as we come down to +the time of the Cæsars. This is the culminating point of +Roman history, as then the empire reached its highest point +of power and glory. Julius Cæsar is the greatest character +of ancient Rome, as soldier and ruler, the leader of armies, +and the man whose very presence awed the Roman Senate. +Such was the magic of his name that it was said peculiar +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> +omens and portents accompanied his death. As Shakespeare +has it:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"In the most high and palmy state of Rome,</p> +<p>A little ere the mighty Julius fell,</p> +<p>The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead</p> +<p>Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets."</p> +</div> + +<p>It was therefore with an interest that no other name could +inspire, that we saw in the Capitol a statue, which is said to +be the most faithful existing representation of that imperial +man; and in the Strada Palace the statue of Pompey, which +is believed to be the very one at the base of which "great +Cæsar fell."<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>With Cæsar ended the ancient Republic, and began the +Empire. It was then that Rome attained her widest dominion, +and the city its greatest splendor. She was the mistress +of the whole world, from Egypt to Britain, ruling on all sides +of the Mediterranean, along the shores of Europe, Asia, +and Africa. And then the whole earth contributed to the +magnificence of the Eternal City. It was the boast of +Augustus, that "he found Rome of brick, and left it of +marble." Under him and his successors were reared those +palaces and temples, the very ruins of which are still the +wonder and admiration of the world.</p> + +<p>The knowledge of these ruins has been greatly increased by +recent excavations. Till within a few years Rome was a +buried city, almost as much as Pompeii. The débris of +centuries had filled up her streets and squares, till the earth +lay more than twenty feet deep in the Forum, choking up +temples and triumphal arches; and even the lower part of the +Coliseum had been submerged in the general wreck and ruin. +In every part of the city could be seen the upper portions of +buildings, the frieze on the capitals of columns, that were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> +half under ground, and that, like Milton's lion, seemed pawing +to be free.</p> + +<p>But the work of clearing away this rubbish was so vast +that it had been neglected from century to century. But +during the occupation by the French troops, that Government +expended large sums in uncovering these ruins, and +the work has since been continued by Victor Emmanuel, until +now, as the result of twenty years continuous labor, a buried +city has been brought to light. The Forum has been cleared +away, so that we may walk on its pavement, amid its broken +columns, and see the very tribune from which Cicero addressed +the Roman people. But beside this Central Forum, +there were half a dozen others—such as the Forum of Julius +Cæsar, and of Augustus, and of Nerva, and of Trajan, +where still stands that marvellous Column in bronze +(covered with figures in bas-relief, to represent the conquest +of the Dacians), which has been copied in the Column of the +Place Vendome in Paris. All of these Forums were parts +of one whole. What is now covered by streets and houses, +was an open space, extending from the Capitol as far as the +Coliseum in one direction, and the Column of Trajan in another, +surrounded by temples and basilicas, and columns and +triumphal arches, and overlooked by the palaces of the +Cæsars. This whole area was the centre of Rome, where +its heart beat, when it contained two millions of people; +where the people came together to discuss public affairs, or +to witness triumphal processions returning from the wars. +Here the Roman legions came with mighty tread along the +Via Sacra, winding their way up to the Capitoline Hill to +lay their trophies at the feet of the Senate.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the best idea of the splendor and magnificence of +ancient Rome may be gained from exploring the ruins of the +palaces of the Cæsars. They are of vast extent, covering +all the slopes of the Palatine Hill. Here great excavations +have been made. The walk seems endless through what has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> +been laid open. The walls are built like a fortress, as if to +last forever, and decorated with every resource of art known +to that age, with sculptures and ceilings richly painted, like +those uncovered in the houses of Pompeii. These buildings +have been stripped of everything that was movable—the +statues being transported to the galleries of the Vatican. +The same fate has overtaken all the great structures of +ancient Rome. They have been divested of their ornaments +and decoration, of gilding and bas-reliefs and statues, and in +some cases have been quite dismantled. The Coliseum, it is +well known, was used in the Middle Ages as a quarry for +many proud noble families, and out of it were built some of +the greatest palaces in Rome. Nothing saved the Pantheon +but its conversion from a heathen temple into a Christian +church. Hundreds and thousands of columns of porphyry +and alabaster and costly marbles, which now adorn the +churches of Rome, were taken from the ruins of temples and +palaces.</p> + +<p>But though thus stripped of every ornament, ancient Rome +is still magnificent in her ruins. One may wander for days +about the palaces of the Cæsars, walking through the libraries +and theatres, under the arches and over the very tessellated +pavement where those proud emperors walked nearly +two thousand years ago. He should ascend to the highest +point of the ruins to take in their full extent, and there he +will see, looking out upon the Campagna, a long line of +arches reaching many miles, over which water was brought +from the distant hills for the Golden House of Nero.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the most massive ruin which has been lately uncovered, +is that of the Baths of Caracalla, which give an +idea of the luxury and splendor of ancient Rome, as quite +unequalled in modern times.</p> + +<p>But, of course, the one structure which interests most of +all, is the Coliseum: and here recent excavations have made +fresh discoveries. The whole area has been dug down many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> +feet, and shows a vast system of passages <i>underground</i>; not +only those through which wild beasts were let into the arena, +but conduits for water, by which the whole amphitheatre +could be flooded and turned into a lake large enough for +Roman galleys to sail in; and here naval battles were fought +with all the fury of a conflict between actual enemies, to the +delight of Roman emperor and people, who shouted applause, +when blood flowed freely on the decks, and dyed the waters +below.</p> + +<p>There is one reflection that often recurs to me, as I wander +among these ruins—what it is of all the works of man that +really <i>lives</i>. Not architecture (the palaces of the Cæsars are +but heaps of ruins); but the Roman <i>laws</i> remain, incorporated +with the legislation of every civilized country on the globe; +while Virgil and Cicero, the poet and the orator, are the +delight of all who know the Latin tongue. Thus men pass +away, their very monuments may perish, but their thoughts, +their wisdom, their learning and their genius remain, a perpetual +inheritance to mankind.</p> + +<p>After Imperial Rome comes Christian Rome. Many of +the stories of the first Christian centuries are fables and +legends. Historical truth is so overlaid with a mass of +traditions, that one is ready to reject the whole. When +they show you here the stone on which they gravely +tell you that Abraham bound Isaac for the sacrifice; and +another on which Mary sat when she brought Christ into +the temple; and the staircase from Pilate's house, the Scala +Santa, up which every day and hour pilgrims may be seen +going on their knees; and a stone showing the very prints of +the Saviour's feet when he appeared to Peter—one is apt to +turn away in disgust. But the general fact of the early +planting of Christianity here, we know from the new Testament +itself. Ecclesiastical historians are not agreed whether +Peter was ever in Rome (although he is claimed as the first +Pope), but that Paul was here we know from his epistles, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> +and from the Book of Acts, in which we have the particulars +of his "appealing to Cæsar," and his voyages to Italy, +and his shipwreck on the island of Malta, his landing at Puteoli, +and going "towards Rome," where he lived two years +in "his own hired house," "preaching and teaching, no man +forbidding him." Several of his epistles were written from +Rome. It is therefore quite probable that he was confined, according +to the tradition, in the Mamertine Prison under the +Capitol, and one cannot descend without deep emotion into +that dark, rocky dungeon, far underground, where the Great +Apostle was once a prisoner, and from which he was led forth +to die. He is said to have been beheaded without the walls. +On the road they point out a spot (still marked by a rude +figure by the roadside of two men embracing), where it is said +Paul and Peter met and fell on each other's neck on the +morning of the last day—Paul going to be beheaded, and +Peter into the city to be crucified, which at his own request +was with his head downwards, for he would not be crucified +in the same posture as his Lord, whom he had once denied. +On the spot where Paul is said to have suffered now rises +one of the grandest churches in the world, second in Rome +only to St. Peter's.</p> + +<p>So the persecutions of the early Christians by successive +emperors are matters of authentic history. Knowing this, +we visit as a sacred place the scene of their martyrdom, and +shudder at seeing on the walls the different modes of torture +by which it was sought to break their allegiance to the faith; +we think of them in the Coliseum, where they were thrown +to the lions; and still more in the Catacombs, to which +they fled for refuge, where they worshipped, and (as Pliny +wrote) "sang hymns to Christ as to a God," and where still +rest their bones, with many a rude inscription, testifying of +their faith and hope.</p> + +<p>It is a sad reflection that the Christian Church, once established +in Rome, should afterwards itself turn persecutor. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> +But unfortunately it too became intoxicated with power, and +could brook no resistance to its will. The Inquisition was +for centuries a recognized institution of the Papacy—an appointed +means for guarding the purity of the faith. The +building devoted to the service of that tribunal stands +to this day, close by the Church of St. Peter, and I believe +there is still a Papal officer who bears the dread title of +"Grand Inquisitor." But fortunately his office no longer +inspires terror, for it is at last reduced to the punishment of +ecclesiastical offences by ecclesiastical discipline, instead of +the arm of flesh, on which it once leaned. But the old building +is at once "a prison and a palace"; the cells are still +there, though happily unoccupied. But in the castle of St. +Angelo there is a Chamber of Torture, which has not always +been merely for exhibition, where a Pope Clement (what a +mockery in the name!) had Beatrice Cenci put to the torture, +and forced to confess a crime of which she was not guilty. +But we are not so unjust as to impute all these cruelties of a +former and a darker time to the Catholic Church of the present +day. Those were ages of intolerance and of persecution. +But none can deny that the Church has always been fiercely +intolerant. There is no doubt that the massacre of St. +Bartholomew was the occasion of great rejoicings at Rome. +The bloody persecution of the Waldenses found no rebuke +from him who claimed to be the vicegerent of Christ; a persecution +which called forth from Milton that sublime prayer:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="i4">Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints,</p> +<p>Whose bones lie scattered upon the Alpine mountains cold!</p> +</div> + +<p>Amid such bitter recollections it is good to remember also the +message of Cromwell to the Pope, that "if favor were not +shown to the people of God, the thunder of English cannon +should be heard in the castle of St. Angelo."</p> + +<p>It seems as if it were a just retribution for those crimes +of a former age that the Pope in these last days has had to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> +walk so long in the Valley of Humiliation. Not for centuries +has a Pontiff had to endure such repeated blows. +The reign of Pius IX. has been longer than that of any of +his predecessors; some may think it glorious, but it has witnessed +at once the most daring assumption and its signal +punishment—a claim of infallibility, which belongs to God +alone—followed by a bitter humiliation as if God would cast +this idol down to the ground. It is certainly a remarkable +coincidence, that just as the dogma of Infallibility was proclaimed, +Louis Napoleon rushed into war, as the result of +which France, the chief supporter of the Papacy (which for +twenty years had kept an army in Rome to hold the Pope on +his throne), was stricken down, and the first place in Europe +taken by a Protestant power. Germany had already humbled +the other great Catholic power of Europe, to the confusion +and dismay of the Pope and his councillors. A gentleman +who has resided for many years in Rome, tells me that +on the very day that the battle of Sadowa was fought, Cardinal +Antonelli told a friend of his to "come around to his +house that night to get the news; that he expected to hear +of one of the greatest victories ever won for the Church," +so confidently did he and his master the Pope anticipate the +triumph of Austria. The gentleman went. Hour after hour +passed, and no tidings came. It was midnight, and still no +news of victory. Before morning the issue was known, that +the Austrian army was destroyed. Cardinal Antonelli did +not come forth to proclaim the tidings. He shut himself up, +said my informant, and was not seen for three weeks!</p> + +<p>And so it has come to pass—whether by accident or design, +whether by the violence of man or by the will of God—that +the Pope has been gradually stripped of that power and +prestige which once so acted upon the imaginations of men, +that, like Cæsar, "his bend did awe the world," and has come +to be merely the bishop, or archbishop, of that portion of +Christendom which submits to the Catholic Church. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span></p> + +<p>I find the Rome of to-day divided into two camps. The Vatican +is set over against the Quirinal. The Pope rules in one, +and Victor Emmanuel in the other; and neither of these two +sovereigns has anything to do with the other.</p> + +<p>It would take long to discuss the present political state of +Rome or of Italy. Apart from the right or wrong of this +question, it is evident that the sympathies of the Italian +people are on the side of Victor Emmanuel. The Roman +people have had a long experience of a government of priests, +and they do not like it. It seems as if the world was entering +on a new era, and the Papacy, infallible and immutable +as it is, must change too—it must "move on" or be overwhelmed. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXIII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE PRISONER OF THE VATICAN.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Rome</span>, October 15th.</p> + +<p>It is a great loss to travellers who come to Rome to see +the sights, that the Pope has shut himself up in the Vatican. +In the good old times, when he was not only a spiritual, but +a civil potentate—not only Pope, but King—he used to ride +about a great deal to take a survey of his dominions. One +might meet him of an afternoon taking an airing on the +Pincian Hill, or on some of the roads leading out of Rome. +He always appeared in a magnificent state carriage, of red +trimmed with gold, with six horses richly caparisoned, and +outriders going before, and the Swiss guards following after. +[What would poor old Peter have said, if he had met his +successor coming along in such mighty pomp?] The Cardinals +too, arrayed in scarlet, had their red carriages and +their fine liveries, and their horses pranced up and down the +Corso. Thus Rome was very gay. The processions too +were endless, and they were glorious to behold. It was +indeed a grand sight to see the Pope and all his Cardinals, +in their scarlet dresses, sweeping into St. Peter's and kneeling +together in the nave, while the muskets of the Swiss +guards rang on the pavement, in token of the might of arms +which then attended the spiritual power.</p> + +<p>But now, alas! all this is ended. The spoiler has entered +into the holy place, and the Holy Father appears no more in +the streets. Since that fatal day when the Italian troops +marched into Rome—the 20th of September, 1870—he has not +put his foot in a carriage, nor shown himself to the Roman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> +people. The Cardinals, who live in different parts of the +city, are obliged to go about; but they have laid aside all +their fine raiment and glittering equipage, and appear only +in solemn black, as if they were all undertakers, attending +the funeral of the Papacy. The Pope has shut himself up +closely in the Vatican. He is, indeed, just as free to go +abroad as ever. There is nothing to prevent his riding about +Rome as usual. But no, the dear old man will have it that +he is restrained of his liberty, and calls himself "a prisoner!" +To be sure he is not exactly in a guard-house, or in a cell, +such as those in the Inquisition just across the square of St. +Peter, where heretics used to be accommodated with rather +close quarters. His "prison" is a large one—a palace, with +hundreds of richly furnished apartments, where he is surrounded +with luxury and splendor, and where pilgrims flock +to him from all parts of the earth. It is a princely retreat +for one in his old age, and a grand theatre on which to assume +the role of martyr. Almost anybody would be willing to +play the part of prisoner, if by this means he might attract +the attention and sympathy of the whole civilized world.<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p>But so complete is this voluntary confinement of the Pope, +that he has not left the Vatican in these five years, not even +to go into St. Peter's, though it adjoins the Vatican, and he +can enter it by a private passage. It is whispered that he +did go in on one occasion, <i>to see his own portrait</i>, which is +wrought in mosaic, and placed over the bronze statue of St. +Peter. But on this occasion the public were excluded, and +when the doors were opened he had disappeared. He will +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> +not even take part in the great festivals of the Church, which +are thus shorn of half their splendor.</p> + +<p>How well I remember the gorgeous ceremonies of Holy +Week, beginning with Palm Sunday, and ending with Easter. +I was one of the foreigners in the Sistine Chapel on Good +Friday, when the Pope's choir, composed of eunuchs, sang the +<i>Miserere</i>; and on the Piazza of St. Peter's at Easter, when +the Pope was carried on men's shoulders to the great central +window, where, in the presence of an immense crowd, he pronounced +his benediction <i>urbi et orbi</i>; and the cannon of the +Castle of St. Angelo thundered forth the mighty blessings +which had thus descended on "the city and the world." I +saw too, that night, the illumination of St. Peter's, when +arches and columns and roof and dome were hung with +lamps, that when all lighted together, made such a flame that +it seemed as if the very heavens were on fire.</p> + +<p>But now all this glory and splendor have gone out in utter +night. There are no more blessings for unbelievers—nor +even for the faithful, except as they seek them within the +sacred precincts of the Vatican, where alone the successor of +St. Peter is now visible. It is a great loss to those who +have not been in Rome before, especially to those enthusiastic +persons who feel that they cannot "die happy" unless +they have seen the Pope.</p> + +<p>But I do not need anything to gratify my curiosity. I +have seen the Pope many times before, and I recognize in +the photographs which are in all shop windows the same +face which I saw a quarter of a century ago—only aged indeed +by the lapse of these many years. <i>It is a good face.</i> +I used to think he looked like Dr. Sprague of Albany, who +certainly had as benevolent a countenance as ever shone +forth in kindness on one's fellow creatures. All who know +the Pope personally, speak of him as a very kind-hearted +man, with most gentle and winning manners. This I fully +believe, but is it not a strong argument against the system +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> +in which he is bound, that it turns a disposition so sweet +into bitterness, and leads one of the most amiable of men to +do things very inconsistent with the meek character of the +Vicar of Christ; to curse where he ought to bless, and to +call down fire from heaven on his enemies? But his natural +instincts are all good. When I was here before he was universally +popular. His predecessor, Gregory XVI., had been +very conservative. But when Cardinal Mastai Ferretti—for +that was his name—was elected Pope, he began a series +of reforms, which elated the Roman people, and caused the +eyes of all Europe to be turned towards him as the coming +man. He was the idol of the hour. It seemed as if he had +been raised up by Providence to lead the nations in the path +of peaceful progress. But the Revolutions of 1848, in +Paris and elsewhere, frightened him. And when Garibaldi +took possession of Rome, and proclaimed the Republic, his +ardor for reform was entirely gone. He escaped from the +city disguised as a valet, and fled for protection to the King +of Naples, and was afterwards brought back by French +troops. From that time he surrendered himself entirely to +the Reactionary party, and since then, while as well meaning +as ever, he is the victim of a system, from which he cannot +escape, and which makes him do things wholly at variance +with his kindly and generous nature.</p> + +<p>Even the staunchest Protestants who go to see the Pope +are charmed with him. They had, perhaps, thought of him +as the "Giant Pope," whom Bunyan describes as sitting at +the mouth of a cave, and glaring fiercely at Pilgrims as they +go by; and they are astonished to find him a very simple old +man, pleasant in conversation, fond of ladies' society, with a +great deal of humor, enjoying a joke as much as anybody, +with a merry twinkle in his eyes, and a face all smiles, as if +he had never uttered an anathema. This is indeed very +agreeable, but all the more does it make one astounded at +the incongruity between such pleasant pastime and his awful +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> +spiritual pretensions—for this man who stands there, chatting +so familiarly, and laughing so heartily, professes to believe +that he is the vicegerent of the Almighty upon earth, and +that he has the power to open and shut the gates of hell! +God forgive him for the blasphemy of such a thought! It +seems incredible that he can believe it himself; or, if he did, +that the curses could roll so lightly from his lips. But anathemas +appear to be a part of his daily recreation. He seems +really to enjoy firing a volley into his enemies, as one would +fire a gun into a flock of pigeons. Here is the last shot +which I find in the paper of this very day:</p> + +<p>"The Roman Catholic papers at The Hague publish a pastoral +letter from the Pope to the Archbishop of Utrecht, +by which his Holiness makes known that Johannes Heykamp +has been excommunicated, as he has allowed himself to be +elected and ordained as archbishop of the Jansenists in Holland, +and also Johannes Rinkel, who calls himself Bishop of +Haarlem, who performed the ordination. The Pope also declares +to be excommunicated all those who assisted at the +ceremony. The Pope also calls this ordination 'a vile and +despicable deed,' and warns all good Catholics not to have +any intercourse with the perpetrators of it, but to pray without +ceasing that God may turn their hearts."</p> + +<p>It is noteworthy that all these anathemas are simply for +ecclesiastical offences, not for any immorality, however gross. +The Queen of Spain may be notorious for her profligacy, yet +she receives no rebuke, she is even as a beloved daughter, to +whom the Pope sends presents, so long as she is devout and +reverent towards him, or towards the Church. So any prince, +or private gentleman, may break all the Ten Commandments, +and still be a good Catholic; but if he doubts Infallibility, he +is condemned. All sins may be forgiven, except rebellion +against the Church or the Pope. He has excommunicated +Döllinger, the most learned Catholic theologian in Europe, and +Father Hyacinthe, the most eloquent preacher. Poor Victor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> +Emmanuel comes in for oft-repeated curses, simply because +in a great political crisis he yielded to the inevitable. <i>He</i> +did not seize Rome. It was <i>the Italian people</i>, whom he +could no more stop than he could stop the inrolling of the +sea. If he had not gone before the people they would have +gone <i>over</i> him. But for this he is cut off from the communion +of the Catholic Church, and delivered over, so far as the +anathema of the Pope can do it, to the pains of hell.</p> + +<p>And yet if we allege this as proof that some remains of +human infirmity still cling to the Infallible Head of the +Church, or that a very kind nature has been turned into gall +and bitterness, we are told by those who have just come from +a reception that he was all sweetness and smiles. An English +priest who is in our hotel had an audience last evening, +and he says: "The Holy Father was very jolly, laughing +heartily at every pleasantry." It does one good to see an old +man so merry and light-hearted, but does not such gayety +seem a little forced or out of place? Men who have no +cares on their minds may laugh and be gay, but for the Vicar +of Christ does it not seem to imply that he attaches no weight +to the maledictions that he throws about so liberally? If he +felt the awful meaning of what he utters, he could not so +easily preserve his good spirits and his merriment, while he +consigns his fellow-men to perdition. One would think that +if obliged to pronounce such a doom upon any, he would +do it with tears—that he would retire into his closet, and +throw ashes upon his head, and come forth in sackcloth, overwhelmed +at the hard necessity which compelled the stern +decree. But it does not seem to interfere with any of his +enjoyments. He gives a reception at which he is smiling +and gracious, and then proceeds to cast out some wretched +fellow-creature from the communion of the Holy Catholic +Church. There is something shocking in the easy, off-hand +manner in which he despatches his enemies. He anathematizes +with as little concern as he takes his breakfast, apparently +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> +attaching as much solemnity to one as the other. The +mixture of levity with stern duties is not a pleasant sight, as +when one orders an execution between the puffs of a cigar. +But this holy man, this Vicegerent of God on earth, pronounces +a sentence more awful still; for he orders what, <i>according +to his theory</i>, is worse than an execution—an excommunication. +Yet he does it quite unconcerned. If he does +not order an anathema between the puffs of a cigar, he does +it between two pinches of snuff. Such levity would be inconceivable, +if we could suppose that he really believes that +his curses have power to harm, that they cast a feather's +weight into the scale that decides the eternal destiny of a +human soul. We do not say that he is conscious of any +hypocrisy. Far from it. It is one of those cases, which are +so common in the world, in which there is an unconscious +contradiction between one's private feelings and his public +conduct; in which a man is far better than his theory. We +do not believe the Pope is half as bad as he would make +himself to be—half so resentful and vindictive as he appears. +As we sometimes say, in excuse for harsh language, "he don't +mean anything by it." He <i>does</i> mean something, viz., to assert +his own authority. But he does not quite desire to +deliver up his fellow-creatures to the pains of eternal death.