****** **"** ~ PRINCETON, N. J. 3 BKOADWAT. 18G0. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year I860, by ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. EDWARD O. JENKINS, Printer* &tcrrotDper, No. 26 Frankfort Street. TO MY WIFE, WHOSE SOCIETY WAS THE CHARM WHICH MADE THESE SCENES DELIGHTFUL AND MEMORABLE; TO MY PARENTS, WHOSE INSTRUCTIONS AND COUNSELS HAVE EVER BEEN WISE, FAITHFUL AND SAFE; TO THE CENTRAL PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH OF BROOKLYN, WHOSE SYMPATHY AND EARNEST CO-OPERATION HAVE MADE MY WORK AS A PASTOR PLEASANT; THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED WITH EVERY FEELING OF RESPECT AND AFFECTION BY THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. The substance of these Scenes and Impres- sions Abroad was presented in the form of a Series of Lectures, before the congregation to which it is my pleasure to minister, without a thought of giving to them any farther pub- licity Unexpectedly they enlisted such atten- tion and apparent interest, as that it became necessary to adjourn from my Lecture Room, where they were commenced, to the main Auditory of the Church, which place was filled every Wednesday evening for three months. Most of the Lectures were very fully reported in the columns of the Transcript^ of this city, with kind and courteous notices of the course. At the request of many who heard them, or who had read the reports of them, and in Vlll PREFACE whose judgment I have confidence, they have been revised and published in the form in which they now appear. I have attempted nothing in these Lectures but a familiar and faithful description of a few of the more important features of the usual route of European tourists, presuming that a minute detail of some of the principal and most interesting sights, which might be taken as a sample of the whole, would be preferable to a more general and hence less definite description of all. The reader will find here only the familiar utterances of one, who having returned from a pleasant journey, wishes to share, as far as possible, with his friends whom he left behind him, the pleasures which he has enjoyed. This rich field has been so often reaped, that the author can only hope to bring in a few glean- ings. If here and there is found a sheaf or a flower that may be profitable or pleasant, his highest wishes will be met and satisfied. Brooklyn, N. Y., Feb., 1860. CONTENTS. I. — OUTWARD BOUND. A Sabbath at Sea — Icebergs — Sea Life — An Irish Pilot — Dieppe — Rouen — Church of St. Ouen — Notre Dame, page 27 II. — PARIS. Philosophy — Historical — The Seine — The Tuileries — Obe- lisk of Luxor — Parisian Life — Bois De Boulogne — Bastile — St. Roch — The Madeline, 50 III. — CHURCHES AND PALACES OF PARIS. Notre Dame — Imperial Cortege — St. Germain L Auxerrois — St. Bartholomew's Eve — Sainte Chapelle — Versailles — Re- collections — Galleries — A Sad Truth — Petite Trianon, 72 IV. — PARIS TO LYONS. The Louvre — Hotel De Cluny — Fontainbleau — The Ameri- can Consul at Lyons — Church of St. Ireneus — St. Jean — Silk Manufactories — Protestantism — Religious Liberty, . 87 X CONTENTS. V. — LYONS TO NAPLES. Montalimar — Nismes and Aries — Bay of Naples — Getting Ashore — A Pleasant Ride — Pompeii — Amphitheatre — Tragic Theatre — Diomed — The Overthrow — Contrasts, . . 110 VI. — ROME. Civita Vecchia — A Panorama — The Pope-Relics — The Cap- itol — The Bambino — Villa Albano 135 Vn. — ROME AND ITS CHURCHES. "The Church at Rome" — Popery — Sights of Rome — St. Peter's — Statistical — Grandeur — Decorations — The Vatican — Illumination of St. Peter's — Babylon, .... 157 VIH. — ROME TO FLORENCE. Leaving Rome — A Night Passage — Leghorn — San Lorenzo — Medicean Chapel — Galileo — Miseracordia, . . 182 IX. — FLORENCE TO TURIN. Beautiful Italy — The Papal Church — Genoa — Sardinia — Turin — Pignerol — La Tour — The Vaudois — Church of Co- pies — Waldensian Worship — Historical, . . . 208 X. — THE ALPS. Susa — Diligence Riding — An Alpine Pass — Lanslebourg — Geneva — Chillon — Cretins — Alpine Scenery — Sunrise at Cha- mouni — Mer De Glace — Crossing a Glacier — Forclaz — The Col De Balme — Interlaken 235 CONTENTS. XI XI. — THE RHINE. Jungfrau — Staubbach — Berne — The Rigi — Lake Luzerne — Basle — Baden Baden — Conversation haus — Gambling — Basle Mayence — Rhine Boats — The Mouse Tower — Ehrenbreitstein — Cologne — Amsterdam — Rotterdam — Antwerp — Brussels — Waterloo, 267 XII. — ENGLAND. Dover — An English Inn — London — Westminster Abbey — Houses of Parliament — The Temple — Business Haunts — The Tower — Zoological Gardens — Sydenham — British Museum — Hampton Court — Windsor Castle — Oxford — Stratford on Avon Kenilworth, ...••.... 295 XIII. — SCOTLAND, IRELAND, HOME. Scottish Scenery — Melrose Abbey — Edinburgh — Holyrood — John Knox — St. Giles' Church — The Castle — Arthur's Seat — The Sabbath — Sterling Castle — The Trossachs — Loch Lomond ■ — Glasgow — Dumfries — A Scotch Welcome — Liverpool — Dublin — Cork — Queenstown — An Irish Jaunting Car — Home- ward Bouud — A Storm at Sea — A Night in a Gale — Sea .Amusements — Home Again, ...... 340 - PEIITCST SCENES AND IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. I. OUTWARD BOUND. IT is my purpose, as far as possible, to re- produce the scenes through which it has been my pleasure to pass during my absence from home in search of health — for the entire restoration of which I desire here to render my thanks to that God who has watched over us while Ave have been absent one from another. It is my sincere wish that you may enjoy with me, the journey which I have accomplished; and to this end I propose, in a series of familiar lectures, to bring before you, as distinctly as I may be able, the lands which I have visited and 2 10 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. the impressions I have received. When I found my health rapidly giving way, after eighteen years of ministerial labor, one half of which has been devoted to this church, you kindly and cheerfully assented to my request for leave of absence; and on the 7th of May, in com- pany with my w T ife and a mutual friend, we left in the steamer City of Washington, Captain Petrie, for Liverpool. A crowd of friends were present to bid us farewell, and, as the noble vessel swung away from her moorings,"waved us their kind adieus. The ship's cannon thundered forth their rough salute, which was answered by echoes from the shore. We felt that we were afloat, and every moment separating more and more widely from all we loved and held dear. At Sandy Hook we parted with our pilot, by whom we sent messages home, and were soon rocking upon the restless waves of the open sea. Sabbath, May 8. — Rose early to breathe the fresh and invigorating air of the morning. One must be hopelessly an invalid who could not drink in health with this fresh and bracing A SABBATH AT SEA. 11 breeze that is bearing us onward thus rapidly along the great highway of the ocean. At half past ten the bell tolled for the regular Sabbath service. The passengers were gathered upon the quarter-deck, occupying seats which had been prepared for them, while the crew, in their neat blue jackets, filled the boats that were swung upon either side. A capstan, neatly draped with flags, served for a pulpit, which, at the request of Captain Petrie, I occupied. In accordance with the regulations of the New York, Philadelphia and Liverpool Steamship Company, I read the Service of the Church of England, adding, in the prayer for the Queen, the name of the President of the United States. The subject of my discourse was, " The Chris- tian Hope, the Anchor to the Soul." Drawing my illustrations as much as possible from the sea, I endeavored, I think "with some success, to enlist the attention and interest of the sailors. It was a novel and pleasant scene, that hour of worship in the open air, upon the deck of a vessel that was plowing its way through the ocean. And it was a delightful thought, that 12 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. the. same God who was listening to the worship of loved ones at home, and of tens of thousands who were gathered in solemn temples to praise His name, was also upon the sea, ready and will- ing to hear the prayers of His people, and to accept the tribute of their thanks. At 12 o'clock our position was found to be lat. 40° 21', long. 68° 31'; distance run 255 miles. Monday, 9th, lat. 41° 46', long. 62° 50'; distance run, 271 miles. The weather is hazy, but clear enough to give us our first view of a whale, whose presence is indicated by the water which he occasionally throws up in a jet, and which descends in a shower of spray. Tuesday, 10th.— Lat. 43° 21', long. 58° 21' ; distance run, 230 miles. Passed a vessel home- ward bound, and as we thought of the fair land that would soon open upon her crew, we could not but repeat the words we had so often heard amid the songs of youth : "While the waves are round me breaking As I pace the deck alone, And my eye in vain is seeking Some green leaf to rest upon ; ICEBERGS. 13 What would I not give to wander "Where my loved companions dwell ? Absence makes the heart grow fonder : Isle of beauty, fare thee well." Wednesday, 11th.— Lat. 46° 17', long. 53° 55' ; distance run, 237 miles. To-day we obtained our first view of those wonderful gifts of the Polar regions, " icebergs." The sea was as calm as a lake, and the sky clear and cloudless. Far in the distance was seen a bright and glit- tering object, which, as we neared it, proved to be one of those unwelcome visitants of the American waters, which, being formed far up amid the sea of ice which surrounds the Polar circle, are broken off in vast masses from their native glaciers, and, by the action of the winds and the waves, floated down towards the warmer regions of the south, when, after too often put- ting in jeopardy the life of the sailor, they are gradually dissolved and disappear. As they melt away, they assume an almost endless va- riety of shapes, and, when seen at a distance, might be taken for castles, and ships, and churches, or cottages. Some of them are of great 14 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. extent, and are exceedingly dangerous neigh- bors, when, as was the case with us, they appear during a fog. The cry, " Hard a' port," early one morning, brought those of us who were up to the deck, just in time to see one of them float by us, near enough to have leaped upon it. In the course of the day fourteen icebergs were in sight, one of them being of immense extent. Towards evening we passed Cape Race, and signalized the station, in the hope that our passage thus far might be communicated to our friends at home. Just at sunset we caught sight of the harbor of St. John's, ten miles dis- tant, the last land we shall see until we sight the shores of Ireland. Thursday, 12th.