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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:25:59 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:25:59 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5689-h.zip b/5689-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fdd3617 --- /dev/null +++ b/5689-h.zip diff --git a/5689-h/5689-h.htm b/5689-h/5689-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74c372a --- /dev/null +++ b/5689-h/5689-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3874 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>INNOCENTS ABROAD BY MARK TWAIN, Part 2, CH 11-20</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7; margin:10%; text-align:justify} + P { + text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97% } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> + +</head> +<body> + +<h2>THE INNOCENTS ABROAD, Part 2</h2> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Innocents Abroad, Part 2 of 6 +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +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: The Innocents Abroad, Part 2 of 6 + +Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +Release Date: June 15, 2004 [EBook #5689] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENTS ABROAD, PART 2 OF 6 *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<hr> +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<center><h1>THE INNOCENTS ABROAD</h1> +<h3>Part 2, Chapters 11 to 20</h3> + +<br><br><br> +<h2>by Mark Twain</h2></center> +<br><br><br> + +<center><a name="cover"></a><img alt="cover.jpg (186K)" src="images/cover.jpg" height="700" width="600"> +<br>[Cover and Spine from the 1884 Edition]</center> + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><a name="frontpiece1"></a><img alt="frontpiece1.jpg (77K)" src="images/frontpiece1.jpg" height="335" width="630"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><a name="frontpiece2"></a><img alt="frontpiece2.jpg (82K)" src="images/frontpiece2.jpg" height="911" width="537"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><h1>THE INNOCENTS ABROAD</h1> + +<br><br><br> +<h2>by Mark Twain</h2> + +<br><br><br> +<h3>[From an 1869—1st Edition]</h3></center> + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + + +<center><a name="titlepage"></a><img alt="titlepage.jpg (44K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" height="1021" width="629"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<center><a name="dedication"></a><img alt="dedication.jpg (11K)" src="images/dedication.jpg" height="329" width="513"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + + <center><h2>CONTENTS</h2></center> + +<br><br> + +<h3><a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</a></h3> +<br> + + +<h3> <a href="#ch11">CHAPTER XI.</a> +</h3>Getting used to it—No Soap—Bill of Fare, Table d'hote—"An American +Sir"—A Curious Discovery—The "Pilgrim" Bird—Strange +Companionship—A Grave of the Living—A Long Captivity—Some of Dumas' Heroes—Dungeon +of the Famous "Iron Mask." + +<h3> <a href="#ch12">CHAPTER XII.</a> +</h3>A Holiday Flight through France—Summer Garb of the Landscape—Abroad +on the Great Plains—Peculiarities of French Cars—French Politeness +American Railway Officials—"Twenty Mnutes to Dinner!"—Why there +are no Accidents—The "Old Travellers"—Still on the Wing—Paris at +Last——French Order and Quiet—Place of the Bastile—Seeing the +Sights—A Barbarous Atrocity—Absurd Billiards + +<h3> <a href="#ch13">CHAPTER XIII.</a> +</h3>More Trouble—Monsieur Billfinger—Re-Christening the Frenchman—In the +Clutches of a Paris Guide—The International Exposition—Fine Military +Review—Glimpse of the Emperor Napoleon and the Sultan of Turkey + +<h3> <a href="#ch14">CHAPTER XIV.</a> +</h3>The Venerable Cathedral of Notre-Dame—Jean Sanspeur's +Addition—Treasures and Sacred Relics—The Legend of the Cross—The Morgue—The +Outrageious 'Can-Can'—Blondin Aflame—The Louvre Palace—The Great +Park—Showy Pageantry—Preservation of Noted Things + +<h3> <a href="#ch15">CHAPTER XV.</a> +</h3>French National Burying—Ground—Among the Great Dead—The Shrine of +Disappointed Love—The Story of Abelard and Heloise—"English Spoken +Here"—"American Drinks Compounded Here"—Imperial Honors to an +American—The Over-estimated Grisette—Departure from Paris—A Deliberate +Opinion Concerning the Comeliness of American Women + +<h3> <a href="#ch16">CHAPTER XVI.</a> +</h3>Versailles—Paradise Regained—A Wonderful Park—Paradise +Lost—Napoleonic Strategy + +<h3> <a href="#ch17">CHAPTER XVII.</a> +</h3>War—The American Forces Victorious—" Home Again"—Italy in Sight +The "City of Palaces"—Beauty of the Genoese Women—The +"Stub-Hunters"—Among the Palaces—Gifted Guide—Church Magnificence—"Women not +Admitted"—How the Genoese Live—Massive Architecture—A Scrap of Ancient +History—Graves for 60,000 + +<h3> <a href="#ch18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a> +</h3>Flying Through Italy—Marengo—First Glimpse of the Famous +Cathedral—Description of some of its Wonders—A Horror Carved in Stone——An +Unpleasant Adventure—A Good Man—A Sermon from the Tomb—Tons of Gold +and Silver—Some More Holy Relics—Solomon's Temple + +<h3> <a href="#ch19">CHAPTER XIX</a> +</h3>"Do You Wiz zo Haut can be?"—La Scala—Petrarch and Laura—Lucrezia +Borgia—Ingenious Frescoes—Ancient Roman Amphitheatre—A Clever +Delusion—Distressing Billiards—The Chief Charm of European Life—An +Italian Bath—Wanted: Soap—Crippled French—Mutilated English—The Most +Celebrated Painting in the World—Amateur Raptures—Uninspired +Critics—Anecdote—A Wonderful Echo—A Kiss for a Franc + +<h3> <a href="#ch20">CHAPTER XX.</a> +</h3>Rural Italy by Rail—Fumigated, According to Law—The Sorrowing +Englishman—Night by the Lake of Como—The Famous Lake—Its +Scenery—Como compared with Tahoe—Meeting a Shipmate + + + + + +<br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> +<br> +<a href="#frontpiece1">1. THE QUAKER CITY IN A STORM—FRONTPIECE</a><br> +<a href="#frontpiece2">2. ILLUMINATED TITLE-PAGE-THE PILGRIM'S VISION</a><br> +<a href="#p099">27. RINGING FOR SOAP</a><br> +<a href="#p100">28. "WINE, SIR!"</a><br> +<a href="#p101">29. THE PILGRIM</a><br> +<a href="#p103">30. THE PRISONER</a><br> +<a href="#p106">31. HOMELESS FRANCE</a><br> +<a href="#p108">32. RAILROAD OFFICIAL IN FRANCE</a><br> +<a href="#p109">33. "FIVE MINUTES FOR REFRESHMENTS"—AMERICA</a><br> +<a href="#p110">34. "THIRTY MINUTES FOR DINNER"—FRANCE</a><br> +<a href="#p111">35. THE OLD TRAVELLER</a><br> +<a href="#p115">36. A DECIDED SHAVE</a><br> +<a href="#p117">37. A GAS-TLY SUBSTITUTE</a><br> +<a href="#p119">38. THE THREE GUIDES </a><br> +<a href="#p122">39. "ZE SILK MAGAZIN"</a><br> +<a href="#p124">40. RETURN IN WAR PAINT</a><br> +<a href="#p126a">41. NAPOLEON III</a><br> +<a href="#p126b">42. ABDUL AZIZ</a><br> +<a href="#p132">43. THE MORGUE</a><br> +<a href="#p135">44. WE TOOK A WALK</a><br> +<a href="#p136">45. THE CAN-CAN </a><br> +<a href="#p141">46. GRAVES OF ABELARD AND HELOISE</a><br> +<a href="#p142">47. A PAIR OF CANONS OF 13TH CENTURY</a><br> +<a href="#p144">48. THE PRIVATE MARRIAGE</a><br> +<a href="#p148">49. AMERICAN DRINKS</a><br> +<a href="#p150">50. ROYAL HONORS TO A YANKEE</a><br> +<a href="#p151">51. THE GRISETTE</a><br> +<a href="#p154">52. FOUNTAIN AT VERSAILLES</a><br> +<a href="#p161">53. WOMEN OF GENOA</a><br> +<a href="#p163">54. PETRIFIED LACKEY</a><br> +<a href="#p164">55. PRIEST AND FRIAR </a><br> +<a href="#p168">56. STATUE OF COLUMBUS</a><br> +<a href="#p169">57. GRAVES OF SIXTY THOUSAND</a><br> +<a href="#p172">58. ROOF AND SPIRES OF CATHEDRAL AT MILAN</a><br> +<a href="#p173">59. CENTRAL DOOR OF CATHEDRAL AT MILAN</a><br> +<a href="#p174">60. INTERIOR OF CATHEDRAL AT MILAN </a><br> +<a href="#p176">61. BOYHOOD EXPERIENCE</a><br> +<a href="#p179">62. TREASURES OF THE CATHEDRAL</a><br> +<a href="#p181">63. CATHEDRAL AT MILAN</a><br> +<a href="#p184">64. LA SCALA THEATRE</a><br> +<a href="#p191">65. COPYING FROM OLD MASTERS</a><br> +<a href="#p194">66. FACIAL EXPRESSION</a><br> +<a href="#p196">67. TILE ECHO</a><br> +<a href="#p197">68. NOTE BOOK</a><br> +<a href="#p198">69. A KISS FOR A FRANC</a><br> +<a href="#p200">70. THE FUMIGATION </a><br> +<a href="#p202">71. LAKE COMO</a><br> +<a href="#p204">72. GARDEN, LAKE COMO</a><br> +<br> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch11"></a>CHAPTER XI. +</h2> +<p>We are getting foreignized rapidly and with facility. We are getting +reconciled to halls and bedchambers with unhomelike stone floors and no +carpets—floors that ring to the tread of one's heels with a sharpness +that is death to sentimental musing. We are getting used to tidy, +noiseless waiters, who glide hither and thither, and hover about your +back and your elbows like butterflies, quick to comprehend orders, quick +to fill them; thankful for a gratuity without regard to the amount; and +always polite—never otherwise than polite. That is the strangest +curiosity yet—a really polite hotel waiter who isn't an idiot. We are +getting used to driving right into the central court of the hotel, in the +midst of a fragrant circle of vines and flowers, and in the midst also of +parties of gentlemen sitting quietly reading the paper and smoking. We +are getting used to ice frozen by artificial process in ordinary +bottles—the only kind of ice they have here. We are getting used to all these +things, but we are not getting used to carrying our own soap. We are +sufficiently civilized to carry our own combs and toothbrushes, but this +thing of having to ring for soap every time we wash is new to us and not +pleasant at all. We think of it just after we get our heads and faces +thoroughly wet or just when we think we have been in the bathtub long +enough, and then, of course, an annoying delay follows. These +Marseillaises make Marseillaise hymns and Marseilles vests and Marseilles +soap for all the world, but they never sing their hymns or wear their +vests or wash with their soap themselves. + + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p099"></a><img alt="p099.jpg (23K)" src="images/p099.jpg" height="433" width="333"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>We have learned to go through the lingering routine of the table d'hote +with patience, with serenity, with satisfaction. We take soup, then wait +a few minutes for the fish; a few minutes more and the plates are +changed, and the roast beef comes; another change and we take peas; +change again and take lentils; change and take snail patties (I prefer +grasshoppers); change and take roast chicken and salad; then strawberry +pie and ice cream; then green figs, pears, oranges, green almonds, etc.; +finally coffee. Wine with every course, of course, being in France. +With such a cargo on board, digestion is a slow process, and we must sit +long in the cool chambers and smoke—and read French newspapers, which +have a strange fashion of telling a perfectly straight story till you get +to the "nub" of it, and then a word drops in that no man can translate, +and that story is ruined. An embankment fell on some Frenchmen +yesterday, and the papers are full of it today—but whether those +sufferers were killed, or crippled, or bruised, or only scared is more +than I can possibly make out, and yet I would just give anything to know. + +<p>We were troubled a little at dinner today by the conduct of an American, +who talked very loudly and coarsely and laughed boisterously where all +others were so quiet and well behaved. He ordered wine with a royal +flourish and said: + +<p>"I never dine without wine, sir" (which was a pitiful falsehood), and +looked around upon the company to bask in the admiration he expected to +find in their faces. All these airs in a land where they would as soon +expect to leave the soup out of the bill of fare as the wine!—in a land +where wine is nearly as common among all ranks as water! This fellow +said: "I am a free-born sovereign, sir, an American, sir, and I want +everybody to know it!" He did not mention that he was a lineal +descendant of Balaam's ass, but everybody knew that without his telling +it. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p100"></a><img alt="p100.jpg (11K)" src="images/p100.jpg" height="351" width="305"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>We have driven in the Prado—that superb avenue bordered with patrician +mansions and noble shade trees—and have visited the chateau Boarely and +its curious museum. They showed us a miniature cemetery there—a copy of +the first graveyard that was ever in Marseilles, no doubt. The delicate +little skeletons were lying in broken vaults and had their household gods +and kitchen utensils with them. The original of this cemetery was dug up +in the principal street of the city a few years ago. It had remained +there, only twelve feet underground, for a matter of twenty-five hundred +years or thereabouts. Romulus was here before he built Rome, and thought +something of founding a city on this spot, but gave up the idea. He may +have been personally acquainted with some of these Phoenicians whose +skeletons we have been examining. + +<p>In the great Zoological Gardens we found specimens of all the animals the +world produces, I think, including a dromedary, a monkey ornamented with +tufts of brilliant blue and carmine hair—a very gorgeous monkey he +was—a hippopotamus from the Nile, and a sort of tall, long-legged bird with a +beak like a powder horn and close-fitting wings like the tails of a dress +coat. This fellow stood up with his eyes shut and his shoulders stooped +forward a little, and looked as if he had his hands under his coat tails. +Such tranquil stupidity, such supernatural gravity, such +self-righteousness, and such ineffable self-complacency as were in the +countenance and attitude of that gray-bodied, dark-winged, bald-headed, +and preposterously uncomely bird! He was so ungainly, so pimply about +the head, so scaly about the legs, yet so serene, so unspeakably +satisfied! He was the most comical-looking creature that can be +imagined. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p101"></a><img alt="p101.jpg (15K)" src="images/p101.jpg" height="525" width="321"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>It was good to hear Dan and the doctor laugh—such natural and +such enjoyable laughter had not been heard among our excursionists since +our ship sailed away from America. This bird was a godsend to us, and I +should be an ingrate if I forgot to make honorable mention of him in +these pages. Ours was a pleasure excursion; therefore we stayed with +that bird an hour and made the most of him. We stirred him up +occasionally, but he only unclosed an eye and slowly closed it again, +abating no jot of his stately piety of demeanor or his tremendous +seriousness. He only seemed to say, "Defile not Heaven's anointed with +unsanctified hands." We did not know his name, and so we called him "The +Pilgrim." Dan said: + +<p>"All he wants now is a Plymouth Collection." + +<p>The boon companion of the colossal elephant was a common cat! This cat +had a fashion of climbing up the elephant's hind legs and roosting on his +back. She would sit up there, with her paws curved under her breast, and +sleep in the sun half the afternoon. It used to annoy the elephant at +first, and he would reach up and take her down, but she would go aft and +climb up again. She persisted until she finally conquered the elephant's +prejudices, and now they are inseparable friends. The cat plays about +her comrade's forefeet or his trunk often, until dogs approach, and then +she goes aloft out of danger. The elephant has annihilated several dogs +lately that pressed his companion too closely. + +<p>We hired a sailboat and a guide and made an excursion to one of the small +islands in the harbor to visit the Castle d'If. This ancient fortress +has a melancholy history. It has been used as a prison for political +offenders for two or three hundred years, and its dungeon walls are +scarred with the rudely carved names of many and many a captive who +fretted his life away here and left no record of himself but these sad +epitaphs wrought with his own hands. How thick the names were! And +their long-departed owners seemed to throng the gloomy cells and +corridors with their phantom shapes. We loitered through dungeon after +dungeon, away down into the living rock below the level of the sea, it +seemed. Names everywhere!—some plebeian, some noble, some even +princely. Plebeian, prince, and noble had one solicitude in common—they +would not be forgotten! They could suffer solitude, inactivity, and the +horrors of a silence that no sound ever disturbed, but they could not +bear the thought of being utterly forgotten by the world. Hence the +carved names. In one cell, where a little light penetrated, a man had +lived twenty-seven years without seeing the face of a human being—lived +in filth and wretchedness, with no companionship but his own thoughts, +and they were sorrowful enough and hopeless enough, no doubt. Whatever +his jailers considered that he needed was conveyed to his cell by night +through a wicket. + +<p>This man carved the walls of his prison house from floor to roof with all +manner of figures of men and animals grouped in intricate designs. He +had toiled there year after year, at his self-appointed task, while +infants grew to boyhood—to vigorous youth—idled through school and +college—acquired a profession—claimed man's mature estate—married and +looked back to infancy as to a thing of some vague, ancient time, almost. +But who shall tell how many ages it seemed to this prisoner? With the +one, time flew sometimes; with the other, never—it crawled always. To +the one, nights spent in dancing had seemed made of minutes instead of +hours; to the other, those selfsame nights had been like all other nights +of dungeon life and seemed made of slow, dragging weeks instead of hours +and minutes. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p103"></a><img alt="p103.jpg (56K)" src="images/p103.jpg" height="621" width="539"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>One prisoner of fifteen years had scratched verses upon his walls, and +brief prose sentences—brief, but full of pathos. These spoke not of +himself and his hard estate, but only of the shrine where his spirit fled +the prison to worship—of home and the idols that were templed there. +He never lived to see them. + +<p>The walls of these dungeons are as thick as some bed-chambers at home are +wide—fifteen feet. We saw the damp, dismal cells in which two of Dumas' +heroes passed their confinement—heroes of "Monte Cristo." It was here +that the brave Abbe wrote a book with his own blood, with a pen made of a +piece of iron hoop, and by the light of a lamp made out of shreds of +cloth soaked in grease obtained from his food; and then dug through the +thick wall with some trifling instrument which he wrought himself out of +a stray piece of iron or table cutlery and freed Dantes from his chains. +It was a pity that so many weeks of dreary labor should have come to +naught at last. + +<p>They showed us the noisome cell where the celebrated "Iron Mask"—that +ill-starred brother of a hardhearted king of France—was confined for a +season before he was sent to hide the strange mystery of his life from +the curious in the dungeons of Ste. Marguerite. The place had a far +greater interest for us than it could have had if we had known beyond all +question who the Iron Mask was, and what his history had been, and why +this most unusual punishment had been meted out to him. Mystery! That +was the charm. That speechless tongue, those prisoned features, that +heart so freighted with unspoken troubles, and that breast so oppressed +with its piteous secret had been here. These dank walls had known the +man whose dolorous story is a sealed book forever! There was fascination +in the spot. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch12"></a>CHAPTER XII. +</h2> + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p106"></a><img alt="p106.jpg (88K)" src="images/p106.jpg" height="330" width="650"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>We have come five hundred miles by rail through the heart of France. +What a bewitching land it is! What a garden! Surely the leagues of +bright green lawns are swept and brushed and watered every day and their +grasses trimmed by the barber. Surely the hedges are shaped and measured +and their symmetry preserved by the most architectural of gardeners. +Surely the long straight rows of stately poplars that divide the +beautiful landscape like the squares of a checker-board are set with line +and plummet, and their uniform height determined with a spirit level. +Surely the straight, smooth, pure white turnpikes are jack-planed and +sandpapered every day. How else are these marvels of symmetry, +cleanliness, and order attained? It is wonderful. There are no +unsightly stone walls and never a fence of any kind. There is no dirt, +no decay, no rubbish anywhere—nothing that even hints at +untidiness—nothing that ever suggests neglect. All is orderly and beautiful—every +thing is charming to the eye. + +<p>We had such glimpses of the Rhone gliding along between its grassy banks; +of cosy cottages buried in flowers and shrubbery; of quaint old red-tiled +villages with mossy medieval cathedrals looming out of their midst; of +wooded hills with ivy-grown towers and turrets of feudal castles +projecting above the foliage; such glimpses of Paradise, it seemed to us, +such visions of fabled fairyland! + +<p>We knew then what the poet meant when he sang of: "—thy cornfields +green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!" + +<p>And it is a pleasant land. No word describes it so felicitously as that +one. They say there is no word for "home" in the French language. Well, +considering that they have the article itself in such an attractive +aspect, they ought to manage to get along without the word. Let us not +waste too much pity on "homeless" France. I have observed that Frenchmen +abroad seldom wholly give up the idea of going back to France some time +or other. I am not surprised at it now. + +<p>We are not infatuated with these French railway cars, though. We took +first-class passage, not because we wished to attract attention by doing +a thing which is uncommon in Europe but because we could make our journey +quicker by so doing. It is hard to make railroading pleasant in any +country. It is too tedious. Stagecoaching is infinitely more +delightful. Once I crossed the plains and deserts and mountains of the +West in a stagecoach, from the Missouri line to California, and since +then all my pleasure trips must be measured to that rare holiday frolic. +Two thousand miles of ceaseless rush and rattle and clatter, by night and +by day, and never a weary moment, never a lapse of interest! The first +seven hundred miles a level continent, its grassy carpet greener and +softer and smoother than any sea and figured with designs fitted to its +magnitude—the shadows of the clouds. Here were no scenes but summer +scenes, and no disposition inspired by them but to lie at full length on +the mail sacks in the grateful breeze and dreamily smoke the pipe of +peace—what other, where all was repose and contentment? In cool +mornings, before the sun was fairly up, it was worth a lifetime of city +toiling and moiling to perch in the foretop with the driver and see the +six mustangs scamper under the sharp snapping of the whip that never +touched them; to scan the blue distances of a world that knew no lords +but us; to cleave the wind with uncovered head and feel the sluggish +pulses rousing to the spirit of a speed that pretended to the resistless +rush of a typhoon! Then thirteen hundred miles of desert solitudes; of +limitless panoramas of bewildering perspective; of mimic cities, of +pinnacled cathedrals, of massive fortresses, counterfeited in the eternal +rocks and splendid with the crimson and gold of the setting sun; of dizzy +altitudes among fog-wreathed peaks and never-melting snows, where +thunders and lightnings and tempests warred magnificently at our feet and +the storm clouds above swung their shredded banners in our very faces! +But I forgot. I am in elegant France now, and not scurrying through the +great South Pass and the Wind River Mountains, among antelopes and +buffaloes and painted Indians on the warpath. It is not meet that I +should make too disparaging comparisons between humdrum travel on a +railway and that royal summer flight across a continent in a stagecoach. +I meant in the beginning to say that railway journeying is tedious and +tiresome, and so it is—though at the time I was thinking particularly of +a dismal fifty-hour pilgrimage between New York and St. Louis. Of course +our trip through France was not really tedious because all its scenes and +experiences were new and strange; but as Dan says, it had its +"discrepancies." + +<p>The cars are built in compartments that hold eight persons each. Each +compartment is partially subdivided, and so there are two tolerably +distinct parties of four in it. Four face the other four. The seats and +backs are thickly padded and cushioned and are very comfortable; you can +smoke if you wish; there are no bothersome peddlers; you are saved the +infliction of a multitude of disagreeable fellow passengers. So far, so +well. But then the conductor locks you in when the train starts; there +is no water to drink in the car; there is no heating apparatus for night +travel; if a drunken rowdy should get in, you could not remove a matter +of twenty seats from him or enter another car; but above all, if you are +worn out and must sleep, you must sit up and do it in naps, with cramped +legs and in a torturing misery that leaves you withered and lifeless the +next day—for behold they have not that culmination of all charity and +human kindness, a sleeping car, in all France. I prefer the American +system. It has not so many grievous "discrepancies." + +<p>In France, all is clockwork, all is order. They make no mistakes. Every +third man wears a uniform, and whether he be a marshal of the empire or a +brakeman, he is ready and perfectly willing to answer all your questions +with tireless politeness, ready to tell you which car to take, yea, and +ready to go and put you into it to make sure that you shall not go +astray. You cannot pass into the waiting room of the depot till you have +secured your ticket, and you cannot pass from its only exit till the +train is at its threshold to receive you. Once on board, the train will +not start till your ticket has been examined—till every passenger's +ticket has been inspected. This is chiefly for your own good. If by any +possibility you have managed to take the wrong train, you will be handed +over to a polite official who will take you whither you belong and bestow +you with many an affable bow. Your ticket will be inspected every now +and then along the route, and when it is time to change cars you will +know it. You are in the hands of officials who zealously study your +welfare and your interest, instead of turning their talents to the +invention of new methods of discommoding and snubbing you, as is very +often the main employment of that exceedingly self-satisfied monarch, the +railroad conductor of America. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p108"></a><img alt="p108.jpg (26K)" src="images/p108.jpg" height="353" width="439"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>But the happiest regulation in French railway government is—thirty +minutes to dinner! No five-minute boltings of flabby rolls, muddy +coffee, questionable eggs, gutta-percha beef, and pies whose conception +and execution are a dark and bloody mystery to all save the cook that +created them! + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p109"></a><img alt="p109.jpg (40K)" src="images/p109.jpg" height="393" width="621"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>No, we sat calmly down—it was in old Dijon, which is so +easy to spell and so impossible to pronounce except when you civilize it +and call it Demijohn—and poured out rich Burgundian wines and munched +calmly through a long table d'hote bill of fare, snail patties, delicious +fruits and all, then paid the trifle it cost and stepped happily aboard +the train again, without once cursing the railroad company. A rare +experience and one to be treasured forever. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p110"></a><img alt="p110.jpg (35K)" src="images/p110.jpg" height="359" width="613"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>They say they do not have accidents on these French roads, and I think it +must be true. If I remember rightly, we passed high above wagon roads or +through tunnels under them, but never crossed them on their own level. +About every quarter of a mile, it seemed to me, a man came out and held +up a club till the train went by, to signify that everything was safe +ahead. Switches were changed a mile in advance by pulling a wire rope +that passed along the ground by the rail, from station to station. +Signals for the day and signals for the night gave constant and timely +notice of the position of switches. + +<p>No, they have no railroad accidents to speak of in France. But why? +Because when one occurs, somebody has to hang for it! Not hang, maybe, +but be punished at least with such vigor of emphasis as to make +negligence a thing to be shuddered at by railroad officials for many a +day thereafter. "No blame attached to the officers"—that lying and +disaster-breeding verdict so common to our softhearted juries is seldom +rendered in France. If the trouble occurred in the conductor's +department, that officer must suffer if his subordinate cannot be proven +guilty; if in the engineer's department and the case be similar, the +engineer must answer. + +<p>The Old Travelers—those delightful parrots who have "been here before" +and know more about the country than Louis Napoleon knows now or ever +will know—tell us these things, and we believe them because they are +pleasant things to believe and because they are plausible and savor of +the rigid subjection to law and order which we behold about us +everywhere. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p111"></a><img alt="p111.jpg (14K)" src="images/p111.jpg" height="357" width="331"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>But we love the Old Travelers. We love to hear them prate and drivel and +lie. We can tell them the moment we see them. They always throw out a +few feelers; they never cast themselves adrift till they have sounded +every individual and know that he has not traveled. Then they open their +throttle valves, and how they do brag, and sneer, and swell, and soar, +and blaspheme the sacred name of Truth! Their central idea, their grand +aim, is to subjugate you, keep you down, make you feel insignificant and +humble in the blaze of their cosmopolitan glory! They will not let you +know anything. They sneer at your most inoffensive suggestions; they +laugh unfeelingly at your treasured dreams of foreign lands; they brand +the statements of your traveled aunts and uncles as the stupidest +absurdities; they deride your most trusted authors and demolish the fair +images they have set up for your willing worship with the pitiless +ferocity of the fanatic iconoclast! But still I love the Old Travelers. +I love them for their witless platitudes, for their supernatural ability +to bore, for their delightful asinine vanity, for their luxuriant +fertility of imagination, for their startling, their brilliant, their +overwhelming mendacity! + +<p>By Lyons and the Saone (where we saw the lady of Lyons and thought little +of her comeliness), by Villa Franca, Tonnere, venerable Sens, Melun, +Fontainebleau, and scores of other beautiful cities, we swept, always +noting the absence of hog-wallows, broken fences, cow lots, unpainted +houses, and mud, and always noting, as well, the presence of cleanliness, +grace, taste in adorning and beautifying, even to the disposition of a +tree or the turning of a hedge, the marvel of roads in perfect repair, +void of ruts and guiltless of even an inequality of surface—we bowled +along, hour after hour, that brilliant summer day, and as nightfall +approached we entered a wilderness of odorous flowers and shrubbery, sped +through it, and then, excited, delighted, and half persuaded that we were +only the sport of a beautiful dream, lo, we stood in magnificent Paris! + +<p>What excellent order they kept about that vast depot! There was no +frantic crowding and jostling, no shouting and swearing, and no +swaggering intrusion of services by rowdy hackmen. These latter gentry +stood outside—stood quietly by their long line of vehicles and said +never a word. A kind of hackman general seemed to have the whole matter +of transportation in his hands. He politely received the passengers and +ushered them to the kind of conveyance they wanted, and told the driver +where to deliver them. There was no "talking back," no dissatisfaction +about overcharging, no grumbling about anything. In a little while we +were speeding through the streets of Paris and delightfully recognizing +certain names and places with which books had long ago made us familiar. +It was like meeting an old friend when we read Rue de Rivoli on the +street corner; we knew the genuine vast palace of the Louvre as well as +we knew its picture; when we passed by the Column of July we needed no +one to tell us what it was or to remind us that on its site once stood +the grim Bastille, that grave of human hopes and happiness, that dismal +prison house within whose dungeons so many young faces put on the +wrinkles of age, so many proud spirits grew humble, so many brave hearts +broke. + +<p>We secured rooms at the hotel, or rather, we had three beds put into one +room, so that we might be together, and then we went out to a restaurant, +just after lamplighting, and ate a comfortable, satisfactory, lingering +dinner. It was a pleasure to eat where everything was so tidy, the food +so well cooked, the waiters so polite, and the coming and departing +company so moustached, so frisky, so affable, so fearfully and +wonderfully Frenchy! All the surroundings were gay and enlivening. Two +hundred people sat at little tables on the sidewalk, sipping wine and +coffee; the streets were thronged with light vehicles and with joyous +pleasure-seekers; there was music in the air, life and action all about +us, and a conflagration of gaslight everywhere! + +<p>After dinner we felt like seeing such Parisian specialties as we might +see without distressing exertion, and so we sauntered through the +brilliant streets and looked at the dainty trifles in variety stores and +jewelry shops. Occasionally, merely for the pleasure of being cruel, we +put unoffending Frenchmen on the rack with questions framed in the +incomprehensible jargon of their native language, and while they writhed +we impaled them, we peppered them, we scarified them, with their own vile +verbs and participles. + +<p>We noticed that in the jewelry stores they had some of the articles +marked "gold" and some labeled "imitation." We wondered at this +extravagance of honesty and inquired into the matter. We were informed +that inasmuch as most people are not able to tell false gold from the +genuine article, the government compels jewelers to have their gold work +assayed and stamped officially according to its fineness and their +imitation work duly labeled with the sign of its falsity. They told us +the jewelers would not dare to violate this law, and that whatever a +stranger bought in one of their stores might be depended upon as being +strictly what it was represented to be. Verily, a wonderful land is +France! + +<p>Then we hunted for a barber-shop. From earliest infancy it had been a +cherished ambition of mine to be shaved some day in a palatial +barber-shop in Paris. I wished to recline at full length in a cushioned invalid +chair, with pictures about me and sumptuous furniture; with frescoed +walls and gilded arches above me and vistas of Corinthian columns +stretching far before me; with perfumes of Araby to intoxicate my senses +and the slumbrous drone of distant noises to soothe me to sleep. At the +end of an hour I would wake up regretfully and find my face as smooth and +as soft as an infant's. Departing, I would lift my hands above that +barber's head and say, "Heaven bless you, my son!" + +<p>So we searched high and low, for a matter of two hours, but never a +barber-shop could we see. We saw only wig-making establishments, with +shocks of dead and repulsive hair bound upon the heads of painted waxen +brigands who stared out from glass boxes upon the passer-by with their +stony eyes and scared him with the ghostly white of their countenances. +We shunned these signs for a time, but finally we concluded that the +wig-makers must of necessity be the barbers as well, since we could find no +single legitimate representative of the fraternity. We entered and +asked, and found that it was even so. + +<p>I said I wanted to be shaved. The barber inquired where my room was. I +said never mind where my room was, I wanted to be shaved—there, on the +spot. The doctor said he would be shaved also. Then there was an +excitement among those two barbers! There was a wild consultation, and +afterwards a hurrying to and fro and a feverish gathering up of razors +from obscure places and a ransacking for soap. Next they took us into a +little mean, shabby back room; they got two ordinary sitting-room chairs +and placed us in them with our coats on. My old, old dream of bliss +vanished into thin air! + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p115"></a><img alt="p115.jpg (47K)" src="images/p115.jpg" height="501" width="589"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>I sat bolt upright, silent, sad, and solemn. One of the wig-making +villains lathered my face for ten terrible minutes and finished by +plastering a mass of suds into my mouth. I expelled the nasty stuff with +a strong English expletive and said, "Foreigner, beware!" Then this +outlaw strapped his razor on his boot, hovered over me ominously for six +fearful seconds, and then swooped down upon me like the genius of +destruction. The first rake of his razor loosened the very hide from my +face and lifted me out of the chair. I stormed and raved, and the other +boys enjoyed it. Their beards are not strong and thick. Let us draw the +curtain over this harrowing scene. + +<p>Suffice it that I submitted and went through with the cruel infliction of +a shave by a French barber; tears of exquisite agony coursed down my +cheeks now and then, but I survived. Then the incipient assassin held a +basin of water under my chin and slopped its contents over my face, and +into my bosom, and down the back of my neck, with a mean pretense of +washing away the soap and blood. He dried my features with a towel and +was going to comb my hair, but I asked to be excused. I said, with +withering irony, that it was sufficient to be skinned—I declined to be +scalped. + +<p>I went away from there with my handkerchief about my face, and never, +never, never desired to dream of palatial Parisian barber-shops anymore. +The truth is, as I believe I have since found out, that they have no +barber shops worthy of the name in Paris—and no barbers, either, for +that matter. The impostor who does duty as a barber brings his pans and +napkins and implements of torture to your residence and deliberately +skins you in your private apartments. Ah, I have suffered, suffered, +suffered, here in Paris, but never mind—the time is coming when I shall +have a dark and bloody revenge. Someday a Parisian barber will come to +my room to skin me, and from that day forth that barber will never be +heard of more. + +<p>At eleven o'clock we alighted upon a sign which manifestly referred to +billiards. Joy! We had played billiards in the Azores with balls that +were not round and on an ancient table that was very little smoother than +a brick pavement—one of those wretched old things with dead cushions, +and with patches in the faded cloth and invisible obstructions that made +the balls describe the most astonishing and unsuspected angles and +perform feats in the way of unlooked-for and almost impossible +"scratches" that were perfectly bewildering. We had played at Gibraltar +with balls the size of a walnut, on a table like a public square—and in +both instances we achieved far more aggravation than amusement. We +expected to fare better here, but we were mistaken. The cushions were a +good deal higher than the balls, and as the balls had a fashion of always +stopping under the cushions, we accomplished very little in the way of +caroms. The cushions were hard and unelastic, and the cues were so +crooked that in making a shot you had to allow for the curve or you would +infallibly put the "English" on the wrong side of the hall. Dan was to +mark while the doctor and I played. At the end of an hour neither of us +had made a count, and so Dan was tired of keeping tally with nothing to +tally, and we were heated and angry and disgusted. We paid the heavy +bill—about six cents—and said we would call around sometime when we had +a week to spend, and finish the game. + +<p>We adjourned to one of those pretty cafes and took supper and tested the +wines of the country, as we had been instructed to do, and found them +harmless and unexciting. They might have been exciting, however, if we +had chosen to drink a sufficiency of them. + +<p>To close our first day in Paris cheerfully and pleasantly, we now sought +our grand room in the Grand Hotel du Louvre and climbed into our +sumptuous bed to read and smoke—but alas! + +<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> +<p> It was pitiful, +<br> In a whole city-full, +<br> Gas we had none. + +</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p117"></a><img alt="p117.jpg (8K)" src="images/p117.jpg" height="355" width="237"> +</center> + +<br><center>*(Joke by the Doctor)</center> + +<br><br><br> + +<p>No gas to read by—nothing but dismal candles. It was a shame. We tried +to map out excursions for the morrow; we puzzled over French "guides to +Paris"; we talked disjointedly in a vain endeavor to make head or tail of +the wild chaos of the day's sights and experiences; we subsided to +indolent smoking; we gaped and yawned and stretched—then feebly wondered +if we were really and truly in renowned Paris, and drifted drowsily away +into that vast mysterious void which men call sleep. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch13"></a>CHAPTER XIII. +</h2> +<p>The next morning we were up and dressed at ten o'clock. We went to the +'commissionaire' of the hotel—I don't know what a 'commissionaire' is, +but that is the man we went to—and told him we wanted a guide. He said +the national Exposition had drawn such multitudes of Englishmen and +Americans to Paris that it would be next to impossible to find a good +guide unemployed. He said he usually kept a dozen or two on hand, but he +only had three now. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p119"></a><img alt="p119.jpg (16K)" src="images/p119.jpg" height="237" width="493"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>He called them. One looked so like a very pirate +that we let him go at once. The next one spoke with a simpering +precision of pronunciation that was irritating and said: + +<p>"If ze zhentlemans will to me make ze grande honneur to me rattain in +hees serveece, I shall show to him every sing zat is magnifique to look +upon in ze beautiful Parree. I speaky ze Angleesh pairfaitemaw." + +<p>He would have done well to have stopped there, because he had that much +by heart and said it right off without making a mistake. But his +self-complacency seduced him into attempting a flight into regions of +unexplored English, and the reckless experiment was his ruin. Within ten +seconds he was so tangled up in a maze of mutilated verbs and torn and +bleeding forms of speech that no human ingenuity could ever have gotten +him out of it with credit. It was plain enough that he could not +"speaky" the English quite as "pairfaitemaw" as he had pretended he +could. + +<p>The third man captured us. He was plainly dressed, but he had a +noticeable air of neatness about him. He wore a high silk hat which was +a little old, but had been carefully brushed. He wore second-hand kid +gloves, in good repair, and carried a small rattan cane with a curved +handle—a female leg—of ivory. He stepped as gently and as daintily as +a cat crossing a muddy street; and oh, he was urbanity; he was quiet, +unobtrusive self-possession; he was deference itself! He spoke softly +and guardedly; and when he was about to make a statement on his sole +responsibility or offer a suggestion, he weighed it by drachms and +scruples first, with the crook of his little stick placed meditatively to +his teeth. His opening speech was perfect. It was perfect in +construction, in phraseology, in grammar, in emphasis, in +pronunciation—everything. He spoke little and guardedly after that. We were charmed. +We were more than charmed—we were overjoyed. We hired him at once. We +never even asked him his price. This man—our lackey, our servant, our +unquestioning slave though he was—was still a gentleman—we could see +that—while of the other two one was coarse and awkward and the other was +a born pirate. We asked our man Friday's name. He drew from his +pocketbook a snowy little card and passed it to us with a profound bow: + +<center><p> A. BILLFINGER, +<p> Guide to Paris, France, Germany, +<p> Spain, etc., etc. +<p> Grande Hotel du Louvre.