</p> + +<p>We are truly sorry for the Pope. He is an old man, and +with all his natural gentleness, may be supposed to have +something of the irritability of age. And now he is engaged +in a contest in which he is sure to fail; he is fighting against +the inevitable, against a course of things which he has no +more power to withstand than to breast the current of Niagara. +He might as well take his stand on the brink of the +great cataract, and think by the force of prayers or maledictions +to stop the flowing of the mighty waters. All the +powers of Europe are against him. Among the sovereigns +he has not a single friend, or, at least, one who has any power +to help him. The Emperor of Germany is this week on a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> +visit to Milan as the guest of Victor Emmanuel. But he +will not come to Rome to pay his respects to the Pope. The +Emperor of Austria came to Venice last spring, but neither +did he, though he is a good Catholic, continue his journey as +far as the Vatican. Thus the Pope is left alone. For this +he has only himself to blame. He has forced the conflict, +and now he is in a false position, from which there is no +escape.</p> + +<p>All Europe is looking anxiously to the event of the Pope's +death. He has already filled the Papal chair longer than any +one of his two hundred and fifty-six predecessors, running +back to St. Peter. But he is still hale and strong, and though +he is eighty-three years old,<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> he may yet live a few years +longer. He belongs to a very long-lived family; his grandfather +died at ninety-three, his father at eighty-three, his +mother at eighty-eight, his eldest brother at ninety. Protestants +certainly may well pray that he should be blessed with +the utmost length of days; for the longer he lives, and the +more obstinate he is in his reactionary policy, the more pronounced +does he force Italy to become in its antagonism, and +not only Italy, but Austria and Bavaria, as well as Protestant +Germany. May he live to be a hundred years old!</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXIV.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">PICTURES AND PALACES.</p> + +<p>Before we go away from Rome I should like to say a few +words on two subjects which hitherto I have avoided. A +large part of the time of most travellers in Europe is spent +in wandering through palaces and picture galleries, but descriptions +of the former would be tedious by their very monotony +of magnificence, and of the latter would be hardly intelligible +to unprofessional readers, nor of much value to anybody, +unless the writer were, what I do not profess to be, a +thorough critic in art. But I have certain general impressions, +which I may express with due modesty, and yet with +frankness, and which may perchance accord with the impressions +of some other very plain, but not quite unintelligent, +people.</p> + +<p>One who has not been abroad—I might almost say, who +has not <i>lived</i> abroad—cannot realize how much art takes hold +of the imagination of a people, and enters into their very +life. It is the form in which Italian genius has most often +expressed itself. What poetry is in some countries, art is in +Italy. England had great poets in the days of Elizabeth, but +no great painters, at a time when the churches and galleries +of Italy were illuminated by the genius of Raphael and Titian +and Leonardo da Vinci.</p> + +<p>The products of such genius have been a treasure to Italy +and to the world. Works of art are immortal. Raphael is +dead, but the Transfiguration lives. As the paintings of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> +great masters accumulated from century to century, they were +gathered in public or private collections, which became, like +the libraries of universities, storehouses for the delight and +instruction of mankind. Such works justly command the +homage and reverence which are due to the highest creations +of the human intellect. The man who has put on canvas +conceptions which are worthy to live, has left a legacy to the +human race. "When I think," said an old monk, who was +accustomed to show paintings on the walls of his monastery, +"how men come, generation after generation, to see these +pictures, and how they pass away, but these remain, I sometimes +think that <i>these are the realities, and that we are the +shadows</i>."</p> + +<p>But with all this acknowledgment of the genius that is +thus immortal, and that gives delight to successive generations, +there are one or two drawbacks to the pleasure I have +derived from these great collections of art.</p> + +<p>In the first place, there is the <i>embarrassment of riches</i>. +One who undertakes to visit all the picture galleries, even +of a single city like Rome or Florence, soon finds himself +overwhelmed by their number. He goes on day after day, +racing from one place to another, looking here and there in +the most hurried manner, till his mind becomes utterly confused, +and he gains no definite impression. It is as impossible +to study with care all these pictures, as it would be to +read all the books in a public library, which are not intended +to be read "by wholesale," but only to be used for reference. +So with the great collections of paintings, which are arranged +in a certain order, so as to give an idea of the style of different +countries, such as the Dutch school, the Venetian school, +etc. These are very useful for one who wishes to trace the +history of art, but the ordinary traveller does not care to +go into such detail. To him a much smaller number of pictures, +carefully chosen, would give more pleasure and more +instruction. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span></p> + +<p>Further, it has seemed to me that with all the genius of +the old masters (which no one is more ready to confess, and +in which no one takes more intense delight), there is sometimes +a <i>worship</i> of them, which is extended to all their works +without discrimination, which is not the result of personal +observation, nor quite consistent with mental independence. +Indeed, there are few things in which the empire of fashion +is more absolute, and more despotic. It is at this point that +I meekly offer a protest. I admit fully and gratefully the +marvellous genius of some of the old painters, but I cannot +admit that everything they touched was equally good. +Homer sometimes nods, and even Raphael and Titian—great +as they are, and superior perhaps to everybody else—are not +always equal to themselves. Raphael worked very rapidly, +as is shown by the number of pictures which he left, although +he died a young man. Of course, his works must be very +unequal, and we may all exercise our taste in preferring some +to others.</p> + +<p>In another respect it seems to me that there is a limitation +of the greatness even of the old masters, viz., in the range +of their subjects, in which I find a singular <i>monotony</i>. In +the numberless galleries that we have visited this summer, I +have observed in the old pictures, with all their power of +drawing and richness of color, a remarkable sameness, both +of subject and of treatment. Even the greatest artists have +their manner, which one soon comes to recognize; so that he +is rarely mistaken in designating the painter. I know a +picture of Rubens anywhere by the colossal limbs that start +out of the canvas. Paul Veronese always spreads himself +over a large surface, where he has room to bring in a great +number of figures, and introduce details of architecture. +Give him the Marriage at Cana, or a Royal Feast, and he +will produce a picture which will furnish the whole end of a +palace hall. It is very grand, of course; but when one sees +a constant recurrence of the same general style, he recognizes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> +the limitations of the painter's genius. Or, to go from large +pictures to small ones, there is a Dutch artist, Wouvermans, +whose pictures are in every gallery in Europe. I have seen +hundreds of them, and not one in which he does not introduce +a white horse!</p> + +<p>Even the greatest of the old masters seem to have exercised +their genius upon a limited number of subjects. During +the Middle Ages art was consecrated almost wholly to +religion. Some of the painters were themselves devout +men, and wrought with a feeling of religious devotion. Fra +Angelico was a monk (in the same monastery at Florence +with Savonarola), and regarded his art as a kind of priesthood, +going from his prayers to his painting, and from his +painting to his prayers. Others felt the same influence, +though in a less degree. In devoting themselves to art, they +were moved at once by the inspiration of genius and the +inspiration of religion. Others still, who were not at all +saintly in their lives, yet painted for churches and convents. +Thus, from one cause or another, almost all the art of that +day was employed to illustrate religious subjects. Of these +there was one that was before all others—the Holy Family, +or the Virgin and her Child. This appears and reappears in +every possible form. We can understand the attraction of +such a subject to an artist; for to him the Virgin was <i>the +ideal of womanhood</i>, to paint whom was to embody his conception +of the most exquisite womanly sweetness and grace. +And in this how well did the old masters succeed! No one +who has a spark of taste or sensibility can deny the exquisite +beauty of some of their pictures of the Virgin—the tenderness, +the grace, the angelic purity. What sweetness have +they given to the face of that young mother, so modest, yet +flushed with the first dawning of maternal love! What +affection looks out of those tender eyes! In the celebrated +picture of Raphael in the Gallery at Florence, called "The +Madonna of the Chair," the Virgin is seated, and clasps her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> +child to her breast, who turns his large eyes, with a wondering +gaze, at the world in which he is to live and to suffer. +One stands before such a picture transfixed at a loveliness +that seems almost divine.</p> + +<p>But of all the Madonnas of Raphael—or of any master—which +I have seen, I prefer that at Dresden, where the +Virgin is not seated, but standing erect at her full height, +with the clouds under her feet, soaring to heaven with the +Christ-child in her arms. When I went into the room set +apart to that picture (for no other is worthy to keep it company), +I felt as if I were in a church; every one spoke in +whispers; it seemed as if ordinary conversation were an +impertinence; as if it would break the spell of that sacred +presence.</p> + +<p>Something of the same effect (some would call it even +greater) is produced by Titian's or Murillo's painting of the +"Assumption" of the Virgin—that is, her being caught up +into the clouds, with the angels hovering around her, over +her head and under her feet. One of these great paintings is +at Venice, and the other in the Louvre at Paris. In both +the central figure is floating, like that of Christ in the Transfiguration. +The Assumption is a favorite subject of the old +masters, and reappears everywhere, as does the "Annunciation" +by the Angel of the approaching birth of Christ, the +"Nativity," and the coming of the Magi to adore the holy +child. I do not believe there is a gallery in Italy, and hardly +a private collection, in which there are not "Nativities" and +"Assumptions" and "Annunciations."</p> + +<p>But if some of these pictures are indeed wonderful, there +are others which are not at all divine; which are of the +earth, earthy; in which the Virgin is nothing more than a +pretty woman, chosen as a type of female beauty (just as a +Greek sculptor would aim to give <i>his</i> ideal in a statue of +Venus), painted sometimes on a Jewish, but more often on an +Italian, model. In Holland the Madonnas have a decidedly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> +Dutch style of beauty. We may be pardoned if we do not go +into raptures over them.</p> + +<p>When the old masters, after painting the Virgin Mary, +venture on an ideal of our Lord himself, they are less successful, +because the subject is more difficult. They attempt +to portray the Divine Man; but who can paint that blessed +countenance, so full of love and sorrow? That brow, heavy +with care, that eye so tender? I have seen hundreds of +Ecce Homos, but not one that gave me a new or more exalted +impression of the Saviour of the world than I obtain +from the New Testament.</p> + +<p>But if it seems almost presumption to attempt to paint our +Saviour, what shall we say to the introduction of the Supreme +Being upon the canvas? Yet this appears very often in the +paintings of the old masters. I cannot but think it was +suggested by the fact that the Greek sculptors made statues +of the gods for their temples. As they undertook to give +the head of Jupiter, so these Christian artists thought they +could paint the Almighty! Not unfrequently they give the +three persons of the Trinity—the Father being represented +as an old man with a long beard, floating on a cloud, the +Spirit as a dove, while the Son is indicated by a human form +bearing a cross. Can anything be more repulsive than such +a representation! These are things beyond the reach of art. +No matter what genius may be in certain artistic details, the +picture is, and must be, a failure, because it is an attempt <i>to +paint the unpaintable</i>.</p> + +<p>Next to Madonnas and Holy Families, the old masters delight +in the painting of saints and martyrs. And here again +the same subjects recur with wearying uniformity. I should +be afraid to say how many times I have seen St. Lawrence +stretched on his gridiron; and youthful St. Sebastian bound +to a tree, and pierced with arrows; and old St. Anthony in +the desert, assaulted by the temptations of the devil. No +doubt these were blessed martyrs, but after being exhibited +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> +for so many centuries to the gaze of the world, I should think +it would be a relief for them to retire to the enjoyment of +the heavenly paradise.</p> + +<p>Is it not, then, a just criticism of those who painted all +those Madonnas and saints and martyrs, to say, while admitting +their transcendent genius, that still their works present <i>a +magnificent monotony</i>, both of subject and of treatment, and +at last weary the eye even by their interminable splendors?</p> + +<p>Another point in which the same works are signally defective, +is in the absence of <i>landscape painting</i>. It has been +often remarked of the classic poets, that while they describe +human actions and passions, they show a total insensibility +to the beauties of nature. The same deficiency appears in the +paintings of the old masters. Seldom do they attempt landscape. +Sometimes a clump of trees, or a glimpse of sky, +is introduced as a background for figures, but it is almost +always subordinate to the general effect.</p> + +<p>Here, then, it seems to me no undue assumption of modern +pride to say that the artists of the present day are not only +the equals of the old masters, but their superiors. They +have learned of the Mighty Mother herself. They have +communed with nature. They have felt the ineffable +beauty of the woods and lakes and rivers, of the mountains +and the meadows, of the valleys and the hills, of +the clouds and skies, and in painting these, have led us into +a new world of beauty. As I am an enthusiastic lover of +nature, I feel like standing up for the Moderns against the +Ancients, and saying (at the risk of being set down as wanting +in taste) that I have derived as much pleasure from some +of the pictures which I have seen at the Annual Exhibitions +in London and Paris, and even in New York, as from any, +<i>except a few hundred of the very best</i> of the pictures which +I have seen here.</p> + +<p>I am led to speak thus freely, because I am slightly disgusted +with the abject servility in this matter of many foreign +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> +tourists. I see them going through these galleries, guide-book +in hand, consulting it at every step, to know what they +must admire, and not daring to express an opinion, nor even +to enjoy what they see until they turn to what is said by +Murray or Bædeker. Of course guide-books are useful, and +even necessary, and one can hardly go into a gallery without +one, to serve at least as a catalogue, but they must not take +the place of one's own eyes. If we are ever to know anything +of art, we must begin, however modestly, to exercise +our own judgment. While therefore I would have every +traveller use his guide-book freely, I would have him use still +more his eyes and his brain, and try to exercise, so as to cultivate, +his taste.</p> + +<p>Is it not time for Americans, who boast so much of their +independence, to show a little of it here? Some come +abroad only to learn to despise their own country. For my +part, the more I see of other countries, while appreciating +them fully, the more I love my own; I love its scenery, its +landscapes, and its homes, and its men and women; and while +I would not commit the opposite mistake of a foolish conceit +of everything American, I think our artists show a fair share +of talent, which can best be developed by a constant study of +nature. Nature is greater than the old masters. What sunset +ever painted by Claude or Poussin equals, or even approaches, +what we often see when the sun sinks in the west, +covering the clouds with gold? If our artists are to paint +sunsets, let them not go to picture galleries, but out of doors, +and behold the glory of the dying day. Let them paint +nature as they see it at home. Nature is not fairer in Italy +than in America. Let them paint American landscapes, giving, +if they can, the beauty of our autumnal woods, and all +the glory of the passing year. If they will keep closely to +nature, instead of copying old masters, they may produce an +original, as well as a true and genuine school of art, and will +fill our galleries and our homes with beauty. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span></p> + +<p>From Pictures to Palaces is an easy transition, as these are +the temples in which works of art are enshrined. Many +years ago, when I first came abroad, a lady in London, who +is well known both in England and America, took me to see +Stafford House, the residence of the Duke of Sutherland, +saying that it was much finer than Buckingham Palace, and +"the best they had to show in England," but that, "of course, +it was nothing to what I should see on the Continent, and +especially in Italy." Since then I have visited palaces in +almost every capital in Europe. I find indeed that Italy +excels all other countries in architecture, as she does in another +form of art. When her cities were the richest in Europe, +drawing to themselves the commerce and the wealth of the +East, it was natural that the doges and dukes and princes +should display their magnificence in the rearing of costly +palaces. These, while they differ in details, have certain +general features in which they are all pretty much alike—stately +proportions, grand entrances, broad staircases, lofty +ceilings, apartments of immense size, with columns of +porphyry and alabaster and lapis lazuli, and pavements of +mosaic or tessellated marble, with no end of costliness in +decoration; ceilings loaded with carving and gilding, and +walls hung with tapestries, and adorned with paintings by +the first masters in the world. Such is the picture of many +a palace that one may see to-day in Venice and Genoa and +Florence and Rome.</p> + +<p>If any of my readers feel a touch of envy at the tale of +such magnificence, it may comfort them to hear, that probably +their own American homes, though much less splendid, +are a great deal more comfortable. These palaces were not +built for comfort, but for pride and for show. They are well +enough for courts and for state occasions, but not for ordinary +life. They have few of those comforts which we consider +indispensable in our American homes. It is almost impossible +to keep them warm. Their vast halls are cold and dreary. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> +The pavements of marble and mosaic are not half so comfortable +as a plain wooden floor covered with a carpet. +There is no gas—they are lighted only with candles; while +the liberal supply of water which we have in our American +cities is unknown. A lady living in one of the grandest +palaces in Rome, tells me that every drop of water used by her +family has to be carried up those tremendous staircases, to +ascend which is almost like climbing the Leaning Tower of +Pisa. Of course a bath is a <i>luxury</i>, and not, as with us, an +universal comfort. Nowhere do I find such a supply of that +necessary element of household cleanliness and personal +health, as we have in New York, furnished by a river running +through the heart of a city, carrying life, as well as +luxury, into every dwelling.</p> + +<p>The English-speaking race understand the art of domestic +architecture better than any other in the world. They may +not build such grand palaces, but they know how to build +<i>homes</i>. In country houses we should have to yield the palm +to the tasteful English cottages, but in city houses I should +claim it for America, for the simple reason that, as our cities +are newer, there are many improvements introduced in houses +of modern construction unknown before.</p> + +<p>When Prince Napoleon was in New York, he said that +there was more comfort in one of our best houses than he +found in the Palais Royal in Paris. And I can well believe +it. I doubt if there is a city in the world where there is +a greater number of private dwellings which are more +thoroughly comfortable, well warmed and well lighted, well +ventilated and well drained, with hot and cold baths everywhere: +surely such materials for merely physical comfort +never existed before. These are luxuries not always found, +even in kings' palaces.</p> + +<p>But it is not of our rich city houses that I make my boast, +but of the tens of thousands of country houses, so full of +comfort, full of sunshine, and <i>full of peace</i>. These are the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> +things which make a nation happy, and which are better +than the palaces of Venice or of Rome.</p> + +<p>And so the result of all our observations has been to make +us contented with our modest republican ways. How often, +while wandering through these marble halls, have I looked +away from all this splendor to a happy country beyond the +sea, and whispered to myself,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"Mid pleasures and palaces, wherever we roam,</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."</p> +</div> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXV.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span></p> + +<p class="chead">NAPLES.—POMPEII AND PÆSTUM.</p> + +<p class="lhead"> +<span class="smcap">Naples</span>, October 23d.</p> + +<p>"See Naples and die!" is an old Italian proverb, which, +it must be confessed, is putting it rather strongly, but which +still expresses, with pardonable exaggeration, the popular +sense of the surpassing beauty of this city and its environs. +Florence, lying in the valley of the Arno, as seen from the +top of Fiesolé, is a vision of beauty; but here, instead of a +river flowing between narrow banks, there opens before us a +bay that is like a sea, alive with ships, with beautiful islands, +and in the background Vesuvius, with its column of smoke +ever rising against the sky. The bay of Naples is said to be +the most beautiful in the world; at least its only rival is in +another hemisphere—in the bay of Rio Janeiro. It must be +fifty miles in circuit (it is nineteen miles across from Naples +to Sorrento), and the whole shore is dotted with villages, so +that when lighted up at night, it seems girdled with watch +fires.</p> + +<p>And around this broad-armed bay (as at Nice and other +points along the Mediterranean), Summer lingers after she +has left the north of Italy. Not only vineyards and olive +groves cover the southern slopes, but palm trees grow in the +open air. Here the old Romans loved to come and sun +themselves in this soft atmosphere. On yonder island of +Capri are still seen the ruins of a palace of Tiberius; +Cicero had a villa at Pompeii; and Virgil, though born at +Mantua, wished to rest in death upon these milder shores, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> +and here, at the entrance of the grotto of Posilippo, they +still point out his tomb.</p> + +<p>In its interior Naples is a great contrast to Rome. It is +not only larger (indeed, it is much the largest city in Italy, +having half a million of inhabitants), but brighter and gayer. +Rome is dark and sombre, always reminding one of the long-buried +past; Naples seems to live only in the present, without +a thought either of the past or of the future. A friend +who came here a day or two before us, expressed the contrast +between the two cities by saying energetically, "Naples is +life: Rome is death!" Indeed, we have here a spectacle of +extraordinary animation. I have seen somewhere a series +of pictures of "Street Scenes in Naples," and surely no city +in Europe offers a greater variety of figures and costumes, as +rich and poor, princes and beggars, soldiers and priests, jostle +each other in the noisy, laughing crowd.</p> + +<p>Even the poorest of the people have something picturesque +in their poverty. The lazzaroni of Naples are well +known. They are the lowest class of the population, such as +may be found in all large cities, and which is generally the +most disgusting and repulsive. But here, owing to the warm +climate, they can live out of doors, and thus the rags and +dirt, which elsewhere are hidden in garrets and cellars, are +paraded in the streets, making them like a Rag Fair. One +may see a host of young beggars—little imps, worthy sons of +their fathers—lying on the sidewalk, asleep in the sun, or +coolly picking the vermin from their bodies, or showing +their dexterity in holding aloft a string of macaroni, and letting +it descend into their months, and then running after +the carriage for a penny.</p> + +<p>The streets are very narrow, very crowded, and very noisy. +From morning to night they are filled with people, and resound +with the cries of market-men and women, who make +a perfect Bedlam. Little donkeys, which seem to be the +universal carryalls, come along laden with fruit, grapes and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> +vegetables. The loads put on these poor beasts are quite +astonishing. Though not much bigger than Newfoundland +dogs, each one has two huge panniers hung at his sides, +which are filled with all sorts of produce which the peasants +are bringing to market. Often the poor little creature is so +covered up that he is hardly visible under his load, and might +not be discovered, but that the heap seems to be in motion, +and a pair of long ears is seen to project through the superincumbent +mass, and an occasional bray from beneath sounds +like a cry for pity.