— Lat. 49° 14', long. 49° 9' ; distance run, 254 miles. As there is nothing of especial interest, except looking out upon a boundless ocean, we may as well take a general view of sea life. Our company is large and pleasant, consisting .of over 100 cabin and 200 steerage passengers, with a captain who knows how to sail a ship and to make his passengers SEA LIFE. 15 comfortable and happy. When off duty he has a kind word for all. His officers are quiet and gentlemanly, and his crew orderly and well- behaved. The chief amusement on ship-board is eating and drinking. Breakfast at 9, lunch at 12, dinner at 4, tea at 7, and supper at 10. The hours are divided into watches, indicated by bells every half hour. The first watch be- ginning at 4 and ending at 8 ; the second from 8 to 12; the third from 12 to 4; and the dog watch from 4 to 6 and from 6 to 8. At eight bells, which indicates the commencement of a new watch, the officers and hands on duty re- tire, and the boatswain's whistle calls the sleep- ers to their posts ; the boatswain, in this case, being of the most conventional order, a fat and jolly old sea-dog, who rolls over the deck, and sports his silver whistle with the most evident pride and satisfaction, and gives to its notes a nourish which only an old salt can appreciate. At 9 o'clock observations are made for latitude, and at 12 the longitude is taken, after which the result is posted upon the bulletin, and day by day we are thus able to map down our place 16 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. upon the ocean. There is a good library on board, which serves to while away our leisure hours. Friday, 13//*.— Lat. 51° 11', long. 42° 45'. Distance, 275 miles. Wind "W. N. W., increas- ing, and the ship rolling heavily. Found it necessary to use guards at table. Saturday, \Uh— Lat. 51° 12', long. 35° 25'. Distance, 277 miles. Lightning and cloudy, with fresh breeze. Sunday, loth.— Lat 51° 11, long. 27° 40'. Distance, 295 miles. Preached from the text, " How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation V We held also a service in the steerage amid a large and attentive audience. It was pleasant to meet there a Christian friend who had provided himself with a bundle of tracts, published by the Presbyterian Board, and to see here and there persons engaged with evident interest and seriousness in reading these little messengers of mercy. Monday, 16?//..— Lat. 51° 14', long. 18° 58'. Distance, 293 miles. AN IRISH PILOT. 17 Tuesday, 11th.— Lat. 51° 53, long. 12° 47'. Distance, 272 miles. Obtained our first sight of the Irish coast at 6 P. M. The long twilights are a marked feature of our high Northern lati- tude. At 9 o'clock in the evening there was still sufficient of daylight to enable me to make an entry in my note-book, which was written off the Skellig Rocks, making for Cape Clear 50 miles distant. Wednesday, May l%th.—A.t 5 o'clock A. M. took on board an Irish pilot off the Old Head of Kinsail. He was a rare specimen, — coming on board in a dress which might have been new once, but at a very distant period. As we were anxious to hear the news from Europe, we asked if he had any papers. He said, " Yes, but they were a week old, and had gone ashore in the boat." We asked if he had any news of the War. He said " he believed war or peace had been declared, but he could not tell which." The Irish coast is one of exceeding beauty, ba- saltic in formation, and presenting to the eye a pleasing variety of bold head-lands, green fields and castled hills. At Queenstown harbor we 2* 18 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. got from the steamer which took off passen- gers for Cork, the first news of the war. Thursday, 19 th. — Sailed up the channel and the Mersey, and arrived at Liverpool at 12 o'clock, just five hours less than 12 days from New York. Passing rapidly on towards Paris, we stopped a day in London, intending to take England in our route home. Taking the train of the South Western Railway, we reached New Haven in a few hours, and after 6 hours' sail in a pretty little channel-steamer, we landed at Dieppe, and were taken in charge by two gensdarmes, who con- ducted us to the Bureau du Paquebot, where our passports were vise, and we received per- mission to land and to proceed on our journey to Paris, and through France. Dieppe is an ancient Norman city of 20,000 souls, inhabited by rough, independent and hardy fishermen, who find the shores of France, and their neighborhood, well fitted for their peculiar busi- ness. In summer it is also a favorite watering- place of the French, and splendid hotels have sprung up which give to the town an appearance DIEPPE. 19 of growth, life, and activity, quite American. The approach to Dieppe is exceedingly pictur- esque. The shore for many miles is lined with white cliffs, often rising to a great height. Just here these high walls have been sundered and a fine harbor is formed, in which a large fleet may find safety. The city has a quaint and odd look to an American. It has an ancient cathedral, built in the old Norman style, and which was preserved from conflagration dining the English invasions by setting fire to some straw upon its roof, giv- ing the English troops the idea that its destruc- tion was accomplished, and turning their fire to another quarter. Upon the sea-shore, looking down a beautiful and bold coast, are large ho- tels, arranged in the taste so natural to the French, and with all the appliances for fashion- able amusement and dissipation. The port is spacious, and has a fine castle and citadel. We take a stroll along the shore, and are amused with the dress of the fishermen and women, who preserve to a great extent the old Norman fashions, and whose whole appearance 20 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. is to an American, an entire novelty, and makes him feel that he is in a strange land. Leaving Dieppe in the afternoon we pass on towards Rouen, by railway, through a beauti- ful countiy, well cultivated, and covered with flower-gardens ; and reach that ancient city just as the night has closed upon us. We had been directed to a hotel where English was spoken, and found ourselves in a quiet and cozy old French inn, where our only interpreter soon left us to the care of the hostess, who, though very pretty and agreeable, was unable to speak a word of English. Of course all our knowledge of French had to be summoned to our aid. Rooms were to be provided, tea to be had, bills to be made out, servants to be summoned, and the waiters to be talked to in French. There is nothing like being cornered, to bring out one's resources ; and we found our old hours with Ollendorff and others, returning to us most advantageously. Our first attempt at French was so far successful that we found ourselves in possession of all the comforts the inn could afford. ROUEN. 21 Rouen, the ancient capital of Normandy, has now about 90,000 population. It lies upon the Seine, which is here navigable to steamers and small ships, Ptolemy, in the second century, mentions this city. When Rome had subjugated France, it became a military post of considerable impor- tance. The Frank succeeded the Romans in its possession; then the Norman pirates took it in 841, and have left the characteristics of their nation all over the city. Rouen suffered re- peated sieges, and at length fell to France, to whom it now belongs. During the Reforma- tion, that work found many friends here ; and in the massacre of St. Bartholomew, 500 of its families perished under the cruel mandate of the Popish authorities. At the time of the Revolution it again became the scene of terrible butchery, when 1,200 persons perished by the guillotine. Rouen, although a large and im- portant city, has, from the great age of its buildings, an appearance of dilapidation which really belies its actual condition. It is an im- portant manufacturing town, lying upon the 22 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. direct route from Paris to Havre and Dieppe. But its streets are narrow and compact. A fine boulevard passes four miles around the site of its old wall, filled with beautiful trees, which somewhat relieve its antique grandeur with what is new and cheerful. But everything about tells the story of its age. Its houses are quaint and rickety, with curious ornamental carvings, and images of saints, and martyrs, and Virgin Marys. At every turn some relic of antiquity meets you. Here is a mutilated statue of a saint, and there a Gothic fountain. Gro- tesque heads grin at you from many a door-post and window-frame. Fanciful jlowers, the like of which were never seen, are carved in queer and stiff festoons around many a decaying man- sion. Hobgoblins and apostles, wolves' heads and headless martyrs, serpents and wily priests, in stiff and stately stone, look out upon you from many a crumbling buttress and moulder- ing tower. In the market-place, surrounded by strange-looking buildings, stands the statue of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, who, for her wonderful control over the army of her CHURCH OF ST. OUEN. 23 native land, was burned as a witch, by the English, in 1431, upon the spot where her statue now stands. But the great features of the city of Rouen are its two splendid churches, which present to us some of the finest specimens of Gothic archi- tecture to be found in Europe. - We visit first the church of St. Ouen, founded in the year 533. In 844, it was burned during the Norman invasion. In the year 1303, the first stone of the present structure was laid. As you ap- proach it you notice the elaborate carvings upon the casements of the doors, representing, in bas- relief, scripture scenes and history. Over the windows, and upon the pillars, and under the eaves, start out those strange and grotesque figures which form a part of the ancient Gothic style. On entering, you are struck with awe and wonder. Before you lies a vast pile, 450 feet long by 100 feet high, and about the same in width. The ceiling, sustained by huge clus- tered columns, rises from the stone floor, on which