</center> + +<p>"Billfinger! Oh, carry me home to die!" + +<p>That was an "aside" from Dan. The atrocious name grated harshly on my +ear, too. The most of us can learn to forgive, and even to like, a +countenance that strikes us unpleasantly at first, but few of us, I +fancy, become reconciled to a jarring name so easily. I was almost sorry +we had hired this man, his name was so unbearable. However, no matter. +We were impatient to start. Billfinger stepped to the door to call a +carriage, and then the doctor said: + +<p>"Well, the guide goes with the barbershop, with the billiard-table, with +the gasless room, and may be with many another pretty romance of Paris. +I expected to have a guide named Henri de Montmorency, or Armand de la +Chartreuse, or something that would sound grand in letters to the +villagers at home, but to think of a Frenchman by the name of Billfinger! +Oh! This is absurd, you know. This will never do. We can't say +Billfinger; it is nauseating. Name him over again; what had we better +call him? Alexis du Caulaincourt?" + +<p>"Alphonse Henri Gustave de Hauteville," I suggested. + +<p>"Call him Ferguson," said Dan. + +<p>That was practical, unromantic good sense. Without debate, we expunged +Billfinger as Billfinger, and called him Ferguson. + +<p>The carriage—an open barouche—was ready. Ferguson mounted beside the +driver, and we whirled away to breakfast. As was proper, Mr. Ferguson +stood by to transmit our orders and answer questions. By and by, he +mentioned casually—the artful adventurer—that he would go and get his +breakfast as soon as we had finished ours. He knew we could not get +along without him and that we would not want to loiter about and wait for +him. We asked him to sit down and eat with us. He begged, with many a +bow, to be excused. It was not proper, he said; he would sit at another +table. We ordered him peremptorily to sit down with us. + +<p>Here endeth the first lesson. It was a mistake. + +<p>As long as we had that fellow after that, he was always hungry; he was +always thirsty. He came early; he stayed late; he could not pass a +restaurant; he looked with a lecherous eye upon every wine shop. +Suggestions to stop, excuses to eat and to drink, were forever on his +lips. We tried all we could to fill him so full that he would have no +room to spare for a fortnight, but it was a failure. He did not hold +enough to smother the cravings of his superhuman appetite. + +<p>He had another "discrepancy" about him. He was always wanting us to buy +things. On the shallowest pretenses he would inveigle us into shirt +stores, boot stores, tailor shops, glove shops—anywhere under the broad +sweep of the heavens that there seemed a chance of our buying anything. +Anyone could have guessed that the shopkeepers paid him a percentage on +the sales, but in our blessed innocence we didn't until this feature of +his conduct grew unbearably prominent. One day Dan happened to mention +that he thought of buying three or four silk dress patterns for presents. +Ferguson's hungry eye was upon him in an instant. In the course of +twenty minutes the carriage stopped. + +<p>"What's this?" + +<p>"Zis is ze finest silk magazin in Paris—ze most celebrate." + +<p>"What did you come here for? We told you to take us to the palace of the +Louvre." + +<p>"I suppose ze gentleman say he wish to buy some silk." + +<p>"You are not required to 'suppose' things for the party, Ferguson. We do +not wish to tax your energies too much. We will bear some of the burden +and heat of the day ourselves. We will endeavor to do such 'supposing' +as is really necessary to be done. Drive on." So spake the doctor. + +<p>Within fifteen minutes the carriage halted again, and before another silk +store. The doctor said: + +<p>"Ah, the palace of the Louvre—beautiful, beautiful edifice! Does the +Emperor Napoleon live here now, Ferguson?" + +<p>"Ah, Doctor! You do jest; zis is not ze palace; we come there directly. +But since we pass right by zis store, where is such beautiful silk—" + +<p>"Ah! I see, I see. I meant to have told you that we did not wish to +purchase any silks to-day, but in my absent-mindedness I forgot it. I +also meant to tell you we wished to go directly to the Louvre, but I +forgot that also. However, we will go there now. Pardon my seeming +carelessness, Ferguson. Drive on." + +<p>Within the half hour we stopped again—in front of another silk store. +We were angry; but the doctor was always serene, always smooth-voiced. +He said: + +<p>"At last! How imposing the Louvre is, and yet how small! How +exquisitely fashioned! How charmingly situated!—Venerable, venerable +pile—" + +<p>"Pairdon, Doctor, zis is not ze Louvre—it is—" + +<p>"What is it?" + +<p>"I have ze idea—it come to me in a moment—zat ze silk in zis magazin—" + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p122"></a><img alt="p122.jpg (52K)" src="images/p122.jpg" height="539" width="593"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>that we did +not wish to buy any silks to-day, and I also intended to tell you that we +yearned to go immediately to the palace of the Louvre, but enjoying the +happiness of seeing you devour four breakfasts this morning has so filled +me with pleasurable emotions that I neglect the commonest interests of +the time. However, we will proceed now to the Louvre, Ferguson." + +<p>"But, doctor," (excitedly,) "it will take not a minute—not but one small +minute! Ze gentleman need not to buy if he not wish to—but only look at +ze silk—look at ze beautiful fabric. [Then pleadingly.] Sair—just only +one leetle moment!" + +<p>Dan said, "Confound the idiot! I don't want to see any silks today, and +I won't look at them. Drive on." + +<p>And the doctor: "We need no silks now, Ferguson. Our hearts yearn for +the Louvre. Let us journey on—let us journey on." + +<p>"But doctor! It is only one moment—one leetle moment. And ze time will +be save—entirely save! Because zere is nothing to see now—it is too +late. It want ten minute to four and ze Louvre close at four—only one +leetle moment, Doctor!" + +<p>The treacherous miscreant! After four breakfasts and a gallon of +champagne, to serve us such a scurvy trick. We got no sight of the +countless treasures of art in the Louvre galleries that day, and our only +poor little satisfaction was in the reflection that Ferguson sold not a +solitary silk dress pattern. + +<p>I am writing this chapter partly for the satisfaction of abusing that +accomplished knave Billfinger, and partly to show whosoever shall read +this how Americans fare at the hands of the Paris guides and what sort of +people Paris guides are. It need not be supposed that we were a stupider +or an easier prey than our countrymen generally are, for we were not. +The guides deceive and defraud every American who goes to Paris for the +first time and sees its sights alone or in company with others as little +experienced as himself. I shall visit Paris again someday, and then let +the guides beware! I shall go in my war paint—I shall carry my tomahawk +along. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p124"></a><img alt="p124.jpg (18K)" src="images/p124.jpg" height="519" width="235"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>I think we have lost but little time in Paris. We have gone to bed every +night tired out. Of course we visited the renowned International +Exposition. All the world did that. We went there on our third day in +Paris—and we stayed there nearly two hours. That was our first and last +visit. To tell the truth, we saw at a glance that one would have to +spend weeks—yea, even months—in that monstrous establishment to get an +intelligible idea of it. It was a wonderful show, but the moving masses +of people of all nations we saw there were a still more wonderful show. +I discovered that if I were to stay there a month, I should still find +myself looking at the people instead of the inanimate objects on +exhibition. I got a little interested in some curious old tapestries of +the thirteenth century, but a party of Arabs came by, and their dusky +faces and quaint costumes called my attention away at once. I watched a +silver swan, which had a living grace about his movements and a living +intelligence in his eyes—watched him swimming about as comfortably and +as unconcernedly as if he had been born in a morass instead of a +jeweler's shop—watched him seize a silver fish from under the water and +hold up his head and go through all the customary and elaborate motions +of swallowing it—but the moment it disappeared down his throat some +tattooed South Sea Islanders approached and I yielded to their +attractions. + +<p>Presently I found a revolving pistol several hundred years old which +looked strangely like a modern Colt, but just then I heard that the +Empress of the French was in another part of the building, and hastened +away to see what she might look like. We heard martial music—we saw an +unusual number of soldiers walking hurriedly about—there was a general +movement among the people. We inquired what it was all about and learned +that the Emperor of the French and the Sultan of Turkey were about to +review twenty-five thousand troops at the Arc de l'Etoile. We +immediately departed. I had a greater anxiety to see these men than I +could have had to see twenty expositions. + +<p>We drove away and took up a position in an open space opposite the +American minister's house. A speculator bridged a couple of barrels with +a board and we hired standing places on it. Presently there was a sound +of distant music; in another minute a pillar of dust came moving slowly +toward us; a moment more and then, with colors flying and a grand crash +of military music, a gallant array of cavalrymen emerged from the dust +and came down the street on a gentle trot. After them came a long line +of artillery; then more cavalry, in splendid uniforms; and then their +imperial majesties Napoleon III and Abdul Aziz. The vast concourse of +people swung their hats and shouted—the windows and housetops in the +wide vicinity burst into a snowstorm of waving handkerchiefs, and the +wavers of the same mingled their cheers with those of the masses below. +It was a stirring spectacle. + +<p>But the two central figures claimed all my attention. Was ever such a +contrast set up before a multitude till then? + + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p126a"></a><img alt="p126a.jpg (19K)" src="images/p126a.jpg" height="433" width="361"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + + +<center><a name="p126b"></a><img alt="p126b.jpg (21K)" src="images/p126b.jpg" height="439" width="385"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Napoleon in military +uniform—a long-bodied, short-legged man, fiercely moustached, old, +wrinkled, with eyes half closed, and such a deep, crafty, scheming +expression about them!—Napoleon, bowing ever so gently to the loud +plaudits, and watching everything and everybody with his cat eyes from +under his depressed hat brim, as if to discover any sign that those +cheers were not heartfelt and cordial. + +<p>Abdul Aziz, absolute lord of the Ottoman empire—clad in dark green +European clothes, almost without ornament or insignia of rank; a red +Turkish fez on his head; a short, stout, dark man, black-bearded, +black-eyed, stupid, unprepossessing—a man whose whole appearance somehow +suggested that if he only had a cleaver in his hand and a white apron on, +one would not be at all surprised to hear him say: "A mutton roast today, +or will you have a nice porterhouse steak?" + +<p>Napoleon III, the representative of the highest modern civilization, +progress, and refinement; Abdul-Aziz, the representative of a people by +nature and training filthy, brutish, ignorant, unprogressive, +superstitious—and a government whose Three Graces are Tyranny, Rapacity, +Blood. Here in brilliant Paris, under this majestic Arch of Triumph, the +First Century greets the Nineteenth! + +<p>NAPOLEON III., Emperor of France! Surrounded by shouting thousands, by +military pomp, by the splendors of his capital city, and companioned by +kings and princes—this is the man who was sneered at and reviled and +called Bastard—yet who was dreaming of a crown and an empire all the +while; who was driven into exile—but carried his dreams with him; who +associated with the common herd in America and ran foot races for a +wager—but still sat upon a throne in fancy; who braved every danger to +go to his dying mother—and grieved that she could not be spared to see +him cast aside his plebeian vestments for the purple of royalty; who kept +his faithful watch and walked his weary beat a common policeman of +London—but dreamed the while of a coming night when he should tread the +long-drawn corridors of the Tuileries; who made the miserable fiasco of +Strasbourg; saw his poor, shabby eagle, forgetful of its lesson, refuse +to perch upon his shoulder; delivered his carefully prepared, sententious +burst of eloquence upon unsympathetic ears; found himself a prisoner, the +butt of small wits, a mark for the pitiless ridicule of all the +world—yet went on dreaming of coronations and splendid pageants as before; who +lay a forgotten captive in the dungeons of Ham—and still schemed and +planned and pondered over future glory and future power; President of +France at last! a coup d'etat, and surrounded by applauding armies, +welcomed by the thunders of cannon, he mounts a throne and waves before +an astounded world the sceptre of a mighty empire! Who talks of the +marvels of fiction? Who speaks of the wonders of romance? Who prates of +the tame achievements of Aladdin and the Magii of Arabia? + +<p>ABDUL-AZIZ, Sultan of Turkey, Lord of the Ottoman Empire! Born to a +throne; weak, stupid, ignorant, almost, as his meanest slave; chief of a +vast royalty, yet the puppet of his Premier and the obedient child of a +tyrannical mother; a man who sits upon a throne—the beck of whose finger +moves navies and armies—who holds in his hands the power of life and +death over millions—yet who sleeps, sleeps, eats, eats, idles with his +eight hundred concubines, and when he is surfeited with eating and +sleeping and idling, and would rouse up and take the reins of government +and threaten to be a sultan, is charmed from his purpose by wary Fuad +Pacha with a pretty plan for a new palace or a new ship—charmed away +with a new toy, like any other restless child; a man who sees his people +robbed and oppressed by soulless tax-gatherers, but speaks no word to +save them; who believes in gnomes and genii and the wild fables of The +Arabian Nights, but has small regard for the mighty magicians of to-day, +and is nervous in the presence of their mysterious railroads and +steamboats and telegraphs; who would see undone in Egypt all that great +Mehemet Ali achieved, and would prefer rather to forget than emulate him; +a man who found his great empire a blot upon the earth—a degraded, +poverty-stricken, miserable, infamous agglomeration of ignorance, crime, +and brutality—and will idle away the allotted days of his trivial life +and then pass to the dust and the worms and leave it so! + +<p>Napoleon has augmented the commercial prosperity of France in ten years +to such a degree that figures can hardly compute it. He has rebuilt +Paris and has partly rebuilt every city in the state. He condemns a +whole street at a time, assesses the damages, pays them, and rebuilds +superbly. Then speculators buy up the ground and sell, but the original +owner is given the first choice by the government at a stated price +before the speculator is permitted to purchase. But above all things, he +has taken the sole control of the empire of France into his hands and +made it a tolerably free land—for people who will not attempt to go too +far in meddling with government affairs. No country offers greater +security to life and property than France, and one has all the freedom he +wants, but no license—no license to interfere with anybody or make +anyone uncomfortable. + +<p>As for the Sultan, one could set a trap any where and catch a dozen abler +men in a night. + +<p>The bands struck up, and the brilliant adventurer, Napoleon III., the +genius of Energy, Persistence, Enterprise; and the feeble Abdul-Aziz, the +genius of Ignorance, Bigotry, and Indolence, prepared for the +Forward—March! + +<p>We saw the splendid review, we saw the white-moustached old Crimean +soldier, Canrobert, Marshal of France, we saw—well, we saw every thing, +and then we went home satisfied. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p129"></a><img alt="p129.jpg (15K)" src="images/p129.jpg" height="437" width="383"> +</center> + + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch14"></a>CHAPTER XIV. +</h2> +<p>We went to see the Cathedral of Notre Dame. We had heard of it before. +It surprises me sometimes to think how much we do know and how +intelligent we are. We recognized the brown old Gothic pile in a moment; +it was like the pictures. We stood at a little distance and changed from +one point of observation to another and gazed long at its lofty square +towers and its rich front, clustered thick with stony, mutilated saints +who had been looking calmly down from their perches for ages. The +Patriarch of Jerusalem stood under them in the old days of chivalry and +romance, and preached the third Crusade, more than six hundred years ago; +and since that day they have stood there and looked quietly down upon the +most thrilling scenes, the grandest pageants, the most extraordinary +spectacles that have grieved or delighted Paris. These battered and +broken-nosed old fellows saw many and many a cavalcade of mail-clad +knights come marching home from Holy Land; they heard the bells above +them toll the signal for the St. Bartholomew's Massacre, and they saw the +slaughter that followed; later they saw the Reign of Terror, the carnage +of the Revolution, the overthrow of a king, the coronation of two +Napoleons, the christening of the young prince that lords it over a +regiment of servants in the Tuileries to-day—and they may possibly +continue to stand there until they see the Napoleon dynasty swept away +and the banners of a great republic floating above its ruins. I wish +these old parties could speak. They could tell a tale worth the +listening to. + +<p>They say that a pagan temple stood where Notre Dame now stands, in the +old Roman days, eighteen or twenty centuries ago—remains of it are still +preserved in Paris; and that a Christian church took its place about A.D. +300; another took the place of that in A.D. 500; and that the foundations +of the present cathedral were laid about A.D. 1100. The ground ought to +be measurably sacred by this time, one would think. One portion of this +noble old edifice is suggestive of the quaint fashions of ancient times. +It was built by Jean Sans-Peur, Duke of Burgundy, to set his conscience +at rest—he had assassinated the Duke of Orleans. Alas! Those good old +times are gone when a murderer could wipe the stain from his name and +soothe his troubles to sleep simply by getting out his bricks and mortar +and building an addition to a church. + +<p>The portals of the great western front are bisected by square pillars. +They took the central one away in 1852, on the occasion of thanksgivings +for the reinstitution of the presidential power—but precious soon they +had occasion to reconsider that motion and put it back again! And they +did. + +<p>We loitered through the grand aisles for an hour or two, staring up at +the rich stained-glass windows embellished with blue and yellow and +crimson saints and martyrs, and trying to admire the numberless great +pictures in the chapels, and then we were admitted to the sacristy and +shown the magnificent robes which the Pope wore when he crowned Napoleon +I; a wagon-load of solid gold and silver utensils used in the great +public processions and ceremonies of the church; some nails of the true +cross, a fragment of the cross itself, a part of the crown of thorns. +We had already seen a large piece of the true cross in a church in the +Azores, but no nails. They showed us likewise the bloody robe which that +archbishop of Paris wore who exposed his sacred person and braved the +wrath of the insurgents of 1848, to mount the barricades and hold aloft +the olive branch of peace in the hope of stopping the slaughter. His +noble effort cost him his life. He was shot dead. They showed us a cast +of his face taken after death, the bullet that killed him, and the two +vertebrae in which it lodged. These people have a somewhat singular +taste in the matter of relics. Ferguson told us that the silver cross +which the good archbishop wore at his girdle was seized and thrown into +the Seine, where it lay embedded in the mud for fifteen years, and then +an angel appeared to a priest and told him where to dive for it; he did +dive for it and got it, and now it is there on exhibition at Notre Dame, +to be inspected by anybody who feels an interest in inanimate objects of +miraculous intervention. + +<p>Next we went to visit the Morgue, that horrible receptacle for the dead +who die mysteriously and leave the manner of their taking off a dismal +secret. We stood before a grating and looked through into a room which +was hung all about with the clothing of dead men; coarse blouses, +water-soaked; the delicate garments of women and children; patrician vestments, +hacked and stabbed and stained with red; a hat that was crushed and +bloody. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p132"></a><img alt="p132.jpg (57K)" src="images/p132.jpg" height="643" width="591"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>On a slanting stone lay a drowned man, naked, swollen, purple; +clasping the fragment of a broken bush with a grip which death had so +petrified that human strength could not unloose it—mute witness of the +last despairing effort to save the life that was doomed beyond all help. +A stream of water trickled ceaselessly over the hideous face. We knew +that the body and the clothing were there for identification by friends, +but still we wondered if anybody could love that repulsive object or +grieve for its loss. We grew meditative and wondered if, some forty +years ago, when the mother of that ghastly thing was dandling it upon her +knee, and kissing it and petting it and displaying it with satisfied +pride to the passers-by, a prophetic vision of this dread ending ever +flitted through her brain. I half feared that the mother, or the wife or +a brother of the dead man might come while we stood there, but nothing of +the kind occurred. Men and women came, and some looked eagerly in and +pressed their faces against the bars; others glanced carelessly at the +body and turned away with a disappointed look—people, I thought, who +live upon strong excitements and who attend the exhibitions of the Morgue +regularly, just as other people go to see theatrical spectacles every +night. When one of these looked in and passed on, I could not help +thinking— + +<p>"Now this don't afford you any satisfaction—a party with his head shot +off is what you need." + +<p>One night we went to the celebrated Jardin Mabille, but only staid a +little while. We wanted to see some of this kind of Paris life, however, +and therefore the next night we went to a similar place of entertainment +in a great garden in the suburb of Asnieres. We went to the railroad +depot, toward evening, and Ferguson got tickets for a second-class +carriage. Such a perfect jam of people I have not often seen—but there +was no noise, no disorder, no rowdyism. Some of the women and young +girls that entered the train we knew to be of the demi-monde, but others +we were not at all sure about. + +<p>The girls and women in our carriage behaved themselves modestly and +becomingly all the way out, except that they smoked. When we arrived at +the garden in Asnieres, we paid a franc or two admission and entered a +place which had flower beds in it, and grass plots, and long, curving +rows of ornamental shrubbery, with here and there a secluded bower +convenient for eating ice cream in. We moved along the sinuous gravel +walks, with the great concourse of girls and young men, and suddenly a +domed and filigreed white temple, starred over and over and over again +with brilliant gas jets, burst upon us like a fallen sun. Nearby was a +large, handsome house with its ample front illuminated in the same way, +and above its roof floated the Star-Spangled Banner of America. + +<p>"Well!" I said. "How is this?" It nearly took my breath away. + +<p>Ferguson said an American—a New Yorker—kept the place, and was carrying +on quite a stirring opposition to the Jardin Mabille. + +<p>Crowds composed of both sexes and nearly all ages were frisking about the +garden or sitting in the open air in front of the flagstaff and the +temple, drinking wine and coffee or smoking. The dancing had not begun +yet. Ferguson said there was to be an exhibition. The famous Blondin +was going to perform on a tightrope in another part of the garden. We +went thither. Here the light was dim, and the masses of people were +pretty closely packed together. And now I made a mistake which any +donkey might make, but a sensible man never. I committed an error which +I find myself repeating every day of my life. Standing right before a +young lady, I said: + +<p>"Dan, just look at this girl, how beautiful she is!" + +<p>"I thank you more for the evident sincerity of the compliment, sir, than +for the extraordinary publicity you have given to it!" This in good, +pure English. + +<p>We took a walk, but my spirits were very, very sadly dampened. I did not +feel right comfortable for some time afterward. Why will people be so +stupid as to suppose themselves the only foreigners among a crowd of ten +thousand persons? + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p135"></a><img alt="p135.jpg (48K)" src="images/p135.jpg" height="515" width="557"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>But Blondin came out shortly. He appeared on a stretched cable, far away +above the sea of tossing hats and handkerchiefs, and in the glare of the +hundreds of rockets that whizzed heavenward by him he looked like a wee +insect. He balanced his pole and walked the length of his rope—two or +three hundred feet; he came back and got a man and carried him across; he +returned to the center and danced a jig; next he performed some gymnastic +and balancing feats too perilous to afford a pleasant spectacle; and he +finished by fastening to his person a thousand Roman candles, Catherine +wheels, serpents and rockets of all manner of brilliant colors, setting +them on fire all at once and walking and waltzing across his rope again +in a blinding blaze of glory that lit up the garden and the people's +faces like a great conflagration at midnight. + +<p>The dance had begun, and we adjourned to the temple. Within it was a +drinking saloon, and all around it was a broad circular platform for the +dancers. I backed up against the wall of the temple, and waited. Twenty +sets formed, the music struck up, and then—I placed my hands before my +face for very shame. But I looked through my fingers. They were dancing +the renowned "Can-can." A handsome girl in the set before me tripped +forward lightly to meet the opposite gentleman, tripped back again, +grasped her dresses vigorously on both sides with her hands, raised them +pretty high, danced an extraordinary jig that had more activity and +exposure about it than any jig I ever saw before, and then, drawing her +clothes still higher, she advanced gaily to the center and launched a +vicious kick full at her vis-a-vis that must infallibly have removed his +nose if he had been seven feet high. It was a mercy he was only six. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p136"></a><img alt="p136.jpg (17K)" src="images/p136.jpg" height="505" width="247"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>That is the can-can. The idea of it is to dance as wildly, as noisily, +as furiously as you can; expose yourself as much as possible if you are a +woman; and kick as high as you can, no matter which sex you belong to. +There is no word of exaggeration in this. Any of the staid, respectable, +aged people who were there that night can testify to the truth of that +statement. There were a good many such people present. I suppose French +morality is not of that straight-laced description which is shocked at +trifles. + +<p>I moved aside and took a general view of the can-can. Shouts, laughter, +furious music, a bewildering chaos of darting and intermingling forms, +stormy jerking and snatching of gay dresses, bobbing beads, flying arms, +lightning flashes of white-stockinged calves and dainty slippers in the +air, and then a grand final rush, riot, a terrific hubbub, and a wild +stampede! Heavens! Nothing like it has been seen on earth since +trembling Tam O'Shanter saw the devil and the witches at their orgies +that stormy night in "Alloway's auld haunted kirk." + +<p>We visited the Louvre, at a time when we had no silk purchases in view, +and looked at its miles of paintings by the old masters. Some of them +were beautiful, but at the same time they carried such evidences about +them of the cringing spirit of those great men that we found small +pleasure in examining them. Their nauseous adulation of princely patrons +was more prominent to me and chained my attention more surely than the +charms of color and expression which are claimed to be in the pictures. +Gratitude for kindnesses is well, but it seems to me that some of those +artists carried it so far that it ceased to be gratitude and became +worship. If there is a plausible excuse for the worship of men, then by +all means let us forgive Rubens and his brethren. + +<p>But I will drop the subject, lest I say something about the old masters +that might as well be left unsaid. + +<p>Of course we drove in the Bois de Boulogne, that limitless park, with its +forests, its lakes, its cascades, and its broad avenues. There were +thousands upon thousands of vehicles abroad, and the scene was full of +life and gaiety. There were very common hacks, with father and mother +and all the children in them; conspicuous little open carriages with +celebrated ladies of questionable reputation in them; there were Dukes +and Duchesses abroad, with gorgeous footmen perched behind, and equally +gorgeous outriders perched on each of the six horses; there were blue and +silver, and green and gold, and pink and black, and all sorts and +descriptions of stunning and startling liveries out, and I almost yearned +to be a flunkey myself, for the sake of the fine clothes. + +<p>But presently the Emperor came along and he outshone them all. He was +preceded by a bodyguard of gentlemen on horseback in showy uniforms, his +carriage-horses (there appeared to be somewhere in the remote +neighborhood of a thousand of them,) were bestridden by gallant-looking +fellows, also in stylish uniforms, and after the carriage followed +another detachment of bodyguards. Everybody got out of the way; +everybody bowed to the Emperor and his friend the Sultan; and they went +by on a swinging trot and disappeared. + +<p>I will not describe the Bois de Boulogne. I can not do it. It is simply +a beautiful, cultivated, endless, wonderful wilderness. It is an +enchanting place. It is in Paris now, one may say, but a crumbling old +cross in one portion of it reminds one that it was not always so. The +cross marks the spot where a celebrated troubadour was waylaid and +murdered in the fourteenth century. It was in this park that that fellow +with an unpronounceable name made the attempt upon the Russian Czar's +life last spring with a pistol. The bullet struck a tree. Ferguson +showed us the place. Now in America that interesting tree would be +chopped down or forgotten within the next five years, but it will be +treasured here. The guides will point it out to visitors for the next +eight hundred years, and when it decays and falls down they will put up +another there and go on with the same old story just the same. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch15"></a>CHAPTER XV. +</h2> +<p>One of our pleasantest visits was to Pere la Chaise, the national +burying-ground of France, the honored resting-place of some of her +greatest and best children, the last home of scores of illustrious men +and women who were born to no titles, but achieved fame by their own +energy and their own genius. It is a solemn city of winding streets and +of miniature marble temples and mansions of the dead gleaming white from +out a wilderness of foliage and fresh flowers. Not every city is so well +peopled as this, or has so ample an area within its walls. Few palaces +exist in any city that are so exquisite in design, so rich in art, so +costly in material, so graceful, so beautiful. + +<p>We had stood in the ancient church of St. Denis, where the marble +effigies of thirty generations of kings and queens lay stretched at +length upon the tombs, and the sensations invoked were startling and +novel; the curious armor, the obsolete costumes, the placid faces, the +hands placed palm to palm in eloquent supplication—it was a vision of +gray antiquity. It seemed curious enough to be standing face to face, as +it were, with old Dagobert I., and Clovis and Charlemagne, those vague, +colossal heroes, those shadows, those myths of a thousand years ago! I +touched their dust-covered faces with my finger, but Dagobert was deader +than the sixteen centuries that have passed over him, Clovis slept well +after his labor for Christ, and old Charlemagne went on dreaming of his +paladins, of bloody Roncesvalles, and gave no heed to me. + +<p>The great names of Pere la Chaise impress one, too, but differently. +There the suggestion brought constantly to his mind is, that this place +is sacred to a nobler royalty—the royalty of heart and brain. Every +faculty of mind, every noble trait of human nature, every high occupation +which men engage in, seems represented by a famous name. The effect is a +curious medley. Davoust and Massena, who wrought in many a battle +tragedy, are here, and so also is Rachel, of equal renown in mimic +tragedy on the stage. The Abbe Sicard sleeps here—the first great +teacher of the deaf and dumb—a man whose heart went out to every +unfortunate, and whose life was given to kindly offices in their service; +and not far off, in repose and peace at last, lies Marshal Ney, whose +stormy spirit knew no music like the bugle call to arms. The man who +originated public gas-lighting, and that other benefactor who introduced +the cultivation of the potato and thus blessed millions of his starving +countrymen, lie with the Prince of Masserano, and with exiled queens and +princes of Further India. Gay-Lussac the chemist, Laplace the +astronomer, Larrey the surgeon, de Suze the advocate, are here, and with +them are Talma, Bellini, Rubini; de Balzac, Beaumarchais, Beranger; +Moliere and Lafontaine, and scores of other men whose names and whose +worthy labors are as familiar in the remote by-places of civilization as +are the historic deeds of the kings and princes that sleep in the marble +vaults of St. Denis. + +<p>But among the thousands and thousands of tombs in Pere la Chaise, there +is one that no man, no woman, no youth of either sex, ever passes by +without stopping to examine. Every visitor has a sort of indistinct idea +of the history of its dead and comprehends that homage is due there, but +not one in twenty thousand clearly remembers the story of that tomb and +its romantic occupants. This is the grave of Abelard and Heloise—a +grave which has been more revered, more widely known, more written and +sung about and wept over, for seven hundred years, than any other in +Christendom save only that of the Saviour. All visitors linger pensively +about it; all young people capture and carry away keepsakes and mementoes +of it; all Parisian youths and maidens who are disappointed in love come +there to bail out when they are full of tears; yea, many stricken lovers +make pilgrimages to this shrine from distant provinces to weep and wail +and "grit" their teeth over their heavy sorrows, and to purchase the +sympathies of the chastened spirits of that tomb with offerings of +immortelles and budding flowers. + +<p>Go when you will, you find somebody snuffling over that tomb. Go when +you will, you find it furnished with those bouquets and immortelles. Go +when you will, you find a gravel-train from Marseilles arriving to supply +the deficiencies caused by memento-cabbaging vandals whose affections +have miscarried. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p141"></a><img alt="p141.jpg (24K)" src="images/p141.jpg" height="305" width="443"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Yet who really knows the story of Abelard and Heloise? Precious few +people. The names are perfectly familiar to every body, and that is +about all. With infinite pains I have acquired a knowledge of that +history, and I propose to narrate it here, partly for the honest +information of the public and partly to show that public that they have +been wasting a good deal of marketable sentiment very unnecessarily. + + + <h3>STORY OF ABELARD AND HELOISE</h3> + +<p>Heloise was born seven hundred and sixty-six years ago. She may have had +parents. There is no telling. She lived with her uncle Fulbert, a canon +of the cathedral of Paris. I do not know what a canon of a cathedral is, +but that is what he was. He was nothing more than a sort of a mountain +howitzer, likely, because they had no heavy artillery in those days. +Suffice it, then, that Heloise lived with her uncle the howitzer and was +happy. She spent the most of her childhood in the convent of +Argenteuil—never heard of Argenteuil before, but suppose there was really such a +place. She then returned to her uncle, the old gun, or son of a gun, as +the case may be, and he taught her to write and speak Latin, which was +the language of literature and polite society at that period. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p142"></a><img alt="p142.jpg (15K)" src="images/p142.jpg" height="371" width="341"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Just at this time, Pierre Abelard, who had already made himself widely +famous as a rhetorician, came to found a school of rhetoric in Paris. +The originality of his principles, his eloquence, and his great physical +strength and beauty created a profound sensation. He saw Heloise, and +was captivated by her blooming youth, her beauty, and her charming +disposition. He wrote to her; she answered. He wrote again; she +answered again. He was now in love. He longed to know her—to speak to +her face to face. + +<p>His school was near Fulbert's house. He asked Fulbert to allow him to +call. The good old swivel saw here a rare opportunity: his niece, whom +he so much loved, would absorb knowledge from this man, and it would not +cost him a cent. Such was Fulbert—penurious. + +<p>Fulbert's first name is not mentioned by any author, which is +unfortunate. However, George W. Fulbert will answer for him as well as +any other. We will let him go at that. He asked Abelard to teach her. + +<p>Abelard was glad enough of the opportunity. He came often and staid +long. A letter of his shows in its very first sentence that he came +under that friendly roof like a cold-hearted villain as he was, with the +deliberate intention of debauching a confiding, innocent girl. This is +the letter: +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p> "I cannot cease to be astonished at the simplicity of Fulbert; + I was as much surprised as if he had placed a lamb in the power + of a hungry wolf. Heloise and I, under pretext of study, gave + ourselves up wholly to love, and the solitude that love seeks + our studies procured for us. Books were open before us, but we + spoke oftener of love than philosophy, and kisses came more + readily from our lips than words." +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>And so, exulting over an honorable confidence which to his degraded +instinct was a ludicrous "simplicity," this unmanly Abelard seduced the +niece of the man whose guest he was. Paris found it out. Fulbert was +told of it—told often—but refused to believe it. He could not +comprehend how a man could be so depraved as to use the sacred protection +and security of hospitality as a means for the commission of such a crime +as that. But when he heard the rowdies in the streets singing the +love-songs of Abelard to Heloise, the case was too plain—love-songs come not +properly within the teachings of rhetoric and philosophy. + +<p>He drove Abelard from his house. Abelard returned secretly and carried +Heloise away to Palais, in Brittany, his native country. Here, shortly +afterward, she bore a son, who, from his rare beauty, was surnamed +Astrolabe—William G. The girl's flight enraged Fulbert, and he longed +for vengeance, but feared to strike lest retaliation visit Heloise—for +he still loved her tenderly. At length Abelard offered to marry +Heloise—but on a shameful condition: that the marriage should be kept secret +from the world, to the end that (while her good name remained a wreck, as +before,) his priestly reputation might be kept untarnished. It was like +that miscreant. Fulbert saw his opportunity and consented. He would see +the parties married, and then violate the confidence of the man who had +taught him that trick; he would divulge the secret and so remove somewhat +of the obloquy that attached to his niece's fame. But the niece +suspected his scheme. She refused the marriage at first; she said +Fulbert would betray the secret to save her, and besides, she did not +wish to drag down a lover who was so gifted, so honored by the world, and +who had such a splendid career before him. It was noble, +self-sacrificing love, and characteristic of the pure-souled Heloise, but it +was not good sense. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p144"></a><img alt="p144.jpg (25K)" src="images/p144.jpg" height="391" width="559"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>But she was overruled, and the private marriage took place. Now for +Fulbert! The heart so wounded should be healed at last; the proud spirit +so tortured should find rest again; the humbled head should be lifted up +once more. He proclaimed the marriage in the high places of the city and +rejoiced that dishonor had departed from his house. But lo! Abelard +denied the marriage! Heloise denied it! The people, knowing the former +circumstances, might have believed Fulbert had only Abelard denied it, +but when the person chiefly interested—the girl herself—denied it, they +laughed, despairing Fulbert to scorn. + +<p>The poor canon of the cathedral of Paris was spiked again. The last hope +of repairing the wrong that had been done his house was gone. What next? +Human nature suggested revenge. He compassed it. The historian says: + +<p> "Ruffians, hired by Fulbert, fell upon Abelard by night, and + inflicted upon him a terrible and nameless mutilation." + +<p>I am seeking the last resting place of those "ruffians." When I find it +I shall shed some tears on it, and stack up some bouquets and +immortelles, and cart away from it some gravel whereby to remember that +howsoever blotted by crime their lives may have been, these ruffians did +one just deed, at any rate, albeit it was not warranted by the strict +letter of the law. + +<p>Heloise entered a convent and gave good-bye to the world and its +pleasures for all time. For twelve years she never heard of +Abelard—never even heard his name mentioned. She had become prioress of +Argenteuil and led a life of complete seclusion. She happened one day to +see a letter written by him, in which he narrated his own history. She +cried over it and wrote him. He answered, addressing her as his "sister +in Christ." They continued to correspond, she in the unweighed language +of unwavering affection, he in the chilly phraseology of the polished +rhetorician. She poured out her heart in passionate, disjointed +sentences; he replied with finished essays, divided deliberately into +heads and sub-heads, premises and argument. She showered upon him the +tenderest epithets that love could devise, he addressed her from the +North Pole of his frozen heart as the "Spouse of Christ!" The abandoned +villain! + +<p>On account of her too easy government of her nuns, some disreputable +irregularities were discovered among them, and the Abbot of St. Denis +broke up her establishment. Abelard was the official head of the +monastery of St. Gildas de Ruys, at that time, and when he heard of her +homeless condition a sentiment of pity was aroused in his breast (it is a +wonder the unfamiliar emotion did not blow his head off,) and he placed +her and her troop in the little oratory of the Paraclete, a religious +establishment which he had founded. She had many privations and +sufferings to undergo at first, but her worth and her gentle disposition +won influential friends for her, and she built up a wealthy and +flourishing nunnery. She became a great favorite with the heads of the +church, and also the people, though she seldom appeared in public. She +rapidly advanced in esteem, in good report, and in usefulness, and +Abelard as rapidly lost ground. The Pope so honored her that he made her +the head of her order. Abelard, a man of splendid talents, and ranking +as the first debater of his time, became timid, irresolute, and +distrustful of his powers. He only needed a great misfortune to topple +him from the high position he held in the world of intellectual +excellence, and it came. Urged by kings and princes to meet the subtle +St. Bernard in debate and crush him, he stood up in the presence of a +royal and illustrious assemblage, and when his antagonist had finished he +looked about him and stammered a commencement; but his courage failed +him, the cunning of his tongue was gone: with his speech unspoken, he +trembled and sat down, a disgraced and vanquished champion. + +<p>He died a nobody, and was buried at Cluny, A.D., 1144. They removed his +body to the Paraclete afterward, and when Heloise died, twenty years +later, they buried her with him, in accordance with her last wish. He +died at the ripe age of 64, and she at 63. After the bodies had remained +entombed three hundred years, they were removed once more. They were +removed again in 1800, and finally, seventeen years afterward, they were +taken up and transferred to Pere la Chaise, where they will remain in +peace and quiet until it comes time for them to get up and move again. + +<p>History is silent concerning the last acts of the mountain howitzer. Let +the world say what it will about him, I, at least, shall always respect +the memory and sorrow for the abused trust and the broken heart and the +troubled spirit of the old smooth-bore. Rest and repose be his! + +<p>Such is the story of Abelard and Heloise. Such is the history that +Lamartine has shed such cataracts of tears over. But that man never +could come within the influence of a subject in the least pathetic +without overflowing his banks. He ought to be dammed—or leveed, I +should more properly say. Such is the history—not as it is usually +told, but as it is when stripped of the nauseous sentimentality that +would enshrine for our loving worship a dastardly seducer like Pierre +Abelard. I have not a word to say against the misused, faithful girl, +and would not withhold from her grave a single one of those simple +tributes which blighted youths and maidens offer to her memory, but I am +sorry enough that I have not time and opportunity to write four or five +volumes of my opinion of her friend the founder of the Parachute, or the +Paraclete, or whatever it was. + +<p>The tons of sentiment I have wasted on that unprincipled humbug in my +ignorance! I shall throttle down my emotions hereafter, about this sort +of people, until I have read them up and know whether they are entitled +to any tearful attentions or not. I wish I had my immortelles back, now, +and that bunch of radishes. + +<p>In Paris we often saw in shop windows the sign "English Spoken Here," +just as one sees in the windows at home the sign "Ici on parle +francaise." We always invaded these places at once—and invariably +received the information, framed in faultless French, that the clerk who +did the English for the establishment had just gone to dinner and would +be back in an hour—would Monsieur buy something? We wondered why those +parties happened to take their dinners at such erratic and extraordinary +hours, for we never called at a time when an exemplary Christian would be +in the least likely to be abroad on such an errand. The truth was, it +was a base fraud—a snare to trap the unwary—chaff to catch fledglings +with. They had no English-murdering clerk. They trusted to the sign to +inveigle foreigners into their lairs, and trusted to their own +blandishments to keep them there till they bought something. + +<p>We ferreted out another French imposition—a frequent sign to this +effect: "ALL MANNER OF AMERICAN DRINKS ARTISTICALLY PREPARED HERE." We +procured the services of a gentleman experienced in the nomenclature of +the American bar, and moved upon the works of one of these impostors. A +bowing, aproned Frenchman skipped forward and said: + +<p>"Que voulez les messieurs?" I do not know what "Que voulez les +messieurs?" means, but such was his remark. + +<p>Our general said, "We will take a whiskey straight." + +<p>[A stare from the Frenchman.] + +<p>"Well, if you don't know what that is, give us a champagne cock-tail." + +<p>[A stare and a shrug.] + +<p>"Well, then, give us a sherry cobbler." + +<p>The Frenchman was checkmated. This was all Greek to him. + +<p>"Give us a brandy smash!" + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p148"></a><img alt="p148.jpg (45K)" src="images/p148.jpg" height="551" width="537"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>The Frenchman began to back away, suspicious of the ominous vigor of the +last order—began to back away, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his +hands apologetically. + +<p>The General followed him up and gained a complete victory. The +uneducated foreigner could not even furnish a Santa Cruz Punch, an +Eye-Opener, a Stone-Fence, or an Earthquake. It was plain that he was a +wicked impostor. + +<p>An acquaintance of mine said the other day that he was doubtless the only +American visitor to the Exposition who had had the high honor of being +escorted by the Emperor's bodyguard. I said with unobtrusive frankness +that I was astonished that such a long-legged, lantern-jawed, +unprepossessing-looking specter as he should be singled out for a +distinction like that, and asked how it came about. He said he had +attended a great military review in the Champ de Mars some time ago, and +while the multitude about him was growing thicker and thicker every +moment he observed an open space inside the railing. He left his +carriage and went into it. He was the only person there, and so he had +plenty of room, and the situation being central, he could see all the +preparations going on about the field. By and by there was a sound of +music, and soon the Emperor of the French and the Emperor of Austria, +escorted by the famous Cent Gardes, entered the enclosure. They seemed +not to observe him, but directly, in response to a sign from the +commander of the guard, a young lieutenant came toward him with a file of +his men following, halted, raised his hand, and gave the military salute, +and then said in a low voice that he was sorry to have to disturb a +stranger and a gentleman, but the place was sacred to royalty. Then this +New Jersey phantom rose up and bowed and begged pardon, then with the +officer beside him, the file of men marching behind him, and with every +mark of respect, he was escorted to his carriage by the imperial Cent +Gardes! The officer saluted again and fell back, the New Jersey sprite +bowed in return and had presence of mind enough to pretend that he had +simply called on a matter of private business with those emperors, and so +waved them an adieu and drove from the field! + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p150"></a><img alt="p150.jpg (13K)" src="images/p150.jpg" height="391" width="247"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Imagine a poor Frenchman ignorantly intruding upon a public rostrum +sacred to some six-penny dignitary in America. The police would scare +him to death first with a storm of their elegant blasphemy, and then pull +him to pieces getting him away from there. We are measurably superior to +the French in some things, but they are immeasurably our betters in +others. + +<p>Enough of Paris for the present. We have done our whole duty by it. We +have seen the Tuileries, the Napoleon Column, the Madeleine, that wonder +of wonders the tomb of Napoleon, all the great churches and museums, +libraries, imperial palaces, and sculpture and picture galleries, the +Pantheon, Jardin des Plantes, the opera, the circus, the legislative +body, the billiard rooms, the barbers, the grisettes— + +<p>Ah, the grisettes! I had almost forgotten. They are another romantic +fraud. They were (if you let the books of travel tell it) always so +beautiful—so neat and trim, so graceful—so naive and trusting—so +gentle, so winning—so faithful to their shop duties, so irresistible to +buyers in their prattling importunity—so devoted to their +poverty-stricken students of the Latin Quarter—so lighthearted and happy on +their Sunday picnics in the suburbs—and oh, so charmingly, so +delightfully immoral! + +<p>Stuff! For three or four days I was constantly saying: + +<p>"Quick, Ferguson! Is that a grisette?" + +<p>And he always said, "No." + +<p>He comprehended at last that I wanted to see a grisette. Then he showed +me dozens of them. They were like nearly all the Frenchwomen I ever +saw—homely. They had large hands, large feet, large mouths; they had pug +noses as a general thing, and moustaches that not even good breeding +could overlook; they combed their hair straight back without parting; +they were ill-shaped, they were not winning, they were not graceful; I +knew by their looks that they ate garlic and onions; and lastly and +finally, to my thinking it would be base flattery to call them immoral. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p151"></a><img alt="p151.jpg (25K)" src="images/p151.jpg" height="561" width="325"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Aroint thee, wench! I sorrow for the vagabond student of the Latin +Quarter now, even more than formerly I envied him. Thus topples to earth +another idol of my infancy. + +<p>We have seen every thing, and tomorrow we go to Versailles. We shall see +Paris only for a little while as we come back to take up our line of +march for the ship, and so I may as well bid the beautiful city a +regretful farewell. We shall travel many thousands of miles after we +leave here and visit many great cities, but we shall find none so +enchanting as this. + +<p>Some of our party have gone to England, intending to take a roundabout +course and rejoin the vessel at Leghorn or Naples several weeks hence. +We came near going to Geneva, but have concluded to return to Marseilles +and go up through Italy from Genoa. + +<p>I will conclude this chapter with a remark that I am sincerely proud to +be able to make—and glad, as well, that my comrades cordially endorse +it, to wit: by far the handsomest women we have seen in France were born +and reared in America. + +<p>I feel now like a man who has redeemed a failing reputation and shed +luster upon a dimmed escutcheon, by a single just deed done at the +eleventh hour. + +<p>Let the curtain fall, to slow music. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch16"></a>CHAPTER XVI. +</h2> +<p>VERSAILLES! It is wonderfully beautiful! You gaze and stare and try to +understand that it is real, that it is on the earth, that it is not the +Garden of Eden—but your brain grows giddy, stupefied by the world of +beauty around you, and you half believe you are the dupe of an exquisite +dream. The scene thrills one like military music! A noble palace, +stretching its ornamented front, block upon block away, till it seemed +that it would never end; a grand promenade before it, whereon the armies +of an empire might parade; all about it rainbows of flowers, and colossal +statues that were almost numberless and yet seemed only scattered over +the ample space; broad flights of stone steps leading down from the +promenade to lower grounds of the park—stairways that whole regiments +might stand to arms upon and have room to spare; vast fountains whose +great bronze effigies discharged rivers of sparkling water into the air +and mingled a hundred curving jets together in forms of matchless beauty; +wide grass-carpeted avenues that branched hither and thither in every +direction and wandered to seemingly interminable distances, walled all +the way on either side with compact ranks of leafy trees whose branches +met above and formed arches as faultless and as symmetrical as ever were +carved in stone; and here and there were glimpses of sylvan lakes with +miniature ships glassed in their surfaces. And every where—on the +palace steps, and the great promenade, around the fountains, among the +trees, and far under the arches of the endless avenues—hundreds and +hundreds of people in gay costumes walked or ran or danced, and gave to +the fairy picture the life and animation which was all of perfection it +could have lacked. + +<p>It was worth a pilgrimage to see. Everything is on so gigantic a scale. +Nothing is small—nothing is cheap. The statues are all large; the +palace is grand; the park covers a fair-sized county; the avenues are +interminable. All the distances and all the dimensions about Versailles +are vast. I used to think the pictures exaggerated these distances and +these dimensions beyond all reason, and that they made Versailles more +beautiful than it was possible for any place in the world to be. I know +now that the pictures never came up to the subject in any respect, and +that no painter could represent Versailles on canvas as beautiful as it +is in reality. I used to abuse Louis XIV for spending two hundred +millions of dollars in creating this marvelous park, when bread was so +scarce with some of his subjects; but I have forgiven him now. He took a +tract of land sixty miles in circumference and set to work to make this +park and build this palace and a road to it from Paris. He kept 36,000 +men employed daily on it, and the labor was so unhealthy that they used +to die and be hauled off by cartloads every night. The wife of a +nobleman of the time speaks of this as an "inconvenience," but naively +remarks that "it does not seem worthy of attention in the happy state of +tranquillity we now enjoy." + + +<center><a name="p154"></a><img alt="p154.jpg (34K)" src="images/p154.jpg" height="437" width="495"> +</center> + + +<p>I always thought ill of people at home who trimmed their shrubbery into +pyramids and squares and spires and all manner of unnatural shapes, and +when I saw the same thing being practiced in this great park I began to +feel dissatisfied. But I soon saw the idea of the thing and the wisdom +of it. They seek the general effect. We distort a dozen sickly trees +into unaccustomed shapes in a little yard no bigger than a dining room, +and then surely they look absurd enough. But here they take two hundred +thousand tall forest trees and set them in a double row; allow no sign of +leaf or branch to grow on the trunk lower down than six feet above the +ground; from that point the boughs begin to project, and very gradually +they extend outward further and further till they meet overhead, and a +faultless tunnel of foliage is formed. The arch is mathematically +precise. The effect is then very fine. They make trees take fifty +different shapes, and so these quaint effects are infinitely varied and +picturesque. The trees in no two avenues are shaped alike, and +consequently the eye is not fatigued with anything in the nature of +monotonous uniformity. I will drop this subject now, leaving it to +others to determine how these people manage to make endless ranks of +lofty forest trees grow to just a certain thickness of trunk (say a foot +and two-thirds); how they make them spring to precisely the same height +for miles; how they make them grow so close together; how they compel one +huge limb to spring from the same identical spot on each tree and form +the main sweep of the arch; and how all these things are kept exactly in +the same condition and in the same exquisite shapeliness and symmetry +month after month and year after year—for I have tried to reason out the +problem and have failed. + +<p>We walked through the great hall of sculpture and the one hundred and +fifty galleries of paintings in the palace of Versailles, and felt that +to be in such a place was useless unless one had a whole year at his +disposal. These pictures are all battle scenes, and only one solitary +little canvas among them all treats of anything but great French +victories. We wandered, also, through the Grand Trianon and the Petit +Trianon, those monuments of royal prodigality, and with histories so +mournful—filled, as it is, with souvenirs of Napoleon the First, and +three dead kings and as many queens. In one sumptuous bed they had all +slept in succession, but no one occupies it now. In a large dining room +stood the table at which Louis XIV and his mistress Madame Maintenon, and +after them Louis XV, and Pompadour, had sat at their meals naked and +unattended—for the table stood upon a trapdoor, which descended with it +to regions below when it was necessary to replenish its dishes. In a +room of the Petit Trianon stood the furniture, just as poor Marie +Antoinette left it when the mob came and dragged her and the King to +Paris, never to return. Near at hand, in the stables, were prodigious +carriages that showed no color but gold—carriages used by former kings +of France on state occasions, and never used now save when a kingly head +is to be crowned or an imperial infant christened. And with them were +some curious sleighs, whose bodies were shaped like lions, swans, tigers, +etc.—vehicles that had once been handsome with pictured designs and +fine workmanship, but were dusty and decaying now. They had their +history. When Louis XIV had finished the Grand Trianon, he told +Maintenon he had created a Paradise for her, and asked if she could think +of anything now to wish for. He said he wished the Trianon to be +perfection—nothing less. She said she could think of but one thing—it +was summer, and it was balmy France—yet she would like well to sleigh +ride in the leafy avenues of Versailles! The next morning found miles +and miles of grassy avenues spread thick with snowy salt and sugar, and a +procession of those quaint sleighs waiting to receive the chief concubine +of the gaiest and most unprincipled court that France has ever seen! + +<p>From sumptuous Versailles, with its palaces, its statues, its gardens, +and its fountains, we journeyed back to Paris and sought its +antipodes—the Faubourg St. Antoine. Little, narrow streets; dirty children +blockading them; greasy, slovenly women capturing and spanking them; +filthy dens on first floors, with rag stores in them (the heaviest +business in the Faubourg is the chiffonier's); other filthy dens where +whole suits of second and third-hand clothing are sold at prices that +would ruin any proprietor who did not steal his stock; still other filthy +dens where they sold groceries—sold them by the half-pennyworth—five +dollars would buy the man out, goodwill and all. Up these little crooked +streets they will murder a man for seven dollars and dump the body in the +Seine. And up some other of these streets—most of them, I should +say—live lorettes. + +<p>All through this Faubourg St. Antoine, misery, poverty, vice, and crime +go hand in hand, and the evidences of it stare one in the face from every +side. Here the people live who begin the revolutions. Whenever there is +anything of that kind to be done, they are always ready. They take as +much genuine pleasure in building a barricade as they do in cutting a +throat or shoving a friend into the Seine. It is these savage-looking +ruffians who storm the splendid halls of the Tuileries occasionally, and +swarm into Versailles when a king is to be called to account. + +<p>But they will build no more barricades, they will break no more soldiers' +heads with paving-stones. Louis Napoleon has taken care of all that. He +is annihilating the crooked streets and building in their stead noble +boulevards as straight as an arrow—avenues which a cannon ball could +traverse from end to end without meeting an obstruction more irresistible +than the flesh and bones of men—boulevards whose stately edifices will +never afford refuges and plotting places for starving, discontented +revolution breeders. Five of these great thoroughfares radiate from one +ample centre—a centre which is exceedingly well adapted to the +accommodation of heavy artillery. The mobs used to riot there, but they +must seek another rallying-place in future. And this ingenious Napoleon +paves the streets of his great cities with a smooth, compact composition +of asphaltum and sand. No more barricades of flagstones—no more +assaulting his Majesty's troops with cobbles. I cannot feel friendly +toward my quondam fellow-American, Napoleon III., especially at this +time,—[July, 1867.]—when in fancy I see his credulous victim, +Maximilian, lying stark and stiff in Mexico, and his maniac widow +watching eagerly from her French asylum for the form that will never +come—but I do admire his nerve, his calm self-reliance, his shrewd good +sense. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch17"></a>CHAPTER XVII. +</h2> +<p>We had a pleasant journey of it seaward again. We found that for the +three past nights our ship had been in a state of war. The first night +the sailors of a British ship, being happy with grog, came down on the +pier and challenged our sailors to a free fight. They accepted with +alacrity, repaired to the pier, and gained—their share of a drawn +battle. Several bruised and bloody members of both parties were carried +off by the police and imprisoned until the following morning. The next +night the British boys came again to renew the fight, but our men had had +strict orders to remain on board and out of sight. They did so, and the +besieging party grew noisy and more and more abusive as the fact became +apparent (to them) that our men were afraid to come out. They went away +finally with a closing burst of ridicule and offensive epithets. The +third night they came again and were more obstreperous than ever. They +swaggered up and down the almost deserted pier, and hurled curses, +obscenity, and stinging sarcasms at our crew. It was more than human +nature could bear. The executive officer ordered our men ashore—with +instructions not to fight. They charged the British and gained a +brilliant victory. I probably would not have mentioned this war had it +ended differently. But I travel to learn, and I still remember that they +picture no French defeats in the battle-galleries of Versailles. + +<p>It was like home to us to step on board the comfortable ship again and +smoke and lounge about her breezy decks. And yet it was not altogether +like home, either, because so many members of the family were away. We +missed some pleasant faces which we would rather have found at dinner, +and at night there were gaps in the euchre-parties which could not be +satisfactorily filled. "Moult" was in England, Jack in Switzerland, +Charley in Spain. Blucher was gone, none could tell where. But we were +at sea again, and we had the stars and the ocean to look at, and plenty +of room to meditate in. + +<p>In due time the shores of Italy were sighted, and as we stood gazing from +the decks, early in the bright summer morning, the stately city of Genoa +rose up out of the sea and flung back the sunlight from her hundred +palaces. + +<p>Here we rest for the present—or rather, here we have been trying to +rest, for some little time, but we run about too much to accomplish a +great deal in that line. + +<p>I would like to remain here. I had rather not go any further. There may +be prettier women in Europe, but I doubt it. The population of Genoa is +120,000; two-thirds of these are women, I think, and at least two-thirds +of the women are beautiful. They are as dressy and as tasteful and as +graceful as they could possibly be without being angels. However, angels +are not very dressy, I believe. At least the angels in pictures are +not—they wear nothing but wings. But these Genoese women do look so +charming. Most of the young demoiselles are robed in a cloud of white +from head to foot, though many trick themselves out more elaborately. +Nine-tenths of them wear nothing on their heads but a filmy sort of veil, +which falls down their backs like a white mist. They are very fair, and +many of them have blue eyes, but black and dreamy dark brown ones are met +with oftenest. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p161"></a><img alt="p161.jpg (30K)" src="images/p161.jpg" height="507" width="477"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>The ladies and gentlemen of Genoa have a pleasant fashion of promenading +in a large park on the top of a hill in the center of the city, from six +till nine in the evening, and then eating ices in a neighboring garden an +hour or two longer. We went to the park on Sunday evening. Two thousand +persons were present, chiefly young ladies and gentlemen. The gentlemen +were dressed in the very latest Paris fashions, and the robes of the +ladies glinted among the trees like so many snowflakes. The multitude +moved round and round the park in a great procession. The bands played, +and so did the fountains; the moon and the gas lamps lit up the scene, +and altogether it was a brilliant and an animated picture. I scanned +every female face that passed, and it seemed to me that all were +handsome. I never saw such a freshet of loveliness before. I did not +see how a man of only ordinary decision of character could marry here, +because before he could get his mind made up he would fall in love with +somebody else. + +<p>Never smoke any Italian tobacco. Never do it on any account. It makes +me shudder to think what it must be made of. You cannot throw an old +cigar "stub" down anywhere, but some vagabond will pounce upon it on the +instant. I like to smoke a good deal, but it wounds my sensibilities to +see one of these stub-hunters watching me out of the corners of his +hungry eyes and calculating how long my cigar will be likely to last. +It reminded me too painfully of that San Francisco undertaker who used to +go to sick-beds with his watch in his hand and time the corpse. One of +these stub-hunters followed us all over the park last night, and we never +had a smoke that was worth anything. We were always moved to appease him +with the stub before the cigar was half gone, because he looked so +viciously anxious. He regarded us as his own legitimate prey, by right +of discovery, I think, because he drove off several other professionals +who wanted to take stock in us. + +<p>Now, they surely must chew up those old stubs, and dry and sell them for +smoking-tobacco. Therefore, give your custom to other than Italian +brands of the article. + +<p>"The Superb" and the "City of Palaces" are names which Genoa has held for +centuries. She is full of palaces, certainly, and the palaces are +sumptuous inside, but they are very rusty without and make no pretensions +to architectural magnificence. "Genoa the Superb" would be a felicitous +title if it referred to the women. + +<p>We have visited several of the palaces—immense thick-walled piles, with +great stone staircases, tesselated marble pavements on the floors, +(sometimes they make a mosaic work, of intricate designs, wrought in +pebbles or little fragments of marble laid in cement,) and grand salons +hung with pictures by Rubens, Guido, Titian, Paul Veronese, and so on, +and portraits of heads of the family, in plumed helmets and gallant coats +of mail, and patrician ladies in stunning costumes of centuries ago. +But, of course, the folks were all out in the country for the summer, and +might not have known enough to ask us to dinner if they had been at home, +and so all the grand empty salons, with their resounding pavements, their +grim pictures of dead ancestors, and tattered banners with the dust of +bygone centuries upon them, seemed to brood solemnly of death and the +grave, and our spirits ebbed away, and our cheerfulness passed from us. +We never went up to the eleventh story. We always began to suspect +ghosts. There was always an undertaker-looking servant along, too, who +handed us a program, pointed to the picture that began the list of the +salon he was in, and then stood stiff and stark and unsmiling in his +petrified livery till we were ready to move on to the next chamber, +whereupon he marched sadly ahead and took up another malignantly +respectful position as before. I wasted so much time praying that the +roof would fall in on these dispiriting flunkies that I had but little +left to bestow upon palace and pictures. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p163"></a><img alt="p163.jpg (63K)" src="images/p163.jpg" height="751" width="593"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>And besides, as in Paris, we had a guide. Perdition catch all the +guides. This one said he was the most gifted linguist in Genoa, as far +as English was concerned, and that only two persons in the city beside +himself could talk the language at all. He showed us the birthplace of +Christopher Columbus, and after we had reflected in silent awe before it +for fifteen minutes, he said it was not the birthplace of Columbus, but +of Columbus' grandmother! When we demanded an explanation of his conduct +he only shrugged his shoulders and answered in barbarous Italian. I +shall speak further of this guide in a future chapter. All the +information we got out of him we shall be able to carry along with us, I +think. + +<p>I have not been to church so often in a long time as I have in the last +few weeks. The people in these old lands seem to make churches their +specialty. Especially does this seem to be the case with the citizens of +Genoa. I think there is a church every three or four hundred yards all +over town. The streets are sprinkled from end to end with shovel-hatted, +long-robed, well-fed priests, and the church bells by dozens are pealing +all the day long, nearly. Every now and then one comes across a friar of +orders gray, with shaven head, long, coarse robe, rope girdle and beads, +and with feet cased in sandals or entirely bare. These worthies suffer +in the flesh and do penance all their lives, I suppose, but they look +like consummate famine-breeders. They are all fat and serene. + + +<center><a name="p164"></a><img alt="p164.jpg (17K)" src="images/p164.jpg" height="477" width="323"> +</center> + + +<p>The old Cathedral of San Lorenzo is about as notable a building as we +have found in Genoa. It is vast, and has colonnades of noble pillars, +and a great organ, and the customary pomp of gilded moldings, pictures, +frescoed ceilings, and so forth. I cannot describe it, of course—it +would require a good many pages to do that. But it is a curious place. +They said that half of it—from the front door halfway down to the +altar—was a Jewish synagogue before the Saviour was born, and that no +alteration had been made in it since that time. We doubted the +statement, but did it reluctantly. We would much rather have believed +it. The place looked in too perfect repair to be so ancient. + +<p>The main point of interest about the cathedral is the little Chapel of +St. John the Baptist. They only allow women to enter it on one day in +the year, on account of the animosity they still cherish against the sex +because of the murder of the Saint to gratify a caprice of Herodias. In +this Chapel is a marble chest, in which, they told us, were the ashes of +St. John; and around it was wound a chain, which, they said, had confined +him when he was in prison. We did not desire to disbelieve these +statements, and yet we could not feel certain that they were +correct—partly because we could have broken that chain, and so could St. John, +and partly because we had seen St. John's ashes before, in another +church. We could not bring ourselves to think St. John had two sets of +ashes. + +<p>They also showed us a portrait of the Madonna which was painted by St. +Luke, and it did not look half as old and smoky as some of the pictures +by Rubens. We could not help admiring the Apostle's modesty in never +once mentioning in his writings that he could paint. + +<p>But isn't this relic matter a little overdone? We find a piece of the +true cross in every old church we go into, and some of the nails that +held it together. I would not like to be positive, but I think we have +seen as much as a keg of these nails. Then there is the crown of thorns; +they have part of one in Sainte Chapelle, in Paris, and part of one also +in Notre Dame. And as for bones of St. Denis, I feel certain we have +seen enough of them to duplicate him if necessary. + +<p>I only meant to write about the churches, but I keep wandering from the +subject. I could say that the Church of the Annunciation is a wilderness +of beautiful columns, of statues, gilded moldings, and pictures almost +countless, but that would give no one an entirely perfect idea of the +thing, and so where is the use? One family built the whole edifice, and +have got money left. There is where the mystery lies. We had an idea at +first that only a mint could have survived the expense. + +<p>These people here live in the heaviest, highest, broadest, darkest, +solidest houses one can imagine. Each one might "laugh a siege to +scorn." A hundred feet front and a hundred high is about the style, and +you go up three flights of stairs before you begin to come upon signs of +occupancy. Everything is stone, and stone of the heaviest—floors, +stairways, mantels, benches—everything. The walls are four to five feet +thick. The streets generally are four or five to eight feet wide and as +crooked as a corkscrew. You go along one of these gloomy cracks, and +look up and behold the sky like a mere ribbon of light, far above your +head, where the tops of the tall houses on either side of the street bend +almost together. You feel as if you were at the bottom of some +tremendous abyss, with all the world far above you. You wind in and out +and here and there, in the most mysterious way, and have no more idea of +the points of the compass than if you were a blind man. You can never +persuade yourself that these are actually streets, and the frowning, +dingy, monstrous houses dwellings, till you see one of these beautiful, +prettily dressed women emerge from them—see her emerge from a dark, +dreary-looking den that looks dungeon all over, from the ground away +halfway up to heaven. And then you wonder that such a charming moth +could come from such a forbidding shell as that. The streets are wisely +made narrow and the houses heavy and thick and stony, in order that the +people may be cool in this roasting climate. And they are cool, and stay +so. And while I think of it—the men wear hats and have very dark +complexions, but the women wear no headgear but a flimsy veil like a +gossamer's web, and yet are exceedingly fair as a general thing. +Singular, isn't it? + +<p>The huge palaces of Genoa are each supposed to be occupied by one family, +but they could accommodate a hundred, I should think. They are relics of +the grandeur of Genoa's palmy days—the days when she was a great +commercial and maritime power several centuries ago. These houses, solid +marble palaces though they be, are in many cases of a dull pinkish color, +outside, and from pavement to eaves are pictured with Genoese battle +scenes, with monstrous Jupiters and Cupids, and with familiar +illustrations from Grecian mythology. Where the paint has yielded to age +and exposure and is peeling off in flakes and patches, the effect is not +happy. A noseless Cupid or a Jupiter with an eye out or a Venus with a +fly-blister on her breast, are not attractive features in a picture. +Some of these painted walls reminded me somewhat of the tall van, +plastered with fanciful bills and posters, that follows the bandwagon of +a circus about a country village. I have not read or heard that the +outsides of the houses of any other European city are frescoed in this +way. + +<p>I can not conceive of such a thing as Genoa in ruins. Such massive +arches, such ponderous substructions as support these towering +broad-winged edifices, we have seldom seen before; and surely the great blocks +of stone of which these edifices are built can never decay; walls that +are as thick as an ordinary American doorway is high cannot crumble. + +<p>The republics of Genoa and Pisa were very powerful in the Middle Ages. +Their ships filled the Mediterranean, and they carried on an extensive +commerce with Constantinople and Syria. Their warehouses were the great +distributing depots from whence the costly merchandise of the East was +sent abroad over Europe. They were warlike little nations and defied, in +those days, governments that overshadow them now as mountains overshadow +molehills. The Saracens captured and pillaged Genoa nine hundred years +ago, but during the following century Genoa and Pisa entered into an +offensive and defensive alliance and besieged the Saracen colonies in +Sardinia and the Balearic Isles with an obstinacy that maintained its +pristine vigor and held to its purpose for forty long years. They were +victorious at last and divided their conquests equably among their great +patrician families. Descendants of some of those proud families still +inhabit the palaces of Genoa, and trace in their own features a +resemblance to the grim knights whose portraits hang in their stately +halls, and to pictured beauties with pouting lips and merry eyes whose +originals have been dust and ashes for many a dead and forgotten century. + +<p>The hotel we live in belonged to one of those great orders of knights of +the Cross in the times of the Crusades, and its mailed sentinels once +kept watch and ward in its massive turrets and woke the echoes of these +halls and corridors with their iron heels. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p168"></a><img alt="p168.jpg (23K)" src="images/p168.jpg" height="505" width="309"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>But Genoa's greatness has degenerated into an unostentatious commerce in +velvets and silver filagree-work. They say that each European town has +its specialty. These filagree things are Genoa's specialty. Her smiths +take silver ingots and work them up into all manner of graceful and +beautiful forms. They make bunches of flowers, from flakes and wires of +silver, that counterfeit the delicate creations the frost weaves upon a +windowpane; and we were shown a miniature silver temple whose fluted +columns, whose Corinthian capitals and rich entablatures, whose spire, +statues, bells, and ornate lavishness of sculpture were wrought in +polished silver, and with such matchless art that every detail was a +fascinating study and the finished edifice a wonder of beauty. + +<p>We are ready to move again, though we are not really tired yet of the +narrow passages of this old marble cave. Cave is a good word—when +speaking of Genoa under the stars. When we have been prowling at +midnight through the gloomy crevices they call streets, where no +footfalls but ours were echoing, where only ourselves were abroad, and +lights appeared only at long intervals and at a distance, and +mysteriously disappeared again, and the houses at our elbows seemed to +stretch upward farther than ever toward the heavens, the memory of a cave +I used to know at home was always in my mind, with its lofty passages, +its silence and solitude, its shrouding gloom, its sepulchral echoes, its +flitting lights, and more than all, its sudden revelations of branching +crevices and corridors where we least expected them. + +<p>We are not tired of the endless processions of cheerful, chattering +gossipers that throng these courts and streets all day long, either; nor +of the coarse-robed monks; nor of the "Asti" wines, which that old doctor +(whom we call the Oracle,) with customary felicity in the matter of +getting everything wrong, misterms "nasty." But we must go, +nevertheless. + +<p>Our last sight was the cemetery (a burial place intended to accommodate +60,000 bodies,) and we shall continue to remember it after we shall have +forgotten the palaces. It is a vast marble collonaded corridor extending +around a great unoccupied square of ground; its broad floor is marble, +and on every slab is an inscription—for every slab covers a corpse. On +either side, as one walks down the middle of the passage, are monuments, +tombs, and sculptured figures that are exquisitely wrought and are full +of grace and beauty. They are new and snowy; every outline is perfect, +every feature guiltless of mutilation, flaw, or blemish; and therefore, +to us these far-reaching ranks of bewitching forms are a hundred fold +more lovely than the damaged and dingy statuary they have saved from the +wreck of ancient art and set up in the galleries of Paris for the worship +of the world. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p169"></a><img alt="p169.jpg (46K)" src="images/p169.jpg" height="459" width="543"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Well provided with cigars and other necessaries of life, we are now ready +to take the cars for Milan. + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII. +</h2> +<p>All day long we sped through a mountainous country whose peaks were +bright with sunshine, whose hillsides were dotted with pretty villas +sitting in the midst of gardens and shrubbery, and whose deep ravines +were cool and shady and looked ever so inviting from where we and the +birds were winging our flight through the sultry upper air. + +<p>We had plenty of chilly tunnels wherein to check our perspiration, +though. We timed one of them. We were twenty minutes passing through +it, going at the rate of thirty to thirty-five miles an hour. + +<p>Beyond Alessandria we passed the battle-field of Marengo. + +<p>Toward dusk we drew near Milan and caught glimpses of the city and the +blue mountain peaks beyond. But we were not caring for these +things—they did not interest us in the least. We were in a fever of impatience; +we were dying to see the renowned cathedral! We watched—in this +direction and that—all around—everywhere. We needed no one to point it +out—we did not wish any one to point it out—we would recognize it even +in the desert of the great Sahara. + +<p>At last, a forest of graceful needles, shimmering in the amber sunlight, +rose slowly above the pygmy housetops, as one sometimes sees, in the far +horizon, a gilded and pinnacled mass of cloud lift itself above the waste +of waves, at sea,—the Cathedral! We knew it in a moment. + +<p>Half of that night, and all of the next day, this architectural autocrat +was our sole object of interest. + +<p>What a wonder it is! So grand, so solemn, so vast! And yet so delicate, +so airy, so graceful! A very world of solid weight, and yet it seems in +the soft moonlight only a fairy delusion of frost-work that might vanish +with a breath! How sharply its pinnacled angles and its wilderness of +spires were cut against the sky, and how richly their shadows fell upon +its snowy roof! It was a vision!—a miracle!—an anthem sung in stone, a +poem wrought in marble! + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p172"></a><img alt="p172.jpg (66K)" src="images/p172.jpg" height="967" width="593"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Howsoever you look at the great cathedral, it is noble, it is beautiful! +Wherever you stand in Milan or within seven miles of Milan, it is visible +and when it is visible, no other object can chain your whole attention. +Leave your eyes unfettered by your will but a single instant and they +will surely turn to seek it. It is the first thing you look for when you +rise in the morning, and the last your lingering gaze rests upon at +night. Surely it must be the princeliest creation that ever brain of man +conceived. + +<p>At nine o'clock in the morning we went and stood before this marble +colossus. The central one of its five great doors is bordered with a +bas-relief of birds and fruits and beasts and insects, which have been so +ingeniously carved out of the marble that they seem like living +creatures—and the figures are so numerous and the design so complex that +one might study it a week without exhausting its interest. On the great +steeple—surmounting the myriad of spires—inside of the spires—over the +doors, the windows—in nooks and corners—every where that a niche or a +perch can be found about the enormous building, from summit to base, +there is a marble statue, and every statue is a study in itself! +Raphael, Angelo, Canova—giants like these gave birth to the designs, and +their own pupils carved them. Every face is eloquent with expression, +and every attitude is full of grace. Away above, on the lofty roof, rank +on rank of carved and fretted spires spring high in the air, and through +their rich tracery one sees the sky beyond. In their midst the central +steeple towers proudly up like the mainmast of some great Indiaman among +a fleet of coasters. + +<p>We wished to go aloft. The sacristan showed us a marble stairway (of +course it was marble, and of the purest and whitest—there is no other +stone, no brick, no wood, among its building materials) and told us to go +up one hundred and eighty-two steps and stop till he came. It was not +necessary to say stop—we should have done that any how. We were tired +by the time we got there. This was the roof. Here, springing from its +broad marble flagstones, were the long files of spires, looking very tall +close at hand, but diminishing in the distance like the pipes of an +organ. We could see now that the statue on the top of each was the size +of a large man, though they all looked like dolls from the street. We +could see, also, that from the inside of each and every one of these +hollow spires, from sixteen to thirty-one beautiful marble statues looked +out upon the world below. + + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p173"></a><img alt="p173.jpg (38K)" src="images/p173.jpg" height="559" width="407"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>From the eaves to the comb of the roof stretched in endless succession +great curved marble beams, like the fore-and-aft braces of a steamboat, +and along each beam from end to end stood up a row of richly carved +flowers and fruits—each separate and distinct in kind, and over 15,000 +species represented. At a little distance these rows seem to close +together like the ties of a railroad track, and then the mingling +together of the buds and blossoms of this marble garden forms a picture +that is very charming to the eye. + +<p>We descended and entered. Within the church, long rows of fluted +columns, like huge monuments, divided the building into broad aisles, and +on the figured pavement fell many a soft blush from the painted windows +above. I knew the church was very large, but I could not fully +appreciate its great size until I noticed that the men standing far down +by the altar looked like boys, and seemed to glide, rather than walk. We +loitered about gazing aloft at the monster windows all aglow with +brilliantly colored scenes in the lives of the Saviour and his followers. +Some of these pictures are mosaics, and so artistically are their +thousand particles of tinted glass or stone put together that the work +has all the smoothness and finish of a painting. We counted sixty panes +of glass in one window, and each pane was adorned with one of these +master achievements of genius and patience. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p174"></a><img alt="p174.jpg (33K)" src="images/p174.jpg" height="541" width="407"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>The guide showed us a coffee-colored piece of sculpture which he said was +considered to have come from the hand of Phidias, since it was not +possible that any other artist, of any epoch, could have copied nature +with such faultless accuracy. The figure was that of a man without a +skin; with every vein, artery, muscle, every fiber and tendon and tissue +of the human frame represented in minute detail. It looked natural, +because somehow it looked as if it were in pain. A skinned man would be +likely to look that way unless his attention were occupied with some +other matter. It was a hideous thing, and yet there was a fascination +about it some where. I am very sorry I saw it, because I shall always +see it now. I shall dream of it sometimes. I shall dream that it is +resting its corded arms on the bed's head and looking down on me with its +dead eyes; I shall dream that it is stretched between the sheets with me +and touching me with its exposed muscles and its stringy cold legs. + +<p>It is hard to forget repulsive things. I remember yet how I ran off from +school once, when I was a boy, and then, pretty late at night, concluded +to climb into the window of my father's office and sleep on a lounge, +because I had a delicacy about going home and getting thrashed. As I lay +on the lounge and my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I fancied I +could see a long, dusky, shapeless thing stretched upon the floor. A +cold shiver went through me. I turned my face to the wall. That did not +answer. I was afraid that that thing would creep over and seize me in +the dark. I turned back and stared at it for minutes and minutes—they +seemed hours. It appeared to me that the lagging moonlight never, never +would get to it. I turned to the wall and counted twenty, to pass the +feverish time away. I looked—the pale square was nearer. I turned +again and counted fifty—it was almost touching it. With desperate will +I turned again and counted one hundred, and faced about, all in a +tremble. A white human hand lay in the moonlight! Such an awful sinking +at the heart—such a sudden gasp for breath! I felt—I cannot tell what +I felt. When I recovered strength enough, I faced the wall again. But +no boy could have remained so with that mysterious hand behind him. I +counted again and looked—the most of a naked arm was exposed. I put my +hands over my eyes and counted till I could stand it no longer, and +then—the pallid face of a man was there, with the corners of the mouth drawn +down, and the eyes fixed and glassy in death! I raised to a sitting +posture and glowered on that corpse till the light crept down the bare +breastline by line—inch by inch—past the nipple—and then it disclosed +a ghastly stab! + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p176"></a><img alt="p176.jpg (47K)" src="images/p176.jpg" height="517" width="601"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>I went away from there. I do not say that I went away in any sort of a +hurry, but I simply went—that is sufficient. I went out at the window, +and I carried the sash along with me. I did not need the sash, but it +was handier to take it than it was to leave it, and so I took it.—I was +not scared, but I was considerably agitated. + +<p>When I reached home, they whipped me, but I enjoyed it. It seemed +perfectly delightful. That man had been stabbed near the office that +afternoon, and they carried him in there to doctor him, but he only lived +an hour. I have slept in the same room with him often since then—in my +dreams. + +<p>Now we will descend into the crypt, under the grand altar of Milan +Cathedral, and receive an impressive sermon from lips that have been +silent and hands that have been gestureless for three hundred years. + +<p>The priest stopped in a small dungeon and held up his candle. This was +the last resting-place of a good man, a warm-hearted, unselfish man; a +man whose whole life was given to succoring the poor, encouraging the +faint-hearted, visiting the sick; in relieving distress, whenever and +wherever he found it. His heart, his hand, and his purse were always +open. With his story in one's mind he can almost see his benignant +countenance moving calmly among the haggard faces of Milan in the days +when the plague swept the city, brave where all others were cowards, full +of compassion where pity had been crushed out of all other breasts by the +instinct of self-preservation gone mad with terror, cheering all, praying +with all, helping all, with hand and brain and purse, at a time when +parents forsook their children, the friend deserted the friend, and the +brother turned away from the sister while her pleadings were still +wailing in his ears. + +<p>This was good St. Charles Borromeo, Bishop of Milan. The people idolized +him; princes lavished uncounted treasures upon him. We stood in his +tomb. Near by was the sarcophagus, lighted by the dripping candles. The +walls were faced with bas-reliefs representing scenes in his life done in +massive silver. The priest put on a short white lace garment over his +black robe, crossed himself, bowed reverently, and began to turn a +windlass slowly. The sarcophagus separated in two parts, lengthwise, and +the lower part sank down and disclosed a coffin of rock crystal as clear +as the atmosphere. Within lay the body, robed in costly habiliments +covered with gold embroidery and starred with scintillating gems. The +decaying head was black with age, the dry skin was drawn tight to the +bones, the eyes were gone, there was a hole in the temple and another in +the cheek, and the skinny lips were parted as in a ghastly smile! Over +this dreadful face, its dust and decay and its mocking grin, hung a crown +sown thick with flashing brilliants; and upon the breast lay crosses and +croziers of solid gold that were splendid with emeralds and diamonds. + +<p>How poor, and cheap, and trivial these gew-gaws seemed in presence of the +solemnity, the grandeur, the awful majesty of Death! Think of Milton, +Shakespeare, Washington, standing before a reverent world tricked out in +the glass beads, the brass ear-rings and tin trumpery of the savages of +the plains! + +<p>Dead Bartolomeo preached his pregnant sermon, and its burden was: You +that worship the vanities of earth—you that long for worldly honor, +worldly wealth, worldly fame—behold their worth! + +<p>To us it seemed that so good a man, so kind a heart, so simple a nature, +deserved rest and peace in a grave sacred from the intrusion of prying +eyes, and believed that he himself would have preferred to have it so, +but peradventure our wisdom was at fault in this regard. + +<p>As we came out upon the floor of the church again, another priest +volunteered to show us the treasures of the church. + +<p>What, more? The furniture of the narrow chamber of death we had just +visited weighed six millions of francs in ounces and carats alone, +without a penny thrown into the account for the costly workmanship +bestowed upon them! But we followed into a large room filled with tall +wooden presses like wardrobes. He threw them open, and behold, the +cargoes of "crude bullion" of the assay offices of Nevada faded out of my +memory. There were Virgins and bishops there, above their natural size, +made of solid silver, each worth, by weight, from eight hundred thousand +to two millions of francs, and bearing gemmed books in their hands worth +eighty thousand; there were bas-reliefs that weighed six hundred pounds, +carved in solid silver; croziers and crosses, and candlesticks six and +eight feet high, all of virgin gold, and brilliant with precious stones; +and beside these were all manner of cups and vases, and such things, rich +in proportion. It was an Aladdin's palace. The treasures here, by +simple weight, without counting workmanship, were valued at fifty +millions of francs! If I could get the custody of them for a while, I +fear me the market price of silver bishops would advance shortly, on +account of their exceeding scarcity in the Cathedral of Milan. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p179"></a><img alt="p179.jpg (27K)" src="images/p179.jpg" height="471" width="411"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>The priests showed us two of St. Paul's fingers, and one of St. Peter's; +a bone of Judas Iscariot, (it was black,) and also bones of all the other +disciples; a handkerchief in which the Saviour had left the impression of +his face. Among the most precious of the relics were a stone from the +Holy Sepulchre, part of the crown of thorns, (they have a whole one at +Notre Dame,) a fragment of the purple robe worn by the Saviour, a nail +from the Cross, and a picture of the Virgin and Child painted by the +veritable hand of St. Luke. This is the second of St. Luke's Virgins we +have seen. Once a year all these holy relics are carried in procession +through the streets of Milan. + +<p>I like to revel in the dryest details of the great cathedral. The +building is five hundred feet long by one hundred and eighty wide, and +the principal steeple is in the neighborhood of four hundred feet high. +It has 7,148 marble statues, and will have upwards of three thousand more +when it is finished. In addition it has one thousand five hundred +bas-reliefs. It has one hundred and thirty-six spires—twenty-one more are +to be added. Each spire is surmounted by a statue six and a half feet +high. Every thing about the church is marble, and all from the same +quarry; it was bequeathed to the Archbishopric for this purpose centuries +ago. So nothing but the mere workmanship costs; still that is +expensive—the bill foots up six hundred and eighty-four millions of francs thus +far (considerably over a hundred millions of dollars,) and it is +estimated that it will take a hundred and twenty years yet to finish the +cathedral. It looks complete, but is far from being so. We saw a new +statue put in its niche yesterday, alongside of one which had been +standing these four hundred years, they said. There are four staircases +leading up to the main steeple, each of which cost a hundred thousand +dollars, with the four hundred and eight statues which adorn them. Marco +Compioni was the architect who designed the wonderful structure more than +five hundred years ago, and it took him forty-six years to work out the +plan and get it ready to hand over to the builders. He is dead now. The +building was begun a little less than five hundred years ago, and the +third generation hence will not see it completed. + +<p>The building looks best by moonlight, because the older portions of it, +being stained with age, contrast unpleasantly with the newer and whiter +portions. It seems somewhat too broad for its height, but may be +familiarity with it might dissipate this impression. + +<p>They say that the Cathedral of Milan is second only to St. Peter's at +Rome. I cannot understand how it can be second to anything made by human +hands. + +<p>We bid it good-bye, now—possibly for all time. How surely, in some +future day, when the memory of it shall have lost its vividness, shall we +half believe we have seen it in a wonderful dream, but never with waking +eyes! + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p181"></a><img alt="p181.jpg (56K)" src="images/p181.jpg" height="649" width="577"> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch19"></a>CHAPTER XIX. +</h2> +<p>"Do you wis zo haut can be?" + +<p>That was what the guide asked when we were looking up at the bronze +horses on the Arch of Peace. It meant, do you wish to go up there? +I give it as a specimen of guide-English. These are the people that make +life a burthen to the tourist. Their tongues are never still. They talk +forever and forever, and that is the kind of billingsgate they use. +Inspiration itself could hardly comprehend them. If they would only show +you a masterpiece of art, or a venerable tomb, or a prison-house, or a +battle-field, hallowed by touching memories or historical reminiscences, +or grand traditions, and then step aside and hold still for ten minutes +and let you think, it would not be so bad. But they interrupt every +dream, every pleasant train of thought, with their tiresome cackling. +Sometimes when I have been standing before some cherished old idol of +mine that I remembered years and years ago in pictures in the geography +at school, I have thought I would give a whole world if the human parrot +at my side would suddenly perish where he stood and leave me to gaze, and +ponder, and worship. + +<p>No, we did not "wis zo haut can be." We wished to go to La Scala, the +largest theater in the world, I think they call it. We did so. It was a +large place. Seven separate and distinct masses of humanity—six great +circles and a monster parquette. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p184"></a><img alt="p184.jpg (47K)" src="images/p184.jpg" height="503" width="427"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>We wished to go to the Ambrosian Library, and we did that also. We saw a +manuscript of Virgil, with annotations in the handwriting of Petrarch, +the gentleman who loved another man's Laura, and lavished upon her all +through life a love which was a clear waste of the raw material. It was +sound sentiment, but bad judgment. It brought both parties fame, and +created a fountain of commiseration for them in sentimental breasts that +is running yet. But who says a word in behalf of poor Mr. Laura? (I do +not know his other name.) Who glorifies him? Who bedews him with tears? +Who writes poetry about him? Nobody. How do you suppose he liked the +state of things that has given the world so much pleasure? How did he +enjoy having another man following his wife every where and making her +name a familiar word in every garlic-exterminating mouth in Italy with +his sonnets to her pre-empted eyebrows? They got fame and sympathy—he +got neither. This is a peculiarly felicitous instance of what is called +poetical justice. It is all very fine; but it does not chime with my +notions of right. It is too one-sided—too ungenerous. + +<p>Let the world go on fretting about Laura and Petrarch if it will; but as +for me, my tears and my lamentations shall be lavished upon the unsung +defendant. + +<p>We saw also an autograph letter of Lucrezia Borgia, a lady for whom I +have always entertained the highest respect, on account of her rare +histrionic capabilities, her opulence in solid gold goblets made of +gilded wood, her high distinction as an operatic screamer, and the +facility with which she could order a sextuple funeral and get the +corpses ready for it. We saw one single coarse yellow hair from +Lucrezia's head, likewise. It awoke emotions, but we still live. In +this same library we saw some drawings by Michael Angelo (these Italians +call him Mickel Angelo,) and Leonardo da Vinci. (They spell it Vinci and +pronounce it Vinchy; foreigners always spell better than they pronounce.) +We reserve our opinion of these sketches. + +<p>In another building they showed us a fresco representing some lions and +other beasts drawing chariots; and they seemed to project so far from the +wall that we took them to be sculptures. The artist had shrewdly +heightened the delusion by painting dust on the creatures' backs, as if +it had fallen there naturally and properly. Smart fellow—if it be smart +to deceive strangers. + +<p>Elsewhere we saw a huge Roman amphitheatre, with its stone seats still in +good preservation. Modernized, it is now the scene of more peaceful +recreations than the exhibition of a party of wild beasts with Christians +for dinner. Part of the time, the Milanese use it for a race track, and +at other seasons they flood it with water and have spirited yachting +regattas there. The guide told us these things, and he would hardly try +so hazardous an experiment as the telling of a falsehood, when it is all +he can do to speak the truth in English without getting the lock-jaw. + +<p>In another place we were shown a sort of summer arbor, with a fence +before it. We said that was nothing. We looked again, and saw, through +the arbor, an endless stretch of garden, and shrubbery, and grassy lawn. +We were perfectly willing to go in there and rest, but it could not be +done. It was only another delusion—a painting by some ingenious artist +with little charity in his heart for tired folk. The deception was +perfect. No one could have imagined the park was not real. We even +thought we smelled the flowers at first. + +<p>We got a carriage at twilight and drove in the shaded avenues with the +other nobility, and after dinner we took wine and ices in a fine garden +with the great public. The music was excellent, the flowers and +shrubbery were pleasant to the eye, the scene was vivacious, everybody +was genteel and well-behaved, and the ladies were slightly moustached, +and handsomely dressed, but very homely. + +<p>We adjourned to a cafe and played billiards an hour, and I made six or +seven points by the doctor pocketing his ball, and he made as many by my +pocketing my ball. We came near making a carom sometimes, but not the +one we were trying to make. The table was of the usual European +style—cushions dead and twice as high as the balls; the cues in bad repair. +The natives play only a sort of pool on them. We have never seen any +body playing the French three-ball game yet, and I doubt if there is any +such game known in France, or that there lives any man mad enough to try +to play it on one of these European tables. We had to stop playing +finally because Dan got to sleeping fifteen minutes between the counts +and paying no attention to his marking. + +<p>Afterward we walked up and down one of the most popular streets for some +time, enjoying other people's comfort and wishing we could export some of +it to our restless, driving, vitality-consuming marts at home. Just in +this one matter lies the main charm of life in Europe—comfort. In +America, we hurry—which is well; but when the day's work is done, we go +on thinking of losses and gains, we plan for the morrow, we even carry +our business cares to bed with us, and toss and worry over them when we +ought to be restoring our racked bodies and brains with sleep. We burn +up our energies with these excitements, and either die early or drop into +a lean and mean old age at a time of life which they call a man's prime +in Europe. When an acre of ground has produced long and well, we let it +lie fallow and rest for a season; we take no man clear across the +continent in the same coach he started in—the coach is stabled somewhere +on the plains and its heated machinery allowed to cool for a few days; +when a razor has seen long service and refuses to hold an edge, the +barber lays it away for a few weeks, and the edge comes back of its own +accord. We bestow thoughtful care upon inanimate objects, but none upon +ourselves. What a robust people, what a nation of thinkers we might be, +if we would only lay ourselves on the shelf occasionally and renew our +edges! + +<p>I do envy these Europeans the comfort they take. When the work of the +day is done, they forget it. Some of them go, with wife and children, to +a beer hall and sit quietly and genteelly drinking a mug or two of ale +and listening to music; others walk the streets, others drive in the +avenues; others assemble in the great ornamental squares in the early +evening to enjoy the sight and the fragrance of flowers and to hear the +military bands play—no European city being without its fine military +music at eventide; and yet others of the populace sit in the open air in +front of the refreshment houses and eat ices and drink mild beverages +that could not harm a child. They go to bed moderately early, and sleep +well. They are always quiet, always orderly, always cheerful, +comfortable, and appreciative of life and its manifold blessings. One +never sees a drunken man among them. The change that has come over our +little party is surprising. Day by day we lose some of our restlessness +and absorb some of the spirit of quietude and ease that is in the +tranquil atmosphere about us and in the demeanor of the people. We grow +wise apace. We begin to comprehend what life is for. + +<p>We have had a bath in Milan, in a public bath-house. They were going to +put all three of us in one bath-tub, but we objected. Each of us had an +Italian farm on his back. We could have felt affluent if we had been +officially surveyed and fenced in. We chose to have three bathtubs, and +large ones—tubs suited to the dignity of aristocrats who had real +estate, and brought it with them. After we were stripped and had taken +the first chilly dash, we discovered that haunting atrocity that has +embittered our lives in so many cities and villages of Italy and +France—there was no soap. I called. A woman answered, and I barely had time to +throw myself against the door—she would have been in, in another second. +I said: + +<p>"Beware, woman! Go away from here—go away, now, or it will be the worse +for you. I am an unprotected male, but I will preserve my honor at the +peril of my life!" + +<p>These words must have frightened her, for she skurried away very fast. + +<p>Dan's voice rose on the air: + +<p>"Oh, bring some soap, why don't you!" + +<p>The reply was Italian. Dan resumed: + +<p>"Soap, you know—soap. That is what I want—soap. S-o-a-p, soap; +s-o-p-e, soap; s-o-u-p, soap. Hurry up! I don't know how you Irish spell it, +but I want it. Spell it to suit yourself, but fetch it. I'm freezing." + +<p>I heard the doctor say impressively: + +<p>"Dan, how often have we told you that these foreigners cannot understand +English? Why will you not depend upon us? Why will you not tell us what +you want, and let us ask for it in the language of the country? It would +save us a great deal of the humiliation your reprehensible ignorance +causes us. I will address this person in his mother tongue: 'Here, +cospetto! corpo di Bacco! Sacramento! Solferino!—Soap, you son of a +gun!' Dan, if you would let us talk for you, you would never expose your +ignorant vulgarity." + +<p>Even this fluent discharge of Italian did not bring the soap at once, but +there was a good reason for it. There was not such an article about the +establishment. It is my belief that there never had been. They had to +send far up town, and to several different places before they finally got +it, so they said. We had to wait twenty or thirty minutes. The same +thing had occurred the evening before, at the hotel. I think I have +divined the reason for this state of things at last. The English know +how to travel comfortably, and they carry soap with them; other +foreigners do not use the article. + +<p>At every hotel we stop at we always have to send out for soap, at the +last moment, when we are grooming ourselves for dinner, and they put it +in the bill along with the candles and other nonsense. In Marseilles +they make half the fancy toilet soap we consume in America, but the +Marseillaise only have a vague theoretical idea of its use, which they +have obtained from books of travel, just as they have acquired an +uncertain notion of clean shirts, and the peculiarities of the gorilla, +and other curious matters. This reminds me of poor Blucher's note to the +landlord in Paris: + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p> PARIS, le 7 Juillet. Monsieur le Landlord—Sir: Pourquoi don't you + mettez some savon in your bed-chambers? Est-ce que vous pensez I + will steal it? La nuit passee you charged me pour deux chandelles + when I only had one; hier vous avez charged me avec glace when I had + none at all; tout les jours you are coming some fresh game or other + on me, mais vous ne pouvez pas play this savon dodge on me twice. + Savon is a necessary de la vie to any body but a Frenchman, et je + l'aurai hors de cet hotel or make trouble. You hear me. Allons. + BLUCHER. +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>I remonstrated against the sending of this note, because it was so mixed +up that the landlord would never be able to make head or tail of it; but +Blucher said he guessed the old man could read the French of it and +average the rest. + +<p>Blucher's French is bad enough, but it is not much worse than the English +one finds in advertisements all over Italy every day. For instance, +observe the printed card of the hotel we shall probably stop at on the +shores of Lake Como: + +<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> +<p> "NOTISH." + +<p> "This hotel which the best it is in Italy and most superb, is + handsome locate on the best situation of the lake, with the most + splendid view near the Villas Melzy, to the King of Belgian, and + Serbelloni. This hotel have recently enlarge, do offer all + commodities on moderate price, at the strangers gentlemen who whish + spend the seasons on the Lake Come." +</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>How is that, for a specimen? In the hotel is a handsome little chapel +where an English clergyman is employed to preach to such of the guests of +the house as hail from England and America, and this fact is also set +forth in barbarous English in the same advertisement. Wouldn't you have +supposed that the adventurous linguist who framed the card would have +known enough to submit it to that clergyman before he sent it to the +printer? + +<p>Here in Milan, in an ancient tumble-down ruin of a church, is the +mournful wreck of the most celebrated painting in the world—"The Last +Supper," by Leonardo da Vinci. We are not infallible judges of pictures, +but of course we went there to see this wonderful painting, once so +beautiful, always so worshipped by masters in art, and forever to be +famous in song and story. And the first thing that occurred was the +infliction on us of a placard fairly reeking with wretched English. Take +a morsel of it: + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<br>"Bartholomew (that is the first figure on the left hand +side at the spectator,) uncertain and doubtful about what he thinks to +have heard, and upon which he wants to be assured by himself at Christ +and by no others." +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Good, isn't it? And then Peter is described as "argumenting in a +threatening and angrily condition at Judas Iscariot." + +<p>This paragraph recalls the picture. "The Last Supper" is painted on the +dilapidated wall of what was a little chapel attached to the main church +in ancient times, I suppose. It is battered and scarred in every +direction, and stained and discolored by time, and Napoleon's horses +kicked the legs off most the disciples when they (the horses, not the +disciples,) were stabled there more than half a century ago. + +<p>I recognized the old picture in a moment—the Saviour with bowed head +seated at the centre of a long, rough table with scattering fruits and +dishes upon it, and six disciples on either side in their long robes, +talking to each other—the picture from which all engravings and all +copies have been made for three centuries. Perhaps no living man has +ever known an attempt to paint the Lord's Supper differently. The world +seems to have become settled in the belief, long ago, that it is not +possible for human genius to outdo this creation of da Vinci's. I +suppose painters will go on copying it as long as any of the original is +left visible to the eye. There were a dozen easels in the room, and as +many artists transferring the great picture to their canvases. Fifty +proofs of steel engravings and lithographs were scattered around, too. +And as usual, I could not help noticing how superior the copies were to +the original, that is, to my inexperienced eye. Wherever you find a +Raphael, a Rubens, a Michelangelo, a Carracci, or a da Vinci (and we see +them every day,) you find artists copying them, and the copies are always +the handsomest. Maybe the originals were handsome when they were new, +but they are not now. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p191"></a><img alt="p191.jpg (56K)" src="images/p191.jpg" height="641" width="591"> +</center> +<br> + +<p>The colors are dimmed with age; the countenances are scaled and marred, +and nearly all expression is gone from them; the hair is a dead blur upon +the wall, and there is no life in the eyes. Only the attitudes are +certain. + +<p>People come here from all parts of the world, and glorify this +masterpiece. They stand entranced before it with bated breath and parted +lips, and when they speak, it is only in the catchy ejaculations of +rapture: + +<p>"Oh, wonderful!" + +<p>"Such expression!" + +<p>"Such grace of attitude!" + +<p>"Such dignity!" + +<p>"Such faultless drawing!" + +<p>"Such matchless coloring!" + +<p>"Such feeling!" + +<p>"What delicacy of touch!" + +<p>"What sublimity of conception!" + +<p>"A vision! A vision!" + +<p>I only envy these people; I envy them their honest admiration, if it be +honest—their delight, if they feel delight. I harbor no animosity +toward any of them. But at the same time the thought will intrude itself +upon me, How can they see what is not visible? What would you think of a +man who looked at some decayed, blind, toothless, pock-marked Cleopatra, +and said: "What matchless beauty! What soul! What expression!" What +would you think of a man who gazed upon a dingy, foggy sunset, and said: +"What sublimity! What feeling! What richness of coloring!" What would +you think of a man who stared in ecstasy upon a desert of stumps and +said: "Oh, my soul, my beating heart, what a noble forest is here!" + +<p>You would think that those men had an astonishing talent for seeing +things that had already passed away. It was what I thought when I stood +before "The Last Supper" and heard men apostrophizing wonders, and +beauties and perfections which had faded out of the picture and gone, a +hundred years before they were born. We can imagine the beauty that was +once in an aged face; we can imagine the forest if we see the stumps; but +we can not absolutely see these things when they are not there. I am +willing to believe that the eye of the practiced artist can rest upon the +Last Supper and renew a lustre where only a hint of it is left, supply a +tint that has faded away, restore an expression that is gone; patch, and +color, and add, to the dull canvas until at last its figures shall stand +before him aglow with the life, the feeling, the freshness, yea, with all +the noble beauty that was theirs when first they came from the hand of +the master. But I can not work this miracle. Can those other uninspired +visitors do it, or do they only happily imagine they do? + +<p>After reading so much about it, I am satisfied that the Last Supper was a +very miracle of art once. But it was three hundred years ago. + +<p>It vexes me to hear people talk so glibly of "feeling," "expression," +"tone," and those other easily acquired and inexpensive technicalities of +art that make such a fine show in conversations concerning pictures. +There is not one man in seventy-five hundred that can tell what a +pictured face is intended to express. There is not one man in five +hundred that can go into a court-room and be sure that he will not +mistake some harmless innocent of a juryman for the black-hearted +assassin on trial. Yet such people talk of "character" and presume to +interpret "expression" in pictures. There is an old story that Matthews, +the actor, was once lauding the ability of the human face to express the +passions and emotions hidden in the breast. He said the countenance +could disclose what was passing in the heart plainer than the tongue +could. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p194"></a><img alt="p194.jpg (11K)" src="images/p194.jpg" height="195" width="457"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>"Now," he said, "observe my face—what does it express?" + +<p>"Despair!" + +<p>"Bah, it expresses peaceful resignation! What does this express?" + +<p>"Rage!" + +<p>"Stuff! It means terror! This!" + +<p>"Imbecility!" + +<p>"Fool! It is smothered ferocity! Now this!" + +<p>"Joy!" + +<p>"Oh, perdition! Any ass can see it means insanity!" + +<p>Expression! People coolly pretend to read it who would think themselves +presumptuous if they pretended to interpret the hieroglyphics on the +obelisks of Luxor—yet they are fully as competent to do the one thing as +the other. I have heard two very intelligent critics speak of Murillo's +Immaculate Conception (now in the museum at Seville,) within the past few +days. One said: + +<p>"Oh, the Virgin's face is full of the ecstasy of a joy that is +complete—that leaves nothing more to be desired on earth!" + +<p>The other said: + +<p>"Ah, that wonderful face is so humble, so pleading—it says as plainly as +words could say it: 'I fear; I tremble; I am unworthy. But Thy will be +done; sustain Thou Thy servant!'" + +<p>The reader can see the picture in any drawing-room; it can be easily +recognized: the Virgin (the only young and really beautiful Virgin that +was ever painted by one of the old masters, some of us think,) stands in +the crescent of the new moon, with a multitude of cherubs hovering about +her, and more coming; her hands are crossed upon her breast, and upon her +uplifted countenance falls a glory out of the heavens. The reader may +amuse himself, if he chooses, in trying to determine which of these +gentlemen read the Virgin's "expression" aright, or if either of them did +it. + +<p>Any one who is acquainted with the old masters will comprehend how much +"The Last Supper" is damaged when I say that the spectator can not really +tell, now, whether the disciples are Hebrews or Italians. These ancient +painters never succeeded in denationalizing themselves. The Italian +artists painted Italian Virgins, the Dutch painted Dutch Virgins, the +Virgins of the French painters were Frenchwomen—none of them ever put +into the face of the Madonna that indescribable something which proclaims +the Jewess, whether you find her in New York, in Constantinople, in +Paris, Jerusalem, or in the empire of Morocco. I saw in the Sandwich +Islands, once, a picture copied by a talented German artist from an +engraving in one of the American illustrated papers. It was an allegory, +representing Mr. Davis in the act of signing a secession act or some such +document. Over him hovered the ghost of Washington in warning attitude, +and in the background a troop of shadowy soldiers in Continental uniform +were limping with shoeless, bandaged feet through a driving snow-storm. +Valley Forge was suggested, of course. The copy seemed accurate, and yet +there was a discrepancy somewhere. After a long examination I discovered +what it was—the shadowy soldiers were all Germans! Jeff Davis was a +German! even the hovering ghost was a German ghost! The artist had +unconsciously worked his nationality into the picture. To tell the +truth, I am getting a little perplexed about John the Baptist and his +portraits. In France I finally grew reconciled to him as a Frenchman; +here he is unquestionably an Italian. What next? Can it be possible +that the painters make John the Baptist a Spaniard in Madrid and an +Irishman in Dublin? + +<p>We took an open barouche and drove two miles out of Milan to "see ze +echo," as the guide expressed it. The road was smooth, it was bordered +by trees, fields, and grassy meadows, and the soft air was filled with +the odor of flowers. Troops of picturesque peasant girls, coming from +work, hooted at us, shouted at us, made all manner of game of us, and +entirely delighted me. My long-cherished judgment was confirmed. I +always did think those frowsy, romantic, unwashed peasant girls I had +read so much about in poetry were a glaring fraud. + +<p>We enjoyed our jaunt. It was an exhilarating relief from tiresome +sight-seeing. + +<p>We distressed ourselves very little about the astonishing echo the guide +talked so much about. We were growing accustomed to encomiums on wonders +that too often proved no wonders at all. And so we were most happily +disappointed to find in the sequel that the guide had even failed to rise +to the magnitude of his subject. + +<p>We arrived at a tumble-down old rookery called the Palazzo Simonetti—a +massive hewn-stone affair occupied by a family of ragged Italians. +A good-looking young girl conducted us to a window on the second floor +which looked out on a court walled on three sides by tall buildings. She +put her head out at the window and shouted. The echo answered more times +than we could count. She took a speaking trumpet and through it she +shouted, sharp and quick, a single "Ha!" The echo answered: + +<p>"Ha!—ha!——ha!—ha!—ha!-ha! ha! h-a-a-a-a-a!" and finally went off +into a rollicking convulsion of the jolliest laughter that could be +imagined. It was so joyful—so long continued—so perfectly cordial and +hearty, that every body was forced to join in. There was no resisting +it. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p196"></a><img alt="p196.jpg (46K)" src="images/p196.jpg" height="525" width="465"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Then the girl took a gun and fired it. We stood ready to count the +astonishing clatter of reverberations. We could not say one, two, three, +fast enough, but we could dot our notebooks with our pencil points almost +rapidly enough to take down a sort of short-hand report of the result. +My page revealed the following account. I could not keep up, but I did +as well as I could. + +<p>I set down fifty-two distinct repetitions, and then the echo got the +advantage of me. The doctor set down sixty-four, and thenceforth the +echo moved too fast for him, also. After the separate concussions could +no longer be noted, the reverberations dwindled to a wild, long-sustained +clatter of sounds such as a watchman's rattle produces. It is likely +that this is the most remarkable echo in the world. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p197"></a><img alt="p197.jpg (22K)" src="images/p197.jpg" height="431" width="455"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>The doctor, in jest, offered to kiss the young girl, and was taken a +little aback when she said he might for a franc! The commonest gallantry +compelled him to stand by his offer, and so he paid the franc and took +the kiss. She was a philosopher. She said a franc was a good thing to +have, and she did not care any thing for one paltry kiss, because she had +a million left. Then our comrade, always a shrewd businessman, offered +to take the whole cargo at thirty days, but that little financial scheme +was a failure. + + +<br><br> +<a name="p198"></a> +<center> +<img alt="p198 (14K)" src="images/p198.jpg" height="351" width="295" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<h2><a name="ch20"></a>CHAPTER XX. +</h2> +<p>We left Milan by rail. The Cathedral six or seven miles behind us; vast, +dreamy, bluish, snow-clad mountains twenty miles in front of us,—these +were the accented points in the scenery. The more immediate scenery +consisted of fields and farm-houses outside the car and a monster-headed +dwarf and a moustached woman inside it. These latter were not +show-people. Alas, deformity and female beards are too common in Italy to +attract attention. + +<p>We passed through a range of wild, picturesque hills, steep, wooded, +cone-shaped, with rugged crags projecting here and there, and with +dwellings and ruinous castles perched away up toward the drifting clouds. +We lunched at the curious old town of Como, at the foot of the lake, and +then took the small steamer and had an afternoon's pleasure excursion to +this place,—Bellaggio. + +<p>When we walked ashore, a party of policemen (people whose cocked hats and +showy uniforms would shame the finest uniform in the military service of +the United States,) put us into a little stone cell and locked us in. We +had the whole passenger list for company, but their room would have been +preferable, for there was no light, there were no windows, no +ventilation. It was close and hot. We were much crowded. It was the +Black Hole of Calcutta on a small scale. Presently a smoke rose about +our feet—a smoke that smelled of all the dead things of earth, of all +the putrefaction and corruption imaginable. + +<p>We were there five minutes, and when we got out it was hard to tell which +of us carried the vilest fragrance. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p200"></a><img alt="p200.jpg (35K)" src="images/p200.jpg" height="465" width="521"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>These miserable outcasts called that "fumigating" us, and the term was a +tame one indeed. They fumigated us to guard themselves against the +cholera, though we hailed from no infected port. We had left the cholera +far behind us all the time. However, they must keep epidemics away +somehow or other, and fumigation is cheaper than soap. They must either +wash themselves or fumigate other people. Some of the lower classes had +rather die than wash, but the fumigation of strangers causes them no +pangs. They need no fumigation themselves. Their habits make it +unnecessary. They carry their preventive with them; they sweat and +fumigate all the day long. I trust I am a humble and a consistent +Christian. I try to do what is right. I know it is my duty to "pray for +them that despitefully use me;" and therefore, hard as it is, I shall +still try to pray for these fumigating, maccaroni-stuffing +organ-grinders. + +<p>Our hotel sits at the water's edge—at least its front garden does—and +we walk among the shrubbery and smoke at twilight; we look afar off at +Switzerland and the Alps, and feel an indolent willingness to look no +closer; we go down the steps and swim in the lake; we take a shapely +little boat and sail abroad among the reflections of the stars; lie on +the thwarts and listen to the distant laughter, the singing, the soft +melody of flutes and guitars that comes floating across the water from +pleasuring gondolas; we close the evening with exasperating billiards on +one of those same old execrable tables. A midnight luncheon in our ample +bed-chamber; a final smoke in its contracted veranda facing the water, +the gardens, and the mountains; a summing up of the day's events. Then +to bed, with drowsy brains harassed with a mad panorama that mixes up +pictures of France, of Italy, of the ship, of the ocean, of home, in +grotesque and bewildering disorder. Then a melting away of familiar +faces, of cities, and of tossing waves, into a great calm of +forgetfulness and peace. + +<p>After which, the nightmare. + +<p>Breakfast in the morning, and then the lake. + +<p>I did not like it yesterday. I thought Lake Tahoe was much finer. +I have to confess now, however, that my judgment erred somewhat, though +not extravagantly. I always had an idea that Como was a vast basin of +water, like Tahoe, shut in by great mountains. Well, the border of huge +mountains is here, but the lake itself is not a basin. It is as crooked +as any brook, and only from one-quarter to two-thirds as wide as the +Mississippi. There is not a yard of low ground on either side of +it—nothing but endless chains of mountains that spring abruptly from the +water's edge and tower to altitudes varying from a thousand to two +thousand feet. Their craggy sides are clothed with vegetation, and white +specks of houses peep out from the luxuriant foliage everywhere; they are +even perched upon jutting and picturesque pinnacles a thousand feet above +your head. + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p202"></a><img alt="p202.jpg (40K)" src="images/p202.jpg" height="529" width="449"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>Again, for miles along the shores, handsome country seats, surrounded by +gardens and groves, sit fairly in the water, sometimes in nooks carved by +Nature out of the vine-hung precipices, and with no ingress or egress +save by boats. Some have great broad stone staircases leading down to +the water, with heavy stone balustrades ornamented with statuary and +fancifully adorned with creeping vines and bright-colored flowers—for +all the world like a drop curtain in a theatre, and lacking nothing but +long-waisted, high-heeled women and plumed gallants in silken tights +coming down to go serenading in the splendid gondola in waiting. + +<p>A great feature of Como's attractiveness is the multitude of pretty +houses and gardens that cluster upon its shores and on its mountain +sides. They look so snug and so homelike, and at eventide when every +thing seems to slumber, and the music of the vesper bells comes stealing +over the water, one almost believes that nowhere else than on the lake of +Como can there be found such a paradise of tranquil repose. + +<p>From my window here in Bellaggio, I have a view of the other side of the +lake now, which is as beautiful as a picture. A scarred and wrinkled +precipice rises to a height of eighteen hundred feet; on a tiny bench +half way up its vast wall, sits a little snowflake of a church, no bigger +than a martin-box, apparently; skirting the base of the cliff are a +hundred orange groves and gardens, flecked with glimpses of the white +dwellings that are buried in them; in front, three or four gondolas lie +idle upon the water—and in the burnished mirror of the lake, mountain, +chapel, houses, groves and boats are counterfeited so brightly and so +clearly that one scarce knows where the reality leaves off and the +reflection begins! + +<p>The surroundings of this picture are fine. A mile away, a grove-plumed +promontory juts far into the lake and glasses its palace in the blue +depths; in midstream a boat is cutting the shining surface and leaving a +long track behind, like a ray of light; the mountains beyond are veiled +in a dreamy purple haze; far in the opposite direction a tumbled mass of +domes and verdant slopes and valleys bars the lake, and here indeed does +distance lend enchantment to the view—for on this broad canvas, sun and +clouds and the richest of atmospheres have blended a thousand tints +together, and over its surface the filmy lights and shadows drift, hour +after hour, and glorify it with a beauty that seems reflected out of +Heaven itself. Beyond all question, this is the most voluptuous scene we +have yet looked upon. + +<p>Last night the scenery was striking and picturesque. On the other side +crags and trees and snowy houses were reflected in the lake with a +wonderful distinctness, and streams of light from many a distant window +shot far abroad over the still waters. On this side, near at hand, great +mansions, white with moonlight, glared out from the midst of masses of +foliage that lay black and shapeless in the shadows that fell from the +cliff above—and down in the margin of the lake every feature of the +weird vision was faithfully repeated. + +<p>Today we have idled through a wonder of a garden attached to a ducal +estate—but enough of description is enough, I judge. + +<p>I suspect that this was the same place the gardener's son deceived the +Lady of Lyons with, but I do not know. You may have heard of the passage +somewhere: + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + +<br> "A deep vale, +<br> Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world, +<br> Near a clear lake margined by fruits of gold +<br> And whispering myrtles: +<br> Glassing softest skies, cloudless, +<br> Save with rare and roseate shadows; +<br> A palace, lifting to eternal heaven its marbled walls, +<br> From out a glossy bower of coolest foliage musical with birds." + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<br><br><br> +<center><a name="p204"></a><img alt="p204.jpg (92K)" src="images/p204.jpg" height="380" width="650"> +</center> +<br><br><br> + +<p>That is all very well, except the "clear" part of the lake. It certainly +is clearer than a great many lakes, but how dull its waters are compared +with the wonderful transparence of Lake Tahoe! I speak of the north +shore of Tahoe, where one can count the scales on a trout at a depth of a +hundred and eighty feet. I have tried to get this statement off at par +here, but with no success; so I have been obliged to negotiate it at +fifty percent discount. At this rate I find some takers; perhaps the +reader will receive it on the same terms—ninety feet instead of one +hundred and eighty. But let it be remembered that those are forced +terms—Sheriff's sale prices. As far as I am privately concerned, I +abate not a jot of the original assertion that in those strangely +magnifying waters one may count the scales on a trout (a trout of the +large kind,) at a depth of a hundred and eighty feet—may see every +pebble on the bottom—might even count a paper of dray-pins. People talk +of the transparent waters of the Mexican Bay of Acapulco, but in my own +experience I know they cannot compare with those I am speaking of. I +have fished for trout, in Tahoe, and at a measured depth of eighty-four +feet I have seen them put their noses to the bait and I could see their +gills open and shut. I could hardly have seen the trout themselves at +that distance in the open air. + +<p>As I go back in spirit and recall that noble sea, reposing among the +snow-peaks six thousand feet above the ocean, the conviction comes strong +upon me again that Como would only seem a bedizened little courtier in +that august presence. + +<p>Sorrow and misfortune overtake the legislature that still from year to +year permits Tahoe to retain its unmusical cognomen! Tahoe! It suggests +no crystal waters, no picturesque shores, no sublimity. Tahoe for a sea +in the clouds: a sea that has character and asserts it in solemn calms at +times, at times in savage storms; a sea whose royal seclusion is guarded +by a cordon of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty fronts nine thousand +feet above the level world; a sea whose every aspect is impressive, whose +belongings are all beautiful, whose lonely majesty types the Deity! + +<p>Tahoe means grasshoppers. It means grasshopper soup. It is Indian, and +suggestive of Indians. They say it is Pi-ute—possibly it is Digger. +I am satisfied it was named by the Diggers—those degraded savages who +roast their dead relatives, then mix the human grease and ashes of bones +with tar, and "gaum" it thick all over their heads and foreheads and +ears, and go caterwauling about the hills and call it mourning. These +are the gentry that named the Lake. + +<p>People say that Tahoe means "Silver Lake"—"Limpid Water"—"Falling +Leaf." Bosh. It means grasshopper soup, the favorite dish of the Digger +tribe,—and of the Pi-utes as well. It isn't worth while, in these +practical times, for people to talk about Indian poetry—there never was +any in them—except in the Fenimore Cooper Indians. But they are an +extinct tribe that never existed. I know the Noble Red Man. I have +camped with the Indians; I have been on the warpath with them, taken part +in the chase with them—for grasshoppers; helped them steal cattle; I +have roamed with them, scalped them, had them for breakfast. I would +gladly eat the whole race if I had a chance. + +<p>But I am growing unreliable. I will return to my comparison of the +lakes. Como is a little deeper than Tahoe, if people here tell the +truth. They say it is eighteen hundred feet deep at this point, but it +does not look a dead enough blue for that. Tahoe is one thousand five +hundred and twenty-five feet deep in the centre, by the state geologist's +measurement. They say the great peak opposite this town is five thousand +feet high: but I feel sure that three thousand feet of that statement is +a good honest lie. The lake is a mile wide, here, and maintains about +that width from this point to its northern extremity—which is distant +sixteen miles: from here to its southern extremity—say fifteen miles—it +is not over half a mile wide in any place, I should think. Its snow-clad +mountains one hears so much about are only seen occasionally, and then in +the distance, the Alps. Tahoe is from ten to eighteen miles wide, and +its mountains shut it in like a wall. Their summits are never free from +snow the year round. One thing about it is very strange: it never has +even a skim of ice upon its surface, although lakes in the same range of +mountains, lying in a lower and warmer temperature, freeze over in +winter. + +<p>It is cheerful to meet a shipmate in these out-of-the-way places and +compare notes with him. We have found one of ours here—an old soldier +of the war, who is seeking bloodless adventures and rest from his +campaigns in these sunny lands. + +<br>[Colonel J. HERON FOSTER, editor of a +Pittsburgh journal, and a most estimable gentleman. As these sheets are +being prepared for the press I am pained to learn of his decease shortly +after his return home—M.T.] +<br><br> +<hr> +<br><br><br><br> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Innocents Abroad, Part 2 of 6 +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENTS ABROAD, PART 2 OF 6 *** + +***** This file should be named 5689-h.htm or 5689-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/8/5689/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed989d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/5689-h/images/p204.jpg diff --git a/5689-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/5689-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..513b302 --- /dev/null +++ b/5689-h/images/titlepage.jpg diff --git a/5689.txt b/5689.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c51a45d --- /dev/null +++ b/5689.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3375 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Innocents Abroad, Part 2 of 6 +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +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: The Innocents Abroad, Part 2 of 6 + +Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +Release Date: June 15, 2004 [EBook #5689] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENTS ABROAD, PART 2 OF 6 *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +INNOCENTS ABROAD + +by Mark Twain + +[From an 1869--1st Edition] + +Part 2. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +We are getting foreignized rapidly and with facility. We are getting +reconciled to halls and bedchambers with unhomelike stone floors and no +carpets--floors that ring to the tread of one's heels with a sharpness +that is death to sentimental musing. We are getting used to tidy, +noiseless waiters, who glide hither and thither, and hover about your +back and your elbows like butterflies, quick to comprehend orders, quick +to fill them; thankful for a gratuity without regard to the amount; and +always polite--never otherwise than polite. That is the strangest +curiosity yet--a really polite hotel waiter who isn't an idiot. We are +getting used to driving right into the central court of the hotel, in the +midst of a fragrant circle of vines and flowers, and in the midst also of +parties of gentlemen sitting quietly reading the paper and smoking. We +are getting used to ice frozen by artificial process in ordinary bottles +--the only kind of ice they have here. We are getting used to all these +things, but we are not getting used to carrying our own soap. We are +sufficiently civilized to carry our own combs and toothbrushes, but this +thing of having to ring for soap every time we wash is new to us and not +pleasant at all. We think of it just after we get our heads and faces +thoroughly wet or just when we think we have been in the bathtub long +enough, and then, of course, an annoying delay follows. These +Marseillaises make Marseillaise hymns and Marseilles vests and Marseilles +soap for all the world, but they never sing their hymns or wear their +vests or wash with their soap themselves. + +We have learned to go through the lingering routine of the table d'hote +with patience, with serenity, with satisfaction. We take soup, then wait +a few minutes for the fish; a few minutes more and the plates are +changed, and the roast beef comes; another change and we take peas; +change again and take lentils; change and take snail patties (I prefer +grasshoppers); change and take roast chicken and salad; then strawberry +pie and ice cream; then green figs, pears, oranges, green almonds, etc.; +finally coffee. Wine with every course, of course, being in France. +With such a cargo on board, digestion is a slow process, and we must sit +long in the cool chambers and smoke--and read French newspapers, which +have a strange fashion of telling a perfectly straight story till you get +to the "nub" of it, and then a word drops in that no man can translate, +and that story is ruined. An embankment fell on some Frenchmen +yesterday, and the papers are full of it today--but whether those +sufferers were killed, or crippled, or bruised, or only scared is more +than I can possibly make out, and yet I would just give anything to know. + +We were troubled a little at dinner today by the conduct of an American, +who talked very loudly and coarsely and laughed boisterously where all +others were so quiet and well behaved. He ordered wine with a royal +flourish and said: + +"I never dine without wine, sir" (which was a pitiful falsehood), and +looked around upon the company to bask in the admiration he expected to +find in their faces. All these airs in a land where they would as soon +expect to leave the soup out of the bill of fare as the wine!--in a land +where wine is nearly as common among all ranks as water! This fellow +said: "I am a free-born sovereign, sir, an American, sir, and I want +everybody to know it!" He did not mention that he was a lineal +descendant of Balaam's ass, but everybody knew that without his telling +it. + +We have driven in the Prado--that superb avenue bordered with patrician +mansions and noble shade trees--and have visited the chateau Boarely and +its curious museum. They showed us a miniature cemetery there--a copy of +the first graveyard that was ever in Marseilles, no doubt. The delicate +little skeletons were lying in broken vaults and had their household gods +and kitchen utensils with them. The original of this cemetery was dug up +in the principal street of the city a few years ago. It had remained +there, only twelve feet underground, for a matter of twenty-five hundred +years or thereabouts. Romulus was here before he built Rome, and thought +something of founding a city on this spot, but gave up the idea. He may +have been personally acquainted with some of these Phoenicians whose +skeletons we have been examining. + +In the great Zoological Gardens we found specimens of all the animals the +world produces, I think, including a dromedary, a monkey ornamented with +tufts of brilliant blue and carmine hair--a very gorgeous monkey he was +--a hippopotamus from the Nile, and a sort of tall, long-legged bird with a +beak like a powder horn and close-fitting wings like the tails of a dress +coat. This fellow stood up with his eyes shut and his shoulders stooped +forward a little, and looked as if he had his hands under his coat +tails. Such tranquil stupidity, such supernatural gravity, such +self-righteousness, and such ineffable self-complacency as were in the +countenance and attitude of that gray-bodied, dark-winged, bald-headed, +and preposterously uncomely bird! He was so ungainly, so pimply about +the head, so scaly about the legs, yet so serene, so unspeakably +satisfied! He was the most comical-looking creature that can be +imagined. It was good to hear Dan and the doctor laugh--such natural and +such enjoyable laughter had not been heard among our excursionists since +our ship sailed away from America. This bird was a godsend to us, and I +should be an ingrate if I forgot to make honorable mention of him in +these pages. Ours was a pleasure excursion; therefore we stayed with +that bird an hour and made the most of him. We stirred him up +occasionally, but he only unclosed an eye and slowly closed it again, +abating no jot of his stately piety of demeanor or his tremendous +seriousness. He only seemed to say, "Defile not Heaven's anointed with +unsanctified hands." We did not know his name, and so we called him "The +Pilgrim." Dan said: + +"All he wants now is a Plymouth Collection." + +The boon companion of the colossal elephant was a common cat! This cat +had a fashion of climbing up the elephant's hind legs and roosting on his +back. She would sit up there, with her paws curved under her breast, and +sleep in the sun half the afternoon. It used to annoy the elephant at +first, and he would reach up and take her down, but she would go aft and +climb up again. She persisted until she finally conquered the elephant's +prejudices, and now they are inseparable friends. The cat plays about +her comrade's forefeet or his trunk often, until dogs approach, and then +she goes aloft out of danger. The elephant has annihilated several dogs +lately that pressed his companion too closely. + +We hired a sailboat and a guide and made an excursion to one of the small +islands in the harbor to visit the Castle d'If. This ancient fortress +has a melancholy history. It has been used as a prison for political +offenders for two or three hundred years, and its dungeon walls are +scarred with the rudely carved names of many and many a captive who +fretted his life away here and left no record of himself but these sad +epitaphs wrought with his own hands. How thick the names were! And +their long-departed owners seemed to throng the gloomy cells and +corridors with their phantom shapes. We loitered through dungeon after +dungeon, away down into the living rock below the level of the sea, it +seemed. Names everywhere!--some plebeian, some noble, some even +princely. Plebeian, prince, and noble had one solicitude in common--they +would not be forgotten! They could suffer solitude, inactivity, and the +horrors of a silence that no sound ever disturbed, but they could not +bear the thought of being utterly forgotten by the world. Hence the +carved names. In one cell, where a little light penetrated, a man had +lived twenty-seven years without seeing the face of a human being--lived +in filth and wretchedness, with no companionship but his own thoughts, +and they were sorrowful enough and hopeless enough, no doubt. Whatever +his jailers considered that he needed was conveyed to his cell by night +through a wicket. + +This man carved the walls of his prison house from floor to roof with all +manner of figures of men and animals grouped in intricate designs. He +had toiled there year after year, at his self-appointed task, while +infants grew to boyhood--to vigorous youth--idled through school and +college--acquired a profession--claimed man's mature estate--married and +looked back to infancy as to a thing of some vague, ancient time, almost. +But who shall tell how many ages it seemed to this prisoner? With the +one, time flew sometimes; with the other, never--it crawled always. To +the one, nights spent in dancing had seemed made of minutes instead of +hours; to the other, those selfsame nights had been like all other nights +of dungeon life and seemed made of slow, dragging weeks instead of hours +and minutes. + +One prisoner of fifteen years had scratched verses upon his walls, and +brief prose sentences--brief, but full of pathos. These spoke not of +himself and his hard estate, but only of the shrine where his spirit fled +the prison to worship--of home and the idols that were templed there. +He never lived to see them. + +The walls of these dungeons are as thick as some bed-chambers at home are +wide--fifteen feet. We saw the damp, dismal cells in which two of Dumas' +heroes passed their confinement--heroes of "Monte Cristo." It was here +that the brave Abbe wrote a book with his own blood, with a pen made of a +piece of iron hoop, and by the light of a lamp made out of shreds of +cloth soaked in grease obtained from his food; and then dug through the +thick wall with some trifling instrument which he wrought himself out of +a stray piece of iron or table cutlery and freed Dantes from his chains. +It was a pity that so many weeks of dreary labor should have come to +naught at last. + +They showed us the noisome cell where the celebrated "Iron Mask"--that +ill-starred brother of a hardhearted king of France--was confined for a +season before he was sent to hide the strange mystery of his life from +the curious in the dungeons of Ste. Marguerite. The place had a far +greater interest for us than it could have had if we had known beyond all +question who the Iron Mask was, and what his history had been, and why +this most unusual punishment had been meted out to him. Mystery! That +was the charm. That speechless tongue, those prisoned features, that +heart so freighted with unspoken troubles, and that breast so oppressed +with its piteous secret had been here. These dank walls had known the +man whose dolorous story is a sealed book forever! There was fascination +in the spot. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +We have come five hundred miles by rail through the heart of France. +What a bewitching land it is! What a garden! Surely the leagues of +bright green lawns are swept and brushed and watered every day and their +grasses trimmed by the barber. Surely the hedges are shaped and measured +and their symmetry preserved by the most architectural of gardeners. +Surely the long straight rows of stately poplars that divide the +beautiful landscape like the squares of a checker-board are set with line +and plummet, and their uniform height determined with a spirit level. +Surely the straight, smooth, pure white turnpikes are jack-planed and +sandpapered every day. How else are these marvels of symmetry, +cleanliness, and order attained? It is wonderful. There are no +unsightly stone walls and never a fence of any kind. There is no dirt, +no decay, no rubbish anywhere--nothing that even hints at untidiness +--nothing that ever suggests neglect. All is orderly and beautiful--every +thing is charming to the eye. + +We had such glimpses of the Rhone gliding along between its grassy banks; +of cosy cottages buried in flowers and shrubbery; of quaint old red-tiled +villages with mossy medieval cathedrals looming out of their midst; of +wooded hills with ivy-grown towers and turrets of feudal castles +projecting above the foliage; such glimpses of Paradise, it seemed to us, +such visions of fabled fairyland! + +We knew then what the poet meant when he sang of: "--thy cornfields +green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!" + +And it is a pleasant land. No word describes it so felicitously as that +one. They say there is no word for "home" in the French language. Well, +considering that they have the article itself in such an attractive +aspect, they ought to manage to get along without the word. Let us not +waste too much pity on "homeless" France. I have observed that Frenchmen +abroad seldom wholly give up the idea of going back to France some time +or other. I am not surprised at it now. + +We are not infatuated with these French railway cars, though. We took +first-class passage, not because we wished to attract attention by doing +a thing which is uncommon in Europe but because we could make our journey +quicker by so doing. It is hard to make railroading pleasant in any +country. It is too tedious. Stagecoaching is infinitely more +delightful. Once I crossed the plains and deserts and mountains of the +West in a stagecoach, from the Missouri line to California, and since +then all my pleasure trips must be measured to that rare holiday frolic. +Two thousand miles of ceaseless rush and rattle and clatter, by night and +by day, and never a weary moment, never a lapse of interest! The first +seven hundred miles a level continent, its grassy carpet greener and +softer and smoother than any sea and figured with designs fitted to its +magnitude--the shadows of the clouds. Here were no scenes but summer +scenes, and no disposition inspired by them but to lie at full length on +the mail sacks in the grateful breeze and dreamily smoke the pipe of +peace--what other, where all was repose and contentment? In cool +mornings, before the sun was fairly up, it was worth a lifetime of city +toiling and moiling to perch in the foretop with the driver and see the +six mustangs scamper under the sharp snapping of the whip that never +touched them; to scan the blue distances of a world that knew no lords +but us; to cleave the wind with uncovered head and feel the sluggish +pulses rousing to the spirit of a speed that pretended to the resistless +rush of a typhoon! Then thirteen hundred miles of desert solitudes; of +limitless panoramas of bewildering perspective; of mimic cities, of +pinnacled cathedrals, of massive fortresses, counterfeited in the eternal +rocks and splendid with the crimson and gold of the setting sun; of dizzy +altitudes among fog-wreathed peaks and never-melting snows, where +thunders and lightnings and tempests warred magnificently at our feet and +the storm clouds above swung their shredded banners in our very faces! +But I forgot. I am in elegant France now, and not scurrying through the +great South Pass and the Wind River Mountains, among antelopes and +buffaloes and painted Indians on the warpath. It is not meet that I +should make too disparaging comparisons between humdrum travel on a +railway and that royal summer flight across a continent in a stagecoach. +I meant in the beginning to say that railway journeying is tedious and +tiresome, and so it is--though at the time I was thinking particularly of +a dismal fifty-hour pilgrimage between New York and St. Louis. Of course +our trip through France was not really tedious because all its scenes and +experiences were new and strange; but as Dan says, it had its +"discrepancies." + +The cars are built in compartments that hold eight persons each. Each +compartment is partially subdivided, and so there are two tolerably +distinct parties of four in it. Four face the other four. The seats and +backs are thickly padded and cushioned and are very comfortable; you can +smoke if you wish; there are no bothersome peddlers; you are saved the +infliction of a multitude of disagreeable fellow passengers. So far, so +well. But then the conductor locks you in when the train starts; there +is no water to drink in the car; there is no heating apparatus for night +travel; if a drunken rowdy should get in, you could not remove a matter +of twenty seats from him or enter another car; but above all, if you are +worn out and must sleep, you must sit up and do it in naps, with cramped +legs and in a torturing misery that leaves you withered and lifeless the +next day--for behold they have not that culmination of all charity and +human kindness, a sleeping car, in all France. I prefer the American +system. It has not so many grievous "discrepancies." + +In France, all is clockwork, all is order. They make no mistakes. Every +third man wears a uniform, and whether he be a marshal of the empire or a +brakeman, he is ready and perfectly willing to answer all your questions +with tireless politeness, ready to tell you which car to take, yea, and +ready to go and put you into it to make sure that you shall not go +astray. You cannot pass into the waiting room of the depot till you have +secured your ticket, and you cannot pass from its only exit till the +train is at its threshold to receive you. Once on board, the train will +not start till your ticket has been examined--till every passenger's +ticket has been inspected. This is chiefly for your own good. If by any +possibility you have managed to take the wrong train, you will be handed +over to a polite official who will take you whither you belong and bestow +you with many an affable bow. Your ticket will be inspected every now +and then along the route, and when it is time to change cars you will +know it. You are in the hands of officials who zealously study your +welfare and your interest, instead of turning their talents to the +invention of new methods of discommoding and snubbing you, as is very +often the main employment of that exceedingly self-satisfied monarch, the +railroad conductor of America. + +But the happiest regulation in French railway government is--thirty +minutes to dinner! No five-minute boltings of flabby rolls, muddy +coffee, questionable eggs, gutta-percha beef, and pies whose conception +and execution are a dark and bloody mystery to all save the cook that +created them! No, we sat calmly down--it was in old Dijon, which is so +easy to spell and so impossible to pronounce except when you civilize it +and call it Demijohn--and poured out rich Burgundian wines and munched +calmly through a long table d'hote bill of fare, snail patties, delicious +fruits and all, then paid the trifle it cost and stepped happily aboard +the train again, without once cursing the railroad company. A rare +experience and one to be treasured forever. + +They say they do not have accidents on these French roads, and I think it +must be true. If I remember rightly, we passed high above wagon roads or +through tunnels under them, but never crossed them on their own level. +About every quarter of a mile, it seemed to me, a man came out and held +up a club till the train went by, to signify that everything was safe +ahead. Switches were changed a mile in advance by pulling a wire rope +that passed along the ground by the rail, from station to station. +Signals for the day and signals for the night gave constant and timely +notice of the position of switches. + +No, they have no railroad accidents to speak of in France. But why? +Because when one occurs, somebody has to hang for it! Not hang, maybe, +but be punished at least with such vigor of emphasis as to make +negligence a thing to be shuddered at by railroad officials for many a +day thereafter. "No blame attached to the officers"--that lying and +disaster-breeding verdict so common to our softhearted juries is seldom +rendered in France. If the trouble occurred in the conductor's +department, that officer must suffer if his subordinate cannot be proven +guilty; if in the engineer's department and the case be similar, the +engineer must answer. + +The Old Travelers--those delightful parrots who have "been here before" +and know more about the country than Louis Napoleon knows now or ever +will know--tell us these things, and we believe them because they are +pleasant things to believe and because they are plausible and savor of +the rigid subjection to law and order which we behold about us +everywhere. + +But we love the Old Travelers. We love to hear them prate and drivel and +lie. We can tell them the moment we see them. They always throw out a +few feelers; they never cast themselves adrift till they have sounded +every individual and know that he has not traveled. Then they open their +throttle valves, and how they do brag, and sneer, and swell, and soar, +and blaspheme the sacred name of Truth! Their central idea, their grand +aim, is to subjugate you, keep you down, make you feel insignificant and +humble in the blaze of their cosmopolitan glory! They will not let you +know anything. They sneer at your most inoffensive suggestions; they +laugh unfeelingly at your treasured dreams of foreign lands; they brand +the statements of your traveled aunts and uncles as the stupidest +absurdities; they deride your most trusted authors and demolish the fair +images they have set up for your willing worship with the pitiless +ferocity of the fanatic iconoclast! But still I love the Old Travelers. +I love them for their witless platitudes, for their supernatural ability +to bore, for their delightful asinine vanity, for their luxuriant +fertility of imagination, for their startling, their brilliant, their +overwhelming mendacity! + +By Lyons and the Saone (where we saw the lady of Lyons and thought little +of her comeliness), by Villa Franca, Tonnere, venerable Sens, Melun, +Fontainebleau, and scores of other beautiful cities, we swept, always +noting the absence of hog-wallows, broken fences, cow lots, unpainted +houses, and mud, and always noting, as well, the presence of cleanliness, +grace, taste in adorning and beautifying, even to the disposition of a +tree or the turning of a hedge, the marvel of roads in perfect repair, +void of ruts and guiltless of even an inequality of surface--we bowled +along, hour after hour, that brilliant summer day, and as nightfall +approached we entered a wilderness of odorous flowers and shrubbery, sped +through it, and then, excited, delighted, and half persuaded that we were +only the sport of a beautiful dream, lo, we stood in magnificent Paris! + +What excellent order they kept about that vast depot! There was no +frantic crowding and jostling, no shouting and swearing, and no +swaggering intrusion of services by rowdy hackmen. These latter gentry +stood outside--stood quietly by their long line of vehicles and said +never a word. A kind of hackman general seemed to have the whole matter +of transportation in his hands. He politely received the passengers and +ushered them to the kind of conveyance they wanted, and told the driver +where to deliver them. There was no "talking back," no dissatisfaction +about overcharging, no grumbling about anything. In a little while we +were speeding through the streets of Paris and delightfully recognizing +certain names and places with which books had long ago made us familiar. +It was like meeting an old friend when we read Rue de Rivoli on the +street corner; we knew the genuine vast palace of the Louvre as well as +we knew its picture; when we passed by the Column of July we needed no +one to tell us what it was or to remind us that on its site once stood +the grim Bastille, that grave of human hopes and happiness, that dismal +prison house within whose dungeons so many young faces put on the +wrinkles of age, so many proud spirits grew humble, so many brave hearts +broke. + +We secured rooms at the hotel, or rather, we had three beds put into one +room, so that we might be together, and then we went out to a restaurant, +just after lamplighting, and ate a comfortable, satisfactory, lingering +dinner. It was a pleasure to eat where everything was so tidy, the food +so well cooked, the waiters so polite, and the coming and departing +company so moustached, so frisky, so affable, so fearfully and +wonderfully Frenchy! All the surroundings were gay and enlivening. Two +hundred people sat at little tables on the sidewalk, sipping wine and +coffee; the streets were thronged with light vehicles and with joyous +pleasure-seekers; there was music in the air, life and action all about +us, and a conflagration of gaslight everywhere! + +After dinner we felt like seeing such Parisian specialties as we might +see without distressing exertion, and so we sauntered through the +brilliant streets and looked at the dainty trifles in variety stores and +jewelry shops. Occasionally, merely for the pleasure of being cruel, we +put unoffending Frenchmen on the rack with questions framed in the +incomprehensible jargon of their native language, and while they writhed +we impaled them, we peppered them, we scarified them, with their own vile +verbs and participles. + +We noticed that in the jewelry stores they had some of the articles +marked "gold" and some labeled "imitation." We wondered at this +extravagance of honesty and inquired into the matter. We were informed +that inasmuch as most people are not able to tell false gold from the +genuine article, the government compels jewelers to have their gold work +assayed and stamped officially according to its fineness and their +imitation work duly labeled with the sign of its falsity. They told us +the jewelers would not dare to violate this law, and that whatever a +stranger bought in one of their stores might be depended upon as being +strictly what it was represented to be. Verily, a wonderful land is +France! + +Then we hunted for a barber-shop. From earliest infancy it had been +a cherished ambition of mine to be shaved some day in a palatial +barber-shop in Paris. I wished to recline at full length in a cushioned +invalid chair, with pictures about me and sumptuous furniture; with +frescoed walls and gilded arches above me and vistas of Corinthian +columns stretching far before me; with perfumes of Araby to intoxicate +my senses and the slumbrous drone of distant noises to soothe me to +sleep. At the end of an hour I would wake up regretfully and find my +face as smooth and as soft as an infant's. Departing, I would lift my +hands above that barber's head and say, "Heaven bless you, my son!" + +So we searched high and low, for a matter of two hours, but never a +barber-shop could we see. We saw only wig-making establishments, with +shocks of dead and repulsive hair bound upon the heads of painted waxen +brigands who stared out from glass boxes upon the passer-by with their +stony eyes and scared him with the ghostly white of their countenances. +We shunned these signs for a time, but finally we concluded that the +wig-makers must of necessity be the barbers as well, since we could find +no single legitimate representative of the fraternity. We entered and +asked, and found that it was even so. + +I said I wanted to be shaved. The barber inquired where my room was. I +said never mind where my room was, I wanted to be shaved--there, on the +spot. The doctor said he would be shaved also. Then there was an +excitement among those two barbers! There was a wild consultation, and +afterwards a hurrying to and fro and a feverish gathering up of razors +from obscure places and a ransacking for soap. Next they took us into a +little mean, shabby back room; they got two ordinary sitting-room chairs +and placed us in them with our coats on. My old, old dream of bliss +vanished into thin air! + +I sat bolt upright, silent, sad, and solemn. One of the wig-making +villains lathered my face for ten terrible minutes and finished by +plastering a mass of suds into my mouth. I expelled the nasty stuff with +a strong English expletive and said, "Foreigner, beware!" Then this +outlaw strapped his razor on his boot, hovered over me ominously for six +fearful seconds, and then swooped down upon me like the genius of +destruction. The first rake of his razor loosened the very hide from my +face and lifted me out of the chair. I stormed and raved, and the other +boys enjoyed it. Their beards are not strong and thick. Let us draw the +curtain over this harrowing scene. + +Suffice it that I submitted and went through with the cruel infliction of +a shave by a French barber; tears of exquisite agony coursed down my +cheeks now and then, but I survived. Then the incipient assassin held a +basin of water under my chin and slopped its contents over my face, and +into my bosom, and down the back of my neck, with a mean pretense of +washing away the soap and blood. He dried my features with a towel and +was going to comb my hair, but I asked to be excused. I said, with +withering irony, that it was sufficient to be skinned--I declined to be +scalped. + +I went away from there with my handkerchief about my face, and never, +never, never desired to dream of palatial Parisian barber-shops anymore. +The truth is, as I believe I have since found out, that they have no +barber shops worthy of the name in Paris--and no barbers, either, for +that matter. The impostor who does duty as a barber brings his pans and +napkins and implements of torture to your residence and deliberately +skins you in your private apartments. Ah, I have suffered, suffered, +suffered, here in Paris, but never mind--the time is coming when I shall +have a dark and bloody revenge. Someday a Parisian barber will come to +my room to skin me, and from that day forth that barber will never be +heard of more. + +At eleven o'clock we alighted upon a sign which manifestly referred to +billiards. Joy! We had played billiards in the Azores with balls that +were not round and on an ancient table that was very little smoother than +a brick pavement--one of those wretched old things with dead cushions, +and with patches in the faded cloth and invisible obstructions that made +the balls describe the most astonishing and unsuspected angles and +perform feats in the way of unlooked-for and almost impossible +"scratches" that were perfectly bewildering. We had played at Gibraltar +with balls the size of a walnut, on a table like a public square--and in +both instances we achieved far more aggravation than amusement. We +expected to fare better here, but we were mistaken. The cushions were a +good deal higher than the balls, and as the balls had a fashion of always +stopping under the cushions, we accomplished very little in the way of +caroms. The cushions were hard and unelastic, and the cues were so +crooked that in making a shot you had to allow for the curve or you would +infallibly put the "English" on the wrong side of the hall. Dan was to +mark while the doctor and I played. At the end of an hour neither of us +had made a count, and so Dan was tired of keeping tally with nothing to +tally, and we were heated and angry and disgusted. We paid the heavy +bill--about six cents--and said we would call around sometime when we had +a week to spend, and finish the game. + +We adjourned to one of those pretty cafes and took supper and tested the +wines of the country, as we had been instructed to do, and found them +harmless and unexciting. They might have been exciting, however, if we +had chosen to drink a sufficiency of them. + +To close our first day in Paris cheerfully and pleasantly, we now sought +our grand room in the Grand Hotel du Louvre and climbed into our +sumptuous bed to read and smoke--but alas! + + It was pitiful, + In a whole city-full, + Gas we had none. + +No gas to read by--nothing but dismal candles. It was a shame. We tried +to map out excursions for the morrow; we puzzled over French "guides to +Paris"; we talked disjointedly in a vain endeavor to make head or tail of +the wild chaos of the day's sights and experiences; we subsided to +indolent smoking; we gaped and yawned and stretched--then feebly wondered +if we were really and truly in renowned Paris, and drifted drowsily away +into that vast mysterious void which men call sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +The next morning we were up and dressed at ten o'clock. We went to the +'commissionaire' of the hotel--I don't know what a 'commissionaire' is, +but that is the man we went to--and told him we wanted a guide. He said +the national Exposition had drawn such multitudes of Englishmen and +Americans to Paris that it would be next to impossible to find a good +guide unemployed. He said he usually kept a dozen or two on hand, but he +only had three now. He called them. One looked so like a very pirate +that we let him go at once. The next one spoke with a simpering +precision of pronunciation that was irritating and said: + +"If ze zhentlemans will to me make ze grande honneur to me rattain in +hees serveece, I shall show to him every sing zat is magnifique to look +upon in ze beautiful Parree. I speaky ze Angleesh pairfaitemaw." + +He would have done well to have stopped there, because he had that much +by heart and said it right off without making a mistake. But his +self-complacency seduced him into attempting a flight into regions of +unexplored English, and the reckless experiment was his ruin. Within ten +seconds he was so tangled up in a maze of mutilated verbs and torn and +bleeding forms of speech that no human ingenuity could ever have gotten +him out of it with credit. It was plain enough that he could not +"speaky" the English quite as "pairfaitemaw" as he had pretended he +could. + +The third man captured us. He was plainly dressed, but he had a +noticeable air of neatness about him. He wore a high silk hat which was +a little old, but had been carefully brushed. He wore second-hand kid +gloves, in good repair, and carried a small rattan cane with a curved +handle--a female leg--of ivory. He stepped as gently and as daintily as +a cat crossing a muddy street; and oh, he was urbanity; he was quiet, +unobtrusive self-possession; he was deference itself! He spoke softly +and guardedly; and when he was about to make a statement on his sole +responsibility or offer a suggestion, he weighed it by drachms and +scruples first, with the crook of his little stick placed meditatively to +his teeth. His opening speech was perfect. It was perfect in +construction, in phraseology, in grammar, in emphasis, in pronunciation +--everything. He spoke little and guardedly after that. We were charmed. +We were more than charmed--we were overjoyed. We hired him at once. We +never even asked him his price. This man--our lackey, our servant, our +unquestioning slave though he was--was still a gentleman--we could see +that--while of the other two one was coarse and awkward and the other was +a born pirate. We asked our man Friday's name. He drew from his +pocketbook a snowy little card and passed it to us with a profound bow: + + A. BILLFINGER, + Guide to Paris, France, Germany, + Spain, &c., &c. + Grande Hotel du Louvre. + +"Billfinger! Oh, carry me home to die!" + +That was an "aside" from Dan. The atrocious name grated harshly on my +ear, too. The most of us can learn to forgive, and even to like, a +countenance that strikes us unpleasantly at first, but few of us, I +fancy, become reconciled to a jarring name so easily. I was almost sorry +we had hired this man, his name was so unbearable. However, no matter. +We were impatient to start. Billfinger stepped to the door to call a +carriage, and then the doctor said: + +"Well, the guide goes with the barbershop, with the billiard-table, with +the gasless room, and may be with many another pretty romance of Paris. +I expected to have a guide named Henri de Montmorency, or Armand de la +Chartreuse, or something that would sound grand in letters to the +villagers at home, but to think of a Frenchman by the name of Billfinger! +Oh! This is absurd, you know. This will never do. We can't say +Billfinger; it is nauseating. Name him over again; what had we better +call him? Alexis du Caulaincourt?" + +"Alphonse Henri Gustave de Hauteville," I suggested. + +"Call him Ferguson," said Dan. + +That was practical, unromantic good sense. Without debate, we expunged +Billfinger as Billfinger, and called him Ferguson. + +The carriage--an open barouche--was ready. Ferguson mounted beside the +driver, and we whirled away to breakfast. As was proper, Mr. Ferguson +stood by to transmit our orders and answer questions. By and by, he +mentioned casually--the artful adventurer--that he would go and get his +breakfast as soon as we had finished ours. He knew we could not get +along without him and that we would not want to loiter about and wait for +him. We asked him to sit down and eat with us. He begged, with many a +bow, to be excused. It was not proper, he said; he would sit at another +table. We ordered him peremptorily to sit down with us. + +Here endeth the first lesson. It was a mistake. + +As long as we had that fellow after that, he was always hungry; he was +always thirsty. He came early; he stayed late; he could not pass a +restaurant; he looked with a lecherous eye upon every wine shop. +Suggestions to stop, excuses to eat and to drink, were forever on his +lips. We tried all we could to fill him so full that he would have no +room to spare for a fortnight, but it was a failure. He did not hold +enough to smother the cravings of his superhuman appetite. + +He had another "discrepancy" about him. He was always wanting us to buy +things. On the shallowest pretenses he would inveigle us into shirt +stores, boot stores, tailor shops, glove shops--anywhere under the broad +sweep of the heavens that there seemed a chance of our buying anything. +Anyone could have guessed that the shopkeepers paid him a percentage on +the sales, but in our blessed innocence we didn't until this feature of +his conduct grew unbearably prominent. One day Dan happened to mention +that he thought of buying three or four silk dress patterns for presents. +Ferguson's hungry eye was upon him in an instant. In the course of +twenty minutes the carriage stopped. + +"What's this?" + +"Zis is ze finest silk magazin in Paris--ze most celebrate." + +"What did you come here for? We told you to take us to the palace of the +Louvre." + +"I suppose ze gentleman say he wish to buy some silk." + +"You are not required to 'suppose' things for the party, Ferguson. We do +not wish to tax your energies too much. We will bear some of the burden +and heat of the day ourselves. We will endeavor to do such 'supposing' +as is really necessary to be done. Drive on." So spake the doctor. + +Within fifteen minutes the carriage halted again, and before another silk +store. The doctor said: + +"Ah, the palace of the Louvre--beautiful, beautiful edifice! Does the +Emperor Napoleon live here now, Ferguson?" + +"Ah, Doctor! You do jest; zis is not ze palace; we come there directly. +But since we pass right by zis store, where is such beautiful silk--" + +"Ah! I see, I see. I meant to have told you that we did not wish to +purchase any silks to-day, but in my absent-mindedness I forgot it. I +also meant to tell you we wished to go directly to the Louvre, but I +forgot that also. However, we will go there now. Pardon my seeming +carelessness, Ferguson. Drive on." + +Within the half hour we stopped again--in front of another silk store. +We were angry; but the doctor was always serene, always smooth-voiced. +He said: + +"At last! How imposing the Louvre is, and yet how small! How +exquisitely fashioned! How charmingly situated!