</p> + +<p>The riding carts of the laboring people also have a power +of indefinite multiplication of the contents they carry. I +thought that an Irish jaunting-car would hold about as many +human creatures as anything that went on wheels, but it is +quite surpassed by the country carts one sees around Naples, +in which a mere rat of a donkey scuds along before an indescribable +vehicle, on which half a dozen men are stuck like +so many pegs (of course they stand, for there is not room for +them to sit), with women also, and a baby or two, and a fat +priest in the bargain, and two or three urchins dangling +behind! Sometimes, for convenience, babies and vegetables +are packed in the same basket, and swung below!</p> + +<p>With such variety in the streets, one need not go out of +the city for constant entertainment. And yet the charm of +Naples is in its environs, and one who should spend a month +or two here, might make constant excursions to points along +the bay, which are attractive alike by their natural beauty +and their historical interest. He may follow the shore from +Ischia clear around to Capri, and enjoy a succession of +beautiful points, as the shore-line curves in and out, now +running into some sheltered nook, where the olive groves +grow thick in the southern sun, and then coming to a headland +that juts out into the sea. Few things can be more enchanting +than such a ride along the bay to Baiæ on one side +or from Castellamare to Sorrento and Amalfi, on the other. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span></p> + +<p>Our first visit was to <span class="smcap">Pompeii</span>, so interesting by its melancholy +fate, and by the revelations of ancient life in its recent +excavations. It was destroyed in an eruption of Vesuvius in +the reign of Titus, in the year 79, and so completely was it +buried that for seventeen hundred years its very site was not +known. It was only about the middle of the last century +that it was discovered, and not till within a few years that +excavations were prosecuted with much vigor. Now the +city is uncovered, the roofs are taken off from the houses, +and we can look down into the very homes of the people, +and see the interior of their dwellings, and all the details of +their domestic life.</p> + +<p>We spent four or five hours in exploring this buried city, +going with a guide from street to street, and from house to +house. How strange it seemed to walk over the very pavements +that were laid there before our Saviour was born, the +stones still showing the ruts worn by the wheels of Roman +chariots two thousand years ago!</p> + +<p>We examined many houses in detail, and found them, +while differing in costliness (some of them, such as those of +Diomed and Sallust and Polybius, being dwellings of the +rich), resembling each other in their general arrangement. +All seemed to be built on an Oriental model, designed for a +hot climate, with a court in the centre, where often a fountain +filled the air with delicious coolness, and lulled to rest +those who sought in the rooms which opened on the court +a retreat from the heat of the summer noon. From this central +point of the house, one may go through the different +apartments—bedroom, dining-room, and kitchen—and see how +the people cooked their food, and where they eat it; where +they dined and where they slept; how they lay down and how +they rose up. In almost every house there is a niche for the +Penates, or household gods, which occupied a place in the +dwellings of the old Pompeiians, such as is given by devout +Catholics to images of the Virgin and saints, at the present day. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p> + +<p>But that which excites the greatest wonder is the decorations +of the houses—the paintings on the walls, which in +their grace of form and richness of color, are still subjects of +admiration, and furnish many a model to architects and decorators. +A great number of these have been removed to the +Museum at Naples, where artists are continually studying +and copying them. In this matter of decorative art, Wendell +Phillips may well claim—as he does in his eloquent lecture +on "The Lost Arts"—that there are many things in +which the ancients, whether Romans, Greeks, or Egyptians, +were superior to the boastful moderns.</p> + +<p>Something of the luxury of those times is seen in the public +baths, which are fitted up with furnaces for heating the +water, and pipes for conveying it, and rooms for reclining +and cooling one's self after the bath, and other refinements +of luxury, which we had vainly conceived belonged only to +modern civilization.</p> + +<p>From the houses we pass to the shops, and here we find all +the signs of active life, as if the work had been interrupted +only yesterday. Passing along the street, one sees the merchant's +store, the apothecary's shop, and the blacksmith's +forge. To be sure, the fire is extinguished, and the utensils +which have been discovered have been carried off to the +Museum at Naples; but it needs only to light up the coals, +and we might hear again the ring on the anvils where the +hammer fell, struck by hands that have been dust for centuries. +And here is a bakery, with all the implements of the +trade: the stone mills standing in their place for grinding +the corn (is it not said that "two shall be grinding at the +mill; one shall be taken and the other left"?); the vessels +for the flour and for water, the trough for kneading the bread, +and the oven for baking—long brick ovens they are, just like +those in which our New England mothers are wont to bake +their Thanksgiving pies. Nay, we have some of the bread +that was baked, loaves of which are still preserved, charred +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> +and blackened by the fire, and possibly might be eaten, although +the bread is decidedly well done.</p> + +<p>Of course, the most imposing structures that have been +uncovered are the public buildings in the Forum and elsewhere—the +basilica for the administration of justice; the +theatres for games; and the temples for the worship of the +gods.</p> + +<p>I was curious as to the probable loss of life in the destruction +of the city, and conclude that it was not very great in +proportion to the population. We have no means of knowing +exactly the number of inhabitants. Murray's Guide +Book says 30,000, but a careful measurement shows that not +more than 12,000 could have been within the walls, while +perhaps as many more were outside of it. As yet there have +been discovered not more than six hundred skeletons; so +that it is probable that the greater number made their escape.</p> + +<p>But even these—though few compared with the whole—are +enough to disclose, by their attitudes, the suffering and +the agony of their terrible fate. From their postures, it is +plain that the inhabitants were seized with mortal terror +when destruction came upon them. Many were found with +their bodies prone on the earth, who had evidently thrown +themselves down, and buried their faces in their hands, as if +to hide from their eyes the danger that was in the air. Some +tried to escape with their treasures. In one house five skeletons +were found, with bracelets and rings of gold, silver, and +bronze, lying on the pavement. A woman was found with +four rings on one of her fingers, set with precious stones, +with gold bracelets and earrings and pieces of money. Perhaps +her avarice or her vanity proved her destruction. But +the hardest fate was that of those who could not fly, as captives +chained in their dungeons. Three skeletons were found +in a prison, with the manacles still on their fleshless hands. +Even dumb beasts shared in the general catastrophe. The +horse that had lost its rider pawed and neighed in vain; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> +the dog that howled at his master's gate, but would not leave +him, shared his fate. The skeletons of both are still +preserved.</p> + +<p>Altogether, the most vivid account which has been given +of the overthrow of the city, is by the English novelist, Bulwer, +in his "Last Days of Pompeii." He pictures a great +crowd collected for gladiatorial combats. That the people +had these cruel sports, is shown by the amphitheatre which +remains to this day; and the greatest number of skeletons +in any one spot was thirty-six, in a building for the +training of gladiators. In the amphitheatre, according to +the novelist, the people were assembled when the destruction +came. The lion had been let loose, but more sensitive +than man to the strange disturbance in the elements, +crept round the arena, instead of bounding on his prey, losing +his natural ferocity in the sense of terror. Beasts in the +dens below filled the air with howls, till the assembly, roused +from the eager excitement of the combat, at length looked +upward, and in the darkening sky above them read the sign +of their approaching doom.</p> + +<p>But no high-wrought description can add to the actual +terror of that day, as recounted by historians. There are +some things which cannot be overdrawn, and even Bulwer +does not present to the imagination a greater scene of horror +than the plain narrative of the younger Pliny, who was himself +a witness of the destruction of Pompeii from the bay, +and whose uncle, advancing nearer to get a better view, +perished.</p> + +<p>A city which has had such a fate, and which, after being +buried for so many centuries, is now disentombed, deserves +a careful memorial, which shall comprise both an authentic +historical account of its overthrow, with a detailed report of +the recent discoveries. We are glad, therefore, to meet here +a countryman of ours who has taken the matter in hand, +and is fully competent for the task. Rev. J. C. Fletcher, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> +who is well known in America as the author of a work +on Brazil, which is as entertaining as it is instructive, has +been residing two years in Naples, preparing for the Harpers +a work on Pompeii, which cannot fail to be of great interest, +and to which we look forward as the most valuable account +we shall have of this long-buried city.</p> + +<p>Another excursion of almost equal interest was to <span class="smcap">Pæstum</span>, +some fifty miles below Naples, the ruins of which are second +only to those of the Parthenon. It is an excursion which +requires two days, and which we accordingly divided. We +went first to Sorrento, on the southern shore of the bay, one +of the most beautiful spots around Naples, a kind of eyrie, +or eagle's nest, perched on the cliff, and looking off upon the +glittering waters. Here we were joined by a German lady +and her daughter, whom we had met before in Florence and +in Rome, and who are to be our travelling companions in the +East; and who added much to our pleasure as we picnicked +the next day in the Temple of Neptune. With our party +thus doubled we rode along the shore over that most beautiful +drive from Sorrento to Castellamare, and went on to +Salerno to pass the night, from which the excursion to Pæstum +is easily made the next day.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the great interest of this excursion, it +has been made less frequently than it would have been but +for the fact that, until quite recently, the road has been +infested by brigands, who had an unpleasant habit of starting +up by the roadside with blunderbusses in their hands, and +assisting you to alight from the carriage, and taking you for +an excursion into the mountains, from which a message was +sent to your friends in Naples, that on the deposit of a thousand +pounds or so at a certain place you would be returned safely. +If friends were a little slow in taking this hint, and coming +to the rescue, sometimes an ear of the unfortunate captive +was cut off and sent to the city as a gentle reminder of what +awaited him if the money was not forthcoming immediately. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> +Of course, it did not need many such warnings to squeeze +the last drop of blood out of friends, who eagerly drained +themselves to save a kinsman, who had fallen into the jaws +of the lion, from a horrible fate.</p> + +<p>That these were not idle tales told to frighten travellers, +we had abundant evidence. Within a very few years there +have been repeated adventures of the kind. An English +gentleman whom we met at Salerno, who had lived some +forty years in this part of Italy, told us that the stories were +not at all exaggerated; that one gang of bandits had their +headquarters but half a mile from his house, and that when +captured they confessed that they had often lain in wait for +<i>him</i>!</p> + +<p>These pleasing reminiscences gave a cheerful zest to the +prospect of our journey on the morrow, although at present +there is little danger. Since the advent of Victor Emmanuel, +brigandage, like a good many other institutions of the old +régime, has been got rid of. Our English friend last saw +his former neighbors, as he was riding in a carriage, and +three of them passed him, going to be shot. Since then the +danger has been removed; and still it gives one a little +excitement to drive where such incidents were common only a +few years ago, and even now it is not at all disagreeable to +see soldiers stationed at different points along the road.</p> + +<p>Though brigandage has passed away <i>here</i>, like many an +other relic of the good old times, it still flourishes in Sicily, +where all efforts to extirpate it have as yet proved unsuccessful, +and where one who is extremely desirous of a little +adventure, may find it without going far outside the walls of +Palermo.</p> + +<p>But we will not stop to waste words on brigands, when +we have before us the ruins of Pæstum. As we drive over a +long, level road, we see in the distance the columns of great +temples rising over the plain, not far from the sea. They +are perhaps more impressive because standing alone, not in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> +the midst of a populous city like the Parthenon, with Athens +at its base, but like Tadmor in the wilderness, solitary and +desolate, a wonder and a mystery. Except the custodian of +the place there was not a human creature there; nor a +sound to be heard save the cawing of crows that flew among +the columns, and lighted on the roof. In such silence we +approached these vast remains of former ages. The builders of +these mighty temples have vanished, and no man knows even +their names. It is not certain by whom they were erected. +It is supposed by a Greek colony that landed on the shores +of Southern Italy, and there founded cities and built temples +at least six hundred years before the Christian era. The +style of architecture points to a Greek origin. The huge columns, +without any base, and with the plain Doric capitals, +show the same hands that reared the Parthenon. But whoever +they were, there were giants in the earth in those days; +and the Cyclopean architecture they have left puts to shame +the pigmy constructions of modern times. How small it makes +one feel to compare his own few years with these hoary monuments +of the past! So men pass away, and their names perish, +even though the structures they have builded may survive +a few hundred, or a few thousand years. What lessons on the +greatness and littleness of man have been read under the +shadow of these giant columns. Hither came Augustus, in +whose reign Christ was born, to visit ruins that were ancient +even in his day. Here, where a Cæsar stood two thousand +years ago, the traveller from another continent (though not +from New Zealand) stands to-day, to muse—at Pæstum, as at +Pompeii—on the fate which overtakes all human things, and +at last whelms man and his works in one undistinguishable +ruin. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXVI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE ASCENT OF VESUVIUS.</p> + +<p class="lhead">November 1st.</p> + +<p>Our excursion to Vesuvius was delayed for some days to +await the arrival of the Franklin, which was to bring us the +lieutenant who was our travelling companion in Germany +last summer, and who wished to make the ascent in our company. +At length, on Thursday, the firing of heavy guns told +us that the great ship was coming into the harbor, and we +were soon on board, where we received a most hearty welcome, +not only from our kinsman, but from all the officers. +The Franklin is the Flag-ship of our European squadron, and +bears the flag of Admiral John L. Worden, the gallant officer +whose courage and skill in fighting the Monitor against +the Merrimack in Hampton Roads in 1862, saved the country +in an hour of imminent peril. Well do we remember the terror +in New York caused by the tidings of the sinking of the +Congress and the Cumberland by that first ironclad—a new +sea monster whose powers of destruction were unknown, and +which we expected to see within a week sailing up our harbor, +and demanding the surrender of the city. From this and +other dangers, which we shudder to contemplate, we were saved +by the little Monitor on that eventful day. As Admiral +Worden commands only the <i>fleet</i>, the <i>ship</i> is commanded by +an officer who bears the same honored name as the ship itself—Captain +Franklin. We were very proud to see such men, +surrounded by a fine set of officers, representing our country +here. As we made frequent visits to the ship, we came to +feel quite at home there. Not the least pleasant part of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> +these visits was to meet several American ladies—the wife +and daughters of Admiral Worden, and the wife of Captain +Franklin. Men who have rendered distinguished services +to their country are certainly entitled to a little domestic +comfort on their long voyages; while the presence of such +ladies is a benefit to all on board. When men are alone, +whether in camp or on a ship, they are apt to become a little +rough, and the mere presence of a noble woman has a refining +influence over them. I can see it here in these young +officers, who all seem to have a chivalrous feeling towards +these ladies, who remind them of their own mothers and sisters +at home. A more happy family I have not met on land +or sea.</p> + +<p>To their company we are indebted for much of the pleasure +of our excursion to Vesuvius. On Saturday a large party +was made up from the ship, which included the family of +Admiral Worden, Captain and Mrs. Franklin, and half a +dozen lieutenants. Our excellent consul at Naples, Mr. +Duncan, and his sister, were also with us. We filled four +carriages, and away we went through the streets of Naples at +a furious rate; sweeping around the bay (along which, as we +looked through arched passages to the right, we could see +villas and gardens stretching down to the waters), till we +reached Resina, which stands on the site of buried Herculaneum. +Here we turned to the left, and began the ascent. +And now we found it well that our drivers had harnessed +three stout horses abreast to each carriage, as we had a hard +climb upward along the blackened sides of the mountain.</p> + +<p>We soon perceived the wide-spread ruin wrought by successive +eruptions of the volcano. Over all this mountain +side had rolled a deluge of fire, and on every hand were +strewn the wrecks of the mighty desolation. It seemed as if +a destroying angel had passed over the earth, blasting wherever +his shadow fell. On either side stretched miles and +miles of lava, which had flowed here and there slowly and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> +sluggishly like molten iron, turning when interrupted in its +course, and twisted into a thousand shapes.</p> + +<p>But if this was a terrible sight, there was something to +relieve the eye, as we looked away in the distance to where +the smile of God still rests on an unsmitten world. As we +mounted higher, we commanded a wider view, and surely +never was there a more glorious panorama than that which +was unrolled at our feet on that October morning. There +was the bay of Naples, flashing in the sunlight, with the +beautiful islands of Ischia and Capri lying, like guardian fortresses, +off its mouth, and ships coming and going to all +parts of the Mediterranean. What an image was presented +in that one view of the contrasts in our human life between +sunshine and shadow—blooming fields on one hand, and a +blackened waste on the other; above, a region swept by fire, +and below, gardens and vineyards, and cities and villages, +smiling in peace and security.</p> + +<p>We had left Naples at nine o'clock, but it was noon before +we reached the Observatory—a station which the Italian +Government has established on the side of the mountain for +the purpose of making meteorological observations. This is +the limit to which carriages can ascend, and here we rested +for an hour. Our watchful lieutenants had thoughtfully provided +a substantial lunch, which the steward spread in a little +garden overlooking the bay, and there assembled as merry a +group of Americans as ever gathered on the sides of Vesuvius.</p> + +<p>From the Observatory, those who would spare any unnecessary +fatigue may take mules a mile farther to the foot of the +cone, but our party preferred the excitement of the walk +after our long ride. In ascending the cone, no four-footed +beast is of any service; one must depend on his own strong +limbs, unless he chooses to accept the aid of some of the fierce +looking attendants who offer their services as porters. A +lady may take a chair, and for forty francs be carried quite +to the top on the shoulders of four stout fellows. But the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> +more common way is to take two assistants, one to go forward +who drags you up by a strap attached around his waist, to +which you hold fast for dear life, while another <i>pushes</i> behind. +Our young lady had <i>three</i> escorts. She drove a handsome +team of two ahead, while a third lubberly fellow was trying +to make himself useful, or, at least, to earn his money, by +putting his hands on her shoulders, and thus urging her forward. +I believe I was the only person of the party, except +the Consul and one lieutenant, who went up without assistance. +I took a man at first, rather to get rid of his importunity, +but he gave out sooner than I did, stopping after a +few rods to demand more money, whereupon I threw him off +in disgust, and made the ascent alone. But I would not +recommend others to follow my example, as the fatigue is +really very great, especially to one unused to mountain climbing. +Not only is the cone very steep, but it is covered with +ashes; so that one has no firm hold for his feet, but sinks +deep at every step. Thus he makes slow progress, and is soon +out of breath. He can only keep on by going <i>very slowly</i>. I +had to stop every few minutes, and throw myself down in +the ashes, to rest. But with these little delays, I kept +steadily mounting higher and higher.</p> + +<p>As we neared the top, the presence of the volcano became +manifest, not merely from the cloud which always hangs +about it, but by smoke issuing from many places at the side. +It seemed as if the mountain were a vast smouldering heap +out of which the internal heat forced its way through every +aperture. Here and there a long line of smoke seemed to +indicate a subterranean fissure or vein, through which the +pent-up fires forced their way. As we crossed these lines of +smoke the sulphurous fumes were stifling, especially when +the wind blew them in our faces.</p> + +<p>But at last all difficulties were conquered, and we stood on +the very top, and looked over the awful verge into the crater.</p> + +<p>Those who have never seen a volcano are apt to picture it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> +as a tall peak, a slender cone, like a sugar loaf, with a round +aperture at the top, like the chimney of a blast furnace, out +of which issues fire and smoke. Something of this indeed +there is, but the actual scene is vastly greater and grander. +For, instead of a small round opening, like the throat of a +chimney, large enough for one flaming column, the crater is +nearly half a mile across, and many hundreds of feet deep; +and one looks down into a yawning gulf, a vast chasm in the +mountain, whose rocky sides are yellow with sulphur, and +out of which the smoke issues from different places. At +times it is impossible to see anything, as dense volumes of +smoke roll upward, which the wind drives toward us, so that +we are ourselves lost in the cloud. Then they drift away, +and for an instant we can see far down into the bowels of the +earth.</p> + +<p>Standing on the bald head of Vesuvius, one cannot help +some grave reflections, looking at what is before him only +from the point of view of a man of science. The eruption +of a volcano is one of the most awful scenes in nature, and +makes one shudder to think of the elements of destruction +that are imprisoned in the rocky globe. What desolation +has been wrought by Vesuvius alone—how it has thrown up +mountains, laid waste fields, and buried cities! What a +spectacle has it often presented to the terrified inhabitants +of Naples, as it has shot up a column not only of smoke, but +of fire! The flames have often risen to the height of a +mile above the summit of the mountain, their red blaze +lighting up the darkness of the night, and casting a glare +over the waters of the bay, while the earth was moaning and +trembling, as if in pain and fear.</p> + +<p>And the forces that have wrought such destruction are +active still. For two thousand years this volcano has been +smoking, and yet it is not exhausted. Its fury is still +unspent. Far down in the heart of the earth still glow the +eternal fires. This may give some idea of the terrific forces +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> +that are at work in the interior of the hollow globe, while it +suggests at least the possibility of a final catastrophe, which +shall prove the destruction of the planet itself.</p> + +<p>But if the spectacle be thus suggestive and threatening to +the man of science, it speaks still more distinctly to one who +has been accustomed to think that a time is coming when +"the earth, being on fire, shall be dissolved, and the elements +shall melt with fervent heat," and who beholds in these +ascending flames the prophetic symbol of the Dies Iræ—the +Day of Doom—that shall at last end the long tragedy of +man's existence on the earth.</p> + +<p>As I stood on the edge of the crater and looked down into +the awful depths below, it seemed as if I beheld a scene such +as might have inspired the description of Dante in his +Inferno, or of John in the Apocalypse; as if that dread +abyss were no unfit symbol of the "lower deep" into which +sink lost human souls. That "great gulf" was as the +Valley of Hell; its rocky sides, yellow with sulphurous +flames—how glistening and slippery they looked!—told of a +"lake of fire and brimstone" seething and boiling below; +those yawning caverns which were disclosed as the smoke +drifted away, were the abodes of despair, and the winds that +moaned and shrieked around were the wailings of the lost; +while the pillar of cloud which is always rising from beneath, +which "ceases not day nor night," was as "the smoke of +torment," forever ascending.</p> + +<p>He must be a dull preacher who could not find a lesson in +that awful scene; or see reflected in it the dangers to which +he himself is exposed. Fire is the element of destruction, +even more than water. The "cruel, crawling foam" of the +sea, that comes creeping towards us to seize and to destroy, +is not so treacherous as the flames, darting out like serpents' +tongues, that come creeping upward from the abyss, licking +the very stones at our feet, and that seem eager to lick up +our blood. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span></p> + +<p>The point where we stood projected over the crater. The +great eruption three years since had torn away half the cone +of the mountain, and now there hung above it a ledge, which +seemed ready at any moment to break and fall into the gulf +below. As I stood on that "perilous edge," the crumbling +verge of the volcano, I seemed to be in the position of a +human being exposed to dangers vast and unseen, to powers +which blind and smother and destroy. As if Nature would +fix this lesson, by an image never to be forgotten, the sun +that was declining in the west, suddenly burst out of the +cloud, and cast my own shadow on the column of smoke that +was rising from below. That shadowy form, standing in the +air, now vanishing, and then reappearing with every flash +of sunlight, seemed no inapt image of human life, a thing of +shadow, floating in a cloud, and hovering over an abyss!</p> + +<p>Thus musing, I lingered on the summit to the last, for such +was the fascination of the scene that I could not tear myself +away, and it was not till all were gone, and I found myself +quite alone, that I turned and followed them down the mountain +side. The descent is as rapid as the ascent is slow. A +few minutes do the work of hours, as one plunges down the +ashy cone, and soon our whole party were reassembled at its +base. It was five o'clock when we took our carriages at the +Observatory; and quite dark before we got down the mountain, +so that men with lighted torches (long sticks of pine, +like those with which travellers make their way through the +darkness of American forests), had to go before us to show +the road, and with such flaring flambeaux, and much shouting +of men and boys, of guides and drivers, we came rolling down +the sides of Vesuvius, and a little after seven o'clock were +again rattling through the streets of Naples.</p> + +<p>Yesterday was our last day in this city, as we leave this +afternoon for Athens and Constantinople, and as it was the +Sabbath, we went on board the Franklin for a religious service. +Such a service is always very grateful to an American +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> +far from home. The deck of an American ship is like a part +of his country, a floating island, anchored for the moment +to a foreign shore: and as he stands there, and sees around +him the faces of countrymen, and hears, instead of the language +of strangers, his dear old mother tongue, and looks up +and sees floating above him the flag he loves so well—that +has been through so many battles and storms—he cannot +keep down a trembling in his heart, or the tears from his +eyes.</p> + +<p>And how delightful it is, on such a spot, and with such a +company, to join in religious worship. The Franklin has an +excellent chaplain—one who commands the respect of all on +board by his consistent life, though without any cant or +affectation, while his uniform kindness and sympathy win +their hearts. The service was held on the gun-deck, where +officers and men were assembled, sitting as they could, between +the cannon. The band played one or two sacred airs, and +the chaplain read the service with his deep, rich voice, +after which it was my privilege to preach to this novel congregation +of my countrymen. Altogether the occasion was +one of very peculiar interest to me, and I hope it was equally +so to others.</p> + +<p>And so we took leave of the Franklin, with most grateful +memories of the kindness of all, from the Admiral down. +It is pleasant to see such a body of officers on board of +one of our national ships. None can realize, except those +who travel abroad, how much of the good name of our country +is entrusted to the keeping of such men. They go everywhere, +they appear in every port of Europe and indeed of +the world; they are instantly recognized by their uniform, +and are regarded, much more than ordinary travellers, as the +representatives of our country. How pleasant it is to find +them uniformly <i>gentlemen</i>—courteous and dignified, preserving +their self-respect, while showing proper respect to others. +I am proud to see such a generation of young officers coming +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> +on the stage, and trust it may always be said of them, that +(taking example from the gallant captains and admirals who +are now the pride of our American Navy,) they are as modest +as they are brave. Such be the men to carry the starry flag +around the globe! +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXVII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">GREECE AND ITS YOUNG KING.</p> + +<p class="lhead"><span class="smcap">Athens</span>, November 9th.</p> + +<p>If the best proof of our fondness for a place be that we +leave it with regret, few cities will stand higher in our +remembrance than Naples, from which we turned away with +many a lingering look, as we waved our adieus to our friends, +who answered us from the deck of the Franklin. Never did +the bay look more beautiful than that Monday afternoon, as +we sailed away by Capri and Sorrento, and Amalfi and the +Bay of Salerno. The sea was calm, the sky was fair. The +coast, with its rocky headlands and deeply indented bays, +was in full sight, while behind rose the Apennines. The +friends were with us who were to be our companions in the +East, adding to our animation by their own, as we sat upon +the deck till the evening drew on. As the sun went down, +it cast such a light over the sea, that the ship seemed to be +swimming in glory, as we floated along the beautiful Italian +shores. A little before morning we passed through the +Straits of Messina, between Scylla and Charybdis, leaving +Mount Etna on our right, and then for an hour or two +stood off the coast of Calabria, till we ran out of sight +of land, into the open sea of the Mediterranean.</p> + +<p>Wednesday found us among the Ionian islands, and we +soon came in sight of the Morea, a part of the mainland of +Greece. We had been told to watch, as we approached +Athens, for sunset on the Parthenon; but it was not till long +after dark that we entered the harbor of the Piræus, and saw +the lights on the shore, and our first experience was anything +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> +but romantic. At ten o'clock we were cast ashore, in darkness +and in rain; so that instead of feeling any inspiration, we +felt only that we were very wet and very cold. While the +commissionaire went to call a carriage, we waited for a few +moments in a café, which was filled with Greek soldiers who +were drinking and smoking, and looked more like brigands +than the lawful defenders of life and property. Such was +our introduction to the classic soil of Greece. But the +scene was certainly picturesque enough to satisfy our young +spirits (for I have two such now in charge), who are always +looking out for adventures. Soon the carriage came, and +splashing through the mud, we drove to Athens, and at midnight +found a most welcome rest in our hotel.</p> + +<p>But sunrise clears away the darkness, and we look out of +our balcony on a pleasant prospect. We are in the Hotel +Grande Bretagne, facing the principal square, and adjoining +the Royal Palace, in front of which the band comes to play +under the King's windows every day. Before us rises a +rocky hill, which we know at once to be the Acropolis, as it +is strown with ruins, and crowned with the columns of a +great temple, which can be no other than the Parthenon.</p> + +<p>Turning around the horizon, the view is less attractive. +The hills are bleak and bare, masses of rock covered with a +scanty vegetation. This desolate appearance is the result of +centuries of neglect; for in ancient times (if I have read +aright), the plain of Athens was a paradise of fertility, and +where not laid out in gardens, was dense with foliage. +Stately trees stood in many a grove besides that of the Academy, +while the mountains around "waved like Lebanon." +But nature seems to have dwindled with man, and centuries +of misrule, while they have crushed the people, have stripped +even the mountains of their forests.</p> + +<p>But with all the desolateness around it, Athens is to the +scholar one of the most interesting cities in the world. Its +very ruins are eloquent, as they speak of the past. We +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> +have been here six days, and have been riding about continually, +seeking out ancient sites, exploring temples and ruins, +and find the charm and the fascination increasing to the last.</p> + +<p>The Parthenon has disappointed me, not in the beauty of +its design, which is as nearly perfect as anything ever wrought +by the hand of man, but in the state of its preservation, +which is much less perfect than that of the temples at Pæstum. +Time and the elements have wrought upon its marble +front; but these alone would not have made it the ruin +that it is, but for the havoc of war: for so massive was +its structure that it might have lasted for ages. Indeed, it +was preserved nearly intact till about two centuries ago. +But the Acropolis, owing to the advantages of its site (a +rocky eminence, rising up in the midst of the city, like the +Castle of Edinburgh), had often been turned into a fortress, +and sustained many sieges. In 1687 it was held by +the Turks, and the Parthenon was used as a powder magazine, +which was exploded by a bomb from the Venetian +camp on an opposite hill, and thus was fatally shattered the +great edifice that had stood from the age of Pericles. Many +columns were blown down, making a huge rent on both +sides. It is sad to see these great blocks of Pentelican +marble, that had been so perfectly fashioned and chiselled, +now strown over the summit of the hill.</p> + +<p>And then, to complete the destruction, at the beginning of +this century, came a British nobleman, Lord Elgin, and having +obtained a firman from the Turkish Government, proceeded +deliberately to put up his scaffolding and take down +the friezes of Phidias, and carried off a ship-load of them to +London, where the Elgin Marbles now form the chief ornament +of the British Museum. The English spoilers have +indeed allowed some plaster casts to be taken, and brought +back here—faint reminders of the glorious originals. With +these and such other fragments as they have been able to +gather, the Greeks have formed a small museum of their own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> +on the Acropolis. In those which preserve any degree of +entireness, as in the more perfect ones in London, one perceives +the matchless grace of ancient Greek sculpture. There +are long processions of soldiers mounted on horses, and priests +leading their victims to the sacrifice. In these every figure +is different, yet all are full of majesty and grace. What a +power even in the horses, as they sweep along in the endless +procession; and what a freedom in their riders. The whole +seems to <i>march</i> before us.</p> + +<p>But many of the fragments that have been collected are so +broken that we cannot make anything out of them. We +know from history that there were on the Acropolis five hundred +statues (besides those in the Parthenon), scattered over +the hill. Of these but little remains—here an arm, or a leg, +or a headless trunk, which would need a genius like that of +the ancient sculptor himself to restore it to any degree of +completeness. It is said of Cuvier that such was his knowledge +of comparative anatomy, that from the smallest fragment +of bone he could reconstruct the frame of a mastodon, +or of any extinct animal. So perhaps out of these remains +of ancient art, a Thorwaldsen (who had more of the genius +of the ancient Greeks than any other modern sculptor,) might +reconstruct the friezes and sculptures of the Parthenon.</p> + +<p>But perhaps it is better that they remain as they are—fragments +of a mighty ruin, suggestions of a beauty and grace +now lost to the world; and which no man is worthy to restore.</p> + +<p>Even as it stands, shattered and broken, the Parthenon is +majestic in its ruins. Until I came here I did not realize +how much of its effect was due to its <i>position</i>. But the old +Greeks studied the effect of everything, and thus the loftiest +of positions was chosen for the noblest of temples. As +Michael Angelo, in building St. Peter's at home, said that +he "would lift the Pantheon into the air," (that is, erect a +structure so vast that its very dome should be equal to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> +ancient temple of the gods,) so here the builders of the Parthenon +lifted it into the clouds. It stands on the very pinnacle +of the hill, some six hundred feet above the level of +the sea, and thus is brought into full relief against the sky. +On that lofty summit it could be seen from the city itself, +which lies under the shadow of the Acropolis, as well as from +the more distant plain. It could be seen also from the tops +of the mountains, and even far out at sea, as it caught and +reflected back the rays of the rising or the setting sun. Its +marble columns, outlined against the blue sky of Greece, +seemed almost a temple in the clouds.</p> + +<p>This effect of position has been half destroyed, at least for +those living in Athens, by the barbarous additions of later +times, by which, in order that the Acropolis might be turned +into a fortress, the brow of the hill was surmounted with a +rude wall, which still encircles it, and hides all but the upper +part of the Parthenon from view. In any proposed "restoration," +the first thing should be to throw down this ugly +wall, so that the great temple might be seen to its very base, +standing as of old upon the naked rocks, with no barrier to +hide its majesty, from those near at hand as well as those +"beholding it afar off."</p> + +<p>But, for the present, to see the beauty of the Parthenon, +one must go up to the Acropolis, and study it there. We +often climbed to the summit, and sat down on the steps of +the Propylæa, or on a broken column, to enjoy the prospect. +From this point the eye ranges over the plain of Athens, +bounded on one side by mountains, and on the other by the +sea. Here are comprised in one view the points of greatest +interest in Athenian history. Yonder is the bay of Salamis, +where Themistocles defeated the Persians, and above it is +the hill on which the proud Persian monarch Xerxes sat to +see the ruin of the Greek ships, but from which before the +day was ended he fled in dismay. To such spots Demosthenes +could point, as he stood in the Bema just below us, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> +and thundered to the Athenian people; and by such recollections +he roused them to "march against Philip, to conquer +or die." A mile and a half distant, but in full sight, was +the grove of the Academy, where Plato taught; and here, +under the Acropolis, is a small recess hewn in the rock which +is pointed out as the prison of Socrates, and another which is +called his tomb. This inconstant people, like many others, +after putting to death the wisest man of his age, paid almost +divine honors to his memory.</p> + +<p>Like the Coliseum at Rome, the Parthenon is best seen by +moonlight, for then the rents are half concealed, and as the +shadows of the columns that are still standing fall across the +open area, they seem like the giants of old revisiting the +place of their glory, while the night wind sighing among the +ruins creeps in our ears like whispers of the mighty dead.</p> + +<p>When our American artist, Mr. Church, was here, he +spent some weeks in studying the Parthenon and taking +sketches, from which he painted the beautiful picture now +in the possession of Mr. Morris K. Jesup. He studied it +from every point and in every light—at sunrise and sunset, +and by moonlight, and even had Bengal lights hung at night +to bring out new lights and shadows. This latter mode of +illumination was tried on a far grander scale when the +Prince of Wales was here a few days since on his way to +India, and the effect was indescribably beautiful as those +mighty columns, thus brought into strange relief, stood out +against the midnight sky.</p> + +<p>But if the Parthenon be only a ruin, the memorial of a +greatness that exists no more, fit emblem of that mythology +of which it was the shrine, and of which it is now at once +the monument and the tomb, there is something to be seen +from this spot which is not a reminder of decay. Beneath +the Acropolis is Mars Hill, where Paul stood, in sight of +these very temples, and cried, "Ye men of Athens, I perceive +that in all things ye are too superstitious" [or, as it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> +might be more correctly rendered, "very religious"]; "for +as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar +with this inscription, <span class="smcap">To the Unknown God</span>. Whom therefore +ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you. God +that made the world, and all things therein, seeing that he is +Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with +hands" [here we may believe he pointed upward to the Parthenon +and other temples which crowned the hill above +him]; "neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though +he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, +and all things." That voice has died into silence, nor doth +remain upon the barren rock a single monument, or token of +any kind, to mark where the great Apostle stood. But the +faith which he preached has gone into all the world, and to-day +the proudest dome that overlooks the greatest capital of +the modern world, bears the name of St. Paul; and not only +in London, but in hundreds of other cities, in all parts of the +earth, are temples consecrated with his name, that tell of the +Unknown God who has been declared to men, and of a faith +and worship that shall not pass away.</p> + +<p>It is a long leap in history, from Ancient to Modern +Greece; but the intervening period contains so much of sadness +and of shame, that it is just as well to pass it by. What +need to speak of the centuries of degradation, in which +Greece has been trampled on by Roman and Goth and Turk, +since we may turn to the cheering fact that after this long +night of ages, the morning has come, and this stricken land +revives again? Greece is at last free from her oppressors, +and although the smallest of European kingdoms, yet she +exists; she has a place among the nations, and the beginning +of a new life, the dawn of what may prove a long and +happy career.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to look on the revival of a nation which +has had such a history without the deepest interest, and I +questioned eagerly every one who could tell me anything +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> +about the conditions and prospects of the country. I find +the general report is one of progress—slow indeed, but +steady. The venerable Dr. Hill, who has lived here nearly +forty-five years, and is about the oldest inhabitant of Athens, +tells me that when he came, <i>there was not a single house</i>—he +lived at first in an old Venetian tower—and to-day Athens +is a city of fifty thousand inhabitants, with wide and beautiful +streets; with public squares and fountains, and many fine +residences; with churches and schools, and a flourishing +University; with a Palace and a King, a Parliament House +and a Legislature, and all the forms of constitutional government.</p> + +<p>Athens is a very bright and gay city. Its climate favors life +in the open air, and its streets are filled with people, whose +varied costumes give them a most picturesque appearance. +The fez is very common, but not a turban is to be seen, for +there is hardly a Turk in Athens, unless it be connected with +their embassy. The most striking figures in the streets are +the Albanians, or Suliotes, whose dress is not unlike that of +the Highlanders, only that the kilt, instead of being of +Scotch plaid, is of white cotton <i>frilled</i>, with the legs covered +with long thick stockings, and the costume completed +by a "capote"—a cloak as rough as a sheepskin, which is +thrown coquettishly over the shoulders. These Highlanders, +though not of pure Greek blood, fought bravely in the war +of independence, meriting the praise of Byron:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="o1">"O who is more brave than a dark Suliote,</p> +<p>In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote?"</p> +</div> + +<p>The interior of the country is less advanced than the +capital. The great want is that of <i>internal communication</i>. +Greece is a country made by nature both for commerce and for +agriculture, as it is a peninsula, and the long line of coast is +indented with bays, and the interior is very fertile; and if a +few short roads were opened to connect the inland valleys +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> +with the sea, so that the farmers and peasants could send +their produce to market, the exports of the country might +soon be doubled. One "trunk" road also is needed, about +a hundred miles long, to connect Greece with the European +system of railroads. The opening of this single artery of +trade would give a great impulse to the industry of the +country; but as it would have to cross the frontier of Turkey, +it is necessary to have the consent of the Turkish Government, +and this the Greeks, though they have sought it +for years, have never been able to obtain.</p> + +<p>But the obstacles to improvement are not all the fault of +the Turks; the Greeks are themselves also to blame. There +is a lack of enterprise and of public spirit; they do not +work together for the public good. If there were a little more +of a spirit of coöperation, they could do wonders for their +country. They need not go to England to borrow money to +build railroads. There is enough in Athens itself, which is +the residence of many wealthy Greeks. Greece is about as +large in territory as Massachusetts, and has about the same +population. If it had the same spirit of enterprise, it would +soon be covered, as Massachusetts is, with a network of +railroads, and all its valleys would be alive with the hum of +industry.</p> + +<p>This lack of enterprise and want of combination for public +ends, are due to inherent defects of national character. +The modern Greeks have many of the traits of their illustrious +ancestors, in which there is a strange compound of +strength and weakness. They are a mercurial and excitable +race, very much like the French, effervescing like champagne, +bubbling up and boiling over; fond of talk, and +often spending in words the energy that were better reserved +for deeds. They have a proverb of their own, which well +indicates their readiness to get excited about little matters, +which says, "They drown themselves in a tumbler of water."</p> + +<p>A still more serious defect than this lightness of manner, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> +is the want of a high patriotic feeling which overrides all +personal ambition. There is too much of party spirit, and +of personal ambition. Everybody wants to be in office, to +obtain control of the Government, and selfish interests often +take the precedence of public considerations; men seem more +eager to get into power by any means, than to secure the +good of their country. This party spirit makes more difficult +the task of government. But after all these are things +which more or less exist in all countries, and especially under +all free governments, and which the most skilled statesmen +have to use all their tact and skill to restrain within due +bounds.</p> + +<p>But while these are obvious defects of the national character, +no one can fail to see the fine qualities of the Greeks, +and the great things of which they are capable. They are +full of talent, in which they show their ancestral blood, and +if sometimes a little restless and unmanageable, they are but +like spirited horses, that need only to be "reined in" and +guided aright, to run a long and glorious race.</p> + +<p>I have good hope of the country also, from the character +of the young King, whom I had an opportunity of seeing. +This was an unexpected pleasure, for which I am indebted +to the courtesy of our accomplished Minister here, Gen. J. +Meredith Reed, who suggested and arranged it; and it +proved not a mere formality, but a real gratification. I had +supposed it would be a mere ceremony, but it was, on the +contrary, so free from all stiffness—our reception was so +unaffected and so cordial—that I should like to impart a +little of the pleasure of it to others. I wish I could convey +the impression of that young ruler exactly as he appeared in +that interview: for this is a case in which the simplest and +most literal description would be the most favorable. Public +opinion abroad hardly does him justice; for the mere fact of +his youth (he is not yet quite thirty years old), may lead +those who know nothing of him personally, to suppose that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> +he is a mere figure-head of the State, a graceful ornament +indeed, but not capable of adding much to the political +wisdom by which it is to be guided. The fact too of his +royal connections (for he is the son of the King of Denmark, +and brother-in-law both of the Prince of Wales and of the +eldest son of the Czar), naturally leads one to suppose that he +was chosen King by the Greeks chiefly to insure the alliance +of England and Russia. No doubt these considerations did +influence, as they very properly might, his election to the +throne. But the people were most happy in their choice, in +that they obtained not merely a foreign prince to rule over +them, but one of such personal qualities as to win their love +and command their respect. Those who come in contact +with him soon discover that he is not only a man of education, +but of practical knowledge of affairs; that he "carries +an old head on young shoulders," and has little of youth +about him <i>except its modesty</i>, but this he has in a marked +degree, and it gives a great charm to his manners. I was +struck with this as soon as we entered the room—an air so +modest, and yet so frank and open, that it at once puts a +stranger at his ease. There is something very engaging in his +manner, which commands your confidence by the freedom +with which he gives his own. He welcomed us most cordially, +and shook us warmly by the hand, and commenced the +conversation in excellent English, talking with as much +apparent freedom as if he were with old friends. We were +quite alone with him, and had him all to ourselves. There +was nothing of the manner of one who feels that his dignity +consists in maintaining a stiff and rigid attitude. On the +contrary, his spirits seemed to run over, and he conversed +not only with the freedom, but the joyousness of a boy. He +amused us very much by describing a scene which some traveller +professed to have witnessed in the Greek Legislature, +when the speakers became so excited that they passed from +words to blows, and the Assembly broke up in a general +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> +mêlée. Of course no such scene ever occurred, but it suited +the purpose of some penny-a-liner, who probably was in +want of a dinner, and must concoct "a sensation" for his +journal. But I had been present at a meeting of the Greek +Parliament a day or two before, and could say with truth +that it was far more quiet and decorous than the meeting of +the National Assembly at Versailles, which I had witnessed +several months before. Indeed no legislative body could be +more orderly in its deliberations.</p> + +<p>Then the King talked of a great variety of subjects—of +Greece and of America, of art and of politics, of the Parthenon +and of plum-puddings.