appears no pew or seat to break in upon the perfect proportions of the interior. Eleven 24 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. chapels surround the choir, in all of which ser-' vice is held at different times ; and while in one part of the edifice a congregation is listening to preaching, in adjoining chapels mass and other services are performed, with no danger of inter- fering, the one with the other. The church is lighted by 125 immense win- dows of stained glass; and when we pass into the last chancel, and look up to the vast ceiling, rising to the height of 100 feet, and through the arches, columns, statues, paintings and win- dows, that make up this splendid pile, the effect is overwhelming. Passing out and paying a franc to the eexton, and followed by one of the swarms of guides that offer to show us the city, we visit the cathe- dral of Notre Dame, where new wonders await us. There was a chapel here in the ninth cen- tury, a part of which still remains. In the year 841 it was pillaged, but not destroyed ; enlarged in the tenth century; and in 1117 struck by lightning, and burned in 1200. The present cathedral is the work of three separate ages, each style being distinctly de- NOTRE DAME. 25 fined. Its length is 418 feet, its greatest breadth 100 feet, and the height of the nave 96 feet. It has three principal towers. The tower of St. Roman is the oldest, — 230 feet high. Next comes the " Tour de Beurre," or Butter Tower, 230 feet high, built by the granting of indul- gences to eat butter in Lent. The third tower, which is to be 436 feet high, is built of iron, and will soon be finished. The walls and doors and windows are ornamented with the most grotesque and elaborate carvings of saints and scripture scenes. As we enter, we are again astonished with the vision of majestic beauty and grandeur that meets our eye. Wherever we turn we behold something to elicit our ad- miration, or to fill us with wonder. The light streams down through the stained Gothic win- dows upon twenty-five chapels which sur- round the choir, and which are filled with splendid paintings, with fine statuary, and with the monumental relics of past ages. Here we meet with the first specimens of painted bronze, dating back to the year 994. Here, in stiff and stately grandeur, lie the mighty dead. 26 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. Here, Richard " Cceur de Lion" has his tomb ; and William "the Long Sword," and Rollo, first Duke of Normandy ; and many a noble name is recalled as we pass the sepulchres that are placed around the building, in almost every chapel. Such was the effect of this first sight of truly Gothic grandeur, that even now, after having looked over the most famous churches of Europe, I still find myself recalling this vast and splen- did edifice as one of the wonders of France. One is lost in feelings of awe, as he stands and looks over this magnificent Gothic pile, and hears the solemn music of the organ and the chant of the robed priests ; while the cries and noises of the city without, — the rumbling of wheels, and the hurry of active life, — present, in .strange contrast, the world and the church — the worship of Mammon and of God. As a picturesque city, Rouen is one of the most remarkable in France: — full of strange contrasts; odd and antique costumes of past centuries perpetuated from age to age; fine modem mansions and quaint old tumble-down A QUAINT CITY. 27 houses, scarcely fit for cattle ; splendid relics of old churches used now as rag-shops, or ware- houses, or for whatever they can be rented, closed for religious purposes since the Revolu- tion ; and of the few which remain, many a sad mark of the spoiler's hand being left by the Protestants, in their zeal, at the Reformation. In short, no one should go to Paris without spending a day or two at Rouen. Leaving it in the afternoon, a ride of four hours brings us to the wall of Paris, 85 miles distant. And now evening is coming on, we have only time to get comfortably settled at our hotel "de Lille et d'Albion," where we will meet you next week for a sight of Paris. II. PARIS. IT was on a bright and beautiful afternoon in May, when the shrill whistle of the loco- motive announced our approach to the city of Paris. In a few moments we had passed through its walls and were at the railroad station, under- going the usual examination of baggage, to dis- cover if any contraband articles were about to be smuggled into the city. This, with the con- stant inspection of the passport, is a nuisance which the American notices first and most fre- quently in Europe, and to which it is almost impossible to become accustomed. But the trav- eller should take the annoyance good-natured- ly, remembering that it is not the fault of the PHILOSOPHY. 29 custom-house officers, who but do their duty, and usually do it as gentlemen. His best way is to treat them politely — have his keys and passport always ready — and he will escape with comparatively little trouble. Let him avoid all irritation or anxiety, and he will find the exami- nation will be but a mere form. A hand will be thrust down here and there in his baggage, and then his keys returned to him with a cour- teous bow, and he permitted to go on his way ; while the man who allows himself to get worried and irritated, will find his troubles increasing with every stage of his journey. I found in my own experience a good deal of virtue in a bit of practical philosophy, which I learned from my friend Mr. Smith, on our voyage to Europe. It was the story of a jolly tar who had been promoted from the forecastle to the cabin, and from hauling ropes and reef- ing sails, to waiting on the table. In his first essay at his new business, he got along well enough, until he came to a lady who did not wish soup. "Take it away," said she, " I don't wish it." M Oh, but you must have it, 30 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. you must have it, ma'am," replied Jack, "it's the rules of the sarvice." So I remembered that the passport system and the custom-house search were "the rales of the sarvice," a part of the penalties one paid for travelling; and I acted accordingly, and never had the slightest difficulty, except once, in Prussia, where an official found a small doll in my trunk. The soldier took the toy to his superior officer, who only gave one look at it, with an indescriba- ble shrug of the shoulders, and exclaimed "bon" — all right. Taking a carriage at the depot, we were soon set down at the Hotel de Lille et d' Albion, and were saluted with a profound French courtesy by the hostess, and in a few moments conduct- ed to our rooms overlooking a neat garden full of flowers and statuary, and giving us just the slightest peep into the Rue de Rivoli and the gardens of the Tuileries. As the evening is uj)on us, we have onl} T time to walk out into the nearest boulevard, where we stumble upon two friends whom we have not seen for years, and to return to our rooms and look over a little of HISTORICAL. 31 the history of Pans, and to study somewhat its topography and statistics. There was a rude settlement upon the island in the Seine when Julius Caesar invaded Gaul. The people who dwelt here were a fierce and hardy race of hunters and fishermen. Their worship was Druidical, which was in time suc- ceeded by Roman idolatry, traces of which are still found over the city. Constantine honored the place with a visit, and Julian spent a winter here. At the close of the fifth century, Clovis rout- ed the Romans and made himself master of Paris. Then' he married Clotilde, embraced Christiani- ty, and built a church. The introduction of the Christian religion, according to the monkish tra- dition, was accomplished by St. Denis, A. D. 250. He was beheaded at Montmartre, and his headless statue adorns the porch of the church of St. Germain lAuxerrois, whither he walked after his execution, with his head in his hands. Towards the middle of the fourth century the growing wealth of Paris excited the cupidity of the Normans, who sacked and burnt it. After 32 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. the rise of the Capetiau kings, the city began to increase and flourish. Century after century has witnessed its growing wealth and splendor. Revolution after revolution has passed over it, only to leave new monuments of taste and luxu- ry, and to hand down to other generations some new leaf in the history of the metropolis of France. Paris now contains 1,250,000 souls, of whom about one half are working people. There is annually expended $48,000,000 for food, $70,- 000,000 for dress, and $10,000,000 for wines. There are about 3,000 liquor dealers in Paris, while in our two cities there are probably 8,000, — a strange disproportion in favor of the French metropolis, where I saw less drunkenness in a fortnight than one may see here in a single hour. But let us turn from these historical notices and statistics to begin our rambles over the city. Walking from our hotel, which lies hard by the Palace of the Emperor, and crossing the garden of the Tuileries, we come to the banks of the Seine, which flows through the city from the south-east to the north-west, dividing it into two unequal parts. Like most of the rivers of THE SEINE. 33 Europe, which are rendered important by their historical connections chiefly, an American feels a sense of disappointment when he finds here a small and insignificant stream. It is crossed by a multitude of bridges, and navigated by small canal-boats, which bring down produce from the country. All along the banks of the Seine are swim- ming-schools and bath-houses. But when one looks at the muddy stream that is hurrying along towards the sea, holding in solution the soil of the country and the filth of the city, he wonders how a Frenchman can ever get clean there. There are twenty-three bridges across the Seine, four of which are built of iron, one of wood, and the rest are substantial structures of stone: of these the Pont-Neuf is the most cele- brated. Along the banks of the river are beautiful quays, extending in all more than eleven miles. They present the appearance of large terraces, with fine M'Adamized roads and foot pavement, bordered with trees neatly trimmed and kept in perfect order. Benches are placed along the 3 34 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. route for tired pedestrians, and in the evening the whole is brilliantly lighted with gas, thus furnishing a magnificent promenade for the citi- zens of Paris. But the grand resort of the Parisians begins with the garden of the Tuileries, where hun- dreds of seats are let every afternoon, by per- sons employed for the purpose, and extends upward as far as the Arc de Triomphe, near the city walls. Besides these splendid grounds, to which we shall recur again, are the Boulevards, which are fine streets, well shaded by trees, and extending almost around the city. There may be met of an afternoon tens of thousands, looking into the gay shops which are filled with articles of taste and use, or sitting down before a restaurant enjoying an ice, or a bottle of wine, with a group of friends. When we add to these general features the splendid churches; palaces which appear in al- most every part of the city, each of which has its thrilling story of the mighty past ; the monu- ments which rise from every elevation and square ; TUILERIES. 