--Venerable, venerable +pile--" + +"Pairdon, Doctor, zis is not ze Louvre--it is--" + +"What is it?" + +"I have ze idea--it come to me in a moment--zat ze silk in zis magazin--" + +"Ferguson, how heedless I am. I fully intended to tell you that we did +not wish to buy any silks to-day, and I also intended to tell you that we +yearned to go immediately to the palace of the Louvre, but enjoying the +happiness of seeing you devour four breakfasts this morning has so filled +me with pleasurable emotions that I neglect the commonest interests of +the time. However, we will proceed now to the Louvre, Ferguson." + +"But, doctor," (excitedly,) "it will take not a minute--not but one small +minute! Ze gentleman need not to buy if he not wish to--but only look at +ze silk--look at ze beautiful fabric. [Then pleadingly.] Sair--just only +one leetle moment!" + +Dan said, "Confound the idiot! I don't want to see any silks today, and +I won't look at them. Drive on." + +And the doctor: "We need no silks now, Ferguson. Our hearts yearn for +the Louvre. Let us journey on--let us journey on." + +"But doctor! It is only one moment--one leetle moment. And ze time will +be save--entirely save! Because zere is nothing to see now--it is too +late. It want ten minute to four and ze Louvre close at four--only one +leetle moment, Doctor!" + +The treacherous miscreant! After four breakfasts and a gallon of +champagne, to serve us such a scurvy trick. We got no sight of the +countless treasures of art in the Louvre galleries that day, and our only +poor little satisfaction was in the reflection that Ferguson sold not a +solitary silk dress pattern. + +I am writing this chapter partly for the satisfaction of abusing that +accomplished knave Billfinger, and partly to show whosoever shall read +this how Americans fare at the hands of the Paris guides and what sort of +people Paris guides are. It need not be supposed that we were a stupider +or an easier prey than our countrymen generally are, for we were not. +The guides deceive and defraud every American who goes to Paris for the +first time and sees its sights alone or in company with others as little +experienced as himself. I shall visit Paris again someday, and then let +the guides beware! I shall go in my war paint--I shall carry my tomahawk +along. + +I think we have lost but little time in Paris. We have gone to bed every +night tired out. Of course we visited the renowned International +Exposition. All the world did that. We went there on our third day in +Paris--and we stayed there nearly two hours. That was our first and last +visit. To tell the truth, we saw at a glance that one would have to +spend weeks--yea, even months--in that monstrous establishment to get an +intelligible idea of it. It was a wonderful show, but the moving masses +of people of all nations we saw there were a still more wonderful show. +I discovered that if I were to stay there a month, I should still find +myself looking at the people instead of the inanimate objects on +exhibition. I got a little interested in some curious old tapestries of +the thirteenth century, but a party of Arabs came by, and their dusky +faces and quaint costumes called my attention away at once. I watched a +silver swan, which had a living grace about his movements and a living +intelligence in his eyes--watched him swimming about as comfortably and +as unconcernedly as if he had been born in a morass instead of a +jeweler's shop--watched him seize a silver fish from under the water and +hold up his head and go through all the customary and elaborate motions +of swallowing it--but the moment it disappeared down his throat some +tattooed South Sea Islanders approached and I yielded to their +attractions. + +Presently I found a revolving pistol several hundred years old which +looked strangely like a modern Colt, but just then I heard that the +Empress of the French was in another part of the building, and hastened +away to see what she might look like. We heard martial music--we saw an +unusual number of soldiers walking hurriedly about--there was a general +movement among the people. We inquired what it was all about and learned +that the Emperor of the French and the Sultan of Turkey were about to +review twenty-five thousand troops at the Arc de l'Etoile. We +immediately departed. I had a greater anxiety to see these men than I +could have had to see twenty expositions. + +We drove away and took up a position in an open space opposite the +American minister's house. A speculator bridged a couple of barrels with +a board and we hired standing places on it. Presently there was a sound +of distant music; in another minute a pillar of dust came moving slowly +toward us; a moment more and then, with colors flying and a grand crash +of military music, a gallant array of cavalrymen emerged from the dust +and came down the street on a gentle trot. After them came a long line +of artillery; then more cavalry, in splendid uniforms; and then their +imperial majesties Napoleon III and Abdul Aziz. The vast concourse of +people swung their hats and shouted--the windows and housetops in the +wide vicinity burst into a snowstorm of waving handkerchiefs, and the +wavers of the same mingled their cheers with those of the masses below. +It was a stirring spectacle. + +But the two central figures claimed all my attention. Was ever such a +contrast set up before a multitude till then? Napoleon in military +uniform--a long-bodied, short-legged man, fiercely moustached, old, +wrinkled, with eyes half closed, and such a deep, crafty, scheming +expression about them!--Napoleon, bowing ever so gently to the loud +plaudits, and watching everything and everybody with his cat eyes from +under his depressed hat brim, as if to discover any sign that those +cheers were not heartfelt and cordial. + +Abdul Aziz, absolute lord of the Ottoman empire--clad in dark green +European clothes, almost without ornament or insignia of rank; a red +Turkish fez on his head; a short, stout, dark man, black-bearded, +black-eyed, stupid, unprepossessing--a man whose whole appearance +somehow suggested that if he only had a cleaver in his hand and a white +apron on, one would not be at all surprised to hear him say: "A mutton +roast today, or will you have a nice porterhouse steak?" + +Napoleon III, the representative of the highest modern civilization, +progress, and refinement; Abdul-Aziz, the representative of a people by +nature and training filthy, brutish, ignorant, unprogressive, +superstitious--and a government whose Three Graces are Tyranny, Rapacity, +Blood. Here in brilliant Paris, under this majestic Arch of Triumph, the +First Century greets the Nineteenth! + +NAPOLEON III., Emperor of France! Surrounded by shouting thousands, by +military pomp, by the splendors of his capital city, and companioned by +kings and princes--this is the man who was sneered at and reviled and +called Bastard--yet who was dreaming of a crown and an empire all the +while; who was driven into exile--but carried his dreams with him; who +associated with the common herd in America and ran foot races for a +wager--but still sat upon a throne in fancy; who braved every danger to +go to his dying mother--and grieved that she could not be spared to see +him cast aside his plebeian vestments for the purple of royalty; who kept +his faithful watch and walked his weary beat a common policeman of +London--but dreamed the while of a coming night when he should tread the +long-drawn corridors of the Tuileries; who made the miserable fiasco of +Strasbourg; saw his poor, shabby eagle, forgetful of its lesson, refuse +to perch upon his shoulder; delivered his carefully prepared, sententious +burst of eloquence upon unsympathetic ears; found himself a prisoner, the +butt of small wits, a mark for the pitiless ridicule of all the world +--yet went on dreaming of coronations and splendid pageants as before; who +lay a forgotten captive in the dungeons of Ham--and still schemed and +planned and pondered over future glory and future power; President of +France at last! a coup d'etat, and surrounded by applauding armies, +welcomed by the thunders of cannon, he mounts a throne and waves before +an astounded world the sceptre of a mighty empire! Who talks of the +marvels of fiction? Who speaks of the wonders of romance? Who prates of +the tame achievements of Aladdin and the Magii of Arabia? + +ABDUL-AZIZ, Sultan of Turkey, Lord of the Ottoman Empire! Born to a +throne; weak, stupid, ignorant, almost, as his meanest slave; chief of a +vast royalty, yet the puppet of his Premier and the obedient child of a +tyrannical mother; a man who sits upon a throne--the beck of whose finger +moves navies and armies--who holds in his hands the power of life and +death over millions--yet who sleeps, sleeps, eats, eats, idles with his +eight hundred concubines, and when he is surfeited with eating and +sleeping and idling, and would rouse up and take the reins of government +and threaten to be a sultan, is charmed from his purpose by wary Fuad +Pacha with a pretty plan for a new palace or a new ship--charmed away +with a new toy, like any other restless child; a man who sees his people +robbed and oppressed by soulless tax-gatherers, but speaks no word to +save them; who believes in gnomes and genii and the wild fables of The +Arabian Nights, but has small regard for the mighty magicians of to-day, +and is nervous in the presence of their mysterious railroads and +steamboats and telegraphs; who would see undone in Egypt all that great +Mehemet Ali achieved, and would prefer rather to forget than emulate him; +a man who found his great empire a blot upon the earth--a degraded, +poverty-stricken, miserable, infamous agglomeration of ignorance, crime, +and brutality--and will idle away the allotted days of his trivial life +and then pass to the dust and the worms and leave it so! + +Napoleon has augmented the commercial prosperity of France in ten years +to such a degree that figures can hardly compute it. He has rebuilt +Paris and has partly rebuilt every city in the state. He condemns a +whole street at a time, assesses the damages, pays them, and rebuilds +superbly. Then speculators buy up the ground and sell, but the original +owner is given the first choice by the government at a stated price +before the speculator is permitted to purchase. But above all things, he +has taken the sole control of the empire of France into his hands and +made it a tolerably free land--for people who will not attempt to go too +far in meddling with government affairs. No country offers greater +security to life and property than France, and one has all the freedom he +wants, but no license--no license to interfere with anybody or make +anyone uncomfortable. + +As for the Sultan, one could set a trap any where and catch a dozen abler +men in a night. + +The bands struck up, and the brilliant adventurer, Napoleon III., the +genius of Energy, Persistence, Enterprise; and the feeble Abdul-Aziz, the +genius of Ignorance, Bigotry, and Indolence, prepared for the Forward +--March! + +We saw the splendid review, we saw the white-moustached old Crimean +soldier, Canrobert, Marshal of France, we saw--well, we saw every thing, +and then we went home satisfied. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +We went to see the Cathedral of Notre Dame. We had heard of it before. +It surprises me sometimes to think how much we do know and how +intelligent we are. We recognized the brown old Gothic pile in a moment; +it was like the pictures. We stood at a little distance and changed from +one point of observation to another and gazed long at its lofty square +towers and its rich front, clustered thick with stony, mutilated saints +who had been looking calmly down from their perches for ages. The +Patriarch of Jerusalem stood under them in the old days of chivalry and +romance, and preached the third Crusade, more than six hundred years ago; +and since that day they have stood there and looked quietly down upon the +most thrilling scenes, the grandest pageants, the most extraordinary +spectacles that have grieved or delighted Paris. These battered and +broken-nosed old fellows saw many and many a cavalcade of mail-clad +knights come marching home from Holy Land; they heard the bells above +them toll the signal for the St. Bartholomew's Massacre, and they saw the +slaughter that followed; later they saw the Reign of Terror, the carnage +of the Revolution, the overthrow of a king, the coronation of two +Napoleons, the christening of the young prince that lords it over a +regiment of servants in the Tuileries to-day--and they may possibly +continue to stand there until they see the Napoleon dynasty swept away +and the banners of a great republic floating above its ruins. I wish +these old parties could speak. They could tell a tale worth the +listening to. + +They say that a pagan temple stood where Notre Dame now stands, in the +old Roman days, eighteen or twenty centuries ago--remains of it are still +preserved in Paris; and that a Christian church took its place about A.D. +300; another took the place of that in A.D. 500; and that the foundations +of the present cathedral were laid about A.D. 1100. The ground ought to +be measurably sacred by this time, one would think. One portion of this +noble old edifice is suggestive of the quaint fashions of ancient times. +It was built by Jean Sans-Peur, Duke of Burgundy, to set his conscience +at rest--he had assassinated the Duke of Orleans. Alas! Those good old +times are gone when a murderer could wipe the stain from his name and +soothe his troubles to sleep simply by getting out his bricks and mortar +and building an addition to a church. + +The portals of the great western front are bisected by square pillars. +They took the central one away in 1852, on the occasion of thanksgivings +for the reinstitution of the presidential power--but precious soon they +had occasion to reconsider that motion and put it back again! And they +did. + +We loitered through the grand aisles for an hour or two, staring up at +the rich stained-glass windows embellished with blue and yellow and +crimson saints and martyrs, and trying to admire the numberless great +pictures in the chapels, and then we were admitted to the sacristy and +shown the magnificent robes which the Pope wore when he crowned Napoleon +I; a wagon-load of solid gold and silver utensils used in the great +public processions and ceremonies of the church; some nails of the true +cross, a fragment of the cross itself, a part of the crown of thorns. +We had already seen a large piece of the true cross in a church in the +Azores, but no nails. They showed us likewise the bloody robe which that +archbishop of Paris wore who exposed his sacred person and braved the +wrath of the insurgents of 1848, to mount the barricades and hold aloft +the olive branch of peace in the hope of stopping the slaughter. His +noble effort cost him his life. He was shot dead. They showed us a cast +of his face taken after death, the bullet that killed him, and the two +vertebrae in which it lodged. These people have a somewhat singular +taste in the matter of relics. Ferguson told us that the silver cross +which the good archbishop wore at his girdle was seized and thrown into +the Seine, where it lay embedded in the mud for fifteen years, and then +an angel appeared to a priest and told him where to dive for it; he did +dive for it and got it, and now it is there on exhibition at Notre Dame, +to be inspected by anybody who feels an interest in inanimate objects of +miraculous intervention. + +Next we went to visit the Morgue, that horrible receptacle for the dead +who die mysteriously and leave the manner of their taking off a dismal +secret. We stood before a grating and looked through into a room which +was hung all about with the clothing of dead men; coarse blouses, +water-soaked; the delicate garments of women and children; patrician +vestments, hacked and stabbed and stained with red; a hat that was +crushed and bloody. On a slanting stone lay a drowned man, naked, +swollen, purple; clasping the fragment of a broken bush with a grip +which death had so petrified that human strength could not unloose it +--mute witness of the last despairing effort to save the life that was +doomed beyond all help. A stream of water trickled ceaselessly over the +hideous face. We knew that the body and the clothing were there for +identification by friends, but still we wondered if anybody could love +that repulsive object or grieve for its loss. We grew meditative and +wondered if, some forty years ago, when the mother of that ghastly thing +was dandling it upon her knee, and kissing it and petting it and +displaying it with satisfied pride to the passers-by, a prophetic vision +of this dread ending ever flitted through her brain. I half feared that +the mother, or the wife or a brother of the dead man might come while we +stood there, but nothing of the kind occurred. Men and women came, and +some looked eagerly in and pressed their faces against the bars; others +glanced carelessly at the body and turned away with a disappointed look +--people, I thought, who live upon strong excitements and who attend the +exhibitions of the Morgue regularly, just as other people go to see +theatrical spectacles every night. When one of these looked in and +passed on, I could not help thinking-- + +"Now this don't afford you any satisfaction--a party with his head shot +off is what you need." + +One night we went to the celebrated Jardin Mabille, but only staid a +little while. We wanted to see some of this kind of Paris life, however, +and therefore the next night we went to a similar place of entertainment +in a great garden in the suburb of Asnieres. We went to the railroad +depot, toward evening, and Ferguson got tickets for a second-class +carriage. Such a perfect jam of people I have not often seen--but there +was no noise, no disorder, no rowdyism. Some of the women and young +girls that entered the train we knew to be of the demi-monde, but others +we were not at all sure about. + +The girls and women in our carriage behaved themselves modestly and +becomingly all the way out, except that they smoked. When we arrived at +the garden in Asnieres, we paid a franc or two admission and entered a +place which had flower beds in it, and grass plots, and long, curving +rows of ornamental shrubbery, with here and there a secluded bower +convenient for eating ice cream in. We moved along the sinuous gravel +walks, with the great concourse of girls and young men, and suddenly a +domed and filigreed white temple, starred over and over and over again +with brilliant gas jets, burst upon us like a fallen sun. Nearby was a +large, handsome house with its ample front illuminated in the same way, +and above its roof floated the Star-Spangled Banner of America. + +"Well!" I said. "How is this?" It nearly took my breath away. + +Ferguson said an American--a New Yorker--kept the place, and was carrying +on quite a stirring opposition to the Jardin Mabille. + +Crowds composed of both sexes and nearly all ages were frisking about the +garden or sitting in the open air in front of the flagstaff and the +temple, drinking wine and coffee or smoking. The dancing had not begun +yet. Ferguson said there was to be an exhibition. The famous Blondin +was going to perform on a tightrope in another part of the garden. We +went thither. Here the light was dim, and the masses of people were +pretty closely packed together. And now I made a mistake which any +donkey might make, but a sensible man never. I committed an error which +I find myself repeating every day of my life. Standing right before a +young lady, I said: + +"Dan, just look at this girl, how beautiful she is!" + +"I thank you more for the evident sincerity of the compliment, sir, than +for the extraordinary publicity you have given to it!" This in good, +pure English. + +We took a walk, but my spirits were very, very sadly dampened. I did not +feel right comfortable for some time afterward. Why will people be so +stupid as to suppose themselves the only foreigners among a crowd of ten +thousand persons? + +But Blondin came out shortly. He appeared on a stretched cable, far away +above the sea of tossing hats and handkerchiefs, and in the glare of the +hundreds of rockets that whizzed heavenward by him he looked like a wee +insect. He balanced his pole and walked the length of his rope--two or +three hundred feet; he came back and got a man and carried him across; he +returned to the center and danced a jig; next he performed some gymnastic +and balancing feats too perilous to afford a pleasant spectacle; and he +finished by fastening to his person a thousand Roman candles, Catherine +wheels, serpents and rockets of all manner of brilliant colors, setting +them on fire all at once and walking and waltzing across his rope again +in a blinding blaze of glory that lit up the garden and the people's +faces like a great conflagration at midnight. + +The dance had begun, and we adjourned to the temple. Within it was a +drinking saloon, and all around it was a broad circular platform for the +dancers. I backed up against the wall of the temple, and waited. Twenty +sets formed, the music struck up, and then--I placed my hands before my +face for very shame. But I looked through my fingers. They were dancing +the renowned "Can-can." A handsome girl in the set before me tripped +forward lightly to meet the opposite gentleman, tripped back again, +grasped her dresses vigorously on both sides with her hands, raised them +pretty high, danced an extraordinary jig that had more activity and +exposure about it than any jig I ever saw before, and then, drawing her +clothes still higher, she advanced gaily to the center and launched a +vicious kick full at her vis-a-vis that must infallibly have removed his +nose if he had been seven feet high. It was a mercy he was only six. + +That is the can-can. The idea of it is to dance as wildly, as noisily, +as furiously as you can; expose yourself as much as possible if you are a +woman; and kick as high as you can, no matter which sex you belong to. +There is no word of exaggeration in this. Any of the staid, respectable, +aged people who were there that night can testify to the truth of that +statement. There were a good many such people present. I suppose French +morality is not of that straight-laced description which is shocked at +trifles. + +I moved aside and took a general view of the can-can. Shouts, laughter, +furious music, a bewildering chaos of darting and intermingling forms, +stormy jerking and snatching of gay dresses, bobbing beads, flying arms, +lightning flashes of white-stockinged calves and dainty slippers in the +air, and then a grand final rush, riot, a terrific hubbub, and a wild +stampede! Heavens! Nothing like it has been seen on earth since +trembling Tam O'Shanter saw the devil and the witches at their orgies +that stormy night in "Alloway's auld haunted kirk." + +We visited the Louvre, at a time when we had no silk purchases in view, +and looked at its miles of paintings by the old masters. Some of them +were beautiful, but at the same time they carried such evidences about +them of the cringing spirit of those great men that we found small +pleasure in examining them. Their nauseous adulation of princely patrons +was more prominent to me and chained my attention more surely than the +charms of color and expression which are claimed to be in the pictures. +Gratitude for kindnesses is well, but it seems to me that some of those +artists carried it so far that it ceased to be gratitude and became +worship. If there is a plausible excuse for the worship of men, then by +all means let us forgive Rubens and his brethren. + +But I will drop the subject, lest I say something about the old masters +that might as well be left unsaid. + +Of course we drove in the Bois de Boulogne, that limitless park, with its +forests, its lakes, its cascades, and its broad avenues. There were +thousands upon thousands of vehicles abroad, and the scene was full of +life and gaiety. There were very common hacks, with father and mother +and all the children in them; conspicuous little open carriages with +celebrated ladies of questionable reputation in them; there were Dukes +and Duchesses abroad, with gorgeous footmen perched behind, and equally +gorgeous outriders perched on each of the six horses; there were blue and +silver, and green and gold, and pink and black, and all sorts and +descriptions of stunning and startling liveries out, and I almost yearned +to be a flunkey myself, for the sake of the fine clothes. + +But presently the Emperor came along and he outshone them all. He was +preceded by a bodyguard of gentlemen on horseback in showy uniforms, his +carriage-horses (there appeared to be somewhere in the remote +neighborhood of a thousand of them,) were bestridden by gallant-looking +fellows, also in stylish uniforms, and after the carriage followed +another detachment of bodyguards. Everybody got out of the way; +everybody bowed to the Emperor and his friend the Sultan; and they went +by on a swinging trot and disappeared. + +I will not describe the Bois de Boulogne. I can not do it. It is simply +a beautiful, cultivated, endless, wonderful wilderness. It is an +enchanting place. It is in Paris now, one may say, but a crumbling old +cross in one portion of it reminds one that it was not always so. The +cross marks the spot where a celebrated troubadour was waylaid and +murdered in the fourteenth century. It was in this park that that fellow +with an unpronounceable name made the attempt upon the Russian Czar's +life last spring with a pistol. The bullet struck a tree. Ferguson +showed us the place. Now in America that interesting tree would be +chopped down or forgotten within the next five years, but it will be +treasured here. The guides will point it out to visitors for the next +eight hundred years, and when it decays and falls down they will put up +another there and go on with the same old story just the same. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +One of our pleasantest visits was to Pere la Chaise, the national +burying-ground of France, the honored resting-place of some of her +greatest and best children, the last home of scores of illustrious men +and women who were born to no titles, but achieved fame by their own +energy and their own genius. It is a solemn city of winding streets and +of miniature marble temples and mansions of the dead gleaming white from +out a wilderness of foliage and fresh flowers. Not every city is so well +peopled as this, or has so ample an area within its walls. Few palaces +exist in any city that are so exquisite in design, so rich in art, so +costly in material, so graceful, so beautiful. + +We had stood in the ancient church of St. Denis, where the marble +effigies of thirty generations of kings and queens lay stretched at +length upon the tombs, and the sensations invoked were startling and +novel; the curious armor, the obsolete costumes, the placid faces, the +hands placed palm to palm in eloquent supplication--it was a vision of +gray antiquity. It seemed curious enough to be standing face to face, as +it were, with old Dagobert I., and Clovis and Charlemagne, those vague, +colossal heroes, those shadows, those myths of a thousand years ago! I +touched their dust-covered faces with my finger, but Dagobert was deader +than the sixteen centuries that have passed over him, Clovis slept well +after his labor for Christ, and old Charlemagne went on dreaming of his +paladins, of bloody Roncesvalles, and gave no heed to me. + +The great names of Pere la Chaise impress one, too, but differently. +There the suggestion brought constantly to his mind is, that this place +is sacred to a nobler royalty--the royalty of heart and brain. Every +faculty of mind, every noble trait of human nature, every high occupation +which men engage in, seems represented by a famous name. The effect is a +curious medley. Davoust and Massena, who wrought in many a battle +tragedy, are here, and so also is Rachel, of equal renown in mimic +tragedy on the stage. The Abbe Sicard sleeps here--the first great +teacher of the deaf and dumb--a man whose heart went out to every +unfortunate, and whose life was given to kindly offices in their service; +and not far off, in repose and peace at last, lies Marshal Ney, whose +stormy spirit knew no music like the bugle call to arms. The man who +originated public gas-lighting, and that other benefactor who introduced +the cultivation of the potato and thus blessed millions of his starving +countrymen, lie with the Prince of Masserano, and with exiled queens and +princes of Further India. Gay-Lussac the chemist, Laplace the +astronomer, Larrey the surgeon, de Suze the advocate, are here, and with +them are Talma, Bellini, Rubini; de Balzac, Beaumarchais, Beranger; +Moliere and Lafontaine, and scores of other men whose names and whose +worthy labors are as familiar in the remote by-places of civilization as +are the historic deeds of the kings and princes that sleep in the marble +vaults of St. Denis. + +But among the thousands and thousands of tombs in Pere la Chaise, there +is one that no man, no woman, no youth of either sex, ever passes by +without stopping to examine. Every visitor has a sort of indistinct idea +of the history of its dead and comprehends that homage is due there, but +not one in twenty thousand clearly remembers the story of that tomb and +its romantic occupants. This is the grave of Abelard and Heloise--a +grave which has been more revered, more widely known, more written and +sung about and wept over, for seven hundred years, than any other in +Christendom save only that of the Saviour. All visitors linger pensively +about it; all young people capture and carry away keepsakes and mementoes +of it; all Parisian youths and maidens who are disappointed in love come +there to bail out when they are full of tears; yea, many stricken lovers +make pilgrimages to this shrine from distant provinces to weep and wail +and "grit" their teeth over their heavy sorrows, and to purchase the +sympathies of the chastened spirits of that tomb with offerings of +immortelles and budding flowers. + +Go when you will, you find somebody snuffling over that tomb. Go when +you will, you find it furnished with those bouquets and immortelles. Go +when you will, you find a gravel-train from Marseilles arriving to supply +the deficiencies caused by memento-cabbaging vandals whose affections +have miscarried. + +Yet who really knows the story of Abelard and Heloise? Precious few +people. The names are perfectly familiar to every body, and that is +about all. With infinite pains I have acquired a knowledge of that +history, and I propose to narrate it here, partly for the honest +information of the public and partly to show that public that they have +been wasting a good deal of marketable sentiment very unnecessarily. + + + STORY OF ABELARD AND HELOISE + +Heloise was born seven hundred and sixty-six years ago. She may have had +parents. There is no telling. She lived with her uncle Fulbert, a canon +of the cathedral of Paris. I do not know what a canon of a cathedral is, +but that is what he was. He was nothing more than a sort of a mountain +howitzer, likely, because they had no heavy artillery in those days. +Suffice it, then, that Heloise lived with her uncle the howitzer and was +happy. She spent the most of her childhood in the convent of Argenteuil +--never heard of Argenteuil before, but suppose there was really such a +place. She then returned to her uncle, the old gun, or son of a gun, as +the case may be, and he taught her to write and speak Latin, which was +the language of literature and polite society at that period. + +Just at this time, Pierre Abelard, who had already made himself widely +famous as a rhetorician, came to found a school of rhetoric in Paris. +The originality of his principles, his eloquence, and his great physical +strength and beauty created a profound sensation. He saw Heloise, and +was captivated by her blooming youth, her beauty, and her charming +disposition. He wrote to her; she answered. He wrote again; she +answered again. He was now in love. He longed to know her--to speak to +her face to face. + +His school was near Fulbert's house. He asked Fulbert to allow him to +call. The good old swivel saw here a rare opportunity: his niece, whom +he so much loved, would absorb knowledge from this man, and it would not +cost him a cent. Such was Fulbert--penurious. + +Fulbert's first name is not mentioned by any author, which is +unfortunate. However, George W. Fulbert will answer for him as well as +any other. We will let him go at that. He asked Abelard to teach her. + +Abelard was glad enough of the opportunity. He came often and staid +long. A letter of his shows in its very first sentence that he came +under that friendly roof like a cold-hearted villain as he was, with the +deliberate intention of debauching a confiding, innocent girl. This is +the letter: + + "I cannot cease to be astonished at the simplicity of Fulbert; + I was as much surprised as if he had placed a lamb in the power + of a hungry wolf. Heloise and I, under pretext of study, gave + ourselves up wholly to love, and the solitude that love seeks + our studies procured for us. Books were open before us, but we + spoke oftener of love than philosophy, and kisses came more + readily from our lips than words." + +And so, exulting over an honorable confidence which to his degraded +instinct was a ludicrous "simplicity," this unmanly Abelard seduced the +niece of the man whose guest he was. Paris found it out. Fulbert was +told of it--told often--but refused to believe it. He could not +comprehend how a man could be so depraved as to use the sacred protection +and security of hospitality as a means for the commission of such a crime +as that. But when he heard the rowdies in the streets singing the +love-songs of Abelard to Heloise, the case was too plain--love-songs come +not properly within the teachings of rhetoric and philosophy. + +He drove Abelard from his house. Abelard returned secretly and carried +Heloise away to Palais, in Brittany, his native country. Here, shortly +afterward, she bore a son, who, from his rare beauty, was surnamed +Astrolabe--William G. The girl's flight enraged Fulbert, and he longed +for vengeance, but feared to strike lest retaliation visit Heloise--for +he still loved her tenderly. At length Abelard offered to marry Heloise +--but on a shameful condition: that the marriage should be kept secret +from the world, to the end that (while her good name remained a wreck, as +before,) his priestly reputation might be kept untarnished. It was like +that miscreant. Fulbert saw his opportunity and consented. He would see +the parties married, and then violate the confidence of the man who had +taught him that trick; he would divulge the secret and so remove somewhat +of the obloquy that attached to his niece's fame. But the niece +suspected his scheme. She refused the marriage at first; she said +Fulbert would betray the secret to save her, and besides, she did not +wish to drag down a lover who was so gifted, so honored by the world, +and who had such a splendid career before him. It was noble, +self-sacrificing love, and characteristic of the pure-souled Heloise, +but it was not good sense. + +But she was overruled, and the private marriage took place. Now for +Fulbert! The heart so wounded should be healed at last; the proud spirit +so tortured should find rest again; the humbled head should be lifted up +once more. He proclaimed the marriage in the high places of the city and +rejoiced that dishonor had departed from his house. But lo! Abelard +denied the marriage! Heloise denied it! The people, knowing the former +circumstances, might have believed Fulbert had only Abelard denied it, +but when the person chiefly interested--the girl herself--denied it, they +laughed, despairing Fulbert to scorn. + +The poor canon of the cathedral of Paris was spiked again. The last hope +of repairing the wrong that had been done his house was gone. What next? +Human nature suggested revenge. He compassed it. The historian says: + + "Ruffians, hired by Fulbert, fell upon Abelard by night, and + inflicted upon him a terrible and nameless mutilation." + +I am seeking the last resting place of those "ruffians." When I find it +I shall shed some tears on it, and stack up some bouquets and +immortelles, and cart away from it some gravel whereby to remember that +howsoever blotted by crime their lives may have been, these ruffians did +one just deed, at any rate, albeit it was not warranted by the strict +letter of the law. + +Heloise entered a convent and gave good-bye to the world and its +pleasures for all time. For twelve years she never heard of Abelard +--never even heard his name mentioned. She had become prioress of +Argenteuil and led a life of complete seclusion. She happened one day to +see a letter written by him, in which he narrated his own history. She +cried over it and wrote him. He answered, addressing her as his "sister +in Christ." They continued to correspond, she in the unweighed language +of unwavering affection, he in the chilly phraseology of the polished +rhetorician. She poured out her heart in passionate, disjointed +sentences; he replied with finished essays, divided deliberately into +heads and sub-heads, premises and argument. She showered upon him the +tenderest epithets that love could devise, he addressed her from the +North Pole of his frozen heart as the "Spouse of Christ!" The abandoned +villain! + +On account of her too easy government of her nuns, some disreputable +irregularities were discovered among them, and the Abbot of St. Denis +broke up her establishment. Abelard was the official head of the +monastery of St. Gildas de Ruys, at that time, and when he heard of her +homeless condition a sentiment of pity was aroused in his breast (it is a +wonder the unfamiliar emotion did not blow his head off,) and he placed +her and her troop in the little oratory of the Paraclete, a religious +establishment which he had founded. She had many privations and +sufferings to undergo at first, but her worth and her gentle disposition +won influential friends for her, and she built up a wealthy and +flourishing nunnery. She became a great favorite with the heads of the +church, and also the people, though she seldom appeared in public. She +rapidly advanced in esteem, in good report, and in usefulness, and +Abelard as rapidly lost ground. The Pope so honored her that he made her +the head of her order. Abelard, a man of splendid talents, and ranking +as the first debater of his time, became timid, irresolute, and +distrustful of his powers. He only needed a great misfortune to topple +him from the high position he held in the world of intellectual +excellence, and it came. Urged by kings and princes to meet the subtle +St. Bernard in debate and crush him, he stood up in the presence of a +royal and illustrious assemblage, and when his antagonist had finished he +looked about him and stammered a commencement; but his courage failed +him, the cunning of his tongue was gone: with his speech unspoken, he +trembled and sat down, a disgraced and vanquished champion. + +He died a nobody, and was buried at Cluny, A.D., 1144. They removed his +body to the Paraclete afterward, and when Heloise died, twenty years +later, they buried her with him, in accordance with her last wish. He +died at the ripe age of 64, and she at 63. After the bodies had remained +entombed three hundred years, they were removed once more. They were +removed again in 1800, and finally, seventeen years afterward, they were +taken up and transferred to Pere la Chaise, where they will remain in +peace and quiet until it comes time for them to get up and move again. + +History is silent concerning the last acts of the mountain howitzer. Let +the world say what it will about him, I, at least, shall always respect +the memory and sorrow for the abused trust and the broken heart and the +troubled spirit of the old smooth-bore. Rest and repose be his! + +Such is the story of Abelard and Heloise. Such is the history that +Lamartine has shed such cataracts of tears over. But that man never +could come within the influence of a subject in the least pathetic +without overflowing his banks. He ought to be dammed--or leveed, I +should more properly say. Such is the history--not as it is usually +told, but as it is when stripped of the nauseous sentimentality that +would enshrine for our loving worship a dastardly seducer like Pierre +Abelard. I have not a word to say against the misused, faithful girl, +and would not withhold from her grave a single one of those simple +tributes which blighted youths and maidens offer to her memory, but I am +sorry enough that I have not time and opportunity to write four or five +volumes of my opinion of her friend the founder of the Parachute, or the +Paraclete, or whatever it was. + +The tons of sentiment I have wasted on that unprincipled humbug in my +ignorance! I shall throttle down my emotions hereafter, about this sort +of people, until I have read them up and know whether they are entitled +to any tearful attentions or not. I wish I had my immortelles back, now, +and that bunch of radishes. + +In Paris we often saw in shop windows the sign "English Spoken Here," +just as one sees in the windows at home the sign "Ici on parle +francaise." We always invaded these places at once--and invariably +received the information, framed in faultless French, that the clerk who +did the English for the establishment had just gone to dinner and would +be back in an hour--would Monsieur buy something? We wondered why those +parties happened to take their dinners at such erratic and extraordinary +hours, for we never called at a time when an exemplary Christian would be +in the least likely to be abroad on such an errand. The truth was, it +was a base fraud--a snare to trap the unwary--chaff to catch fledglings +with. They had no English-murdering clerk. They trusted to the sign to +inveigle foreigners into their lairs, and trusted to their own +blandishments to keep them there till they bought something. + +We ferreted out another French imposition--a frequent sign to this +effect: "ALL MANNER OF AMERICAN DRINKS ARTISTICALLY PREPARED HERE." We +procured the services of a gentleman experienced in the nomenclature of +the American bar, and moved upon the works of one of these impostors. A +bowing, aproned Frenchman skipped forward and said: + +"Que voulez les messieurs?" I do not know what "Que voulez les +messieurs?" means, but such was his remark. + +Our general said, "We will take a whiskey straight." + +[A stare from the Frenchman.] + +"Well, if you don't know what that is, give us a champagne cock-tail." + +[A stare and a shrug.] + +"Well, then, give us a sherry cobbler." + +The Frenchman was checkmated. This was all Greek to him. + +"Give us a brandy smash!" + +The Frenchman began to back away, suspicious of the ominous vigor of the +last order--began to back away, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his +hands apologetically. + +The General followed him up and gained a complete victory. The +uneducated foreigner could not even furnish a Santa Cruz Punch, an +Eye-Opener, a Stone-Fence, or an Earthquake. It was plain that he was a +wicked impostor. + +An acquaintance of mine said the other day that he was doubtless the only +American visitor to the Exposition who had had the high honor of being +escorted by the Emperor's bodyguard. I said with unobtrusive frankness +that I was astonished that such a long-legged, lantern-jawed, +unprepossessing-looking specter as he should be singled out for a +distinction like that, and asked how it came about. He said he had +attended a great military review in the Champ de Mars some time ago, and +while the multitude about him was growing thicker and thicker every +moment he observed an open space inside the railing. He left his +carriage and went into it. He was the only person there, and so he had +plenty of room, and the situation being central, he could see all the +preparations going on about the field. By and by there was a sound of +music, and soon the Emperor of the French and the Emperor of Austria, +escorted by the famous Cent Gardes, entered the enclosure. They seemed +not to observe him, but directly, in response to a sign from the +commander of the guard, a young lieutenant came toward him with a file of +his men following, halted, raised his hand, and gave the military salute, +and then said in a low voice that he was sorry to have to disturb a +stranger and a gentleman, but the place was sacred to royalty. Then this +New Jersey phantom rose up and bowed and begged pardon, then with the +officer beside him, the file of men marching behind him, and with every +mark of respect, he was escorted to his carriage by the imperial Cent +Gardes! The officer saluted again and fell back, the New Jersey sprite +bowed in return and had presence of mind enough to pretend that he had +simply called on a matter of private business with those emperors, and so +waved them an adieu and drove from the field! + +Imagine a poor Frenchman ignorantly intruding upon a public rostrum +sacred to some six-penny dignitary in America. The police would scare +him to death first with a storm of their elegant blasphemy, and then pull +him to pieces getting him away from there. We are measurably superior to +the French in some things, but they are immeasurably our betters in +others. + +Enough of Paris for the present. We have done our whole duty by it. We +have seen the Tuileries, the Napoleon Column, the Madeleine, that wonder +of wonders the tomb of Napoleon, all the great churches and museums, +libraries, imperial palaces, and sculpture and picture galleries, the +Pantheon, Jardin des Plantes, the opera, the circus, the legislative +body, the billiard rooms, the barbers, the grisettes-- + +Ah, the grisettes! I had almost forgotten. They are another romantic +fraud. They were (if you let the books of travel tell it) always so +beautiful--so neat and trim, so graceful--so naive and trusting--so +gentle, so winning--so faithful to their shop duties, so irresistible +to buyers in their prattling importunity--so devoted to their +poverty-stricken students of the Latin Quarter--so lighthearted and +happy on their Sunday picnics in the suburbs--and oh, so charmingly, +so delightfully immoral! + +Stuff! For three or four days I was constantly saying: + +"Quick, Ferguson! Is that a grisette?" + +And he always said, "No." + +He comprehended at last that I wanted to see a grisette. Then he showed +me dozens of them. They were like nearly all the Frenchwomen I ever saw +--homely. They had large hands, large feet, large mouths; they had pug +noses as a general thing, and moustaches that not even good breeding +could overlook; they combed their hair straight back without parting; +they were ill-shaped, they were not winning, they were not graceful; I +knew by their looks that they ate garlic and onions; and lastly and +finally, to my thinking it would be base flattery to call them immoral. + +Aroint thee, wench! I sorrow for the vagabond student of the Latin +Quarter now, even more than formerly I envied him. Thus topples to earth +another idol of my infancy. + +We have seen every thing, and tomorrow we go to Versailles. We shall see +Paris only for a little while as we come back to take up our line of +march for the ship, and so I may as well bid the beautiful city a +regretful farewell. We shall travel many thousands of miles after we +leave here and visit many great cities, but we shall find none so +enchanting as this. + +Some of our party have gone to England, intending to take a roundabout +course and rejoin the vessel at Leghorn or Naples several weeks hence. +We came near going to Geneva, but have concluded to return to Marseilles +and go up through Italy from Genoa. + +I will conclude this chapter with a remark that I am sincerely proud to +be able to make--and glad, as well, that my comrades cordially endorse +it, to wit: by far the handsomest women we have seen in France were born +and reared in America. + +I feel now like a man who has redeemed a failing reputation and shed +luster upon a dimmed escutcheon, by a single just deed done at the +eleventh hour. + +Let the curtain fall, to slow music. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +VERSAILLES! It is wonderfully beautiful! You gaze and stare and try to +understand that it is real, that it is on the earth, that it is not the +Garden of Eden--but your brain grows giddy, stupefied by the world of +beauty around you, and you half believe you are the dupe of an exquisite +dream. The scene thrills one like military music! A noble palace, +stretching its ornamented front, block upon block away, till it seemed +that it would never end; a grand promenade before it, whereon the armies +of an empire might parade; all about it rainbows of flowers, and colossal +statues that were almost numberless and yet seemed only scattered over +the ample space; broad flights of stone steps leading down from the +promenade to lower grounds of the park--stairways that whole regiments +might stand to arms upon and have room to spare; vast fountains whose +great bronze effigies discharged rivers of sparkling water into the air +and mingled a hundred curving jets together in forms of matchless beauty; +wide grass-carpeted avenues that branched hither and thither in every +direction and wandered to seemingly interminable distances, walled all +the way on either side with compact ranks of leafy trees whose branches +met above and formed arches as faultless and as symmetrical as ever were +carved in stone; and here and there were glimpses of sylvan lakes with +miniature ships glassed in their surfaces. And every where--on the +palace steps, and the great promenade, around the fountains, among the +trees, and far under the arches of the endless avenues--hundreds and +hundreds of people in gay costumes walked or ran or danced, and gave to +the fairy picture the life and animation which was all of perfection it +could have lacked. + +It was worth a pilgrimage to see. Everything is on so gigantic a scale. +Nothing is small--nothing is cheap. The statues are all large; the +palace is grand; the park covers a fair-sized county; the avenues are +interminable. All the distances and all the dimensions about Versailles +are vast. I used to think the pictures exaggerated these distances and +these dimensions beyond all reason, and that they made Versailles more +beautiful than it was possible for any place in the world to be. I know +now that the pictures never came up to the subject in any respect, and +that no painter could represent Versailles on canvas as beautiful as it +is in reality. I used to abuse Louis XIV for spending two hundred +millions of dollars in creating this marvelous park, when bread was so +scarce with some of his subjects; but I have forgiven him now. He took a +tract of land sixty miles in circumference and set to work to make this +park and build this palace and a road to it from Paris. He kept 36,000 +men employed daily on it, and the labor was so unhealthy that they used +to die and be hauled off by cartloads every night. The wife of a +nobleman of the time speaks of this as an "inconvenience," but naively +remarks that "it does not seem worthy of attention in the happy state of +tranquillity we now enjoy." + +I always thought ill of people at home who trimmed their shrubbery into +pyramids and squares and spires and all manner of unnatural shapes, and +when I saw the same thing being practiced in this great park I began to +feel dissatisfied. But I soon saw the idea of the thing and the wisdom +of it. They seek the general effect. We distort a dozen sickly trees +into unaccustomed shapes in a little yard no bigger than a dining room, +and then surely they look absurd enough. But here they take two hundred +thousand tall forest trees and set them in a double row; allow no sign of +leaf or branch to grow on the trunk lower down than six feet above the +ground; from that point the boughs begin to project, and very gradually +they extend outward further and further till they meet overhead, and a +faultless tunnel of foliage is formed. The arch is mathematically +precise. The effect is then very fine. They make trees take fifty +different shapes, and so these quaint effects are infinitely varied and +picturesque. The trees in no two avenues are shaped alike, and +consequently the eye is not fatigued with anything in the nature of +monotonous uniformity. I will drop this subject now, leaving it to +others to determine how these people manage to make endless ranks of +lofty forest trees grow to just a certain thickness of trunk (say a foot +and two-thirds); how they make them spring to precisely the same height +for miles; how they make them grow so close together; how they compel one +huge limb to spring from the same identical spot on each tree and form +the main sweep of the arch; and how all these things are kept exactly in +the same condition and in the same exquisite shapeliness and symmetry +month after month and year after year--for I have tried to reason out the +problem and have failed. + +We walked through the great hall of sculpture and the one hundred and +fifty galleries of paintings in the palace of Versailles, and felt that +to be in such a place was useless unless one had a whole year at his +disposal. These pictures are all battle scenes, and only one solitary +little canvas among them all treats of anything but great French +victories. We wandered, also, through the Grand Trianon and the Petit +Trianon, those monuments of royal prodigality, and with histories so +mournful--filled, as it is, with souvenirs of Napoleon the First, and +three dead kings and as many queens. In one sumptuous bed they had all +slept in succession, but no one occupies it now. In a large dining room +stood the table at which Louis XIV and his mistress Madame Maintenon, and +after them Louis XV, and Pompadour, had sat at their meals naked and +unattended--for the table stood upon a trapdoor, which descended with it +to regions below when it was necessary to replenish its dishes. In a +room of the Petit Trianon stood the furniture, just as poor Marie +Antoinette left it when the mob came and dragged her and the King to +Paris, never to return. Near at hand, in the stables, were prodigious +carriages that showed no color but gold--carriages used by former kings +of France on state occasions, and never used now save when a kingly head +is to be crowned or an imperial infant christened. And with them were +some curious sleighs, whose bodies were shaped like lions, swans, tigers, +etc.--vehicles that had once been handsome with pictured designs and +fine workmanship, but were dusty and decaying now. They had their +history. When Louis XIV had finished the Grand Trianon, he told +Maintenon he had created a Paradise for her, and asked if she could think +of anything now to wish for. He said he wished the Trianon to be +perfection--nothing less. She said she could think of but one thing--it +was summer, and it was balmy France--yet she would like well to sleigh +ride in the leafy avenues of Versailles! The next morning found miles +and miles of grassy avenues spread thick with snowy salt and sugar, and a +procession of those quaint sleighs waiting to receive the chief concubine +of the gaiest and most unprincipled court that France has ever seen! + +From sumptuous Versailles, with its palaces, its statues, its gardens, +and its fountains, we journeyed back to Paris and sought its antipodes +--the Faubourg St. Antoine. Little, narrow streets; dirty children +blockading them; greasy, slovenly women capturing and spanking them; +filthy dens on first floors, with rag stores in them (the heaviest +business in the Faubourg is the chiffonier's); other filthy dens where +whole suits of second and third-hand clothing are sold at prices that +would ruin any proprietor who did not steal his stock; still other filthy +dens where they sold groceries--sold them by the half-pennyworth--five +dollars would buy the man out, goodwill and all. Up these little crooked +streets they will murder a man for seven dollars and dump the body in the +Seine. And up some other of these streets--most of them, I should say +--live lorettes. + +All through this Faubourg St. Antoine, misery, poverty, vice, and crime +go hand in hand, and the evidences of it stare one in the face from every +side. Here the people live who begin the revolutions. Whenever there is +anything of that kind to be done, they are always ready. They take as +much genuine pleasure in building a barricade as they do in cutting a +throat or shoving a friend into the Seine. It is these savage-looking +ruffians who storm the splendid halls of the Tuileries occasionally, and +swarm into Versailles when a king is to be called to account. + +But they will build no more barricades, they will break no more soldiers' +heads with paving-stones. Louis Napoleon has taken care of all that. He +is annihilating the crooked streets and building in their stead noble +boulevards as straight as an arrow--avenues which a cannon ball could +traverse from end to end without meeting an obstruction more irresistible +than the flesh and bones of men--boulevards whose stately edifices will +never afford refuges and plotting places for starving, discontented +revolution breeders. Five of these great thoroughfares radiate from one +ample centre--a centre which is exceedingly well adapted to the +accommodation of heavy artillery. The mobs used to riot there, but they +must seek another rallying-place in future. And this ingenious Napoleon +paves the streets of his great cities with a smooth, compact composition +of asphaltum and sand. No more barricades of flagstones--no more +assaulting his Majesty's troops with cobbles. I cannot feel friendly +toward my quondam fellow-American, Napoleon III., especially at this +time,--[July, 1867.]--when in fancy I see his credulous victim, +Maximilian, lying stark and stiff in Mexico, and his maniac widow +watching eagerly from her French asylum for the form that will never +come--but I do admire his nerve, his calm self-reliance, his shrewd good +sense. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +We had a pleasant journey of it seaward again. We found that for the +three past nights our ship had been in a state of war. The first night +the sailors of a British ship, being happy with grog, came down on the +pier and challenged our sailors to a free fight. They accepted with +alacrity, repaired to the pier, and gained--their share of a drawn +battle. Several bruised and bloody members of both parties were carried +off by the police and imprisoned until the following morning. The next +night the British boys came again to renew the fight, but our men had had +strict orders to remain on board and out of sight. They did so, and the +besieging party grew noisy and more and more abusive as the fact became +apparent (to them) that our men were afraid to come out. They went away +finally with a closing burst of ridicule and offensive epithets. The +third night they came again and were more obstreperous than ever. They +swaggered up and down the almost deserted pier, and hurled curses, +obscenity, and stinging sarcasms at our crew. It was more than human +nature could bear. The executive officer ordered our men ashore--with +instructions not to fight. They charged the British and gained a +brilliant victory. I probably would not have mentioned this war had it +ended differently. But I travel to learn, and I still remember that they +picture no French defeats in the battle-galleries of Versailles. + +It was like home to us to step on board the comfortable ship again and +smoke and lounge about her breezy decks. And yet it was not altogether +like home, either, because so many members of the family were away. We +missed some pleasant faces which we would rather have found at dinner, +and at night there were gaps in the euchre-parties which could not be +satisfactorily filled. "Moult" was in England, Jack in Switzerland, +Charley in Spain. Blucher was gone, none could tell where. But we were +at sea again, and we had the stars and the ocean to look at, and plenty +of room to meditate in. + +In due time the shores of Italy were sighted, and as we stood gazing from +the decks, early in the bright summer morning, the stately city of Genoa +rose up out of the sea and flung back the sunlight from her hundred +palaces. + +Here we rest for the present--or rather, here we have been trying to +rest, for some little time, but we run about too much to accomplish a +great deal in that line. + +I would like to remain here. I had rather not go any further. There may +be prettier women in Europe, but I doubt it. The population of Genoa is +120,000; two-thirds of these are women, I think, and at least two-thirds +of the women are beautiful. They are as dressy and as tasteful and as +graceful as they could possibly be without being angels. However, angels +are not very dressy, I believe. At least the angels in pictures are not +--they wear nothing but wings. But these Genoese women do look so +charming. Most of the young demoiselles are robed in a cloud of white +from head to foot, though many trick themselves out more elaborately. +Nine-tenths of them wear nothing on their heads but a filmy sort of veil, +which falls down their backs like a white mist. They are very fair, and +many of them have blue eyes, but black and dreamy dark brown ones are met +with oftenest. + +The ladies and gentlemen of Genoa have a pleasant fashion of promenading +in a large park on the top of a hill in the center of the city, from six +till nine in the evening, and then eating ices in a neighboring garden an +hour or two longer. We went to the park on Sunday evening. Two thousand +persons were present, chiefly young ladies and gentlemen. The gentlemen +were dressed in the very latest Paris fashions, and the robes of the +ladies glinted among the trees like so many snowflakes. The multitude +moved round and round the park in a great procession. The bands played, +and so did the fountains; the moon and the gas lamps lit up the scene, +and altogether it was a brilliant and an animated picture. I scanned +every female face that passed, and it seemed to me that all were +handsome. I never saw such a freshet of loveliness before. I did not +see how a man of only ordinary decision of character could marry here, +because before he could get his mind made up he would fall in love with +somebody else. + +Never smoke any Italian tobacco. Never do it on any account. It makes +me shudder to think what it must be made of. You cannot throw an old +cigar "stub" down anywhere, but some vagabond will pounce upon it on the +instant. I like to smoke a good deal, but it wounds my sensibilities to +see one of these stub-hunters watching me out of the corners of his +hungry eyes and calculating how long my cigar will be likely to last. +It reminded me too painfully of that San Francisco undertaker who used to +go to sick-beds with his watch in his hand and time the corpse. One of +these stub-hunters followed us all over the park last night, and we never +had a smoke that was worth anything. We were always moved to appease him +with the stub before the cigar was half gone, because he looked so +viciously anxious. He regarded us as his own legitimate prey, by right +of discovery, I think, because he drove off several other professionals +who wanted to take stock in us. + +Now, they surely must chew up those old stubs, and dry and sell them for +smoking-tobacco. Therefore, give your custom to other than Italian +brands of the article. + +"The Superb" and the "City of Palaces" are names which Genoa has held for +centuries. She is full of palaces, certainly, and the palaces are +sumptuous inside, but they are very rusty without and make no pretensions +to architectural magnificence. "Genoa the Superb" would be a felicitous +title if it referred to the women. + +We have visited several of the palaces--immense thick-walled piles, with +great stone staircases, tesselated marble pavements on the floors, +(sometimes they make a mosaic work, of intricate designs, wrought in +pebbles or little fragments of marble laid in cement,) and grand salons +hung with pictures by Rubens, Guido, Titian, Paul Veronese, and so on, +and portraits of heads of the family, in plumed helmets and gallant coats +of mail, and patrician ladies in stunning costumes of centuries ago. +But, of course, the folks were all out in the country for the summer, and +might not have known enough to ask us to dinner if they had been at home, +and so all the grand empty salons, with their resounding pavements, their +grim pictures of dead ancestors, and tattered banners with the dust of +bygone centuries upon them, seemed to brood solemnly of death and the +grave, and our spirits ebbed away, and our cheerfulness passed from us. +We never went up to the eleventh story. We always began to suspect +ghosts. There was always an undertaker-looking servant along, too, who +handed us a program, pointed to the picture that began the list of the +salon he was in, and then stood stiff and stark and unsmiling in his +petrified livery till we were ready to move on to the next chamber, +whereupon he marched sadly ahead and took up another malignantly +respectful position as before. I wasted so much time praying that the +roof would fall in on these dispiriting flunkies that I had but little +left to bestow upon palace and pictures. + +And besides, as in Paris, we had a guide. Perdition catch all the +guides. This one said he was the most gifted linguist in Genoa, as far +as English was concerned, and that only two persons in the city beside +himself could talk the language at all. He showed us the birthplace of +Christopher Columbus, and after we had reflected in silent awe before it +for fifteen minutes, he said it was not the birthplace of Columbus, but +of Columbus' grandmother! When we demanded an explanation of his conduct +he only shrugged his shoulders and answered in barbarous Italian. I +shall speak further of this guide in a future chapter. All the +information we got out of him we shall be able to carry along with us, I +think. + +I have not been to church so often in a long time as I have in the last +few weeks. The people in these old lands seem to make churches their +specialty. Especially does this seem to be the case with the citizens of +Genoa. I think there is a church every three or four hundred yards all +over town. The streets are sprinkled from end to end with shovel-hatted, +long-robed, well-fed priests, and the church bells by dozens are pealing +all the day long, nearly. Every now and then one comes across a friar of +orders gray, with shaven head, long, coarse robe, rope girdle and beads, +and with feet cased in sandals or entirely bare. These worthies suffer +in the flesh and do penance all their lives, I suppose, but they look +like consummate famine-breeders. They are all fat and serene. + +The old Cathedral of San Lorenzo is about as notable a building as we +have found in Genoa. It is vast, and has colonnades of noble pillars, +and a great organ, and the customary pomp of gilded moldings, pictures, +frescoed ceilings, and so forth. I cannot describe it, of course--it +would require a good many pages to do that. But it is a curious place. +They said that half of it--from the front door halfway down to the altar +--was a Jewish synagogue before the Saviour was born, and that no +alteration had been made in it since that time. We doubted the +statement, but did it reluctantly. We would much rather have believed +it. The place looked in too perfect repair to be so ancient. + +The main point of interest about the cathedral is the little Chapel of +St. John the Baptist. They only allow women to enter it on one day in +the year, on account of the animosity they still cherish against the sex +because of the murder of the Saint to gratify a caprice of Herodias. In +this Chapel is a marble chest, in which, they told us, were the ashes of +St. John; and around it was wound a chain, which, they said, had confined +him when he was in prison. We did not desire to disbelieve these +statements, and yet we could not feel certain that they were correct +--partly because we could have broken that chain, and so could St. John, +and partly because we had seen St. John's ashes before, in another +church. We could not bring ourselves to think St. John had two sets of +ashes. + +They also showed us a portrait of the Madonna which was painted by St. +Luke, and it did not look half as old and smoky as some of the pictures +by Rubens. We could not help admiring the Apostle's modesty in never +once mentioning in his writings that he could paint. + +But isn't this relic matter a little overdone? We find a piece of the +true cross in every old church we go into, and some of the nails that +held it together. I would not like to be positive, but I think we have +seen as much as a keg of these nails. Then there is the crown of thorns; +they have part of one in Sainte Chapelle, in Paris, and part of one also +in Notre Dame. And as for bones of St. Denis, I feel certain we have +seen enough of them to duplicate him if necessary. + +I only meant to write about the churches, but I keep wandering from the +subject. I could say that the Church of the Annunciation is a wilderness +of beautiful columns, of statues, gilded moldings, and pictures almost +countless, but that would give no one an entirely perfect idea of the +thing, and so where is the use? One family built the whole edifice, and +have got money left. There is where the mystery lies. We had an idea at +first that only a mint could have survived the expense. + +These people here live in the heaviest, highest, broadest, darkest, +solidest houses one can imagine. Each one might "laugh a siege to +scorn." A hundred feet front and a hundred high is about the style, and +you go up three flights of stairs before you begin to come upon signs of +occupancy. Everything is stone, and stone of the heaviest--floors, +stairways, mantels, benches--everything. The walls are four to five feet +thick. The streets generally are four or five to eight feet wide and as +crooked as a corkscrew. You go along one of these gloomy cracks, and +look up and behold the sky like a mere ribbon of light, far above your +head, where the tops of the tall houses on either side of the street bend +almost together. You feel as if you were at the bottom of some +tremendous abyss, with all the world far above you. You wind in and out +and here and there, in the most mysterious way, and have no more idea of +the points of the compass than if you were a blind man. You can never +persuade yourself that these are actually streets, and the frowning, +dingy, monstrous houses dwellings, till you see one of these beautiful, +prettily dressed women emerge from them--see her emerge from a dark, +dreary-looking den that looks dungeon all over, from the ground away +halfway up to heaven. And then you wonder that such a charming moth +could come from such a forbidding shell as that. The streets are wisely +made narrow and the houses heavy and thick and stony, in order that the +people may be cool in this roasting climate. And they are cool, and stay +so. And while I think of it--the men wear hats and have very dark +complexions, but the women wear no headgear but a flimsy veil like a +gossamer's web, and yet are exceedingly fair as a general thing. +Singular, isn't it? + +The huge palaces of Genoa are each supposed to be occupied by one family, +but they could accommodate a hundred, I should think. They are relics of +the grandeur of Genoa's palmy days--the days when she was a great +commercial and maritime power several centuries ago. These houses, solid +marble palaces though they be, are in many cases of a dull pinkish color, +outside, and from pavement to eaves are pictured with Genoese battle +scenes, with monstrous Jupiters and Cupids, and with familiar +illustrations from Grecian mythology. Where the paint has yielded to age +and exposure and is peeling off in flakes and patches, the effect is not +happy. A noseless Cupid or a Jupiter with an eye out or a Venus with a +fly-blister on her breast, are not attractive features in a picture. +Some of these painted walls reminded me somewhat of the tall van, +plastered with fanciful bills and posters, that follows the bandwagon of +a circus about a country village. I have not read or heard that the +outsides of the houses of any other European city are frescoed in this +way. + +I can not conceive of such a thing as Genoa in ruins. Such massive +arches, such ponderous substructions as support these towering +broad-winged edifices, we have seldom seen before; and surely the great +blocks of stone of which these edifices are built can never decay; walls +that are as thick as an ordinary American doorway is high cannot +crumble. + +The republics of Genoa and Pisa were very powerful in the Middle Ages. +Their ships filled the Mediterranean, and they carried on an extensive +commerce with Constantinople and Syria. Their warehouses were the great +distributing depots from whence the costly merchandise of the East was +sent abroad over Europe. They were warlike little nations and defied, in +those days, governments that overshadow them now as mountains overshadow +molehills. The Saracens captured and pillaged Genoa nine hundred years +ago, but during the following century Genoa and Pisa entered into an +offensive and defensive alliance and besieged the Saracen colonies in +Sardinia and the Balearic Isles with an obstinacy that maintained its +pristine vigor and held to its purpose for forty long years. They were +victorious at last and divided their conquests equably among their great +patrician families. Descendants of some of those proud families still +inhabit the palaces of Genoa, and trace in their own features a +resemblance to the grim knights whose portraits hang in their stately +halls, and to pictured beauties with pouting lips and merry eyes whose +originals have been dust and ashes for many a dead and forgotten century. + +The hotel we live in belonged to one of those great orders of knights of +the Cross in the times of the Crusades, and its mailed sentinels once +kept watch and ward in its massive turrets and woke the echoes of these +halls and corridors with their iron heels. + +But Genoa's greatness has degenerated into an unostentatious commerce in +velvets and silver filagree-work. They say that each European town has +its specialty. These filagree things are Genoa's specialty. Her smiths +take silver ingots and work them up into all manner of graceful and +beautiful forms. They make bunches of flowers, from flakes and wires of +silver, that counterfeit the delicate creations the frost weaves upon a +windowpane; and we were shown a miniature silver temple whose fluted +columns, whose Corinthian capitals and rich entablatures, whose spire, +statues, bells, and ornate lavishness of sculpture were wrought in +polished silver, and with such matchless art that every detail was a +fascinating study and the finished edifice a wonder of beauty. + +We are ready to move again, though we are not really tired yet of the +narrow passages of this old marble cave. Cave is a good word--when +speaking of Genoa under the stars. When we have been prowling at +midnight through the gloomy crevices they call streets, where no +footfalls but ours were echoing, where only ourselves were abroad, and +lights appeared only at long intervals and at a distance, and +mysteriously disappeared again, and the houses at our elbows seemed to +stretch upward farther than ever toward the heavens, the memory of a cave +I used to know at home was always in my mind, with its lofty passages, +its silence and solitude, its shrouding gloom, its sepulchral echoes, its +flitting lights, and more than all, its sudden revelations of branching +crevices and corridors where we least expected them. + +We are not tired of the endless processions of cheerful, chattering +gossipers that throng these courts and streets all day long, either; nor +of the coarse-robed monks; nor of the "Asti" wines, which that old doctor +(whom we call the Oracle,) with customary felicity in the matter of +getting everything wrong, misterms "nasty." But we must go, +nevertheless. + +Our last sight was the cemetery (a burial place intended to accommodate +60,000 bodies,) and we shall continue to remember it after we shall have +forgotten the palaces. It is a vast marble collonaded corridor extending +around a great unoccupied square of ground; its broad floor is marble, +and on every slab is an inscription--for every slab covers a corpse. On +either side, as one walks down the middle of the passage, are monuments, +tombs, and sculptured figures that are exquisitely wrought and are full +of grace and beauty. They are new and snowy; every outline is perfect, +every feature guiltless of mutilation, flaw, or blemish; and therefore, +to us these far-reaching ranks of bewitching forms are a hundred fold +more lovely than the damaged and dingy statuary they have saved from the +wreck of ancient art and set up in the galleries of Paris for the worship +of the world. + +Well provided with cigars and other necessaries of life, we are now ready +to take the cars for Milan. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +All day long we sped through a mountainous country whose peaks were +bright with sunshine, whose hillsides were dotted with pretty villas +sitting in the midst of gardens and shrubbery, and whose deep ravines +were cool and shady and looked ever so inviting from where we and the +birds were winging our flight through the sultry upper air. + +We had plenty of chilly tunnels wherein to check our perspiration, +though. We timed one of them. We were twenty minutes passing through +it, going at the rate of thirty to thirty-five miles an hour. + +Beyond Alessandria we passed the battle-field of Marengo. + +Toward dusk we drew near Milan and caught glimpses of the city and the +blue mountain peaks beyond. But we were not caring for these things +--they did not interest us in the least. We were in a fever of impatience; +we were dying to see the renowned cathedral! We watched--in this +direction and that--all around--everywhere. We needed no one to point it +out--we did not wish any one to point it out--we would recognize it even +in the desert of the great Sahara. + +At last, a forest of graceful needles, shimmering in the amber sunlight, +rose slowly above the pygmy housetops, as one sometimes sees, in the far +horizon, a gilded and pinnacled mass of cloud lift itself above the waste +of waves, at sea,--the Cathedral! We knew it in a moment. + +Half of that night, and all of the next day, this architectural autocrat +was our sole object of interest. + +What a wonder it is! So grand, so solemn, so vast! And yet so delicate, +so airy, so graceful! A very world of solid weight, and yet it seems in +the soft moonlight only a fairy delusion of frost-work that might vanish +with a breath! How sharply its pinnacled angles and its wilderness of +spires were cut against the sky, and how richly their shadows fell upon +its snowy roof! It was a vision!--a miracle!--an anthem sung in stone, a +poem wrought in marble! + +Howsoever you look at the great cathedral, it is noble, it is beautiful! +Wherever you stand in Milan or within seven miles of Milan, it is visible +and when it is visible, no other object can chain your whole attention. +Leave your eyes unfettered by your will but a single instant and they +will surely turn to seek it. It is the first thing you look for when you +rise in the morning, and the last your lingering gaze rests upon at +night. Surely it must be the princeliest creation that ever brain of man +conceived. + +At nine o'clock in the morning we went and stood before this marble +colossus. The central one of its five great doors is bordered with a +bas-relief of birds and fruits and beasts and insects, which have been so +ingeniously carved out of the marble that they seem like living +creatures--and the figures are so numerous and the design so complex that +one might study it a week without exhausting its interest. On the great +steeple--surmounting the myriad of spires--inside of the spires--over the +doors, the windows--in nooks and corners--every where that a niche or a +perch can be found about the enormous building, from summit to base, +there is a marble statue, and every statue is a study in itself! +Raphael, Angelo, Canova--giants like these gave birth to the designs, and +their own pupils carved them. Every face is eloquent with expression, +and every attitude is full of grace. Away above, on the lofty roof, rank +on rank of carved and fretted spires spring high in the air, and through +their rich tracery one sees the sky beyond. In their midst the central +steeple towers proudly up like the mainmast of some great Indiaman among +a fleet of coasters. + +We wished to go aloft. The sacristan showed us a marble stairway (of +course it was marble, and of the purest and whitest--there is no other +stone, no brick, no wood, among its building materials) and told us to go +up one hundred and eighty-two steps and stop till he came. It was not +necessary to say stop--we should have done that any how. We were tired +by the time we got there. This was the roof. Here, springing from its +broad marble flagstones, were the long files of spires, looking very tall +close at hand, but diminishing in the distance like the pipes of an +organ. We could see now that the statue on the top of each was the size +of a large man, though they all looked like dolls from the street. We +could see, also, that from the inside of each and every one of these +hollow spires, from sixteen to thirty-one beautiful marble statues looked +out upon the world below. + +From the eaves to the comb of the roof stretched in endless succession +great curved marble beams, like the fore-and-aft braces of a steamboat, +and along each beam from end to end stood up a row of richly carved +flowers and fruits--each separate and distinct in kind, and over 15,000 +species represented. At a little distance these rows seem to close +together like the ties of a railroad track, and then the mingling +together of the buds and blossoms of this marble garden forms a picture +that is very charming to the eye. + +We descended and entered. Within the church, long rows of fluted +columns, like huge monuments, divided the building into broad aisles, and +on the figured pavement fell many a soft blush from the painted windows +above. I knew the church was very large, but I could not fully +appreciate its great size until I noticed that the men standing far down +by the altar looked like boys, and seemed to glide, rather than walk. We +loitered about gazing aloft at the monster windows all aglow with +brilliantly colored scenes in the lives of the Saviour and his followers. +Some of these pictures are mosaics, and so artistically are their +thousand particles of tinted glass or stone put together that the work +has all the smoothness and finish of a painting. We counted sixty panes +of glass in one window, and each pane was adorned with one of these +master achievements of genius and patience. + +The guide showed us a coffee-colored piece of sculpture which he said was +considered to have come from the hand of Phidias, since it was not +possible that any other artist, of any epoch, could have copied nature +with such faultless accuracy. The figure was that of a man without a +skin; with every vein, artery, muscle, every fiber and tendon and tissue +of the human frame represented in minute detail. It looked natural, +because somehow it looked as if it were in pain. A skinned man would be +likely to look that way unless his attention were occupied with some +other matter. It was a hideous thing, and yet there was a fascination +about it some where. I am very sorry I saw it, because I shall always +see it now. I shall dream of it sometimes. I shall dream that it is +resting its corded arms on the bed's head and looking down on me with its +dead eyes; I shall dream that it is stretched between the sheets with me +and touching me with its exposed muscles and its stringy cold legs. + +It is hard to forget repulsive things. I remember yet how I ran off from +school once, when I was a boy, and then, pretty late at night, concluded +to climb into the window of my father's office and sleep on a lounge, +because I had a delicacy about going home and getting thrashed. As I lay +on the lounge and my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I fancied I +could see a long, dusky, shapeless thing stretched upon the floor. A +cold shiver went through me. I turned my face to the wall. That did not +answer. I was afraid that that thing would creep over and seize me in +the dark. I turned back and stared at it for minutes and minutes--they +seemed hours. It appeared to me that the lagging moonlight never, never +would get to it. I turned to the wall and counted twenty, to pass the +feverish time away. I looked--the pale square was nearer. I turned +again and counted fifty--it was almost touching it. With desperate will +I turned again and counted one hundred, and faced about, all in a +tremble. A white human hand lay in the moonlight! Such an awful sinking +at the heart--such a sudden gasp for breath! I felt--I cannot tell what +I felt. When I recovered strength enough, I faced the wall again. But +no boy could have remained so with that mysterious hand behind him. I +counted again and looked--the most of a naked arm was exposed. I put my +hands over my eyes and counted till I could stand it no longer, and then +--the pallid face of a man was there, with the corners of the mouth drawn +down, and the eyes fixed and glassy in death! I raised to a sitting +posture and glowered on that corpse till the light crept down the bare +breastline by line--inch by inch--past the nipple--and then it disclosed +a ghastly stab! + +I went away from there. I do not say that I went away in any sort of a +hurry, but I simply went--that is sufficient. I went out at the window, +and I carried the sash along with me. I did not need the sash, but it +was handier to take it than it was to leave it, and so I took it.