<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Gen. Reed was very anxious +that Greece should be represented at the Centennial Exhibition +at Philadelphia. The King asked what they should +send? I modestly suggested "The Parthenon," with which +Greece would eclipse all the world, unless Egypt should send +the Pyramids! Of course, it would be a profanation to touch +a stone of that mighty temple, though it would not be half +as bad to carry off a few "specimen bricks" as it was for +Lord Elgin to carry off the friezes of Phidias. But Gen. +Reed suggested, what would be quite practicable, that they +should send plaster casts of some of their greatest statues, +which would not rob <i>them</i>, and yet be the most glorious memorial +of Ancient Greece.</p> + +<p>The King spoke very warmly of America. The relations +of the two countries have always been most cordial. When +Greece was struggling single-handed to gain her independence, +and European powers stood aloof, America was the first to extend +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> +her sympathy and aid. This early friendship has not been +forgotten, and it needs only a worthy representative of our +country here—such as we are most fortunate in having now—to +keep for us this golden friendship through all future +years.</p> + +<p>Such is the man who is now the King of Greece. He has +a great task before him, to restore a country so long depressed. +He appreciates fully its difficulties. No man understands +better the character of the Greeks, nor the real wants of the +country. He may sometimes be tried by things in his way. +Yet he applies himself to them with inexhaustible patience. +The greater the difficulty, the greater the glory of success. +If he should sometimes feel a little discouraged, yet there is +much also to cheer and animate him. If things move rather +slowly, yet it is a fact of good omen that they move <i>at all</i>; +and looking back over a series of years, one may see that +there has been a great advance. It is not yet half a century +since this country gained its independence. Fifty years ago +Turkish pachas were ruling over Greece, and grinding the +Christian population into the dust. Now the Turks are +gone. The people are <i>free</i>, and in their erect attitude, their +manly bearing and cheerful spirits, one sees that they feel +that they are men, accustomed for these many years to breathe +the air of liberty.</p> + +<p>With such a country and such a people, this young king +has before him the most beautiful part which is given to any +European sovereign—to restore this ancient State, to reconstruct, +not the Parthenon, but the Kingdom; to open new +channels of industry and wealth, and to lead the people in +all the ways of progress and of peace.</p> + +<p>It will not be intruding into any privacy, if I speak of +the king in his domestic relations. It is not always that +kings and queens present the most worthy example to their +people; and it was a real pleasure to hear the way in which +everybody spoke of this royal family as a model. The queen, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> +a daughter of the Grand Duke Constantine of Russia, is +famed for her beauty, and equally for the sweetness of her +manners. The whole nation seems to be in love with her, +she is so gentle and so good. They have four children, ruddy +cheeked little creatures, whom we saw riding about every +day, so blooming and rosy that the carriage looked like a basket +of flowers. They were always jumping about like squirrels, +so that the King told us he had to have them fastened +in with leather straps, lest in their childish glee they should +throw themselves overboard. In truth it was a pretty sight, +that well might warm the heart of the most cold-blooded old +bachelor that ever lived; and no one could see them riding +by without blessing that beautiful young mother and her +happy children.</p> + +<p>There is something very fitting in such a young king and +queen being at the head of a kingdom which is itself young, +that so rulers and people may grow in years and in happiness +together.</p> + +<p>I know I express the feelings of every American, when I +wish all good to this royal house. May this king and queen +long live to present to their people the beautiful spectacle of +the purest domestic love and happiness! May they live to +see Greece greatly increased in population and in wealth—the +home of a brave, free, intelligent and happy people! +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXVIII.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">CONSTANTINOPLE.</p> + +<p class="lhead">November 24th.</p> + +<p>From my childhood no city has taken more hold of my +imagination than Constantinople. For weeks we have been +looking forward to our visit here; and when at last we entered +the Dardanelles (passing the site of ancient Troy), and +crossed the Sea of Marmora, and on Friday noon, Nov. 12th, +caught the first gleam of the city in the distance, we seemed to +be realizing a long cherished dream. There it was in all its +glory. Venice rising from the sea is not more beautiful than +Constantinople, when the morning sun strikes on its domes and +minarets, rising out of the groves of dark green cypresses, +which mark the places where the Turks bury their dead. +And when we entered the Bosphorus, and rounding Seraglio +Point, anchored at the mouth of the Golden Horn, we +seemed to be indeed in the heart of the Orient, where the +gorgeous East dazzles the traveller from the West with its +glittering splendors.</p> + +<p>But closer contact sometimes turns poetry to prose in rather +an abrupt manner, and the impression of Oriental magnificence +is rudely disturbed when one goes on shore. Indeed, +if a traveller cares more for pleasant impressions than for disagreeable +realities, he would do better not to land at all, but +rather to stand afar off, moving slowly up and down the +Bosphorus, beholding and admiring, and then sail away just +at sunset, as the last light of day gilds the domes and +minarets with a parting splendor, and he will retain his first +impressions undisturbed, and Constantinople will remain in +his memory as a beautiful dream. But as we are prepared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> +for every variety of experience, and enjoy sudden contrasts, +we are rather pleased than otherwise at the noise and confusion +which greet the arrival of our steamer in these waters; +and the crowd of boats which surround the ship, and the +yells of the boatmen, though they are not the voices of +paradise, greatly amuse us. Happily a dragoman sent from the +Hôtel d'Angleterre, where we had engaged rooms, hails us from +a boat, and, coming on board, takes us in charge, and rescues us +from the mob, and soon lands us on the quay, where, after passing +smoothly through the Custom House, we see our numerous +trunks piled on the backs of half a dozen porters, or <i>hamals</i>, +and our guide leads the way up the hill of Pera. And now +we get an interior view of Constantinople, which is quite +different from the glittering exterior, as seen from a distance. +We are plunging into a labyrinth of dark and narrow and +dirty streets, which are overhung with miserable houses, +where from little shops turbaned figures peer out upon us, +and women, closely veiled, glide swiftly by. Such streets we +never saw in any city that pretended to civilization. The +pavement (if such it deserves to be called) is of the rudest +kind, of rough, sharp stones, between which one sinks in mud. +There is hardly a street that is decently paved in all Constantinople. +Even the Grand Street of Pera, on which are our +hotel and all the foreign embassies, is very mean in appearance. +The embassies themselves are fine, as they are set far +back from the street, surrounded with ample grounds, and on +one side overlook the Bosphorus, but the street itself is +dingy enough. To our surprise we find that Constantinople +has no architectural magnificence to boast of. Except the +Mosques, and the Palaces of the Sultan, which indeed <i>are</i> on +an Imperial scale, there are no buildings which one would go +far to see in London or Paris or Rome. The city has been +again and again swept by fires, so that many parts are of +modern construction, while the old parts which have escaped +the flames, are miserable beyond description. It is through +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> +such a part that we are now picking our way, steering through +narrow passages, full of dogs and asses and wretched-looking +people. This is our entrance into Constantinople. After +such an experience one's enthusiasm is dampened a little, and +he is willing to exchange somewhat of Oriental picturesqueness +for Western cleanliness and comfort.</p> + +<p>But the charm is not all gone, nor has it disappeared after +twelve days of close familiarity. Only the picture takes a +more defined shape, and we are able to distinguish the lights +and shadows. Constantinople is a city full of sharp contrasts, +in which one extreme sets the other in a stronger +light, as Oriental luxury and show look down on Oriental dirt +and beggary; as gold here appears by the side of rags, and +squalid poverty crouches under the walls of splendid palaces. +Thus the city may be described as mean or as magnificent, +and either description be true, according as we contemplate +one extreme or the other.</p> + +<p>As to its natural beauty, (that of situation,) no language can +surpass the reality. It stands at the junction of two seas and +two continents, where Europe looks across the Bosphorus to +Asia, as New York looks across the East River to Brooklyn. +That narrow strait which divides the land unites the seas, +the Black Sea with the Mediterranean. From the lofty height +of the Seraskier tower one looks down on such a panorama +as is not elsewhere on the face of the earth. Far away +stretches the beautiful Sea of Marmora, which comes up to +the very walls of the city, and seems to kiss its feet. On the +other side of Stamboul, dividing it from Pera, is the Golden +Horn, crowded with ships; and in front is the Bosphorus, +where the whole Turkish navy rides at anchor, and a fleet of +steamers and ships is passing, bearing the grain of the Black +Sea to feed the nations of Western Europe. Islanded amid +all these waters are the different parts of one great capital—a +vast stretch of houses, out of which rise a hundred domes and +minarets. As one takes in all the features of this marvellous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> +whole, he can but exclaim, "Beautiful for situation, the joy +of the whole earth, is"—Constantinople!</p> + +<p>Nor are its environs less attractive than the position of the +city itself. Whichever way you turn, sailing over these waters +and along these shores, or riding outside of the ancient wall, +from the Golden Horn over the hills to the Sea of Marmora, +with its beautiful islands, there is something to enchant the +eye and to excite the imagination. A sail up the Bosphorus +is one of the most interesting in the world. We have taken +it twice. The morning after our arrival, our friend Dr. +George W. Wood, to whom we are indebted for many acts of +kindness, gave up the day to accompany us. For miles the +shores on either side are dotted with palaces of the Sultan, or +of the Viceroy of Egypt, or of this or that Grand Vizier, or +of some Pasha who has despoiled provinces to enrich himself, +or with the summer residences of the Foreign Ministers, or +of wealthy merchants of Constantinople.</p> + +<p>The Bosphorus constantly reminded me of the Hudson, +with its broad stream indented with bays, now swelling out +like our own noble river at the Tappan Zee, and then +narrowing again, as at West Point, and with the same steep +hills rising from the water's edge, and wooded to the top. +So delighted were we with the excursion, that we have since +made it a second time, accompanied by Rev. A. V. Millingen, +the excellent pastor of the Union Church of Pera, and find the +impression of beauty increased. Landing on the eastern side, +near where the Sweet Waters of Asia come down to mingle +with the sea, we walked up a valley which led among the +hills, and climbed the Giants' Mountain, on which Moslem +chronicles fix the place of the tomb of Joshua, the great +Hebrew leader, while tradition declares it to be the tomb of +Hercules. Probably one was buried here as truly as the +other; authorities differ on the subject, and you take your +choice. But what none can dispute is the magnificent site, +worthy to have been the place of burial of any hero or demigod. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> +The view extends up and down the Bosphorus for +miles. How beautiful it seemed that day, which was like +one of the golden days of our Indian summer, a soft and +balmy air resting on all the valleys and the hills. The landscape +had not, indeed, the freshness of spring, but the leaves +still clung to the trees, which wore the tints of autumn, and +thus resembled, though they did not equal, those of our +American forests; and as we wandered on amid these wild +and wooded scenes, I could imagine that I was rambling +among the lovely hills along the Hudson.</p> + +<p>But there is one point in which the resemblance ceases. +There is a difference (and one which makes all the difference +in the world), viz., that the Hudson presents us only the +beauty of <i>nature</i>, while the Bosphorus has the added charm +of <i>history</i>. The dividing line between Europe and Asia, it +has divided the world for thousands of years. Here we come +back to the very beginnings of history, or before all history, +into the dim twilight of fable and tradition; for through +these straits, according to the ancient story, sailed Jason with +his Argonauts in search of the Golden Fleece, and yonder are +the Symplegades, the rocks which were the terror of navigators +even in the time of Jason, if such a man ever lived, +and around which the sea still roars as it roared thousands of +years ago. On a hill-top stood a temple to Jupiter Urius, to +which mariners entering the stormy Euxine came to offer +their vows, and to pray for favorable winds; and here still +lives an old, long-haired Dervish, to whom the Turkish sailors +apply for the benefit of his prayers. He was very friendly +with us, and a trifling gratuity insured us whatever protection +he could give. Thus we strolled along over the hills to +the Genoese Castle, a great round tower, built hundreds of +years ago to guard the entrance to the Black Sea, and in a +grove of oaks stretched ourselves upon the grass, and took +our luncheon in full view of two continents, both washed by +one "great and wide sea." To this very spot came Darius +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> +the Great, to get the same view on which we are looking +now; and a few miles below, opposite the American College +at Bebek, he built his bridge of boats across the Bosphorus, +over which he passed his army of seven hundred thousand +men. To the same spot Xenophon led his famous Retreat of +the Ten Thousand.</p> + +<p>Coming down to later times, we are sitting among the +graves of Arabs who fought and fell in the time of Haroun +al Raschid, the magnificent Caliph of Bagdad, in whose reign +occurred the marvellous adventures related in the Tales of +the Arabian Nights. These were Moslem heroes, and their +graves are still called "the tombs of the martyrs." But +hither came other warriors; for in yonder valley across the +water encamped Godfrey of Bouillon, with his Crusaders, +who had traversed Europe, and were now about to cross into +Asia, to march through Asia Minor, and descend into Syria, +to fight for the Holy Sepulchre.</p> + +<p>Recalling such historic memories, and enjoying to the full +the beauty of the day, we came down from the hills to the +waters, and crossing in a caique to the other side of the Bosphorus, +took the steamer back to the city.</p> + +<p>While such are the surroundings of Constantinople, in its +interior it is the most picturesque city we have yet seen. I +do not know what we may find in India, or China, or Japan, +but in Europe there is nothing like it. On the borders of +Europe and Asia, it derives its character, as well as its mixed +population, from both. It is a singular compound of nations. +I do not believe there is a spot in the world where meet a +greater variety of races than on the long bridge across the +Golden Horn, between Pera and Stamboul. Here are the +representatives of all the types of mankind that came out of +the Ark, the descendants of Shem, Ham, and Japheth—Jews +and Gentiles, Turks and Greeks and Armenians, "Parthians +and Medes and Elamites, and dwellers in Mesopotamia," +Persians and Parsees, and Arabs from Egypt and Arabia, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> +and Moors from the Barbary Coast, and Nubians and Abyssinians +from the upper Nile, and Ethiopians from the far +interior of Africa. I have been surprised to see so many +blacks wearing the turban. But here they are in great numbers, +the recognized equals of their white co-religionists. I +have at last found one country in the world in which the distinction +between black and white makes absolutely no difference +in one's rank or position. And this, strange to say, is +a country where slavery long existed, and where, though +suppressed by law, it still exists, though less openly. We +visited the old slave market, and though evidently "business" +was dull, yet a dozen men were sitting around, who, we were +told, were slave merchants, and some black women who were +there to be sold. But slavery in Turkey is of a mild form, +and as it affects both races (fair Circassian women being sold +as well as the blackest Ethiopian), the fact of servitude works +no such degradation as attaints the race. And so whites and +blacks meet together, and walk together, and eat together, +apparently without the slightest consciousness of superiority +on one side, or of inferiority on the other. No doubt this +equality is partly due to the influence of Mohammedanism, +which is very democratic, which recognizes no distinction of +race, before which all men are equal as before their Creator, +and which thus lifts up the poor and abases the proud. I am +glad to be able to state one fact so much to its honor.</p> + +<p>But these turbaned Asiatics are not the only ones that +throng this bridge. Here are Franks in great numbers, +speaking all the languages of the West, French and Italian, +German and English. One may distinguish them afar off by +their stove-pipe hat, that beautiful cylinder whose perpendicular +outline is the emblem of uprightness, and which we +wish might always be a sign and pledge that the man whose +face appears under it would illustrate in his own person the +unbending integrity of Western civilization. And so the +stream of life rolls on over that bridge, as over the Bridge of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span> +Mirza, never ceasing any more than the waters of the Golden +Horn which roll beneath it.</p> + +<p>And not only all races, but all conditions are represented +here—beggars and princes; men on horseback forcing their +way through the crowd on foot; carriages rolling and rumbling +on, but never stopping the tramp, tramp, of the thousands +that keep up their endless march. Here the son of the +Sultan dashes by in a carriage, with mounted officers attending +his sacred (though very insignificant) person; while along +his path crouch all the forms of wretched humanity—men +with loathsome diseases; men without arms or legs, holding +up their withered stumps; or with eyes put out, rolling +their sightless eyeballs, to excite the pity of passers by—all +joining in one wail of misery, and begging for charity.</p> + +<p>In the mongrel population of Constantinople one must not +forget the <i>dogs</i>, which constitute a large part of the inhabitants. +Some traveller who has illustrated his sketches with +the pen by sketches with the <i>pencil</i>, has given, as a faithful +picture of this capital of the East, simply a pack of dogs +snarling in the foreground as its most conspicuous feature, +while a mosque and a minaret may be faintly seen in the distance. +If this is a caricature, yet it only exaggerates the +reality, for certainly the dogs have taken full possession of +the city. They cannot be "Christian dogs," but Moslem +dogs, since they are tolerated, and even protected, by the +Turks. It is a peculiar breed—all yellow, with long, sharp +noses and sharp ears—resembling in fact more the fox or the +wolf than the ordinary house-dog. A shaggy Newfoundlander +is never seen. As they are restrained by no Malthusian +ideas of population, they multiply exceedingly. They belong +to no man, but are their own masters, and roam about as +freely as any of the followers of the prophet. They are only +kept in bounds by a police of their own. It is said that they +are divided into communities, which have their separate districts, +and that if by chance a stray dog gets out of his beat, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> +the others set upon him, and punish him so cruelly that he +flies yelping to his own crowd for protection. They live in +the streets, and there may be seen generally asleep in the day-time. +You cannot look anywhere but you see a dog curled +up like a rug that has been thrown in a corner. You stumble +over them on the sidewalk. They keep pretty quiet during +the day, but at night they let themselves loose, and come +upon you in full cry. They bark and yelp, but their favorite +note is a hideous howl, which they keep up under your window +by the hour together (at least it seems an hour when you +are trying to sleep), or until they are exhausted, when the +cry is immediately taken up by a fresh pack around the +corner.</p> + +<p>The purely Oriental character of Constantinople is seen in +a visit to the <i>bazaars</i>—a feature peculiar to Eastern cities. +It was perhaps to avoid the necessity of locomotion, always +painful to a Turk, that business has been concentrated within +a defined space. Imagine an area of many acres, or of +many city squares, all enclosed and covered in, and cut up +into a great number of little streets or passages, on either +side of which are ranged innumerable petty shops, and you +have a general idea of the bazaars. In front of each of these +a venerable Turk sits squatting on his legs, and smoking his +pipe, and ready to receive customers. You wonder where he +can keep his goods, for his shop is like a baby house, a space +of but a few feet square. But he receives you with Oriental +courtesy, making a respectful <i>salaam</i>, perhaps offering you +coffee or a pipe to soothe your nerves, and render your mind +calm and placid for the contemplation of the treasures he is +to set before you. And then he proceeds to take down from +his shelves, or from some inner recess, what does indeed stir +your enthusiasm, much as you may try to repress it—rich +silks from Broussa, carpets from Persia, blades from Damascus, +and antique curiosities in bronze and ivory—all of which +excite the eager desire of lovers of things that are rare and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> +beautiful. I should not like to say (lest it should be betraying +secrets) how many hours some of our party spent in these +places, or what follies and extravagances they committed. +Certainly as an exhibition of one phase of Oriental life, it +is a scene never to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>To turn from business to religion, as it is now perhaps +midday or sunset, we hear from the minaret of a neighboring +mosque the muezzin calling the hour of prayer; and putting +off our shoes, with sandaled or slippered feet, we enter the +holy place. At the vestibule are fountains, at which the +Moslems are washing their hands and feet before they go in +to pray. We lift the heavy curtain which covers the door, +and enter. One glance shows that we are not in a Christian +church, either Catholic or Protestant. There is no cross and +no altar; no Lord's Prayer, no Creed, and no Ten Commandments. +The walls are naked and bare, with no sculptured +form of prophet or apostle, and no painting of Christ or the +Virgin. The Mohammedans are the most terrible of iconoclasts, +and tolerate no "images" of any kind, which they regard +as a form of idolatry. But though the building looks +empty and cold, there is a great appearance of devotion. All +the worshippers stand with their faces turned towards Mecca, +as the ulema in a low, wailing tone reads, or chants, the +passages from the Koran. There is no music of any kind, +except this dreary monotone. But all seem moved by some +common feeling. They kneel, they bow themselves to the +earth, they kiss the floor again and again in sign of their +deep abasement before God and his prophet. We looked on +in silence, respecting the proprieties of the place. But the +scene gave me some unpleasant reflections, not only at the +blind superstition of the worshippers, but at the changes +which had come to pass in this city of Constantine, the first +of Christian emperors, and in a place which has been so often +solemnly devoted to the worship of Christ. The Mosque of +St. Sophia, which, in its vastness and severe and simple +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> +majesty, is certainly one of the grandest temples of the +world, was erected as a Christian church, and so remained +for nearly a thousand years. In it, or in its predecessor +standing on the same spot, preached the "golden-mouthed +Chrysostom." This venerable temple is now in the hands of +those who despise the name of Christ. It is about four hundred +and twenty years since the Turks captured Constantinople, +and the terrible Mohammed II., mounted on horseback, +and sword in hand, rode through yonder high door, +and gave orders to slay the thousands who had taken refuge +within those sacred walls. Then Christian blood overflowed +that pavement like a sea, as men and women and helpless +children were trampled down beneath the heels of the cruel +invaders. And so the abomination of desolation came into +the holy place, and St. Sophia was given up to the spoiler. +His first act was to destroy every trace of its Christian use; +to take away the vessels of the sanctuary, as of old they were +taken from the temple at Jerusalem; to cover up the beautiful +mosaics in the ceiling and on the walls, that for so many +centuries had looked down on Christian worshippers; and to +<i>cut out the cross</i>. I observed, in going round the spacious +galleries, that wherever the sign of the cross had been carved +in the ancient marble, <i>it had been chiselled away</i>. Thus the +usurping Moslems had striven to obliterate every trace of +Christian worship. The sight of such desecration gave me a +bitter feeling, only relieved by the assurance which I felt +then, and feel now, that that sign <i>shall be restored</i>, and that +the Cross shall yet fly above the Crescent, not only over the +great temple of St. Sophia, but over all the domes and +minarets of Constantinople.</p> + +<p class="p2">For the pleasure of contrast to so much that is dark and +sombre, I cannot close this picture without turning to one +bright spot, one hopeful sign, that is like a bit of green grass +springing up amid the moss-covered ruins of a decaying empire. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> +As it is a relief to come out from under the gloomy arches +of St. Sophia into the warm sunshine, so is it to turn away +from a creed of Fatalism, which speaks only of decay and +death, to that better faith which has in it the new life +of the world. The Christian religion was born in the East, +and carried by early apostolic missionaries to western Europe, +where it laid the foundation of great nations and empires; +and in after centuries was borne across the seas; and now, +in these later ages it is brought back to the East by men from +the West. In this work of restoring Christianity to its +ancient seats, the East is indebted, not only to Christian +England, but to Christian America.