35 the fountains that play in the sunlight, or shine in their softened beauty amid the lamps that make Paris so brilliant at evening; with the parks, and statues, and military and civil estab- lishments of the city, we have some idea of what we are to see in passing through the gay capital of France. Beginning now with the garden of the Tuileries, after we have looked at the long lines of statuary, and the fountains and groves which adorn the palace grounds, we turn our faces westward, and take our first walk of explo- ration. Entering a dense grove filled with chairs to rent, we come upon two hemicycles of white marble, with small and tasteful enclosures in front, adorned with some pieces of fine statuary. These are relics of the Revolution, and were designed by Robespierre. Passing onward, we come to two piers which rise into solid walls, from the west barrier of the Tuileries, enclosing a fountain and some groups of statuary designed to represent the great rivers of the old world. Leaving the gardens by the western gate, 36 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. which is always guarded by sentinels, we come into a vast circle called the Place de Concorde. Until the time of Louis XV., this spot was a useless and shapeless piece of ground. It is now enclosed by balustrades, upon which stand eight colossal statues, which represent the chief cities of France. In the centre, and upon the very spot where the unfortunate Marie Antoinette died by the guillotine, stands the celebrated obelisk taken from the ruins of Luxor, and covered with hie- roglyphics, supposed to have been wrought dur- ing the time of Sesostris. This obelisk was brought from Egypt at a great expense, and its mate is to be found at Rome. A story is told about the obelisk at Rome which is worth re- peating. Workmen were engaged in raising that massive piece of stone to the pedestal pre- pared to receive it, and strict orders had been given that, during the operation, no one of the vast multitude assembled to witness it should utter a word. Gradually the ponderous stone rose very nearly to its place, and then it refused to move any farther. The ropes were stretched to their utmost tension, and there was great dan- OBELISK UP LUXOR. 37 ger that the vast slab would fall, when suddenly an English sailor cried out, "Wet the ropes." The man was immediately arrested, but the quick ear of the foreman had caught the magic word. The ropes were wetted — they contracted — and the obelisk rose to its place. The next morning the sailor was not only released, but was most liberally rewarded. This is one of the instances in which apparent impossibilities have been achieved by a little practical knowledge. On either side of the column stands a foun- tain ; the one is dedicated to the ocean and the other to the river. They consist of circular ba- sins fifty feet in diameter, on which are erected colossal figures, with various emblems of the Ocean, Commerce, Art, and Science. Passing through the Place de Concorde, we come to the Champs Elysees, which is a long and beautiful park adorned with statues, and fountains, and groves. There stands the Palace of Industry, an im- mense building designed as a place for the ex- hibition of works of art. Taking our way through a magnificent avenue, we come to the 38 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. Arc de Trioiuphe, built at an immense expense by Napoleon I. It is 152 feet high by 137 broad, and 68 deep; and is adorned with repre- sentations of the great battles of the Empire. Here, in these Elysian fields, is the great resort of the gay citizens of Paris. Yonder, an avenue leads to the famous, or rather the infamous, Cha- teau des Fleurs. Here are given balls and con- certs, attended by persons whose reputation is by no means doubtful. I did not enter the place, although I was informed that it was fit- ted up in a style of Oriental splendor. But when I saw carriages driving up to the entrance, some filled with young men, and others with fe- males, who were to meet them amid these fasci- nations and excitements, I felt that over the por- tals of that place might be written the words of the wise man: "Her steps take hold on hell!" And these, I fear, are the resorts with which many a young American is familiar, who is sent to Paris to finish his education. For my own part, I would rather send a youth to the State Prison to perfect his morals, than to this city. There is doubtless a great deal of science in its PARISIAN LIFE. 39 schools, and one may learn French perfectly, and gain a certain degree of polish, but he is in danger of acquiring much, of which he might better have remained ignorant for life. Every thing really useful to a young man may be ac- quired as readily at home, and with much greater ety. In Paris, where vice is everywhere ;it, she has not that hideous mien, "Which to be hated needs but to be seen," but is always beautiful and attractive. Ten thousand temptations assail one on every hand — temptations just suited to his character, incli- nation, and tastes. " Live while you live," seems to be the motto of the Parisian. The predomi- nating characteristic of this brilliant city is ; honghtless frivolity — amusement for the present, with no serious regard for the future. It must hard to be a Christian in this great Vanity Fair. For myself, when returning from the American Chapel one Sabbath, through the Champs Elysees, surrounded by everything to divert the attention and call the mind away from serious things; with soft music wooing the ear. 40 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. and gay equipages attracting the eye ; with itin- erant tumblers and mountebanks of every de- scription ; with Punch and Judy shows, before which crowds of people were standing in high glee; with fountains flashing in the sunlight, and fairy boats, and elevators, and hobby-horses in ceaseless motion ; with vast throngs of the gay, the lively, and the beautiful, sitting, or walking, or riding ; with all the life, bustle and vivacity of the French people around me, I found it nec- essary again and again to say, as I passed along, "Remember that you have an immortal soul to save." And this was on the Sabbath! And such would foreign infidels make our Sabbaths, if possible. God grant that America may never witness such a fearful defiance of Him who has bidden us remember His sacred day of rest to keep it holy. And this is Paris, where Vice is under governmental patronage, and Virtue too often is but a name! where vice is made attractive, and the stern virtues of the Christian life seem austere and repulsive. And is this the city in THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE. 41 which it is safe for our American citizens to leave their sons, with ample means of dissipa- tion ? During a visit to Europe, one usually finds his interest enlisted by the antiquity of the ob- jects which he sees around. Age is novelty, and things are new to him because they are old. But the Bois de Boulogne is an exception to this. It is a splendid park just outside the city, which has been completed within three years. Napoleon found it a wilderness, the resort of duellists and suicides, and has left it a garden. Its fountains, and lakes, and cascades; its grot- toes, formed of stone brought from a distance, but which seem to have grown together for ages; its race-courses, and drives, and prome- nades ; its romantic dells and fairy bridges ; its tasteful lawns, and hills, and valleys — all alive with people who have come out to breathe the pure air — are a monument of the genius and will of the Emperor. He did not wait for trees to grow, but transplanted them hither full- grown. With his admirable apparatus, sum- mer and winter were alike, and the trees kept 3* 42 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. on growing in their new Boil as if nothing had happened. Returning from this noble park, and pausing a moment at the Chapel of St. Ferdinand t - a fine painting of the death of the Duke of Orleans, we cross the Seine in front of the L -_- islative buildings, and. passing through the Champ de Mars, visit the Chapel of the Inva- lids, where the remain- of Napoleon I. now find rest. Still farther eastward, we enter th*- famous Jardin des Planter, or the Botan- ical Garden of Paris. It is a spot well worth a long visit. There you may find almost every variety of tree, from the American pine to the Asiatic palm, all in as good condition as if in their native soil. Counties- varieties of plants are here, and animals innumerable. And all this collection is maintained by the State, at a vast expense, and is free alike to the poor and the rich of Pari-. Truly, the Emperor b way of doing things which i> not like <'iir>. Think of the popular instruction, and the im- petus given to popular inquiry and education by means of this open Garden of Plants. True. THEBASTILE. 