--I was +not scared, but I was considerably agitated. + +When I reached home, they whipped me, but I enjoyed it. It seemed +perfectly delightful. That man had been stabbed near the office that +afternoon, and they carried him in there to doctor him, but he only lived +an hour. I have slept in the same room with him often since then--in my +dreams. + +Now we will descend into the crypt, under the grand altar of Milan +Cathedral, and receive an impressive sermon from lips that have been +silent and hands that have been gestureless for three hundred years. + +The priest stopped in a small dungeon and held up his candle. This was +the last resting-place of a good man, a warm-hearted, unselfish man; a +man whose whole life was given to succoring the poor, encouraging the +faint-hearted, visiting the sick; in relieving distress, whenever and +wherever he found it. His heart, his hand, and his purse were always +open. With his story in one's mind he can almost see his benignant +countenance moving calmly among the haggard faces of Milan in the days +when the plague swept the city, brave where all others were cowards, full +of compassion where pity had been crushed out of all other breasts by the +instinct of self-preservation gone mad with terror, cheering all, praying +with all, helping all, with hand and brain and purse, at a time when +parents forsook their children, the friend deserted the friend, and the +brother turned away from the sister while her pleadings were still +wailing in his ears. + +This was good St. Charles Borromeo, Bishop of Milan. The people idolized +him; princes lavished uncounted treasures upon him. We stood in his +tomb. Near by was the sarcophagus, lighted by the dripping candles. The +walls were faced with bas-reliefs representing scenes in his life done in +massive silver. The priest put on a short white lace garment over his +black robe, crossed himself, bowed reverently, and began to turn a +windlass slowly. The sarcophagus separated in two parts, lengthwise, and +the lower part sank down and disclosed a coffin of rock crystal as clear +as the atmosphere. Within lay the body, robed in costly habiliments +covered with gold embroidery and starred with scintillating gems. The +decaying head was black with age, the dry skin was drawn tight to the +bones, the eyes were gone, there was a hole in the temple and another in +the cheek, and the skinny lips were parted as in a ghastly smile! Over +this dreadful face, its dust and decay and its mocking grin, hung a crown +sown thick with flashing brilliants; and upon the breast lay crosses and +croziers of solid gold that were splendid with emeralds and diamonds. + +How poor, and cheap, and trivial these gew-gaws seemed in presence of the +solemnity, the grandeur, the awful majesty of Death! Think of Milton, +Shakespeare, Washington, standing before a reverent world tricked out in +the glass beads, the brass ear-rings and tin trumpery of the savages of +the plains! + +Dead Bartolomeo preached his pregnant sermon, and its burden was: You +that worship the vanities of earth--you that long for worldly honor, +worldly wealth, worldly fame--behold their worth! + +To us it seemed that so good a man, so kind a heart, so simple a nature, +deserved rest and peace in a grave sacred from the intrusion of prying +eyes, and believed that he himself would have preferred to have it so, +but peradventure our wisdom was at fault in this regard. + +As we came out upon the floor of the church again, another priest +volunteered to show us the treasures of the church. + +What, more? The furniture of the narrow chamber of death we had just +visited weighed six millions of francs in ounces and carats alone, +without a penny thrown into the account for the costly workmanship +bestowed upon them! But we followed into a large room filled with tall +wooden presses like wardrobes. He threw them open, and behold, the +cargoes of "crude bullion" of the assay offices of Nevada faded out of my +memory. There were Virgins and bishops there, above their natural size, +made of solid silver, each worth, by weight, from eight hundred thousand +to two millions of francs, and bearing gemmed books in their hands worth +eighty thousand; there were bas-reliefs that weighed six hundred pounds, +carved in solid silver; croziers and crosses, and candlesticks six and +eight feet high, all of virgin gold, and brilliant with precious stones; +and beside these were all manner of cups and vases, and such things, rich +in proportion. It was an Aladdin's palace. The treasures here, by +simple weight, without counting workmanship, were valued at fifty +millions of francs! If I could get the custody of them for a while, I +fear me the market price of silver bishops would advance shortly, on +account of their exceeding scarcity in the Cathedral of Milan. + +The priests showed us two of St. Paul's fingers, and one of St. Peter's; +a bone of Judas Iscariot, (it was black,) and also bones of all the other +disciples; a handkerchief in which the Saviour had left the impression of +his face. Among the most precious of the relics were a stone from the +Holy Sepulchre, part of the crown of thorns, (they have a whole one at +Notre Dame,) a fragment of the purple robe worn by the Saviour, a nail +from the Cross, and a picture of the Virgin and Child painted by the +veritable hand of St. Luke. This is the second of St. Luke's Virgins we +have seen. Once a year all these holy relics are carried in procession +through the streets of Milan. + +I like to revel in the dryest details of the great cathedral. The +building is five hundred feet long by one hundred and eighty wide, and +the principal steeple is in the neighborhood of four hundred feet high. +It has 7,148 marble statues, and will have upwards of three thousand more +when it is finished. In addition it has one thousand five hundred +bas-reliefs. It has one hundred and thirty-six spires--twenty-one more +are to be added. Each spire is surmounted by a statue six and a half +feet high. Every thing about the church is marble, and all from the +same quarry; it was bequeathed to the Archbishopric for this purpose +centuries ago. So nothing but the mere workmanship costs; still that is +expensive --the bill foots up six hundred and eighty-four millions of +francs thus far (considerably over a hundred millions of dollars,) and +it is estimated that it will take a hundred and twenty years yet to +finish the cathedral. It looks complete, but is far from being so. We +saw a new statue put in its niche yesterday, alongside of one which had +been standing these four hundred years, they said. There are four +staircases leading up to the main steeple, each of which cost a hundred +thousand dollars, with the four hundred and eight statues which adorn +them. Marco Compioni was the architect who designed the wonderful +structure more than five hundred years ago, and it took him forty-six +years to work out the plan and get it ready to hand over to the +builders. He is dead now. The building was begun a little less than +five hundred years ago, and the third generation hence will not see it +completed. + +The building looks best by moonlight, because the older portions of it, +being stained with age, contrast unpleasantly with the newer and whiter +portions. It seems somewhat too broad for its height, but may be +familiarity with it might dissipate this impression. + +They say that the Cathedral of Milan is second only to St. Peter's at +Rome. I cannot understand how it can be second to anything made by human +hands. + +We bid it good-bye, now--possibly for all time. How surely, in some +future day, when the memory of it shall have lost its vividness, shall we +half believe we have seen it in a wonderful dream, but never with waking +eyes! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +"Do you wis zo haut can be?" + +That was what the guide asked when we were looking up at the bronze +horses on the Arch of Peace. It meant, do you wish to go up there? +I give it as a specimen of guide-English. These are the people that make +life a burthen to the tourist. Their tongues are never still. They talk +forever and forever, and that is the kind of billingsgate they use. +Inspiration itself could hardly comprehend them. If they would only show +you a masterpiece of art, or a venerable tomb, or a prison-house, or a +battle-field, hallowed by touching memories or historical reminiscences, +or grand traditions, and then step aside and hold still for ten minutes +and let you think, it would not be so bad. But they interrupt every +dream, every pleasant train of thought, with their tiresome cackling. +Sometimes when I have been standing before some cherished old idol of +mine that I remembered years and years ago in pictures in the geography +at school, I have thought I would give a whole world if the human parrot +at my side would suddenly perish where he stood and leave me to gaze, and +ponder, and worship. + +No, we did not "wis zo haut can be." We wished to go to La Scala, the +largest theater in the world, I think they call it. We did so. It was a +large place. Seven separate and distinct masses of humanity--six great +circles and a monster parquette. + +We wished to go to the Ambrosian Library, and we did that also. We saw a +manuscript of Virgil, with annotations in the handwriting of Petrarch, +the gentleman who loved another man's Laura, and lavished upon her all +through life a love which was a clear waste of the raw material. It was +sound sentiment, but bad judgment. It brought both parties fame, and +created a fountain of commiseration for them in sentimental breasts that +is running yet. But who says a word in behalf of poor Mr. Laura? (I do +not know his other name.) Who glorifies him? Who bedews him with tears? +Who writes poetry about him? Nobody. How do you suppose he liked the +state of things that has given the world so much pleasure? How did he +enjoy having another man following his wife every where and making her +name a familiar word in every garlic-exterminating mouth in Italy with +his sonnets to her pre-empted eyebrows? They got fame and sympathy--he +got neither. This is a peculiarly felicitous instance of what is called +poetical justice. It is all very fine; but it does not chime with my +notions of right. It is too one-sided--too ungenerous. + +Let the world go on fretting about Laura and Petrarch if it will; but as +for me, my tears and my lamentations shall be lavished upon the unsung +defendant. + +We saw also an autograph letter of Lucrezia Borgia, a lady for whom I +have always entertained the highest respect, on account of her rare +histrionic capabilities, her opulence in solid gold goblets made of +gilded wood, her high distinction as an operatic screamer, and the +facility with which she could order a sextuple funeral and get the +corpses ready for it. We saw one single coarse yellow hair from +Lucrezia's head, likewise. It awoke emotions, but we still live. In +this same library we saw some drawings by Michael Angelo (these Italians +call him Mickel Angelo,) and Leonardo da Vinci. (They spell it Vinci and +pronounce it Vinchy; foreigners always spell better than they pronounce.) +We reserve our opinion of these sketches. + +In another building they showed us a fresco representing some lions and +other beasts drawing chariots; and they seemed to project so far from the +wall that we took them to be sculptures. The artist had shrewdly +heightened the delusion by painting dust on the creatures' backs, as if +it had fallen there naturally and properly. Smart fellow--if it be smart +to deceive strangers. + +Elsewhere we saw a huge Roman amphitheatre, with its stone seats still in +good preservation. Modernized, it is now the scene of more peaceful +recreations than the exhibition of a party of wild beasts with Christians +for dinner. Part of the time, the Milanese use it for a race track, and +at other seasons they flood it with water and have spirited yachting +regattas there. The guide told us these things, and he would hardly try +so hazardous an experiment as the telling of a falsehood, when it is all +he can do to speak the truth in English without getting the lock-jaw. + +In another place we were shown a sort of summer arbor, with a fence +before it. We said that was nothing. We looked again, and saw, through +the arbor, an endless stretch of garden, and shrubbery, and grassy lawn. +We were perfectly willing to go in there and rest, but it could not be +done. It was only another delusion--a painting by some ingenious artist +with little charity in his heart for tired folk. The deception was +perfect. No one could have imagined the park was not real. We even +thought we smelled the flowers at first. + +We got a carriage at twilight and drove in the shaded avenues with the +other nobility, and after dinner we took wine and ices in a fine garden +with the great public. The music was excellent, the flowers and +shrubbery were pleasant to the eye, the scene was vivacious, everybody +was genteel and well-behaved, and the ladies were slightly moustached, +and handsomely dressed, but very homely. + +We adjourned to a cafe and played billiards an hour, and I made six or +seven points by the doctor pocketing his ball, and he made as many by my +pocketing my ball. We came near making a carom sometimes, but not the +one we were trying to make. The table was of the usual European style +--cushions dead and twice as high as the balls; the cues in bad repair. +The natives play only a sort of pool on them. We have never seen any +body playing the French three-ball game yet, and I doubt if there is any +such game known in France, or that there lives any man mad enough to try +to play it on one of these European tables. We had to stop playing +finally because Dan got to sleeping fifteen minutes between the counts +and paying no attention to his marking. + +Afterward we walked up and down one of the most popular streets for some +time, enjoying other people's comfort and wishing we could export some of +it to our restless, driving, vitality-consuming marts at home. Just in +this one matter lies the main charm of life in Europe--comfort. In +America, we hurry--which is well; but when the day's work is done, we go +on thinking of losses and gains, we plan for the morrow, we even carry +our business cares to bed with us, and toss and worry over them when we +ought to be restoring our racked bodies and brains with sleep. We burn +up our energies with these excitements, and either die early or drop into +a lean and mean old age at a time of life which they call a man's prime +in Europe. When an acre of ground has produced long and well, we let it +lie fallow and rest for a season; we take no man clear across the +continent in the same coach he started in--the coach is stabled somewhere +on the plains and its heated machinery allowed to cool for a few days; +when a razor has seen long service and refuses to hold an edge, the +barber lays it away for a few weeks, and the edge comes back of its own +accord. We bestow thoughtful care upon inanimate objects, but none upon +ourselves. What a robust people, what a nation of thinkers we might be, +if we would only lay ourselves on the shelf occasionally and renew our +edges! + +I do envy these Europeans the comfort they take. When the work of the +day is done, they forget it. Some of them go, with wife and children, to +a beer hall and sit quietly and genteelly drinking a mug or two of ale +and listening to music; others walk the streets, others drive in the +avenues; others assemble in the great ornamental squares in the early +evening to enjoy the sight and the fragrance of flowers and to hear the +military bands play--no European city being without its fine military +music at eventide; and yet others of the populace sit in the open air in +front of the refreshment houses and eat ices and drink mild beverages +that could not harm a child. They go to bed moderately early, and sleep +well. They are always quiet, always orderly, always cheerful, +comfortable, and appreciative of life and its manifold blessings. One +never sees a drunken man among them. The change that has come over our +little party is surprising. Day by day we lose some of our restlessness +and absorb some of the spirit of quietude and ease that is in the +tranquil atmosphere about us and in the demeanor of the people. We grow +wise apace. We begin to comprehend what life is for. + +We have had a bath in Milan, in a public bath-house. They were going to +put all three of us in one bath-tub, but we objected. Each of us had an +Italian farm on his back. We could have felt affluent if we had been +officially surveyed and fenced in. We chose to have three bathtubs, and +large ones--tubs suited to the dignity of aristocrats who had real +estate, and brought it with them. After we were stripped and had taken +the first chilly dash, we discovered that haunting atrocity that has +embittered our lives in so many cities and villages of Italy and France +--there was no soap. I called. A woman answered, and I barely had time to +throw myself against the door--she would have been in, in another second. +I said: + +"Beware, woman! Go away from here--go away, now, or it will be the worse +for you. I am an unprotected male, but I will preserve my honor at the +peril of my life!" + +These words must have frightened her, for she skurried away very fast. + +Dan's voice rose on the air: + +"Oh, bring some soap, why don't you!" + +The reply was Italian. Dan resumed: + +"Soap, you know--soap. That is what I want--soap. S-o-a-p, soap; +s-o-p-e, soap; s-o-u-p, soap. Hurry up! I don't know how you Irish spell +it, but I want it. Spell it to suit yourself, but fetch it. I'm freezing." + +I heard the doctor say impressively: + +"Dan, how often have we told you that these foreigners cannot understand +English? Why will you not depend upon us? Why will you not tell us what +you want, and let us ask for it in the language of the country? It would +save us a great deal of the humiliation your reprehensible ignorance +causes us. I will address this person in his mother tongue: 'Here, +cospetto! corpo di Bacco! Sacramento! Solferino!--Soap, you son of a +gun!' Dan, if you would let us talk for you, you would never expose your +ignorant vulgarity." + +Even this fluent discharge of Italian did not bring the soap at once, but +there was a good reason for it. There was not such an article about the +establishment. It is my belief that there never had been. They had to +send far up town, and to several different places before they finally got +it, so they said. We had to wait twenty or thirty minutes. The same +thing had occurred the evening before, at the hotel. I think I have +divined the reason for this state of things at last. The English know +how to travel comfortably, and they carry soap with them; other +foreigners do not use the article. + +At every hotel we stop at we always have to send out for soap, at the +last moment, when we are grooming ourselves for dinner, and they put it +in the bill along with the candles and other nonsense. In Marseilles +they make half the fancy toilet soap we consume in America, but the +Marseillaise only have a vague theoretical idea of its use, which they +have obtained from books of travel, just as they have acquired an +uncertain notion of clean shirts, and the peculiarities of the gorilla, +and other curious matters. This reminds me of poor Blucher's note to the +landlord in Paris: + + PARIS, le 7 Juillet. Monsieur le Landlord--Sir: Pourquoi don't you + mettez some savon in your bed-chambers? Est-ce que vous pensez I + will steal it? La nuit passee you charged me pour deux chandelles + when I only had one; hier vous avez charged me avec glace when I had + none at all; tout les jours you are coming some fresh game or other + on me, mais vous ne pouvez pas play this savon dodge on me twice. + Savon is a necessary de la vie to any body but a Frenchman, et je + l'aurai hors de cet hotel or make trouble. You hear me. Allons. + BLUCHER. + +I remonstrated against the sending of this note, because it was so mixed +up that the landlord would never be able to make head or tail of it; but +Blucher said he guessed the old man could read the French of it and +average the rest. + +Blucher's French is bad enough, but it is not much worse than the English +one finds in advertisements all over Italy every day. For instance, +observe the printed card of the hotel we shall probably stop at on the +shores of Lake Como: + + "NOTISH." + + "This hotel which the best it is in Italy and most superb, is + handsome locate on the best situation of the lake, with the most + splendid view near the Villas Melzy, to the King of Belgian, and + Serbelloni. This hotel have recently enlarge, do offer all + commodities on moderate price, at the strangers gentlemen who whish + spend the seasons on the Lake Come." + +How is that, for a specimen? In the hotel is a handsome little chapel +where an English clergyman is employed to preach to such of the guests of +the house as hail from England and America, and this fact is also set +forth in barbarous English in the same advertisement. Wouldn't you have +supposed that the adventurous linguist who framed the card would have +known enough to submit it to that clergyman before he sent it to the +printer? + +Here in Milan, in an ancient tumble-down ruin of a church, is the +mournful wreck of the most celebrated painting in the world--"The Last +Supper," by Leonardo da Vinci. We are not infallible judges of pictures, +but of course we went there to see this wonderful painting, once so +beautiful, always so worshipped by masters in art, and forever to be +famous in song and story. And the first thing that occurred was the +infliction on us of a placard fairly reeking with wretched English. Take +a morsel of it: "Bartholomew (that is the first figure on the left hand +side at the spectator,) uncertain and doubtful about what he thinks to +have heard, and upon which he wants to be assured by himself at Christ +and by no others." + +Good, isn't it? And then Peter is described as "argumenting in a +threatening and angrily condition at Judas Iscariot." + +This paragraph recalls the picture. "The Last Supper" is painted on the +dilapidated wall of what was a little chapel attached to the main church +in ancient times, I suppose. It is battered and scarred in every +direction, and stained and discolored by time, and Napoleon's horses +kicked the legs off most the disciples when they (the horses, not the +disciples,) were stabled there more than half a century ago. + +I recognized the old picture in a moment--the Saviour with bowed head +seated at the centre of a long, rough table with scattering fruits and +dishes upon it, and six disciples on either side in their long robes, +talking to each other--the picture from which all engravings and all +copies have been made for three centuries. Perhaps no living man has +ever known an attempt to paint the Lord's Supper differently. The world +seems to have become settled in the belief, long ago, that it is not +possible for human genius to outdo this creation of da Vinci's. I +suppose painters will go on copying it as long as any of the original is +left visible to the eye. There were a dozen easels in the room, and as +many artists transferring the great picture to their canvases. Fifty +proofs of steel engravings and lithographs were scattered around, too. +And as usual, I could not help noticing how superior the copies were to +the original, that is, to my inexperienced eye. Wherever you find a +Raphael, a Rubens, a Michelangelo, a Carracci, or a da Vinci (and we see +them every day,) you find artists copying them, and the copies are always +the handsomest. Maybe the originals were handsome when they were new, +but they are not now. + +This picture is about thirty feet long, and ten or twelve high, I should +think, and the figures are at least life size. It is one of the largest +paintings in Europe. + +The colors are dimmed with age; the countenances are scaled and marred, +and nearly all expression is gone from them; the hair is a dead blur upon +the wall, and there is no life in the eyes. Only the attitudes are +certain. + +People come here from all parts of the world, and glorify this +masterpiece. They stand entranced before it with bated breath and parted +lips, and when they speak, it is only in the catchy ejaculations of +rapture: + +"Oh, wonderful!" + +"Such expression!" + +"Such grace of attitude!" + +"Such dignity!" + +"Such faultless drawing!" + +"Such matchless coloring!" + +"Such feeling!" + +"What delicacy of touch!" + +"What sublimity of conception!" + +"A vision! A vision!" + +I only envy these people; I envy them their honest admiration, if it be +honest--their delight, if they feel delight. I harbor no animosity +toward any of them. But at the same time the thought will intrude itself +upon me, How can they see what is not visible? What would you think of a +man who looked at some decayed, blind, toothless, pock-marked Cleopatra, +and said: "What matchless beauty! What soul! What expression!" What +would you think of a man who gazed upon a dingy, foggy sunset, and said: +"What sublimity! What feeling! What richness of coloring!" What would +you think of a man who stared in ecstasy upon a desert of stumps and +said: "Oh, my soul, my beating heart, what a noble forest is here!" + +You would think that those men had an astonishing talent for seeing +things that had already passed away. It was what I thought when I stood +before "The Last Supper" and heard men apostrophizing wonders, and +beauties and perfections which had faded out of the picture and gone, a +hundred years before they were born. We can imagine the beauty that was +once in an aged face; we can imagine the forest if we see the stumps; but +we can not absolutely see these things when they are not there. I am +willing to believe that the eye of the practiced artist can rest upon the +Last Supper and renew a lustre where only a hint of it is left, supply a +tint that has faded away, restore an expression that is gone; patch, and +color, and add, to the dull canvas until at last its figures shall stand +before him aglow with the life, the feeling, the freshness, yea, with all +the noble beauty that was theirs when first they came from the hand of +the master. But I can not work this miracle. Can those other uninspired +visitors do it, or do they only happily imagine they do? + +After reading so much about it, I am satisfied that the Last Supper was a +very miracle of art once. But it was three hundred years ago. + +It vexes me to hear people talk so glibly of "feeling," "expression," +"tone," and those other easily acquired and inexpensive technicalities of +art that make such a fine show in conversations concerning pictures. +There is not one man in seventy-five hundred that can tell what a +pictured face is intended to express. There is not one man in five +hundred that can go into a court-room and be sure that he will not +mistake some harmless innocent of a juryman for the black-hearted +assassin on trial. Yet such people talk of "character" and presume to +interpret "expression" in pictures. There is an old story that Matthews, +the actor, was once lauding the ability of the human face to express the +passions and emotions hidden in the breast. He said the countenance +could disclose what was passing in the heart plainer than the tongue +could. + +"Now," he said, "observe my face--what does it express?" + +"Despair!" + +"Bah, it expresses peaceful resignation! What does this express?" + +"Rage!" + +"Stuff! It means terror! This!" + +"Imbecility!" + +"Fool! It is smothered ferocity! Now this!" + +"Joy!" + +"Oh, perdition! Any ass can see it means insanity!" + +Expression! People coolly pretend to read it who would think themselves +presumptuous if they pretended to interpret the hieroglyphics on the +obelisks of Luxor--yet they are fully as competent to do the one thing as +the other. I have heard two very intelligent critics speak of Murillo's +Immaculate Conception (now in the museum at Seville,) within the past few +days. One said: + +"Oh, the Virgin's face is full of the ecstasy of a joy that is complete +--that leaves nothing more to be desired on earth!" + +The other said: + +"Ah, that wonderful face is so humble, so pleading--it says as plainly as +words could say it: 'I fear; I tremble; I am unworthy. But Thy will be +done; sustain Thou Thy servant!'" + +The reader can see the picture in any drawing-room; it can be easily +recognized: the Virgin (the only young and really beautiful Virgin that +was ever painted by one of the old masters, some of us think,) stands in +the crescent of the new moon, with a multitude of cherubs hovering about +her, and more coming; her hands are crossed upon her breast, and upon her +uplifted countenance falls a glory out of the heavens. The reader may +amuse himself, if he chooses, in trying to determine which of these +gentlemen read the Virgin's "expression" aright, or if either of them did +it. + +Any one who is acquainted with the old masters will comprehend how much +"The Last Supper" is damaged when I say that the spectator can not really +tell, now, whether the disciples are Hebrews or Italians. These ancient +painters never succeeded in denationalizing themselves. The Italian +artists painted Italian Virgins, the Dutch painted Dutch Virgins, the +Virgins of the French painters were Frenchwomen--none of them ever put +into the face of the Madonna that indescribable something which proclaims +the Jewess, whether you find her in New York, in Constantinople, in +Paris, Jerusalem, or in the empire of Morocco. I saw in the Sandwich +Islands, once, a picture copied by a talented German artist from an +engraving in one of the American illustrated papers. It was an allegory, +representing Mr. Davis in the act of signing a secession act or some such +document. Over him hovered the ghost of Washington in warning attitude, +and in the background a troop of shadowy soldiers in Continental uniform +were limping with shoeless, bandaged feet through a driving snow-storm. +Valley Forge was suggested, of course. The copy seemed accurate, and yet +there was a discrepancy somewhere. After a long examination I discovered +what it was--the shadowy soldiers were all Germans! Jeff Davis was a +German! even the hovering ghost was a German ghost! The artist had +unconsciously worked his nationality into the picture. To tell the +truth, I am getting a little perplexed about John the Baptist and his +portraits. In France I finally grew reconciled to him as a Frenchman; +here he is unquestionably an Italian. What next? Can it be possible +that the painters make John the Baptist a Spaniard in Madrid and an +Irishman in Dublin? + +We took an open barouche and drove two miles out of Milan to "see ze +echo," as the guide expressed it. The road was smooth, it was bordered +by trees, fields, and grassy meadows, and the soft air was filled with +the odor of flowers. Troops of picturesque peasant girls, coming from +work, hooted at us, shouted at us, made all manner of game of us, and +entirely delighted me. My long-cherished judgment was confirmed. I +always did think those frowsy, romantic, unwashed peasant girls I had +read so much about in poetry were a glaring fraud. + +We enjoyed our jaunt. It was an exhilarating relief from tiresome +sight-seeing. + +We distressed ourselves very little about the astonishing echo the guide +talked so much about. We were growing accustomed to encomiums on wonders +that too often proved no wonders at all. And so we were most happily +disappointed to find in the sequel that the guide had even failed to rise +to the magnitude of his subject. + +We arrived at a tumble-down old rookery called the Palazzo Simonetti--a +massive hewn-stone affair occupied by a family of ragged Italians. +A good-looking young girl conducted us to a window on the second floor +which looked out on a court walled on three sides by tall buildings. She +put her head out at the window and shouted. The echo answered more times +than we could count. She took a speaking trumpet and through it she +shouted, sharp and quick, a single "Ha!" The echo answered: + +"Ha!--ha!----ha!--ha!--ha!-ha! ha! h-a-a-a-a-a!" and finally went off +into a rollicking convulsion of the jolliest laughter that could be +imagined. It was so joyful--so long continued--so perfectly cordial and +hearty, that every body was forced to join in. There was no resisting +it. + +Then the girl took a gun and fired it. We stood ready to count the +astonishing clatter of reverberations. We could not say one, two, three, +fast enough, but we could dot our notebooks with our pencil points almost +rapidly enough to take down a sort of short-hand report of the result. +My page revealed the following account. I could not keep up, but I did +as well as I could. + +I set down fifty-two distinct repetitions, and then the echo got the +advantage of me. The doctor set down sixty-four, and thenceforth the +echo moved too fast for him, also. After the separate concussions could +no longer be noted, the reverberations dwindled to a wild, long-sustained +clatter of sounds such as a watchman's rattle produces. It is likely +that this is the most remarkable echo in the world. + +The doctor, in jest, offered to kiss the young girl, and was taken a +little aback when she said he might for a franc! The commonest gallantry +compelled him to stand by his offer, and so he paid the franc and took +the kiss. She was a philosopher. She said a franc was a good thing to +have, and she did not care any thing for one paltry kiss, because she had +a million left. Then our comrade, always a shrewd businessman, offered +to take the whole cargo at thirty days, but that little financial scheme +was a failure. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +We left Milan by rail. The Cathedral six or seven miles behind us; vast, +dreamy, bluish, snow-clad mountains twenty miles in front of us,--these +were the accented points in the scenery. The more immediate scenery +consisted of fields and farm-houses outside the car and a monster-headed +dwarf and a moustached woman inside it. These latter were not +show-people. Alas, deformity and female beards are too common in Italy +to attract attention. + +We passed through a range of wild, picturesque hills, steep, wooded, +cone-shaped, with rugged crags projecting here and there, and with +dwellings and ruinous castles perched away up toward the drifting clouds. +We lunched at the curious old town of Como, at the foot of the lake, and +then took the small steamer and had an afternoon's pleasure excursion to +this place,--Bellaggio. + +When we walked ashore, a party of policemen (people whose cocked hats and +showy uniforms would shame the finest uniform in the military service of +the United States,) put us into a little stone cell and locked us in. We +had the whole passenger list for company, but their room would have been +preferable, for there was no light, there were no windows, no +ventilation. It was close and hot. We were much crowded. It was the +Black Hole of Calcutta on a small scale. Presently a smoke rose about +our feet--a smoke that smelled of all the dead things of earth, of all +the putrefaction and corruption imaginable. + +We were there five minutes, and when we got out it was hard to tell which +of us carried the vilest fragrance. + +These miserable outcasts called that "fumigating" us, and the term was a +tame one indeed. They fumigated us to guard themselves against the +cholera, though we hailed from no infected port. We had left the cholera +far behind us all the time. However, they must keep epidemics away +somehow or other, and fumigation is cheaper than soap. They must either +wash themselves or fumigate other people. Some of the lower classes had +rather die than wash, but the fumigation of strangers causes them no +pangs. They need no fumigation themselves. Their habits make it +unnecessary. They carry their preventive with them; they sweat and +fumigate all the day long. I trust I am a humble and a consistent +Christian. I try to do what is right. I know it is my duty to "pray for +them that despitefully use me;" and therefore, hard as it is, I shall +still try to pray for these fumigating, maccaroni-stuffing +organ-grinders. + +Our hotel sits at the water's edge--at least its front garden does--and +we walk among the shrubbery and smoke at twilight; we look afar off at +Switzerland and the Alps, and feel an indolent willingness to look no +closer; we go down the steps and swim in the lake; we take a shapely +little boat and sail abroad among the reflections of the stars; lie on +the thwarts and listen to the distant laughter, the singing, the soft +melody of flutes and guitars that comes floating across the water from +pleasuring gondolas; we close the evening with exasperating billiards on +one of those same old execrable tables. A midnight luncheon in our ample +bed-chamber; a final smoke in its contracted veranda facing the water, +the gardens, and the mountains; a summing up of the day's events. Then +to bed, with drowsy brains harassed with a mad panorama that mixes up +pictures of France, of Italy, of the ship, of the ocean, of home, in +grotesque and bewildering disorder. Then a melting away of familiar +faces, of cities, and of tossing waves, into a great calm of +forgetfulness and peace. + +After which, the nightmare. + +Breakfast in the morning, and then the lake. + +I did not like it yesterday. I thought Lake Tahoe was much finer. +I have to confess now, however, that my judgment erred somewhat, though +not extravagantly. I always had an idea that Como was a vast basin of +water, like Tahoe, shut in by great mountains. Well, the border of huge +mountains is here, but the lake itself is not a basin. It is as crooked +as any brook, and only from one-quarter to two-thirds as wide as the +Mississippi. There is not a yard of low ground on either side of it +--nothing but endless chains of mountains that spring abruptly from the +water's edge and tower to altitudes varying from a thousand to two +thousand feet. Their craggy sides are clothed with vegetation, and white +specks of houses peep out from the luxuriant foliage everywhere; they are +even perched upon jutting and picturesque pinnacles a thousand feet above +your head. + +Again, for miles along the shores, handsome country seats, surrounded by +gardens and groves, sit fairly in the water, sometimes in nooks carved by +Nature out of the vine-hung precipices, and with no ingress or egress +save by boats. Some have great broad stone staircases leading down to +the water, with heavy stone balustrades ornamented with statuary and +fancifully adorned with creeping vines and bright-colored flowers--for +all the world like a drop curtain in a theatre, and lacking nothing but +long-waisted, high-heeled women and plumed gallants in silken tights +coming down to go serenading in the splendid gondola in waiting. + +A great feature of Como's attractiveness is the multitude of pretty +houses and gardens that cluster upon its shores and on its mountain +sides. They look so snug and so homelike, and at eventide when every +thing seems to slumber, and the music of the vesper bells comes stealing +over the water, one almost believes that nowhere else than on the lake of +Como can there be found such a paradise of tranquil repose. + +From my window here in Bellaggio, I have a view of the other side of the +lake now, which is as beautiful as a picture. A scarred and wrinkled +precipice rises to a height of eighteen hundred feet; on a tiny bench +half way up its vast wall, sits a little snowflake of a church, no bigger +than a martin-box, apparently; skirting the base of the cliff are a +hundred orange groves and gardens, flecked with glimpses of the white +dwellings that are buried in them; in front, three or four gondolas lie +idle upon the water--and in the burnished mirror of the lake, mountain, +chapel, houses, groves and boats are counterfeited so brightly and so +clearly that one scarce knows where the reality leaves off and the +reflection begins! + +The surroundings of this picture are fine. A mile away, a grove-plumed +promontory juts far into the lake and glasses its palace in the blue +depths; in midstream a boat is cutting the shining surface and leaving a +long track behind, like a ray of light; the mountains beyond are veiled +in a dreamy purple haze; far in the opposite direction a tumbled mass of +domes and verdant slopes and valleys bars the lake, and here indeed does +distance lend enchantment to the view--for on this broad canvas, sun and +clouds and the richest of atmospheres have blended a thousand tints +together, and over its surface the filmy lights and shadows drift, hour +after hour, and glorify it with a beauty that seems reflected out of +Heaven itself. Beyond all question, this is the most voluptuous scene we +have yet looked upon. + +Last night the scenery was striking and picturesque. On the other side +crags and trees and snowy houses were reflected in the lake with a +wonderful distinctness, and streams of light from many a distant window +shot far abroad over the still waters. On this side, near at hand, great +mansions, white with moonlight, glared out from the midst of masses of +foliage that lay black and shapeless in the shadows that fell from the +cliff above--and down in the margin of the lake every feature of the +weird vision was faithfully repeated. + +Today we have idled through a wonder of a garden attached to a ducal +estate--but enough of description is enough, I judge. + +I suspect that this was the same place the gardener's son deceived the +Lady of Lyons with, but I do not know. You may have heard of the passage +somewhere: + + "A deep vale, + Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world, + Near a clear lake margined by fruits of gold + And whispering myrtles: + Glassing softest skies, cloudless, + Save with rare and roseate shadows; + A palace, lifting to eternal heaven its marbled walls, + From out a glossy bower of coolest foliage musical with birds." + +That is all very well, except the "clear" part of the lake. It certainly +is clearer than a great many lakes, but how dull its waters are compared +with the wonderful transparence of Lake Tahoe! I speak of the north +shore of Tahoe, where one can count the scales on a trout at a depth of a +hundred and eighty feet. I have tried to get this statement off at par +here, but with no success; so I have been obliged to negotiate it at +fifty percent discount. At this rate I find some takers; perhaps the +reader will receive it on the same terms--ninety feet instead of one +hundred and eighty. But let it be remembered that those are forced +terms--Sheriff's sale prices. As far as I am privately concerned, I +abate not a jot of the original assertion that in those strangely +magnifying waters one may count the scales on a trout (a trout of the +large kind,) at a depth of a hundred and eighty feet--may see every +pebble on the bottom--might even count a paper of dray-pins. People talk +of the transparent waters of the Mexican Bay of Acapulco, but in my own +experience I know they cannot compare with those I am speaking of. I +have fished for trout, in Tahoe, and at a measured depth of eighty-four +feet I have seen them put their noses to the bait and I could see their +gills open and shut. I could hardly have seen the trout themselves at +that distance in the open air. + +As I go back in spirit and recall that noble sea, reposing among the +snow-peaks six thousand feet above the ocean, the conviction comes strong +upon me again that Como would only seem a bedizened little courtier in +that august presence. + +Sorrow and misfortune overtake the legislature that still from year to +year permits Tahoe to retain its unmusical cognomen! Tahoe! It suggests +no crystal waters, no picturesque shores, no sublimity. Tahoe for a sea +in the clouds: a sea that has character and asserts it in solemn calms at +times, at times in savage storms; a sea whose royal seclusion is guarded +by a cordon of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty fronts nine thousand +feet above the level world; a sea whose every aspect is impressive, whose +belongings are all beautiful, whose lonely majesty types the Deity! + +Tahoe means grasshoppers. It means grasshopper soup. It is Indian, and +suggestive of Indians. They say it is Pi-ute--possibly it is Digger. +I am satisfied it was named by the Diggers--those degraded savages who +roast their dead relatives, then mix the human grease and ashes of bones +with tar, and "gaum" it thick all over their heads and foreheads and +ears, and go caterwauling about the hills and call it mourning. These +are the gentry that named the Lake. + +People say that Tahoe means "Silver Lake"--"Limpid Water"--"Falling +Leaf." Bosh. It means grasshopper soup, the favorite dish of the Digger +tribe,--and of the Pi-utes as well. It isn't worth while, in these +practical times, for people to talk about Indian poetry--there never was +any in them--except in the Fenimore Cooper Indians. But they are an +extinct tribe that never existed. I know the Noble Red Man. I have +camped with the Indians; I have been on the warpath with them, taken part +in the chase with them--for grasshoppers; helped them steal cattle; I +have roamed with them, scalped them, had them for breakfast. I would +gladly eat the whole race if I had a chance. + +But I am growing unreliable. I will return to my comparison of the +lakes. Como is a little deeper than Tahoe, if people here tell the +truth. They say it is eighteen hundred feet deep at this point, but it +does not look a dead enough blue for that. Tahoe is one thousand five +hundred and twenty-five feet deep in the centre, by the state geologist's +measurement. They say the great peak opposite this town is five thousand +feet high: but I feel sure that three thousand feet of that statement is +a good honest lie. The lake is a mile wide, here, and maintains about +that width from this point to its northern extremity--which is distant +sixteen miles: from here to its southern extremity--say fifteen miles--it +is not over half a mile wide in any place, I should think. Its snow-clad +mountains one hears so much about are only seen occasionally, and then in +the distance, the Alps. Tahoe is from ten to eighteen miles wide, and +its mountains shut it in like a wall. Their summits are never free from +snow the year round. One thing about it is very strange: it never has +even a skim of ice upon its surface, although lakes in the same range of +mountains, lying in a lower and warmer temperature, freeze over in +winter. + +It is cheerful to meet a shipmate in these out-of-the-way places and +compare notes with him. We have found one of ours here--an old soldier +of the war, who is seeking bloodless adventures and rest from his +campaigns in these sunny lands.--[Colonel J. HERON FOSTER, editor of a +Pittsburgh journal, and a most estimable gentleman. As these sheets are +being prepared for the press I am pained to learn of his decease shortly +after his return home--M.T.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Innocents Abroad, Part 2 of 6 +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENTS ABROAD, PART 2 OF 6 *** + +***** This file should be named 5689.txt or 5689.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/8/5689/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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