</p> + +<p>From the very beginning of American missions, Constantinople +was fixed upon as a centre of operations for the East, +and the American Board sent some of its picked men to the +Turkish capital. Here came at an early day Drs. Dwight +and Goodell, and Riggs and Schauffler. The first two of +these have passed away; Dr. Schauffler, after rendering long +service, is now spending the evening of his days with his son +in Austria; Dr. Riggs, the venerable translator of the +Bible, alone remains. These noble men have been succeeded +by others who are worthy to follow in their footsteps. Dr. +Wood was here many years ago, and after being transferred +for a few years to New York, as the Secretary of the American +Board in that city, has now returned to the scene of his +former labors, where he has entered with ardor into that +missionary work which he loved so well. With him are +associated a number of men whose names are well known and +highly honored in America.</p> + +<p>The efficiency of these men has been greatly increased by +proper organization, and by having certain local centres and +institutions to rally about. In the heart of old Stamboul stands +the Bible House, a noble monument of American liberality. +The money was raised chiefly by the efforts of Dr. Isaac Bliss, +and certainly he never spent a year of his life to better purpose. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span> +It cost, with the ground, about sixty thousand dollars, +and when I saw what a large and handsome building it +was, I thought it a miracle of economy. This is a rallying +point for the missionaries in and around Constantinople. +Here is a depot for the sale of Bibles in all the languages +of the East, and the offices for different departments of +work; and of the Treasurer, who has charge of paying the +missionaries, and who thus distributes every year about one-third +of all the expenditures of the American Board. Here, +too, is done the editing and printing of different publications. +I found Rev. Mr. Greene editing three or four papers in different +languages, for children and for adults. Of course the +circulation of any of these is not large, as we reckon the circulation +of papers in America; but all combined, it <i>is</i> large, +and such issues going forth every week scatter the seeds of +truth all over the Turkish Empire.</p> + +<p>Another institution founded by the liberality of American +Christians is <span class="smcap">the Home</span> at Scutari, a seminary for the education +of girls. It has been in operation for several years with +much success, and now a new building has been erected, the +money for which—fifty thousand dollars—was given wholly +by the <i>women</i> of America. Would that all who have had a hand +in raising that structure could see it, now that it is completed. +It stands on a hill, which commands a view of all Constantinople, +and of the adjacent waters, far out into the Sea of Marmora. +Around this Home, as a centre, are settled a number of missionary +families—Dr. Wood, who, besides his other work, has +its general oversight; Mr. Pettibone, the efficient Treasurer; +Drs. Edwin and Isaac Bliss; and Mr. Dwight, a son of the +former missionary; who, with the ladies engaged in teaching +in the Home, form together as delightful a circle as one can +meet in any part of the missionary world.</p> + +<p>The day that we made our visit to the Home, we went to +witness the performance of the Howling Dervishes, who have +a weekly howl at Scutari, and in witnessing the jumpings and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> +contortions of these men, who seemed more like wild beasts +than rational beings, I could not but contrast the disgusting +spectacle with the very different scene that I had witnessed +that morning—a scene of order, of quiet, and of peace—as +the young girls recited with so much intelligence, and sang +their beautiful hymns. That is the difference between Mohammedanism +and that purer religion which our missionaries +are seeking to introduce.</p> + +<p>But they are not allowed to work unopposed. The +Government is hostile, and though it pretends to give toleration +and protection, it would be glad to suspend the missionary +operations altogether. But it is itself too dependent on +foreign powers for support, to dare to do much openly that +might offend them. We are fortunate in having at this time, +as the representative of our Government, such a man as the +Hon. Horace Maynard, who is not only a true American, but +a true Christian, and whose dignity and firmness, united +with tact and courtesy, have secured to our missionaries +that protection to which they are entitled as American +citizens.</p> + +<p>The Home has just been completed, and is to be opened +on Thanksgiving Day with appropriate services, at which we +are invited to be present, but the dreaded spectre of a long +quarantine, on account of the cholera, if we go to Syria, +compels us to embark the day before direct for Egypt. +But though absent in body, we shall be there in spirit, and +shall long remember with the greatest interest and satisfaction +our visit to the Home at Scutari, which is doing so +much for the daughters of Turkey.</p> + +<p>Last, but not least, of the monuments of American liberality +in and around Constantinople, is the College at Bebek, +which owes its existence chiefly to that far-sighted missionary, +Dr. Cyrus Hamlin, and to which Mr. Christopher B. Robert +of New York has given two hundred thousand dollars, and +which fitly bears his honored name. It stands on a high hill +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span> +overlooking the Bosphorus, from which one may see for +miles along the shores of Europe and Asia.</p> + +<p>The college is solidly built, of gray stone. It is a quadrangle +with a court in the centre, around which are the lecture +rooms, the library, apparatus-room, etc. In the basement +is the large dining-room, while in the upper story are +the dormitories. It is very efficiently organized, with Dr. +Washburn, long a missionary in Constantinople, as President, +and Profs. Long and Grosvenor, and other teachers. There +are nearly two hundred students from all parts of Turkey, +the largest number from any one province being from Bulgaria. +The course of study is pretty much the same as in our American +Colleges. Half a dozen or more different languages are +spoken by the students, but in the impossibility of adopting +any one of the native languages as the medium of instruction, +the teaching is in English, which has the double advantage +of being more convenient for the instructors, and of educating +the students in a knowledge of the English tongue. The +advantage of such an institution is immeasurable. I confess +to a little American pride as I observed the fact, that in all +the mighty Turkish Empire the only institution in which +a young man could get a thorough education was in the +American College at Bebek, except in one other college—also +founded by American missionaries, and established by +American liberality—that at Beirut.</p> + +<p>Grouped around the College at Bebek is another missionary +circle, like the one at Scutari. Besides the families of the +President and Professors, Mr. Greene of the Bible House +lives here, going up and down every day. Here are the missionaries +Herrick and Byington. A number of English +families live here, as a convenient point near Constantinople, +making altogether quite a large Protestant community. +There is an English church, where Rev. Mr. Millingen +preaches every Sabbath morning, preaching also at Pera in +the afternoon. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span></p> + +<p>It is cheering indeed, amid so much that is dark in the +East, to see so many bright points in and around Constantinople.</p> + +<p>Perhaps those wise observers of passing events, to whom +nothing is important except public affairs, may think this +notice of missionary operations quite unworthy to be spoken +of along with the political changes and the military campaigns +which now attract the eye of the world to Turkey. But +movements which make the most noise are not always +the most potent as causes, or the most enduring in their +effects. When Paul was brought to Rome (and cast, according +to tradition, into the Mamertine prison,) Nero living in +his Golden House cared little for the despised Jew, and perhaps +did not even know of his existence. But three centuries +passed, and the faith which Paul introduced into Rome +ascended the throne of the Cæsars. So our missionaries in +the East—on the Bosphorus, in the interior of Asia Minor, +and on the Tigris and the Euphrates—are sowing the seed +of future harvests. Many years ago I heard Mr. George P. +Marsh, the United States minister at Constantinople, now +at Rome, say that the American missionaries in the Turkish +Empire were doing a work the full influence of which could +not be seen in many years, perhaps not in this generation. +A strange course of events indeed it would be if these men +from the farthest West were to be the instruments of bringing +back Christianity to its ancient seats in the farthest +East! That would be paying the debt of former ages, by +giving back to the Old World what it has given to us; and +paying it with interest, since along with the religion that was +born in Bethlehem of Judea, would be brought back to +these shores, not only the gospel of good-will among men, +but all the progress in government and in civilization which +mankind has made in eighteen centuries. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXIX.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE SULTAN ABDUL AZIZ.</p> + +<p>Whoever comes to Constantinople must behold the face of +the Sultan, if he would see the height of all human glory. +Other European sovereigns are but men; but he is the incarnation +of a spiritual as well as a temporal power. He is +not only the ruler of a State, but the head of a religion. +What the Pope is to the Roman Catholic Church, the Sultan +is to Islamism. He is the Caliph to whom all the followers +of the Prophet in Asia and Africa look up with reverence +as their heaven-appointed leader. But though so great a +being, he does not keep himself invisible, like the Brother +of the Sun and Moon in China. Once a week he makes a +public appearance. Every Friday, which is the Mohammedan +Sabbath, he goes in great state to the mosque, and then +whosoever will approach may gaze on the brightness of his +face. This is one of the spectacles of Constantinople. It +is indeed a brilliant pageant, not to be overlooked by those +who would see an exhibition of Oriental pomp and magnificence. +Sometimes the Sultan goes to mosque by water, in a +splendid barge covered with gold, and as soon as he takes +his seat under a canopy, all the ships of war lying in the Bosphorus +fire salutes, making the shores ring with their repeated +thunders. At other times he goes on horseback, +attended by a large cavalcade, as when we saw him last +Friday.</p> + +<p>We took an open barouche with our dragoman as guide, +and drove a little before noon to the neighborhood of the +palace, where we found a crowd already assembled in front +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span> +of the gates, and a brilliant staff of officers in waiting +Troops were drawn up on both sides of the street by which +the Sultan was to pass. Laborers were busy covering it +with sand, that even his horse's feet might not touch the +common earth. While awaiting his appearance we drove up +and down to observe the crowd. Carriages filled with the +beauties of the harems of different pashas were moving slowly +along, that they might enjoy the sight, for their secluded +life does not extinguish their feminine curiosity. Very pale +and languid beauties they were, as one might see through +their thin gauze veils, their pallid expressionless faces not +relieved by their dull dark eyes. Adjoining the palace of +the Sultan is that of his harem, where we observed a great +number of eunuchs standing in front, tall, strapping fellows, +black as night, (they are generally Nubian slaves brought +from the upper Nile,) but very well dressed in European +costume, with faultless frock coats, and who evidently felt a +pride in their position as attendants on the Imperial household.</p> + +<p>While observing these strange figures, the sound of a +trumpet and the hurrying of soldiers to their ranks, told +that the Sultan was about to move. "Far off his coming +shone." Looking back we saw a great stir about the palace +gates, out of which issued a large retinue, making a dazzling +array, as the sun was reflected from their trappings of gold. +And now a ringing cheer from the troops told that their +sovereign had appeared. We drew up by the side of the +street "to see great Cæsar pass." First came a number of +high officers of State in brilliant dress, their horses mounted +with rich trappings. These passed, and there was an open +space, as if no other presence were worthy to precede near +at hand the august majesty that was to follow; and on a +magnificent white charger appeared <span class="smcap">the Sultan</span>. The +drums beat, the bands played, the troops presented arms, and +cheers ran along the line. But I hardly noticed this, for my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span> +eye was fixed on the central figure, which I confess answered +very well to my idea of an Oriental sovereign. It is said +that the Sultan never looks so well as on horseback, as his +rather heavy person then appears to the best advantage. He +wore no insignia of his rank, not even a military cap or a +waving plume, but the universal <i>fez</i>, with only a star glittering +with diamonds on his breast. Slowly he passed, his horse +never moving out of a walk, but stepping proudly as if conscious +of the dignity of his rider, who held himself erect, as +if disdaining the earth on which he rode; not bowing to +the right or left, recognizing no one, and betraying no emotion +at the sight of the crowd, or the cheers of his soldiers, +or the music of the band, but silent, grave and stern, as one +who allowed no familiarity, who was accustomed to speak +only to be obeyed.</p> + +<p>He passed, and dismounting on the marble steps of the +mosque, which had been spread with a carpet, ascended by +stairs to a private gallery, which was screened from the rest +of the building, like a box in a theatre, where he bowed himself +and repeated that "God is God, and Mohammed is his +prophet," and whatever other form of prayer is provided for +royal sinners.</p> + +<p>But his devotions were not very long or painful. In half +an hour he had confessed his sins, or paid his adoration, and +stepped into a carriage drawn by four horses to return. As +he drove by he turned towards us, his attention perhaps being +attracted by seeing a carriage filled with foreigners, and we had +a full view of his face. He looked older than I expected to see +him. Though not yet fifty, his beard, which is clipped short, +is quite gray. But his face is without expression. It is +heavy and dull, not lighted up either by intelligence or benevolence. +The carriage rolled into the gates of the palace, and +the pageant was ended.</p> + +<p>Such was the public appearance of the Sultan. But an +actor is often very different behind the scenes. A tragic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span> +hero may play the part of Cæsar, and stride across the stage +as if he were the lord of nations, and drop into nothing +when he takes off his royal robes, and speaks in his natural +voice. So the Sultan, though he appears well on horseback, +and rides royally—though he has the look of majesty and "his +bend doth awe the world"—yet when he retires into his +palace is found to be only a man, and a very weak man at +that. He has not in him a single element of greatness. +Though he comes of a royal race, and has in his veins the +blood of kings and conquerors, he does not inherit the high +qualities of his ancestors. Some of the Sultans have been +truly great men, born to be conquerors as much as Alexander +or Napoleon. The father of the present Sultan, Mahmoud +II., was a man of force and determination, one worthy +to be called the Grand Turk, as he showed by the way in +which he disposed of the Janissaries. This was a military +body that had become all-powerful at Constantinople, being +at once the protectors of the Sultan, and his masters—setting +him up and putting him down, at their will. Two of his +predecessors they had assassinated, and he might have shared +the same fate, if he had not anticipated them. But preparing +himself secretly, with troops on which he could rely, as +soon as he was strong enough he brought the conflict to an +issue, and literally <i>exterminated</i>, the Janissaries (besieging +them in their barracks, and hunting them like dogs in the +streets) as Mehemet Ali had massacred the Mamelukes in +Egypt. Then the Sultan was free, and had a long and prosperous +reign. He ruled with an iron hand, but though despotically, +yet on the whole wisely and well. Had he been +living now, Turkey would not be in the wretched condition +in which she is to-day. What a contrast between this old +lion of the desert, and the poor, weak man who now sits in +his seat, and who sees the sceptre of empire dropping from +his feeble hands!</p> + +<p>The Sultan is a man of very small capacity. Though +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span> +occupying one of the most exalted positions in the world, he +has no corresponding greatness of mind, no large ideas of +things. He is not capable of forming any wise scheme of +public policy, or any plan of government whatever, or of +pursuing it with determination. He likes the pomp of royalty +(and is very exacting of its etiquette), without having +the cares of government. To ride in state, to be surrounded +with awe and reverence, suits his royal taste; but to be +"bored" with details of administration, to concern himself +with the oppressions of this or that pasha in this or that +province, is quite beneath his dignity.</p> + +<p>The only thing in which he seems to be truly great, is in +spending money. For this his capacity is boundless. No +child could throw away money in more senseless extravagance. +The amount taken for his Civil List—that is, for his +personal expenses and for his household—is something +enormous. His great father, old Mahmoud II., managed to +keep up his royal state on a hundred thousand pounds a year; +but it is said that this man cannot be satisfied with less than +two millions sterling, which is more than the civil list of any +other sovereign in Europe. Indeed nobody knows how much +he spends. His Civil List is an unfathomable abyss, into +which are thrown untold sums of money.</p> + +<p>Then too, like a true Oriental, he has magnificent tastes +in the way of architecture, and for years his pet folly has +been the building of new palaces along the Bosphorus. +Although he had many already, the greater part unoccupied, +or used only for occasional royal visits, still if some new +position pleased his eye, he immediately ordered a new palace +to be built, even at a fabulous cost. Some of these dazzle the +traveller who has seen all the royal palaces of Western Europe. +To visit them requires a special permission, but we obtained +access to one by a liberal use of money, and drove to it +immediately after we had seen the Sultan going to mosque. +It is called the Cheragan Palace, and stands just above that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span> +which the Sultan occupies. It is of very great extent, and +built of white stone, and as it faces the Bosphorus, it seems +like a fairy vision rising from the sea. The interior is of +truly Oriental magnificence. It is in the Moorish style, like +the Alhambra. We passed through apartment after apartment, +each more splendid than the last. The eye almost +wearies with the succession of great halls with columns of +richest marble, supporting lofty ceilings which are finished +with beautiful arabesques, and an elaborateness of detail unknown +in any other kind of architecture. Articles of furniture +are wrought of the most precious woods, inlaid with +costly stones, or with ivory and pearl. What must have +been the cost of such a fairy palace, no one knows—not even +the Sultan himself—but it must have been millions upon +millions.</p> + +<p>Yet this great palace is unoccupied. When it was finished, +it is said that the Sultan on entering it, slipped his foot, or +took a cold (I have heard both reasons assigned), which so +excited his superstitious feeling (he thought it an omen of +death) that he would not live in it, and so in a few weeks he +returned to the palace which he had occupied before, where +he has remained ever since. And so this new and costly +palace is empty. Except the attendants who showed us +about, we saw not a human being. It was not built because +it was needed, but because it gratified an Imperial whim.</p> + +<p>Extravagant and foolish as this is, there is no way to prevent +such follies when such is the royal pleasure, for the +Sultan, like many weak men—feeble in intellect and in +character—is yet of violent temper, and cannot brook any +opposition to his will. If he wants a new palace, and the +Grand Vizier tells him there is no money in the treasury, he +flies into a rage and sends him about his business, and calls +for another who will find the money.</p> + +<p>Yet the vices of the Sultan are not all his own. They are +those of his position. What can be expected of a man who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span> +has been accustomed from childhood to have his own way in +everything; to be surrounded with a state and awe, as if he +were a god; and to have every caprice and whim gratified? +It is one of the misfortunes of his position that he never +hears the truth about anything. Though his credit in Europe +is gone; though whole provinces are dying of famine, he is +not permitted to know the unwelcome truth. He is surrounded +by courtiers and flatterers whose interest it is to +deceive him, and who are thus leading him blindly to his +ruin.</p> + +<p>In his pleasures the Sultan is a man of frivolous tastes, +rather than of gross vices. From some vices he is free, and +(as I would say every good word in his favor) I gladly record +this. He is not a drunkard (as were some of his predecessors, +in spite of the Mohammedan law against the use of +strong drinks); and, what is yet more remarkable for a +Turk, he does not smoke. But if he does not drink, he <i>eats</i> +enormously. He is, like Cardinal Wolsey, "a man of unbounded +stomach," and all the resources of the Imperial +cuisine are put in requisition to satisfy his royal appetite. +It is said that when he goes to the opera he is followed by +a retinue of servants, bearing a load of dishes, so that if perchance +between the acts his sublime Majesty should need to +refresh himself, he might be satisfied on the instant.</p> + +<p>For any higher pleasures than mere amusements he has no +taste. He is not a man of education, as Europeans understand +education, and has no fondness for reading. In all the +great palace I did not see a single book—and but <i>one</i> picture. +[The Mohammedans do not like "images," and so with all +their gorgeous decorations, one never sees a picture. This +was probably presented to the Sultan from a source which he +could not refuse. It was a landscape, which might have +been by our countryman, Mr. Church.] But he does not +care for these things. He prefers to be amused, and is fond +of buffoons and dancing girls, and takes more delight in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span> +jugglers and mountebanks than in the society of the most eminent +men of science in Europe. A man who has to be treated +thus—to be humored and petted, and fed with sweetmeats—is +nothing more or less than a big baby—a spoiled child, who +has to be amused with playthings. Yet on the whims and +caprices of such a creature may depend the fate of an empire +which is at this moment in the most critical situation, +and which needs the most skilful statesmanship to guide it +through its dangers. Is it that God intends to destroy it, +that He has suffered such a man to come to the throne for +such a time as this?</p> + +<p>It is a most instructive comment on the vanity of all +earthly things, that this man, so fond of pleasure, and with +all the resources of an empire at command, is not happy. +The Spanish Minister tells me that he <i>never saw him smile</i>. +Even in his palace he sits silent and gloomy. Is it that he +is brooding over some secret trouble, or feels coming over +him the shadow of approaching ruin?</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding all his outward state and magnificence, +there are things which must make him uneasy; which, like +Belshazzar's dream, must trouble him in the midst of his +splendor. Though an absolute monarch, he cannot have +everything according to his will; he cannot live forever, and +what is to come after him? By the Mohammedan law of +succession the throne passes not to his son, but to the oldest +male member of the royal house—it may be a brother or a +nephew. In this case the heir apparent is Murad Effendi, a +son of the late Sultan. But Abdul Aziz (unmindful of his +dead brother, or of that brother's living son) is very anxious +to change the order of succession in favor of his own son (as +the viceroy of Egypt has already done,) but he does not quite +dare to encounter the hostility of the bigoted Mussulmans. +Formerly it was the custom of the Sultan, in coming to the +throne, to put out of the way all rivals or possible successors, +from collateral branches of the family, by the easy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span> +method of assassination. But somehow that practice, like +many others of the "good old times," has fallen into disuse, +and now he must wait for the slow process of nature. +Meanwhile Murad Effendi is kept in the background as much +as possible. He did not appear in the procession to the +mosque, and is never permitted to show himself in state, +while the son of the Sultan, whom he would make his heir, +is kept continually before the public. Though he is personally +insignificant, both in mind and in body, this poor little +manikin is made <i>the commander-in-chief of the army</i>, and is +always riding about in great state, with mounted officers behind +his carriage. All this may make him a prince, but +can never make him a <span class="smcap">man</span>.</p> + +<p>What is to be the future of the Sultan, who can tell? His +empire seems to be trembling on the verge of existence, and +it is not likely that he could survive its fall. But if he +should live many years he may be compelled to leave Constantinople; +to leave all his beautiful palaces on the Bosphorus, +and transfer his capital to some city in Asia. +Broussa, in Asia Minor, was the former capital of the Ottoman +Empire, before the Turks conquered Constantinople, +four hundred and twenty years ago, and to that they may +return again; or they may go still farther, to the banks of +the Tigris, or the shores of the Persian Gulf, and the Sultan +may end his days as the Caliph of Bagdad. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXX.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span></p> +<p class="chead">THE EASTERN QUESTION.—THE EXODUS OF THE TURKS.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to be in Constantinople without having +forced upon us the Eastern Question, which is just now +occupying so much of the attention of Europe. A child can +ask questions which a philosopher cannot answer, and a +traveller can see dangers and difficulties which all the +wisdom of statesmen cannot resolve.