43 the money to support it comes from the people in the shape of heavy taxes, but it returns to them again, in the shape of instruction and amusement ; while our money comes from us in the same way, and returns to — the pockets of our officials! Passing still onward beyond the city limits, we come to Pere la Chaise, the great cemetery of Paris. It has no attractions, except the names of those who are buried there. Here is the tomb of Abelard and Heloise, with whose history all are familiar ; here, too, lie Talma and Rachel, and other celebrities of Paris and of France. Returning, we pass the column of July, erected upon the very spot where once stood that hated Bastile, winch was destroyed in 1789, and the key of which was sent to our Washington by Lafayette. This key may still be seen at Mount Vernon. Prisoners in the Bastile were con- signed to a living death. Revenge was grati- fied by their incarceration, and tyranny soon forgot its victim, who lingered on hopelessly, till death relieved the captive. I remember 44 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. reading, when quite young, the story of a man imprisoned in the Bastile for many years, who, when he was released, found that his dwelling had been long replaced, by others, his family scattered or deceased, and himself homeless and without a friend. So he returned to his prison, and begged to be admitted once more to his lonely dungeon, which he had been so happy to leave a few hours before. Here fell the Arch- bishop of Paris while attempting to reason with the insurgents of 1848. His last words were, " May my blood be the last spilt in civil war." Passing homeward, let us take in our way the manufactory of Gobelin tapestry. These splendid tapestries equal, in their superb finish, the very best paintings, and are woven with many hundred different shades of color. The manufactory was founded, it is said, by a man named Gobelin, a dyer, and is now mo- nopolized by the government. The products of it are given as presents to the nobility and to the crowned heads of Europe, Queen Victoria, for instance, having several of them in her palaces. Portraits are sometimes copied in this ST. EOCH. 45 way, as those of the Emperor and the Empress — who is a very beautiful woman — which are now being wrought from a picture by one of the finest artists of France. Let us now return from this general survey of the city, to look at some of its churches. Just a moment's walk from our hotel, in the Rue St. Honore, stands the church of St. Koch, begun in 1653, by Louis XIV. You enter it through two ranges of Doric and Corinthian columns, which make a front of 84 feet broad by 91 high, and find a splendid building 405 feet long. Near the entrance is the tomb of Pierre Corneille. Along the side of the church are eight or ten chapels, richly decorated with paintings, frescoes and statuary. Standing near one of the vast columns is the pulpit, formed of statues of the Evangelists, carved in oak, while a gilt angel, with outspread wings, supports the canopy. Passing behind the choir, we come to a shrine made of the cedar of Lebanon, richly decorated with mouldings of gold and bronze. Still beyond this is the chapel of the holy Sac- rament, — magnificently furnished to represent 46 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. the Holy of Holies, — built of rich marble, and containing all the ornaments of the Jewish ritual ; re-producing, as far as art and genius and wealth can do it, the splendid scenery of the Temple at Jerusalem. In the choir stands a fine-toned organ, which, on festival occasions, alternates with a still finer and more magnificent one that is placed over the main entrance. The music in this church is said to be the best in Paris ; it is certainly of the most artistic char- acter. A service here is a novelty to an Ameri- can. The number of priests who engage in it, the richness of their garments, the character of the music, the appearance of the beadles as they walk up and down the marble aisles, bring- ing their heavy staves of office down upon the floor with a sound that makes one start and wonder what is coming next ; the women col- lecting their sous for the use of the chairs and prie-dieux ; the priests passing among the crowd, during the service, to gather money for the church ; the hum of voices in the chapel while service is progressing in the choir ; the clouds of incense that are ascending at the MADELEINE. 47 altar ; the splendid works of art that shine out from the ceiling, the walls and every angle of the vast edifice, — combine to make the whole a scene not soon to be forgotten. . But let us pass from this to the church of the Madeleine,— the pride of Paris, and one of the noblest specimens of modern genius and art that the world contains. Although begun in 1704, it was not finished until the time of Louis Phillippe. It cost 13,079,000 francs. Its archi- tecture is Grecian, being surrounded by 52 Corinthian columns, 49 feet high and 16 J feet in circumference. In the walls are 32 niches filled with statues of saints. Before you ascend the lofty flight of 28 steps, you notice that the whole entablature and ceiling are profusely decorated with the most elaborate sculpture. Look also to the pediment of the southern front, where is an immense alto-relievo, 126 feet by 24. In the centre is the figure of Christ, with Magdalen at His feet ; to His right, the angels of mercy, Innocence and Faith. In the corner, an angel is greeting a spirit just rising to bliss ; and on the left of the Sovereign Judge the 48 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. angel of vengeance is repelling hatred, unchas- tity, hypocrisy and avarice, while a demon is precipitating to the abyss a lost and damned spirit. Ascending the steps, pause, and study the magnificent bronze doors, — outvying all but those of St. Peter's, at Rome, measuring 33 by 16 J feet, and displaying in bas-relief Scriptural illustrations of the Decalogue, leaving out the second, and dividing the tenth Commandment. As you enter, you are amazed at the magnifi- cence and artistic beauty that meet yon. Over the porch stands a superb Corinthian organ. On the right is the chapel for marriages, with a group representing the marriage of the Virgin. On the left, the Baptismal font, "with a repre- sentation of the Baptism of Christ at Jordan. There are twelve confessionals, with a pulpit richly carved in oak, and gilt, and decorated like the organ. The church consists of one vast nave, interrupted by piers, fronted with lofty columns, supporting colossal arches, on which rest three cupolas with skylights spendidly dec- orated, and supported in the corners by figures DECORATIONS. 49 of the Apostles. The richest marbles encrust the walls of the church. The floor also is of rich and variegated marble. The walls of the choir are ornamented with paintings and ara- besques on a ground of gold. The ceilings are decorated with magnificent frescoes, representing the propagation of Christianity. In the midst of the church, above a flight of marble steps, stands the high altar, surrounded by a group of statuary, among which the prin- cipal figure is Magdalen, borne upwards on the wings of angels. At each corner on a pedestal stands an archangel in prayer. For these figures, alone, 150,000 francs were paid ! While sitting in this church I took out my Testament and turned to the Epistle to the Hebrews, where Christ is spoken of as our only great High Priest ; and thought how it set aside all this pomp and pageant as utterly useless in the worship of the Christian Church ; and felt that when the word of God should come to be an open volume in France, as it is in Scotland, these splendid services would be replaced by a 50 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. purer, and simpler, and more spiritual worship, in harmony with the order of God's house, and better adapted to lead the soul to Christ, and salvation. III. THE CHURCHES AND PALACES OF PARIS. W E will take a brief glance at two or three more of the churches of Paris, and then enter some of its most celebraced Palaces and Museums. First in reputation, if not in beauty, is the cathedral of Notre Dame. It stands upon an island called la Cite, near the spot where once stood a Roman temple — an altar of which was discovered in the year 1711. It is supposed that as early as A. D. 365 a church was built here, which was afterwards enlarged by Childebert. The foundations of Notre Dame were laid A. D. 1000, and in 1185, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, who had visited Pans to preach up the first Crusade, officiated in the church. Age after age witnessed some addition 52 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. to the noble pile, which now presents a fine specimen of the Gothic architecture of the 12th century. The cathedral is 390 feet long, 144 feet in width, and 142 feet high. Three vast arched portals lead to the interior from the front. Over these are circular windows 36 feet in diameter. As you enter the middle door-way, you see an elaborate representation in bas-relief of the Judgment. The angels are sounding the last trumpet — the dead are rising — the separa- tion of the righteous and the wicked is taking place — and the Saviour is upon the throne, sur- rounded by His angels and the emblems of His passion. On the sides of the portal are 24 figures representing 12 virtues and their oppo- site vices. Beyond these are four other bas- reliefs: the offering of Isaac — the departure of Abraham — Job witnessing the destruction of his flocks — and Job reproving his wife. On the massive doors are carved Christ bearing His Cross, and the Virgin in her sorrow. Apostles, patriarchs and kings fill up the niches which are left on either hand. The other two entrances resemble this in their elaborate designs, only ! NOTRE DAME. 53 differing in the scenes represented. Above these is a gallery of small pillars containing statues of some of the French sovereigns. Looking still higher up yon see a colossal statue of the Virgin, between two angels, and on either side a figure of Adam and Eve. Over this is a vast central window, and above all rises a lofty gallery of slender shafts, while on either corner is a noble tower 204 feet in height. Passing round to the south side of the church, we come to another arched entrance, ornamented with bas-reliefs of scenes in the life of Stephen. In the rear are innumerable columns, buttresses, figures, and shafts, at whose elaborate designs one gazes with wonder. The north side also has an entrance on which are figures and statues representing the Virgin crushing the Dragon — the Nativity, and the Adoration of the Mao;i. The Porte-Rouo;e is another splendid portal, between which and the eastern angle of the church are carvings which represent the Death, Funeral, and Assumption of the Virgin — Christ with the Angels, and Christ with the Virgin on a throne, the Virgin 54 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. in an agony at the feet of the Saviour, and also delivering a woman who is about to sell herself to the Devil. Such is a general view of the ex- terior of the noble edifice. Within we find a vast series of columns, chapels, arches, pictures, altars, and statues, which would require many weeks to study and comprehend, and to which no description can do full justice. In this cathedral are performed the State ceremonies of France. Here the first Napoleon was crowned Emperor ; here the present Em- peror was married, and here, when the people shall call for the ceremony, the Third Napoleon will be crowned — for although the Emperor, he has not yet received the crown of France. On the occasion of the solemn Te Beam for the success of the French arms at Magenta, the soldiers of the National Guard and of the regular army were drawn up on either side, from the Tuileries to the cathedral, and these lines were themselves a magnificent sight. The scene which I had the pleasure of wit- nessing was thus described in Gcdignant's Mes- senger : IMPERIAL CORTEGE. 