</p> + +<p>Twenty years ago France and England went to war with +Russia for the maintenance of Turkey, and they are now +beginning to ask, whether in this they did not make a +great mistake; whether Turkey was worth saving? If the +same circumstances were to arise again, it is doubtful +whether they would be so ready to rush into the field. All +over Europe there has been a great revulsion of feeling caused +by the recent financial breakdown of Turkey. Within a few +weeks she has virtually repudiated half the interest on her +national debt; that is, she pays one-half, and <i>funds</i> the +other half, promising to pay it five years hence. But few +believe it will then be paid. This has excited great indignation +in France and England and Italy,<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> where millions of +Turkish bonds are held, and they ask, have we spent our +treasure and shed our blood to bolster up a rotten state, a +state that is utterly faithless to its engagements, and thus +turns upon its benefactors?</p> + +<p>To tell the whole truth, these powers have themselves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span> +partly to blame for having led the Turkish government into +the easy and slippery ways of borrowing money. <i>Before the +Crimean war Turkey had no national debt.</i> Whatever she +spent she wrung out of the sweat and blood of her wretched +people, and left no burden of hopeless indebtedness to curse +its successors.</p> + +<p>But the war brought great expenses, and having rich +allies, what so natural as to borrow a few of their superfluous +millions? Once begun, the operation had to be repeated +year after year. Nothing is so seductive as the habit of +borrowing money. It is such an easy way to pay one's debts +and to gratify one's love of spending; and as long as one's +credit lasts, he may indulge his dreams to the very limit of +Oriental magnificence. So the Sultan found it. He had but +to contract a loan in London or Paris, and he had millions of +pounds sterling to build palaces, and to carry out every Imperial +desire.</p> + +<p>But borrowing money is like taking opium, the dose must +be constantly increased, till finally the system gives way, and +death ends the scene. Every year the Sultan had to borrow +more money to pay the interest on his debts, and to borrow +at ever increasing rates; and so at last came, what always +comes as the result of a long course of extravagance, a complete +collapse of money and credit together.</p> + +<p>The indignation felt at this would not have been so great, +if the money borrowed had been spent for legitimate objects—to +construct public works; to build railroads (which are +greatly needed to open communications with the interior of +the empire); and to create new branches of industry and +new sources of wealth. Turkey is a very rich country in its +natural resources, rich in a fertile soil, rich in mines, with an +immense line of sea-coast, and great harbors, offering every +facility for commerce; and it needs only a very little political +economy to turn all these resources to account. If the +money borrowed in England and France had been spent in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span> +building railroads all over European Turkey, in opening +mines, and in promoting agriculture and commerce, the +country to-day, instead of being bankrupt, would be rich and +independent, and not compelled to ask the help or the compassion +of Europe.</p> + +<p>But instead of applying his borrowed money to developing +the resources of his empire, there has not been a freak of folly +that the Sultan did not gratify. He has literally thrown his +money into the Bosphorus, spending it chiefly for ships +on the water, or palaces on the shore. I have already +spoken of his passion for building new palaces. Next to this, +his caprice has been the buying of ironclads. A few years +since, when Russia, taking advantage of the Franco-German +war, which rendered France powerless to resist, nullified +the clause in the treaty made after the Crimean war, which +forbade her keeping a navy in the Black Sea, and began to +show her armed ships again in those waters, the Sultan seems +to have taken it into his wise head that she was about to +attack Constantinople, and immediately began preparations +for defence on land and sea. He bought a million or so of +the best rifles that could be found in Europe or America; +and cannon enough to furnish the Grand Army of Napoleon; +and some fifteen tremendous ships of war, which have +cost nearly two millions of dollars apiece. The enormous +folly of this expense appears in this, that, in case of war, +these ships would be almost useless. The safety of Turkey is +not in such defences, but in the fact that it is for the interest +of Europe to hold her up awhile longer. If once France and +England were to leave her to her fate, all these ships would +not save her against Russia coming from the Black Sea—or +marching an army overland and attacking Constantinople in +the rear. But the Sultan would have these ships, and here +they are. They have been lying idle in the Bosphorus all +summer, their only use being to fire salutes every Friday +when the Sultan goes to mosque. They never go to sea; if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span> +they did they would probably not return, for they are very +unwieldy, and the Turks are no sailors, and do not know how +to manage them; and they would be likely to sink in the +first gale. The only voyage they make is twice in the +year: once in the spring, when they are taken out of the +Golden Horn to be anchored in the Bosphorus, a mile or two +distant—about as far as from the Battery to the Navy Yard +in Brooklyn—and again in the autumn, when they are taken +back again to be laid up for the winter. They have just +made their annual voyage back to their winter quarters, and +are now lying quietly in the Golden Horn—not doing any +harm, <i>nor any good</i> to anybody.</p> + +<p>Then not only must the Sultan have a great navy, but a +great army. Poor as Turkey is, she has one of the largest +armies in Europe. I have found it difficult to obtain exact +statistics. A gentleman who has lived long in Constantinople +tells me that they claim to be able, in case of war, to put +seven hundred thousand men under arms, but this includes +the reserves—there are perhaps half that number now in +barracks or in camp. A hundred thousand men have been +sent to Herzegovina to suppress the insurrection there. So +much does it cost to extinguish a rising among a few mountaineers +in a distant province, a mere strip of territory lying +far off on the borders of the Adriatic. What a fearful drain +must the support of all these troops be upon the resources of +an exhausted empire!</p> + +<p>While thus bleeding at every pore, Turkey takes no course +to keep up a supply of fresh life-blood. England spends freely, +but, she <i>makes</i> freely also, and so has always an abundant +revenue for her vast empire. So might Turkey, if she had +but a grain of financial or political wisdom. But her policy +is suicidal in the management of all the great industries of +the country. For example, the first great interest is <i>agriculture</i>, +and this the government, so far from encouraging, +seems to set itself to <i>ruin</i>. Of course the people must till +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span> +the ground to get food to live. Of all the produce of the +earth the government takes <i>one-tenth</i>. Even this might be +borne, if it would only take it and have done with it, and +let the poor peasants gather in the rest. But no; after a +farmer has reaped his grain, he cannot store it in his barn +until the tax-gatherer has surveyed it and taken out his +share. Perhaps the official is busy elsewhere, or he is waiting +for a bribe; and so it may lie on the ground for days or +weeks, exposed to the rains till the whole crop is spoiled. +Such is the beautiful system of political economy practised in +administering the internal affairs of this country, which +nature has made so rich, and man has made so poor.</p> + +<p>So as to the <i>fisheries</i> by which the people on the sea-coast +live. All along the Bosphorus we saw them drawing their +nets. But we were told that not a single fish could be sold +until the whole were taken down to Constantinople, a distance +of some miles, and the government had taken its share, +and then the rest could be brought back again.</p> + +<p>Another great source of wealth to Turkey—or which might +prove so—is its <i>mines</i>. The country is very rich in mineral +resources. If it were only farmed out to English or Welsh +miners, they would bring treasures out of the earth. The +hills would be found to be of brass, and the mountains of +iron. But the Turkish government does nothing. It keeps +a few men at work, just enough to scratch the surface here +and there, but leaving the vast wealth that is in the bowels +of the earth untouched.</p> + +<p>And not only will it do nothing itself, but it will not allow +anybody else to do anything. Never did a great government +play more completely the part of the dog in the manger. +For years English capitalists have been trying to get permission +to work certain mines, offering to pay millions of +pounds for the concession. If once opportunity were given, +and they were sure of protection, that their property would +not be confiscated, English wealth would flow into Turkey in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span> +a constant stream. But on the contrary the government puts +every obstacle in their way. With the bigotry and stupidity +of its race, it is intensely jealous of foreigners, even while +it exists only by foreign protection—and its policy is, not +only <i>not</i> one of progress—it is absolutely one of obstruction. +If it would only get out of the way and let foreign enterprise +and capital come in, it might reap the benefit. But it opposes +everything. Only a few days since a meeting was +held here of foreign capitalists, who were ready and anxious +to put their money into Turkish mines to an almost unlimited +extent, but they all declared that the restrictions were so +many, and the requirements so complicated and vexatious, +and so evidently intended to prevent anything being done, +that it was quite hopeless to attempt it.</p> + +<p>But, although this is very bad political economy, yet it is +not in itself alone a reason why a nation should be given up +as beyond saving, if it were capable of learning wisdom by +experience. Merely getting in debt, though it is always a +bad business, is not in itself a sign of hopeless decay. Many +a young and vigorous state has at the beginning spent all its +substance, like the prodigal son, in riotous living, but after +"sowing its wild oats," has learned wisdom by experience, +and settled down to a course of hard labor, and so come up +again. But Turkey is the prodigal son without his repentance. +It is continually wasting its substance, and, although +it may have now and then fitful spasms of repentance as it +feels the pangs of hunger, it gives not one sign of a change of +heart, a real internal reform, and a return to a clean, pure, +healthy and wholesome life.</p> + +<p>Is there any hope of anything better? Not the least. +Just now there is some feeling in official circles of the degradation +and weakness shown in the late bankruptcy, and there +are loud professions that they are going to "reform." But +everybody who has lived in Turkey knows what these professions +mean. It is a little spasm of virtue, which will soon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span> +be forgotten. The Sultan may not indeed throw away money +quite so recklessly as before, but only because he cannot get +it. He is at the end of his rope. His credit is gone in all +the markets of Europe, and nobody will lend him a dollar. +Yet he is at this very moment building a mosque that is to +cost two millions sterling, and if there were the least let-up +in the pressure on him, he would resume the same course +of folly and extravagance as ever. No one is so lavish with +money as the man who does not pretend to pay his debts. +He cannot change his nature. "Can the Ethiopian change +his skin, or the leopard his spots?" The Turk, like the +Pope, <i>never changes</i>. It is constitutionally impossible for +him to reform, or to "go ahead" in anything. His ideas are +against it; his very physical habits are against it. A man +who is always squatting on his legs, and smoking a long pipe, +cannot run very fast; and the only thing for him to do, when +the pressure of modern civilization becomes too great for him, +is to "bundle up" and get out of the way.</p> + +<p>Thus there is in Turkey not a single element of hope; there +is no internal force which may be a cause of political regeneration. +It is as impossible to infuse life into this moribund +state as it would be to raise the dead. I have met a great +many Europeans in Constantinople—some of whom have +lived here ten, twenty, thirty, or even forty years—and have +not found <i>one</i> who did not consider the condition of Turkey +absolutely hopeless, and its disappearance from the map of +Europe only a question of time.</p> + +<p>But if for purely economical reasons Turkey has to be +given up as utterly rotten and going to decay, how much +darker does the picture appear when we consider the tyranny +and corruption, the impossibility of obtaining justice, and +the oppression of the Christian populations. A horde of +officials is quartered on the country, that eat out the substance +of the land, and set no bounds to their rapacity; who +plunder the people so that they are reduced to the extreme +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span> +point of misery. The taxation is so heavy that it drains the +very life-blood out of a poor and wretched people—and this +is often aggravated by the most wanton oppression and +cruelty. Such stories have moved, as they justly may, the +indignation of Europe.</p> + +<p>Such is the present state of Turkey—universal corruption +and oppression, and things going all the time from bad to +worse.</p> + +<p>And yet this wretched Government rules over the fairest +portion of the globe. The Turkish Empire is territorially +the finest in the world. Half in Europe and half in Asia, +it extends over many degrees of latitude and longitude, including +many countries and many climates, "spanning the +vast arch from Bagdad to Belgrade."</p> + +<p>Can such things continue, and such a power be allowed to +hold the fairest portion of the earth's surface, for all time to +come?</p> + +<p>It seems impossible. The position of Turkey is certainly +an anomaly. It is an Asiatic power planted in Europe. +It is a Mohammedan power ruling over millions of Christians. +It is a government of Turks—that is of Tartars—over men +of a better race as well as a purer religion. It is a government +of a minority over a majority. The Mohammedans, +the ruling caste, are only about one-quarter of the population +of European Turkey—some estimates make it much less, but +where there is no accurate census, it must be a matter of +conjecture. It is a power occupying the finest situation +in the world, where two continents touch, and two great +seas mingle their waters, yet sitting there on the Bosphorus +only to hold the gates of Europe and Asia, and +oppose a fixed and immovable barrier to the progress of the +nations.</p> + +<p>What then shall be done with the Grand Turk? The +feeling is becoming universal that he must be driven out of +Europe, back into Asia from which he came. This would solve +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span> +the Eastern Question <i>in part</i>, but only in part, for <i>after</i> he +is gone what power is to take his place?</p> + +<p>The solution would be comparatively easy, if there were +any independent State near at hand to succeed to the vacant +sceptre. When a rich man dies, there are always plenty of +heirs ready to step in and take possession of the property. +The Greeks would willingly transfer their capital from Athena +to Constantinople. The Armenians think themselves numerous +enough to form a State, but the Greeks and the Armenians +hate each other more even than their common oppressor. +Russia has not a doubt on the subject, that <i>she</i> is the proper +and rightful heir to the throne of the Sultan. The possession +of European Turkey would just "round out" her territory, +so that her Empire should be bounded only by the seas—the +Baltic and the White Sea on the North, and the Black Sea +and the Mediterranean on the South. But that is just the +solution of the question which all the rest of Europe is determined +to prevent. Austria, driven out of Germany, +thinks it would be highly proper that she should be indemnified +by an addition to her territory on the south; while the +Danubian principalities, Moldavia and Wallachia (now united +under the title of Roumania) and Servia, which are taking +their first lessons in independence, think that they will soon +be sufficiently educated in the difficult art of government to +take possession of the whole Ottoman Empire. Among so +many rival claimants who shall decide? Perhaps if it were +put to vote, they would all prefer to remain under the Turk, +rather than that the coveted prize should go to a rival.</p> + +<p>Herein lies the difficulty of the Eastern Question, which +no European statesman is wise enough to resolve. There is +still another solution possible: that Turkey should be divided +as Poland was, giving a province or two on the Danube to +Austria; and another on the Black Sea to Russia; and Syria +to Egypt; while the Sultan took up his residence in Asia +Minor; and making Constantinople a free city (as Hamburg +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span> +was), under the protection of all Europe, which should hold +the position simply to protect the passage of the Bosphorus +and the Dardanelles, and thus keep open the Black Sea to +the commerce of the world.</p> + +<p>But however these remoter questions may perplex the +minds of statesmen, they cannot prevent, nor long delay, the +first necessity, viz., that the Turk should retire from Europe. +It cannot be permitted in the interests of civilization, that a +half-barbarous power should keep forever the finest position +in the world, the point of contact between Europe and Asia, +only to be a barrier between them—an obstacle to commerce +and to civilization. This obstruction must be removed. The +Turks themselves may remain, but they will no longer be the +governing race, but subject, like other races, to whatever +power may succeed; the Sultan may transfer his capital to +Brousa, the ancient capital of the Ottoman Empire; but +<i>Turkey will thenceforth be wholly an Asiatic, and no longer +an European power</i>.</p> + +<p>And this will be the end of a dominion that for centuries +was the terror of Europe. It is four hundred and twenty +years since the Turks crossed the Bosphorus and took Constantinople. +Since then they have risen to such power that +at one time they threatened to overrun Europe. It is not +two hundred years since they laid siege to Vienna. But +within two centuries Turkey has greatly declined. The rise +of a colossal power in the North has completely overshadowed +her, till now she is kept from becoming the easy prey of +Russia only by the protection of those Christian powers to +which the Turk was once, like Attila, the Scourge of God.</p> + +<p>From the moment that the Turks ceased to conquer, they +began to decline. They came into Europe as a race of warriors, +and have never made any progress except by the sword. +And so they have really never taken root as one of the family +of civilized nations, but have always lived as in a camp, +a vast Asiatic horde, that, while conquering civilized countries, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span> +retained the habits and instincts of nomadic tribes, +that were only living in tents, and might at any time recross +the Bosphorus and return to their native deserts.</p> + +<p>That their exodus is approaching, is felt by the more sagacious +Turks themselves. The government is taking every +precaution against its overthrow. Dreading the least popular +movement, it does not dare to trust its Christian populations. +It will not permit them to bear arms, lest the weapons +might be turned against itself. <i>No one but a Mohammedan +is allowed to enter the army.</i> There may be some European +officers left from the time of the Crimean war, whose services +are too valuable to be spared, but in the ranks not a man is +received who is not a "true believer." This conscription +weighs very heavily on the Mussulmans, who are but a small +minority in European Turkey, and who are thus decimated +from year to year. It is a terrible blood-tax which they +have to pay as the price of continued dominion. But even +this the government is willing to pay rather than that arms +should be in the hands of those who, as the subject races, are +their traditional enemies, and who, in the event of what might +become a religious war, would turn upon them, and seek a +bloody revenge for ages of oppression and cruelty.</p> + +<p>Seeing these things, many even of the Turks themselves +anticipate their speedy departure from the Promised Land +which they have so long occupied, and are beginning to set +their houses in order for it. Aged Turks in dying often leave +this last request, that they may be buried at Scutari, on the +other side of the Bosphorus, so that if their people are driven +across into Asia, their bodies at least may rest in peace under +the cypress groves which darken the Asiatic shore.</p> + +<p>With such fears and forebodings on one side, and such +hopes and expectations on the other, we leave this Eastern +Question just where we found it. Anybody can state it; +nobody can resolve it. It is the great political problem in +Europe at this hour, which no statesman, however sagacious—not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span> +Bismarck, nor Thiers, nor Andrassy, nor Gortchakoff—has +yet been able to resolve. But man proposes and God +disposes. This is one of those mysteries of the future which +Divine intelligence alone can penetrate, and Divine Providence +alone can reveal. We must not assume to be over-wise—although +there are some signs which we see clearly written +on the face of the sky—but "watch and wait," which we do +in the full confidence that we shall not have to wait long, +but that the curtain will rise on great events in the East before +the close of the present century. +</p> + +<p class="chapter">CHAPTER XXXI.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span></p> +<p class="chead"> +THE SULTAN IS DEPOSED AND COMMITS SUICIDE.—THE WAR +IN SERVIA.—MASSACRES IN BULGARIA.—HOW WILL IT ALL +END?</p> + +<p>The last three chapters were written in Constantinople, +near the close of 1875. Since then a year has passed—and +yet I do not need to change a single word. All that was +then said of the wretched character of the Sultan, and of +the hopeless decay of the empire, has proved literally true. +Indeed if I were to draw the picture again, I should paint it +in still darker colors. The best commentary upon it, and +the best proof of its truth, is that which has been furnished +by subsequent events. A rapid review of these will complete +this political sketch up to the present hour.</p> + +<p>At the close of the chapter on Abdul Aziz, I suggested, as +a possible event in the near future, that the Turks might be +driven out of Europe into Asia, and their capital be removed +from Constantinople back to Broussa, (where it was four +hundred and twenty years ago,) or even to the banks of the +Tigris, and that the Sultan might end his days as the Caliph +of Bagdad.</p> + +<p>Was this a gloomy future to predict for a sovereign at the +height of power and glory? Alas for human ambition! +Happy would it have been for him if he could have found a +refuge, in Broussa or in Bagdad, from the troubles that were +gathering around him. But a fate worse than exile was reserved +for this unhappy monarch. In six months from that +time he was deposed and dead, dying by his own hand. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span> +It is a short story, but forms one of the most melancholy +tragedies of modern times.</p> + +<p>During the winter things went from bad to worse, till even +Moslem patience and stoicism were exhausted. There was +great suffering in the capital, which the sovereign was unable +to relieve, or to which rather he was utterly indifferent. +Murmurs began to be heard, and not from his Christian subjects, +but from faithful Moslems. Employés of the government, +civil and military, were not paid. Yet even in this +extremity every caprice of the Sultan must be supplied. If +money came into the treasury, it was said that he seized it +for his own use.</p> + +<p>Feeling the pressure from without, the ministers, who +had been accustomed to approach their master like slaves, +cowed and cringing in his presence, grew bolder, and presumed +to speak a little more plainly. Reminding him as +gently as possible of the public distress, and especially of the +fact that the army was not paid, they ventured to hint that +if his august majesty would, out of his serene and benevolent +wisdom and condescension, apply a little of his own +private resources (for it was well known that he had vast +treasures hoarded in the palace), it would allay the growing +discontent. But to all such intimations he listened with +ill-concealed vexation and disgust. What cared he for the +sufferings of his soldiers or people? Not a pound would +he give out of his full coffers, even to put an end to mutiny +in the camp or famine in the capital. Dismissing the impertinent +ministers, he retired into the harem to forget amid its +languishing beauties the unwelcome intrusion.</p> + +<p>But there is a point beyond which even Mohammedan fatalism +cannot bow in submission. Finding all attempts to move +the Sultan hopeless, his ministers began to look in each +other's faces, and to take courage from their despair. There +was but one resource left—they must strike at the head of +the state. The Sultan himself must be put out of the way. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span></p> + +<p>But how can any popular movement be inaugurated under +an absolute rule? Despotism indeed is sometimes "tempered +by assassination"! But here a sovereign was to be +removed without that resort. Strange as it may seem, there +is such a thing as public opinion even in Constantinople. +Though it is a Mohammedan state, there is a power above +Sultans and Caliphs; it is that of the Koran itself. The +government is a Theocracy as much as that of the Jews, and +the law of the state is the Koran, of which the priestly +class, the Ulemas and the Mollahs and the Softas, are the +representatives. Mohammedanism has its Pope in the Sheik-al-Islam, +who is the authorized interpreter of the sacred law, +and who, like other interpreters, knows how to make the +most inflexible creed bend to the necessities of the state. +His opinion was asked if, in a condition of things so extreme +as that which now existed, the sovereign might be lawfully +deposed? He answered in the affirmative. Thus armed +with a spiritual sanction, the conspirators proceeded to +obtain the proper civil authority and military support.