55 "The cortege left the Tuileries by the Car- rousel, and then followed the Hue de Kivoli. A squadron of the mounted municipal guard headed the cortege, after whom came the car- riages of the Princess Mathilde, the Princess Clotilda, and next that of the Empress, who was accompanied by Prince Jerome. Her Maj- esty wore a violet silk dress, a chapeau of white crape, ornamented with a violet feather, and a white lace shawl. Marshal Magnan and General the Marquis de Lawcestine, followed by a numerous staff, escorted the Imperial car- riage, which was followed by detachments of lancers of the Imperial Guard and of the 6th Dragoons. The preparations made at the ca- thedral were on a grand scale. In the middle of the choir, opposite the altar, was placed a chair of state for the Empress Regent, with seats for Prince Jerome, the Princess Clotilda, the Princess Mathilde, and the other princes and princesses of the Imperial family. Places were also arranged for the cardinals, bishops, marshals, admirals, grand officers of the Crown, the household of the Empress, members of the 56 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. Senate, Legislative Body, and Council of State, as well as accommodation for different consti- tuted bodies. A second salute announced the close of the ceremony, when her Majesty and the cortege returned to the Tuileries in the same state in which they had left it. A violent storm of thunder, lightning and heavy rain burst over Paris just as the Empress arrived at the cathedral, and had ceased before the ceremony had concluded. At night, the public offices, theatres, and a vast number of private houses, were again most brilliantly illuminated." In the sacristy of the cathedral is a museum of religious curiosities and relics, which have been collecting for ages. This church, with, indeed, all the old churches of Paris, is now undergoing thorough repairs, under the super- vision of the Emperor, who seems determined to preserve them in their original beauty and splendor. Passing away from this spot, we come to the church of St. Gemiain l'Auxerrois. which is over nine centimes old, and has wonderfully escaped the devastations of the Revolutionary mol is < >f THE REFORMATION. 57 Paris. The exterior of the church is decorated with bas-reliefs and statues, and the interior is gorgeous beyond all power of words to de- scribe, with frescoes and paintings, statues and columns, altars and chapels, covered with gold. But its chief interest is its historic recollec- tions. Early in the progress of the Reformation, the truths of the gospel began to awaken the people of France from the slumbers of spiritual death. When the Protestant Church assumed a distinct organization, its principal features were like those of the other continental churches, being distinctly and decidedly Presbyterian. The first General Assembly was held in 1559, one year before a similar body first met in Scotland. In the course of twelve years 2150 churches had been established throughout France, some of which enrolled as many as 7,000 members, among whom were many of the noblest men of the age. The Huguenots had obtained, as they supposed, liberty of con- science and immunity from further wrong ; and Charles IX., King of France, in order to lull 4 58 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. them into security, and thus prepare the way for his bloody purpose, declared that he was convinced of the impossibility of forcing men's consciences, and that he had determined to allow every man the free exercise of his re- ligion. The Huguenot leaders were loaded with favors, and this deception was kept up for two years, until all suspicion was completely lulled. On the occasion of the marriage of the King's daughter Margaret, with Henry of Na- varre, all of the royal and noble Protestants were invited to Paris to witness this union — a new pledge of reconciliation and concession. They came, and the plot was ripe for execution. Sixty thousand armed men were collected in the city, and the curtain rose upon the dreadful and bloody drama of St. Bartholomew's Eve, the 24th of August, 1572. A little after midnight the deep tones of the cathedral bell summoned the soldiers to their work of death. First perished the Admiral Coligny, and then, at the sound of the bell of the Palais de Justice, the massacre of St. Bar- tholomew began. At the signal, every Catholic, st. Bartholomew's eve. 59 having been forewarned, placed a light in his window and a white cross upon his cap, bound a white scarf upon his arm, and then rushed forth to the slaughter of the heretics. The dwellings of the Protestants were attacked, and the inmates dragged forth to death. The streets ran blood ; and the groans of the dying, the shrieks of the wounded, and the imploring cries of women and children, made music for the actors in this horrid drama of death. The King looked out upon the scene with frantic and fiendish joy ; the ladies of the court amused themselves with looking at the dead bodies of those slain within the palace, with whom they had been engaged in social intercourse a few short hours before. Sixty thousand men hunted down their brethren. For seven days this dreadful slaughter continued, and over ten thousand Protestants perished in Paris alone, and sixty thousand more throughout France. The news was received at Rome with exces- sive joy. The Cardinal Lorraine rewarded the messenger who brought the tidings of these unparalleled atrocities with a gift of ten thou- 60 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. sand crowns. At Lyons, the Pope's legate absolved the murderers, by making over them the sign of the cross. Pope Gregory XIII. congratulated the King on the successful com- pletion of a purpose " so long meditated and so happily executed for the good of religion" and triumphal medals were struck, commemorating the occasion. Thus Rome perpetuated her shame, and gave her sanction to the massacre of thousands of innocent and unoffending Chris- tians. This is all matter of history, and, try as he may, Bishop Hughes cannot blot out the record, though he may efface it from our school- books. When I entered this church of St. Germain I recalled these scenes of St. Bartholomew, for it was in the tower of this cathedral that the fatal signal was given for the Massacre. All night long its bells were tolling, mingling their deep vibrations with the shrieks of the wounded and the groans of the dying. As I passed down its aisles, indifferent to its gorgeous dec- orations — thinking only of the scenes with which it was associated — the bell struck the hour, and SAINTECHAPELLE. 61 as its heavy tones sounded upon my ear I started from my reverie as though I were hearing again the awful summons to the work of death. Passing away from this spot, we come to the Pantheon, built upon the ruins of St. Greneveive by Madame Pompadour, — a pretty person to build a church ! The funds were raised by lottery. The dome of the church is 2G8 feet high, and the whole edifice is a noble pile of architecture. Its pillars and walls still bear the marks of the last Revolution. We must not omit the most sjilendid of the churches of Paris, the Sainte Chapelle, attached to the Palais de Justice, which, in the magnifi- cence of its statuary, frescoes, paintings and dec- orations, excells all the rest. The form of the church is somewhat peculiar. It is one hundred and eight feet long, fifty-five feet in breadth, and one hundred and thirty-nine feet in height — higher than it is long or broad. I will not attempt to describe this wonderful church. Among its relics is, of course, a piece of the True Cross. There are very few churches upon the Continent which are destitute of this relic. 62 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. I have no doubt that there are enough pieces of the True Cross in the different Continental churches to make several of the size of the origi- nal. I have often thought, in looking at such relics, of a visit which a "gentleman paid to one of these churches, with a native of the Green Isle for a cicerone. "Here," said the Irishman, "is the sword with which Balaam slew the ass." "But Balaam didn't have any sword," rejnied the visitor ; " he only wished for one, with which to smite the animal. 11 "Eh?" rejoined the Irish- man ; " "Well, then, this is the sword which Balaam wished for." Many of the relics which I saw were of a similar character. A great contrast to all this splendor and folly is seen in the American Chapel, in the Hue de Bern. I found here a noble band of earnest and faithful Christians laboring for the good of souls. Episcopal services were held in the morning, and in the afternoon the form of worship was like our own. On both occasions Christians of all denominations united with evident cordiality and good feeling. There was also a most promising Bible-class, VERSAILLES. 63 under the tuition of an American gentleman, resident in Paris. But leaving the churches, let us take a glimpse at some of the palaces of France. Our first visit is to Versailles, which we reach by rail in half an hour. Walking up a fine old boulevard, which leads through the town, we come to the Rue de Reservoirs, which terminates at the palace. Three hundred years ago this spot was an immense forest, which had been the great hunting-ground of the Court of France. Here Louis XIII. built a pavilion in which to rest after the toils of the chase. Louis XIV. at length came to the throne, a monarch who loved pleasure and who followed it through all the fearful mazes of a guilty life, surrounding himself with every appliance which his volup- tuous nature demanded. His palace stood near the church of St. Denis, where lay the bones of his ancestors, and he could not bear the prox- imity of these silent monitors. The nearness of the tomb, and its stern and awful realities, in- terfered with his life of guilty pleasure, and brought thoughts of death — thoughts which he 64 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. hated most — to his mind. He wished to live undisturbed by such gloomy reflections, and as it was the custom then, he believed that the common people lived solely for their monarch's pleasure, and accumulated wealth only that their masters might spend it, and determined to build Versailles, at a distance from St. Denis and its melancholy thoughts. Upon this palace he lavished the immense sum of $200,000,000, and in its erection 30,000 soldiers, besides mechanics and laborers innumerable, were employed, and the place soon contained a population of one hundred thousand persons. The surrounding wilderness became a garden surpassing all description, filled with statues, groves, fountains, lawns, and wonders of nature and of art, rival- ling Babylon in beauty and grandeur. Words fail to describe this royal abode ; no pencil can do it justice, and even sight itself fails, amid so many dazzling scenes. The palace is built with a projecting centre, and two extensive wings, and contains over five hundred rooms, filled with paintings and statues. The front of the building is about RECOLLECTIONS. 65 twelve hundred feet long, and one travels nearly a quarter of a mile in going from one end to the other of this immense pile. On the extreme right wing, occupying about as much space in comparison with the rest of the building as does a little bed-room over the stairs, or a closet, in an ordinary house, is a splendid theatre, in which sat the beauties of the Courts of Louis XIV. and XV. and of ther kings since their reigns, to witness the performances of the best actors of the age. Pause for a moment in the box where royalty once sat, with all the frail beauties of the French court, and recall the past. Think how the lost and infamous, though beautiful creatures of the French kings trod these halls even in the presence of the queens whom they had dis- placed from their monarch's affections. Recall the misery and woe under which many a noble heart here sank down with sorrow, and learn a sad but impressive lesson of the terrible results of sin, and the fearful examples of splendid mis- ery which the history of France presents. Upon that stage poor Marie Antoinette once 4* 66 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. sank down with shame and grief while enacting a tragedy (too soon to be followed by one far more terrible), when she heard the hiss of her dissolute husband. There operas were perform- ed at a nightly expense of $25,000, paid for by the poor toiling millions of France, and there the excited and angry mob held its revels when it had broken down the power of royalty, and hung the inmates of the surrounding palaces at their very gates. Passing out of this place with its terrible memories, we enter a vast gallery of sculpture of the kings and queens of France. Parallel to this are two other halls of equal length, (300 feet,) the one devoted to paintings de- scriptive of French history, and the other to the story of Constautine, &c. Leaving these halls, we enter the Royal Chap- el, gorgeously fitted up, to which the dissolute Court used to retire to atone for days of sin by an hour of worship ; and feeling a sentiment of awe at the surroundings of religion, imagined themselves forgiven, and went out to new sin. Religion was fashionable then, and went in sil- GALLERIES. 67 ver slippers, and they evidently thought that they had solved the problem, how sin and piety could exist together. Crowds went to church ■more to see the king than to worship. To test this, a maitre one day announced that the king would not be present at chapel that day, and in a few moments the church was empty. Here, at yonder magnificent altar, Marie An- toinette was married, and began that sad drama which was at length terminated amid the hor- rors of the guillotine, and the taunts and execra- tions of the cruel mob that was thirsting for her blood. Passing hence through the Saloon of Hercules, and other halls named after mytho- logical characters, and fitted up to correspond with the name, the eye is dazzled with their varied beauties. The ceilings are adorned with the finest frescoes, and rich, gilded cornices ; while splendid paintings, and furniture of the most costly kind, meet you at every turn. Here is the Looking-Glass Gallery, 242 feet long, by 35 wide, and 42 feet high. Turning to the left, we come to the private rooms of the royal family. 68 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. Here is the cabinet of Louis XIV., into which Madame du Barry, one of his courtesans, once entered, while the king was busy, snatched a bundle of State papers from his hand and threw them into the fire, the king laughing gaily the while. That same du Barry, a short time after- wards, called out, while in the grasp of a rude mob, for " Life ! " " life I " while the only replies to her entreaties were brutal jests upon the soft pillow which the guillotine would make for that fair head. Surrounded by a drunken and maddened mob, she was dragged in a cart to the block. Her long tresses, with which the king had often dallied, were shorn from her head, and from the struggling victim was heard the piteous cry of "Save me, save me!" But her distress and her dangerous beauty only drew upon her the rude laugh of the rabble. With coarse violence her executioners bound her to the fatal plank; the glittering knife fell, and her limbs relaxed in death as her head fell into the trough — and all was over. Hurrying away from these apartments, we enter the small rooms of the kin 2^. A SAD DEATH, 69 Here is the luxurious bed-chamber, in which Louis XIV. died — for even kings must die — upon a splendid couch, decorated as one would imagine the bed of so profligate a monarch to be, attended only by an old and withered woman, for all his Court had fled and left him alone with that loathsome disease, the small-pox. The furniture of this bed-room was twelve years in making. Here, too, died Louis XV., surrounded by his courtiers, to whom he said, with a most touch- ing pathos, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, I implore your pardon for the bad example I have set you. Think of me sometimes, I pray you ! O God, come to my aid and help me." Fit com- mentary upon his career. A vast throng stood in the court-yard awaiting the tidings of his death. An officer of the household took a staff and broke it, saying, "Gentlemen, the king is dead," and then raising another rod, shouted, " Vive le Roi" and the throng welcomed the rising Star of France, and forgot him whose light was quenched in the night of the grave. Passing onward through splendid suites of 70 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. rooms, we come to the queen's bed-chamber Here it was that Marie Antoinette sought for rest and shelter when the mob was thundering; at the gates of the palace. From this spot she escaped with her life, only to fall by a more fearful death after her trial before the Revolu- tionary tribunal. But we cannot linger here. Gallery succeeds to gallery in this wonderful spot, each one vy- ing with the other in interest and beauty — or being a repetition of previous splendors. Every- where we meet some new monument of taste, wealth, beauty, and folly. We might pause here for days, for there are hundreds of rooms, and thousands of pictures, and jewels, and stat- ues, and objects of historic interest. Here is the spot where Madame Montespan, who had left her husband to become the mother of the children of an abandoned king, when ordered to leave the palace, seized a knife and attempt- ed to take the life of her child. Here lived Madame Maintenon, who succeeded in the short- lived affections of the monarch. Here flourish- ed the most majestic of all the Bourbons, of PETITE TRIANON. 71 whom it was said, "They who occupy thrones are the most unfortunate in the world." Going out of the palace, one notices statues in every angle, chief among which is the eques- trian statue of Louis XIV. The State carriages also attract attention, that of Charles X. costing $100,000, as much money as our President receives for his four years' services. The Park of Versailles is immense, containing about thirty-two thousand acres, and is dotted here and there with small palaces, among which is the Petite Trianon, splendidly furnished and built in the Roman style, and in which the king used to retire and play the part of an humble innkeeper, the ladies and gentlemen of his court acting in various capacities — one as the baker, another as the cook, and so on, forgetting for a while their rank, and occupying themselves with the cares of humble life. This palace was built for Madame du Barry, but has been suc- cessively occupied by all the queens of France ; and here lived the first Napoleon with his Jo- sephine. There is one solemn lesson to be drawn from 72 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. this scene — the vanity of human greatness and glory. It was short pleasure and long woe. Far better piety, even in poverty and sorrow, than to march, in royal robes and gilded crowns, to eternal misery and death. God grant that we may never see such sights here, but that Americans, satisfied with their quiet homes— the abodes of love, peace, virtue, and purity — may continue to live in Republican simplicity, and refuse to imitate either the vices or the splendor of European courts, IV. PARIS TO LYONS. WE have time to take but a parting glance at two or three more of the objects of interest in Paris. — To begin with the Tuileries, the present residence of the Emperor. The pal- ace is about 1,000 feet long, by 118 wide. We pass up a broad staircase, and through suites of rooms, galleries, and saloons, in some respects surpassing in richness and splendor those of Versailles. Draperies of velvet and gold, richly frescoed ceilings, exquisite paintings, statues of marble, bronze, and silver, and carpets woven in the looms of the Gobelins, make up the sights which are to be seen here. The hangings of the Throne Room are of dark red velvet, manufactured at Lyons, with palm leaves and