</p> + +<p>The Sultan had had his suspicions excited, and had +sought for safety by a vigilant watch on Murad Effendi, who +was kept under strict surveillance, and almost under guard, +like a state prisoner. Suspecting the fidelity of the Minister +of War, he sent to demand his immediate presence at the +palace. But as the latter was deep in the plot, he pleaded +illness as an excuse for his non-appearance. But this alarm +hastened the decisive blow. The ministers met at the +war office, and thither Murad Effendi was brought secretly +in the night of Monday, May 29th, and received by them +as Sultan, and made to issue an order for the immediate +arrest of his predecessor, Abdul Aziz, an order which was +entrusted to Redif Pasha, a soldier of experience and nerve, +for execution. Troops were already under arms, and were +now drawn around the palace, while the officer entered to +demand the person of the Sultan. Passing through the attendants, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span> +he came to the chief of the eunuchs, who kept +guard over the sacred person of the Padishah, and demanded +to be led instantly to his master. This black major-domo +was not accustomed to such a tone, and, amazed at such audacity, +laughed in the face of the intruder. But the old +soldier was not to be trifled with. Forcing his way into the +apartments of the Sultan, he announced to him that he had +ceased to reign, and must immediately quit his palace. +Then the terrible truth began to dawn upon him that he was +no longer a god, before whom men trembled. He was beside +himself with fury. He raved and stormed like a madman, +and cursed the unwelcome guest in the name of the +Prophet. His mother rushed into the room, and added +her cries and imprecations. But he could not yet believe +that any insolent official had the power to remove him from +his palace. He told the Pasha that he was a liar! The +only answer was, Look out of the window! One glance was +enough. There in thick ranks stood the soldiers that had so +long guarded his person and his throne, and would have +guarded him still, if his own folly had not driven them to +turn their arms against him. Then he changed his tone, +and promised to yield everything, if he might be spared. +He was told it was too late, and was warned to make haste. +Time was precious. The boats were waiting below. The +Sultan had often descended there to his splendid caïque to go +to the mosque, when all the ships in the harbor fired salutes +in honor of his majesty. Now not a gun spoke. Silently +he embarked with his mother and sons, and fifty-three boats +soon followed with his wives and servants. And thus in the +gray of the morning they moved across the waters to Seraglio +Point, where Abdul Aziz, but an hour ago a sovereign, +now found himself a prisoner.</p> + +<p>The same forenoon another retinue of barges conveyed Murad +Effendi across the same waters to the vacant palace, and +the ships of war thundered their salutes to the new Sultan. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span></p> + +<p>Was there ever such an overthrow? The humiliation was +too great to be borne by a weak mind, which could find no +rest but in the grave. Five days after he shut himself up +in his room, and when the attendants opened the door he +was found weltering in his blood. Scissors by his side revealed +the weapon by which had been wrought the bloody +deed. Suspicions were freely expressed that he had not died +by his own hand, but by assassination. But a council of +physicians gave a verdict in support of the theory of suicide. +The next day a long procession wound through the streets of +old Stamboul, following the dead monarch to his tomb, where +at last he found the rest he could not find in life.</p> + +<p>Such was the end of Abdul Aziz, who passed almost in the +same hour from his throne and from life. Was there ever a +more mournful sight under the sun? As we stand over that +poor body covered with blood, we think of that brilliant +scene when he rode to the mosque, surrounded by his officers +of state, and indignation at his selfish life is almost forgotten +in pity for his end. We are appalled at the sudden contrast +of that exalted height and that tremendous fall. He fell as +lightning from heaven. Did ever so bright a day end in +so black a night? With such solemn thoughts we turn +away, with footsteps sad and slow, from that royal tomb, +and leave the wretched sleeper to the judgment of history +and of God.</p> + +<p>His successor had not a long or brilliant reign. Calamity +brooded over the land, and weighed like a pall on an +enfeebled body and a weak mind, and after a few months +he too was removed, to give place to a younger brother, who +had more physical vigor and more mental capacity, and who +now fills that troubled throne.</p> + +<p>I said also that "the curtain might rise on great events in +the East before the close of the present century." <i>It has +already begun to rise.</i> The death of the Sultan relieved the +State of a terrible incubus, but it failed to restore public tranquillity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span> +and prosperity. Some had supposed that it alone +would allay discontent and quell insurrection. But instead +of this, his deposition and death seemed to produce a contrary +effect. It relaxed the bonds of authority. It spread +more widely the feeling that the empire was in a state of +hopeless decay and dissolution, and that the time had come +for different provinces to seek their independence. Instead +of the Montenegrins laying down their arms, those brave +mountaineers became more determined than ever, and the +insurrection, instead of dying out, spread to other provinces.</p> + +<p>Servia had long been chafing with impatience. This +province was already independent in everything but the +name. Though still a part of the Turkish Empire, and paying +an annual tribute to the Sultan, it had its own separate +government. But such was the sympathy of the people with +the other Christian populations of European Turkey, who +were groaning under the oppression of their masters, that +the government could not withstand the popular excitement, +and at the opening of summer rushed into war.</p> + +<p>It was a rash step. Servia has less than a million and a +half of souls; and its army is very small, although, by calling +out all the militia, it mustered into the field a hundred +thousand men. It hoped to anticipate success by a rapid +movement. A large force at once crossed the frontier into +Turkey, in order to make that country the battle-ground of +the hostile armies. The movement was well planned, and if +carried out by veteran troops, might have been successful. +But the raw Servian levies were no match for the Turkish +regular army; and as soon as the latter could be moved up +from Constantinople, the former were sacrificed. In the +series of battles which followed, the Turks were almost +uniformly successful; forcing back the Servians over the +border, and into their own country, where they had every +advantage for resistance; where there were rivers to be +crossed, and passes in the hills, and fortresses that might be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span> +defended. But with all these advantages the Turkish troops +pressed on. Their advance was marked by wasted fields and +burning villages, yet nothing could resist their onward +march, and but for the delay caused by the interposition of +other powers, it seemed probable that the campaign would +end by the Turks entering in triumph the capital of Servia +and dictating terms of peace, or rather of submission, +within the walls of Belgrade.</p> + +<p>This is a terrible disappointment to those sanguine spirits +who were so eager to urge Servia into war, and who apparently +thought that her raw recruits could defeat any Turkish +army that could be brought against them. The result is a +lesson to the other discontented provinces, and a warning to +all Europe, that Turkey, though she may be dying, is not +dead, and that she will die hard.</p> + +<p>This proof of her remaining vitality will not surprise one +who has seen the Turks at home. Misgoverned and ruined +financially as Turkey is, she is yet a very formidable military +power—not, indeed, as against Russia, or Germany, or Austria, +but as against any second-rate power, and especially as +against any of her revolted provinces.</p> + +<p>Her troops are not mere militia, they are trained soldiers. +Those that we saw in the streets of Constantinople were men +of splendid physique, powerful and athletic, just the stuff +for war. They are capable of much greater endurance than +even English soldiers, who must have their roast beef and +other luxuries of the camp, while the Turks will live on the +coarsest food, sleep on the ground, and march gayly to battle. +Such men are not to be despised in a great conflict. In its +raw material, therefore, the Turkish army is probably equal +to any in Europe. If as well disciplined and as well <i>commanded</i>, +it might be equal to the best troops of Germany.</p> + +<p>So far as equipment is concerned, it has little to desire. +A great part of the extravagance of the late Sultan was in +the purchase of the most approved weapons of war, which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span> +seemed needless, but have now come into play. His ironclads, +no doubt, were a costly folly, but his Krupp cannon +and breech-loading rifles (the greater part made in America) +may turn the scale of battle on many a bloody field.</p> + +<p>Further, these men are not only physically strong and +brave; not only are they well disciplined and well armed; +but they are inflamed with a religious zeal that heightens +their courage and kindles their enthusiasm. That such an +army should be victorious, however much we may regret it, +cannot be a matter of surprise.</p> + +<p>As the result of this campaign, however calamitous, was +merely the fortune of war, gained in honorable battle; whatever +sorrow it might have caused throughout Europe, it could +not have created any stronger feeling, had not events occurred +in another province, which kindled a flame of popular +indignation.</p> + +<p>Before the war began, indeed before the death of the Sultan, +fearing an outbreak in other provinces, an attempt had +been made to strike terror into the disaffected people. Irregular +troops—the Circassians and Bashi Bazouks—were +marched into Bulgaria, and commenced a series of massacres +that have thrilled Europe with horror, as it has not been +since the massacre of Scio in the Greek revolution. The +events were some time in coming to the knowledge of +the world, so that weeks after, when inquiry was made +in the British Parliament, Mr. Disraeli replied that the +government had no knowledge of any atrocities; that +probably the reports were exaggerated; that it was a kind +of irregular warfare, in which, no doubt, there were outrages +on both sides.</p> + +<p>Since then the facts have come to light. Mr. Eugene +Schuyler, lately the American Secretary of Legation at St. +Petersburg, and now Consul in Constantinople, has visited +the province, and, as the result of a careful inquiry, finds +that not less than twelve thousand men, women, and children +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span> +(he thinks fifteen thousand) have been massacred. Women +have been outraged, villages have been burnt, little children +thrown into the flames. That peaceful province has been +laid waste with fire and slaughter.</p> + +<p>The report, coming from such a source, and accompanied +by the fullest evidence, created a profound sensation in +England. Meetings were held in all parts of the country to +express the public indignation; and not only at the brutal +Turks, but at their own government for the light and flippant +way in which it had treated such horrors: the more so that +among the powers of Europe, England was the supporter +of Turkey, and thus might be considered as herself guilty, +unless she uttered her indignant protest in the name of +humanity and civilization.</p> + +<p>But why should the people of Christian England wonder +at these things, or at any act of violence and blood done by +such hands? The Turk has not changed his nature in the four +hundred years that he has lived, or rather <i>camped</i>, in Europe. +He is still a Tartar and half a savage. Here and there may +be found a noble specimen of the race, in some old sheik, +who rules a tribe, and exercises hospitality in a rude but +generous fashion, and who looks like an ancient patriarch as +he sits at his tent door in the cool of the day. Enthusiastic +travellers may tell us of some grand old Turk who is like "a +fine old English gentleman," but such cases are exceptional. +The mass of the people are Tartars, as much as when they +roamed the deserts of Central Asia. The wild blood is in +them still, with every brutal instinct intensified by religion. +All Mussulmans are nursed in such contempt and scorn of the +rest of mankind, that when once their passions are aroused, +it is impossible for them to exercise either justice or mercy. +No tie of a common humanity binds them to the rest of the +human race. The followers of the Prophet are lifted to +such a height above those who are not believers, that the sufferings +of others are nothing to them. If called to "rise +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span> +and slay," they obey the command without the slightest feeling +of pity or remorse.</p> + +<p>With such a people it is impossible to deal as with other +nations. There is no common ground to stand upon. They +care no more for "Christian dogs," nor so much, as they do +for the dogs that howl and yelp in the streets of Constantinople. +Their religious fanaticism extinguishes every feeling +of a common nature. Has not Europe a right to put some +restraint on passions so lawless and violent, and thus to stop +such frightful massacres as have this very year deluged her +soil with innocent blood?</p> + +<p>The campaign in Servia is now over. An armistice has +been agreed upon for six weeks, and as the winter is at hand, +hostilities cannot be resumed before spring. Meanwhile +European diplomacy will be at work to settle the conflict +without another resort to arms. Russia appears as the protector +and supporter of Servia. She asks for a conference of +the six powers—England, France, Italy, Germany, Austria, +and Russia—a conference to decide on the fate of Turkey, +yet <i>from which Turkey shall be excluded</i>. Already intimations +are given out of the nature of the terms which Russia +will propose. Turkey has promised reform for the protection +and safety of her Christian populations. But experience +has proved that her promises are good for nothing. +Either they are made in bad faith, and are not intended to +be kept, or she has no power to enforce them in the face of +a fanatical Mohammedan population. It is now demanded, +in order to secure the Christian population absolute protection, +that these reforms shall be carried out under the eye of +foreign commissioners in the different provinces, <i>supported +by an armed force</i>. This is indeed an entering wedge, with +a very sharp edge too, and driven home with tremendous +power. If Turkey grants this, she may as well abdicate her +authority over her revolted provinces. But Europe can be +contented with nothing less, for without this there is absolutely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span> +no safety for Christians in any lands cursed by the +rule of the Turk.</p> + +<p>It is quite probable that the negotiations will issue in +some sort of autonomy for the disaffected provinces. This +has been already granted to Wallachia and Moldavia (which +have been united under the name of Roumania), the result +of which has been to bring quietness and peace. It has been +granted to Servia. Their connection with the Porte is only +nominal, being limited to the payment of an annual tribute; +while even this nominal dependence has the good effect of +warning off other powers, such as Austria and Russia, +from taking possession. If this same degree of independence +could be extended to Bulgaria and to Bosnia and Herzegovina, +there would be a belt of Christian states, which +would be virtually independent, drawn around Turkey, +which would confine within smaller space the range of Moslem +domination in Europe.</p> + +<p>And yet even that is not the end, nor will it be the final +settlement of the Eastern question. That will not be reached +until some other power, or joint powers, hold Constantinople. +That is the eye of the East; that is the jewel of the world; +and so long as it remains in the hands of the Turks, it will +be an object of envy, of ambition, and of war.</p> + +<p>The late Charles Sumner used to say that "a question is +never <i>settled</i> until it is settled <i>right</i>;" and it cannot be right +that a position which is the most central and regal in all the +earth should be held forever by a barbarian power.</p> + +<p>There is a saying in the East that "where the Turk comes +the grass never grows." Is it not time that these Tartar hordes, +that have so long held dominion in Europe, should return +into the deserts from which they came, leaving the grass to +spring up from under their departing feet?</p> + +<p>But some Christian people and missionaries dread such an +issue, because they think that it is a struggle between the +Russian and the Turk, and that if the Turk goes out the Russian +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</a></span> +must come in. But is there no other alternative? Is there +not political wisdom enough in all Europe to make another +settlement, and power enough to enforce their will? England +holds Malta and Gibraltar, and France holds Algeria: +cannot both hold Constantinople? Their combined fleets +could sweep every Russian ship out of the Black Sea, as +they did in the Crimean war. Drawn up in the Bosphorus, +they could so guard that strait that no Russian flag should +fly on the Seraskier or Galata towers. Why may not Constantinople +be placed under the protection of all nations +for the common benefit of all? But for this, the first +necessity is that the Turk should take himself out of the +way.</p> + +<p>This, I believe, will come; but it will not come without a +struggle. The Turks are not going to depart out of Europe +at the first invitation of Russia, or of all Europe combined. +They have shown that they are a formidable foe. When this +war began, some who had been looking and longing for the +destruction of Turkey thought this was the beginning of the +end; enthusiastic students of prophecy saw in it "the drying +up of the Euphrates." All these had better moderate +their expectations. Admitting that the <i>final end</i> will be +the overthrow of the Mohammedan power in Europe, +yet this end may be many years in coming. "The sick +man" is <i>not dead</i>, and he will not die quietly and peacefully, +as an old man breathes his last. He will not gather +up his feet into his bed, and turn his face to the wall, and +give up the ghost. He will die on the field of battle, and his +death-struggles will be tremendous. The Turk came into +Europe on horseback, waving his scimitar over his head, and +he will not depart like a fugitive, "as men flee away in battle," +but will make his last stand on the shores of the Bosphorus, +and fall fighting to the last. I commend this sober +view to those whose minds may be inflamed by reading of the +atrocities of the present war, and who may anticipate the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</a></span> +march of events. The end will come; but we cannot dictate +or even know, the time of its coming.</p> + +<p>That end, I firmly believe, will be the exodus of the Turks +from Europe. Not that the people as a body will depart. +There is not likely to be another national migration. The +expulsion of a hundred thousand of the conquering race of the +Osmanlis—or of half that number—may suffice to remove that +imperious element that has so long kept the rule in Turkey, +and by its command of a warlike people, been for centuries +the terror of Europe. But the Turkish power—the power to +oppress and to persecute, to kill and destroy, to perpetrate +such massacres as now thrill the world with horror—must, +and <i>will</i>, come to an end.</p> + +<p>In expressing this confident opinion, I do not lay claim to +any political wisdom or sagacity. Nor do I attach importance +to my personal observations. But I <i>do</i> give weight to +the judgment of those who have lived in Turkey for years, +and who know well the government and the people: and in +what I say I only reflect the opinion of the whole foreign +community in Constantinople. While there I questioned +everybody; I sought information from the best informed, and +wisdom from the wisest; and I heard but one opinion. Not +a man expressed the slightest hope of Turkey, or the slightest +confidence in its professions of reform. One and all—Englishmen +and Americans, Frenchmen and Germans, Spaniards and +Italians—agreed that it was past saving, that it was "appointed +to die," and that its removal from the map of Europe +was only a question of time.</p> + +<p>So ends the year 1876, leaving Europe in a state of uncertainty +and expectancy—fearing, trembling, and hoping. +The curtain falls on a year of horrors; on what scenes shall +the new year rise? We are in the midst of great events, and +may be on the eve of still greater. It may be that a war is +coming on which will be nothing less than a death-struggle +between the two religions which have so long divided the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</a></span> +lands that lie on the borders of Europe and Asia, and one in +which the atrocities now recorded will be but the prelude to +more terrible massacres until the vision of the prophet shall +be fulfilled, that "blood shall come up to the horses' bridles." +But looking through a long vista of years, we cannot doubt +the issue as we believe in the steady progress of civilization—nay, +as we believe in the power and justice of God.</p> + +<p>We may not live to see it, and yet we could wish that we +might not taste of death till our eyes behold that final deliverance. +Is it mere imagination, an enthusiastic dream, +that anticipates what we desire should come to pass?</p> + +<p>It may be that we are utterly deceived; but as we look +forward we think we see before many years a sadly impressive +spectacle. However the tide of battle may ebb and +flow, yet slowly, but steadily, will the Osmanlis be pushed +backward from those Christian provinces which they have so +long desolated and oppressed, till they find themselves at last +on the shores of the Golden Horn, forced to take their farewell +of old Stamboul. Sadly will they enter St. Sophia for +the last time, and turn their faces towards Mecca, and bow +their heads repeating, "God is God, and Mohammed is his +prophet." It would not be strange that they should mourn and +weep as they depart. Be it so! They came into that sacred +temple with bloodshed and massacre; let them depart with +wailing and sorrow. They cross the Bosphorus, and linger +under the cypresses of Scutari, to bid adieu to the graves of +their fathers; then bowing, with the fatalism of their creed, +to a destiny which they cannot resist, they turn their horses' +heads to the East, and ride away over the hills of Asia +Minor.</p> +<div class="footnotes p6"> +<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> She came in fifteen hours after us, and the Celtic twenty. The +German ship reached Southampton two days later.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a></p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="o1">"The bleak wind of March</p> +<p class="i1">Made her tremble and shiver,</p> +<p>But not the dark arch,</p> +<p class="i1">Nor the black flowing river.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Mad from life's history,</p> +<p>Glad to death's mystery</p> +<p class="i1">Swift to be hurled</p> +<p>Anywhere, anywhere,</p> +<p class="i1">Out of the world"</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Lest any of my saving countrymen should think this a sacrifice +of precious jewels, it should be added that the cunning old Venetians, +with a prudent economy worthy of a Yankee housekeeper, instead of +wasting their treasures on the sea, dropped the glittering bauble into +a net carefully spread for the purpose, in which it was fished up, to +be used in the ceremonies of successive years.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The note is on the opening lines of the fourth Canto:</p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> +<p class="o1">"I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,</p> +<p>A palace and a prison on each hand,"</p> +</div> + +<p class="footnote">—in explanation of which the poet says:</p> + +<p class="footnote">"The communication between the ducal palace and the prisons of +Venice is by a gloomy bridge, or covered gallery, high above the +water, and divided by a stone wall into a passage and a cell. The +State dungeons, called 'pozzi,' or wells, were sunk into the thick +walls of the palace; and the prisoner, when taken out to die, was +conducted across the gallery to the other side, and being then led +back into the other compartment or cell upon the bridge, was there +strangled. The low portal through which the criminal was taken +into this cell is now walled up; but the passage is still open, and is +still known as the Bridge of Sighs. The pozzi are under the flooring +of the chamber at the foot of the bridge. They were formerly +twelve, but on the first arrival of the French, the Venetians blocked +or broke up the deeper of these dungeons. You may still, however, +descend by a trap-door, and crawl down through holes, half-choked +by rubbish, to the depth of two stories below the first range. If you +are in want of consolation for the extinction of patrician power, perhaps +you may find it there; scarcely a ray of light glimmers into the +narrow gallery which leads to the cells, and the places of confinement +themselves are totally dark. A small hole in the wall admitted + the damp air of the passages, and served for the introduction +of the prisoner's food. A wooden pallet, raised a foot from the +ground, was the only furniture. The conductor tells you that a light +was not allowed. The cells are about five paces in length, two and +a half in width, and seven feet in height. They are directly beneath +one another, and respiration is somewhat difficult in the lower holes. +Only one prisoner was found when the Republicans descended into +these hideous recesses, and he is said to have been confined sixteen +years."</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Perhaps <i>roulette</i> and <i>rouge et noir</i> are two separate games. I +dare say my imperfect description would excite the smile of a professional, +for I confess my total ignorance in such matters. I only +describe what I saw.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a></p> + +<div class="fnpoem"> +<p class="o1">"E'en at the base of Pompey's statue,</p> +<p>Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell."</p> +</div> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This pretence of being a prisoner is so plainly a device to excite +public sympathy, that it is exaggerated in the most absurd manner. +A lady, just returned from the Rhine, tells me that in Germany the +Catholics circulate pictures of the Pope <i>behind the bars of a prison</i>, +and even <i>sell straws of his bed</i>, to show that he is compelled to sleep +on a pallet of straw, like a convict! The same thing is done in +Ireland.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> I give his age as put down in the books, where the date of his +birth is given as May 13, 1792; although our English priest tells me +that the Pope himself says that he is eighty-<i>five</i>, adding playfully +that "his enemies have deprived him of his dominions, and his +friends of two years of his life." My informant says that, notwithstanding +his great age, he is in perfect health, with not a sign of +weakness or decay about him, physically or intellectually. He is +a tough old oak, that may stand all the storms that rage about +him for years to come.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> This is not a jest. The King said with perfect truth that the +chief revenue of Greece was derived from the plum-puddings of +England and America, the fact being that the currants of Corinth +(which indeed gives the name to that delicious fruit) form the chief +article of export from the Kingdom of Greece—the amount in one +year exported to England alone, being of the value of £1,200,000. +The next article of export is olive oil.</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Italy, it will be remembered, joined the Allies against Russia in +the latter part of the Crimean war.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of From the Lakes of Killarney to the +Golden Horn, by Henry M. 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