wreaths wrought in gold. The throne is cano- 74 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. pied with, the same material, and stands upon an elevated platform, upon the back of which is the imperial eagle, surrounded by a wreath of gold. But we cannot pause here, except to look out from the large centre window and admire the magnificent scene which stretches before us, and to think of the sad fate of many who once lived amid these splendors, and who, during the Rev- olutions of France, passed away like a dream. Here dwelt the First Consul, and when he was declared Emperor, it was again his home. Here dwelt the royal family after the restora- tion, until the palace was again attacked by the mob of 1830. Here lived Louis Phillippe, when he was recalled to his throne by the cries of Vive le Roi! and here he signed his abdica- tion, when the garden of the Tuileries was till- ed with a fierce and angry mob, from which he barely escaped with his life. And here lives the present Xapoleon ; but for how long who can predict i It may be for life; it may be that the next steamer may bring the news of his ab- dication, or of his death. Alas! France wants THE LOU V KB. 75 the elements of a stable government. She needs what it will take ages to give her: the Family, Home, the Bible, and the Sabbath. Perpetual life out of doors; the confusion of the first day of the week, with all the others ; and a religion given by priests, are enough to make any o-overnment unstable. Leaving the Tuileries, we enter the ancient palace of the Louvre, with its vast halls and saloons filled with rich collections of paintings and sculptures, and historical and antique curi- osities. It is the work of a day simple to pass through it. Here is the Antique Museum, made up of statues, bas-reliefs, and frescoes, from Egypt, Greece, and Rome, which seem to have reproduced the arts of these countries and fixed them in all their varied extent and beauty. The Museum of the Sovereigns is composed of the relics of the kings and queens of France. Here is the shoe of Marie Antoinette ; the scep- tre of Charlemagne ; the crown of Louis XVI. ; and the writing-desk of Louis Phillippe. But we pause longest, and with most indescribable feelings, in the room wholly devoted to the arti- 76 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. cles owned and used by Napoleon I. Here is his full dress, worn on State occasions ; his sad- dle; his gloves; his uniform, worn at Marengo ; the hat he wore at St. Helena, and the handker- chief with which the death-damps were wiped from his brow when he passed away forever from the dreams of battle. But, giving a rapid glance at the Marine Mu- seum, filled with models of the ships, seaports, and public docks of France ; at the Assyrian Gallery, at the Museum of Modern Sculpture, Paintings, &e., we must hasten to the Luxem- bourg, a palace which was built for Marie de Medicis, in 1612, where we find a repetition of the magnificence of the Tuileries and the galle- ries of the Louvre. Leaving this, we visit the Hotel de Cluny, one of the finest remaining specimens of the ancient mansions of the six- teenth century. It was built about the year 1480, upon the ruins of an ancient Roman bath, and was inhabited by Mary, the sister of Henry VIIL, of England, and the widow of Louis XII., of France. After passing through many hands, it is now in possession of the government, which HOTEL DE CLUNY. 77 has restored it to its former appearance, so that it presents an exact fac simile of a Parisian man- sion in the sixteenth century. Even in the fur- nishing of the rooms, this idea is carried out, and they are crowded with relics of an intensely interesting historical character. Here we find beautiful tapestry, ecclesiastical dresses of al- most every age, curious suits of armor, old fur- niture, crockery, enamels, glass ware, antique beds, quaint ear-rings, altar-pieces, and, in short, everything necessary to give a correct idea of life in the earlier ages of the French nation. Near this museum are the remains of an ancient Roman palace, in which Julian lived when he was declared Emperor by his troops. But leaving unnoticed many scenes of great interest, we hasten to our hotel, and bidding adieu to our hostess, and to Paris, we take tick- ets for Fontainebleau, on our way to Lyons. For my part, I quitted the city without a re- gret. I had spent two weeks there looking at its wonders, and recalling the thrilling histories which are connected with its monuments; but I had little sympathy with that gay, excitable, and 78 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. pleasure-loving people. If I had no soul to save, or God to serve, I might be content to live there. But I sat down in the car — saw the conductor lock the door — heard the shriek of the locomo- tive; saw the train move on; knew that I was probably never to see that beautiful city again, and was whirled away into the valley of the Seine without a sigh of regret for all that I was leaving behind me. God forbid that our own land should ever number among its cities one like Paris — great, powerful, and magnificent as it is. For many miles it is visible, as we pass on southward, through smiling fields and pictur- esque villages, skirting the bright waters of the Seine. It is the season of harvest, and the fields are alive with the peasantry — young and old, men, women, and children — busily engaged in reaping the golden grain or gathering it into bundles. A ride of forty miles brings us to the station of Fontainebleau, which we reach over a splendid viaduct of thirty arches. This is a city of about 10,000 inhabitants, but with few attrac- tions, save the splendid palace, which stands FONTAINEBLEAU. 79 upon the outskirts of a vast forest, the famous hunting-ground of the kings of France, the scene of exciting dramas and magnificent displays upon which the curtain of death has now fallen. Three hundred years ago the present chateau was built. Here were held princely revels when Charles of Germany was the guest of Francis. Here was signed the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, so fatal to the Protestant cause in France. Here Napoleon announced to Jose- phine his intended divorce ; and here, standing upon those stairs, he reviewed his army and took leave of it, when he had signed his abdi- cation. I need not attempt a description of Fontaine- bleau. It is but a repetition of Versailles, with its memorials of regal grandeur, and its sad and touching lessons of the transit* >ry and uncertain nature of all earthly glory. You wander through vast saloons and galleries filled with the wealth of ages, and think of Marie Antoinette and her tragic end ; and Josephine, with her painful and sad story ; and Napoleon, whose star went down amid storm and darkness. You wander over 80 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. the splendid gardens and grounds, recall the time when they witnessed the mustering of gay courtiers and dashing huntsmen, and heard the call of the bugle and the deep baying of the hounds. You think of the times when the vast avenues were crowded w T ith the equipages of princes, who swept upwards towards these festal halls, now all deserted and silent, save when curious visitors enter them, and hurry through, little heeding the sad stories they might tell. All has vanished of this splendor. The pa- geant has gone by. Glad voices are hushed. Bright eyes are quenched in death. The robe and the sceptre and the diadem are exchanged for the cerements of the grave. Entering the cars again, we are whirled through a beautiful and fertile country, and by many a fine and populous city, until we reach Lyons and the Hotel Callet. A letter of introduction to our consul, Hon. J. W. White, procured for us the kind attentions of himself and family. It affords me great pleas- ure thus "publicly to speak of our representa- THE AMEKTICAN CONSUL. 81 tive in that city, one who well sustains the rep- utation of America, and who by his official and private character has secured the respect and esteem of the citizens of Lyons, and the grateful memory of many who have received his atten- tions and kindness. I met at his house the venerable Count de Castellane, the oldest Marshal of France, who was an officer under the first Napoleon during the Russian campaign. At his advanced age he is still hale and hearty, and has the charge of one hundred thousand soldiers. The city of Lyons has a population of about 275,000 inhabitants, and is built on a tongue of land, about three miles long, between the rivers Seine and Rhone, the one having swept down hither from the northern slope of the Jura mountains, the other from the tremendous glaciers of Switzerland, through the pure waters of Lake Leman. Wending our way to the cita- del, commanding the town, from which we have a magnificent view of the valley of the Rhone; we can see the vast ranges of hills, terminating in the Alps, prominent among which is the glit- 5 8Z IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. tering summit of Mont Blanc. In the rear of this terrace is the cathedral of Notre Dame, on whose tower is a statue of the Virgin, twen- ty-eight feet high. Not far from this is the old church of St. Irenseus, built over an ancient crypt used by the early Christians of Lyons. An old woman, intensely French, bearing a lighted candle, preceded us down into the crypt. Calling our attention to the ancient pavement, which remains unaltered since it was first laid, she leads the way to the tombs of Iremeus and other early Christians; and also to the tomb of a female, who, in her misapplied devotion, spent the closing years of her life, which she should have adorned by deeds of active charity, in this subterranean abode, counting over her beads, saying her prayers, and thinking that she was serving God. Still farther on is a grated window, looking into a dark vault, where are collected the bones of nineteen thousand mar- tyrs, who are said to have perished in the first ages of the church. In the fine Gothic cathedral of St. Jean, be- gun in the seventh century, we witnessed the SILK MANUFACTORIES. 83 ceremonies of the grand Te Deum, in honor of the victory of Magenta. Climbing up, through suffocating staircases, into a gallery sixty feet from the floor, we had a full view of the mag- nificent procession, composed of officers of rank, cardinals, priests, acolytes, and soldiers, as it en- tered the church. The soldiers went through their drill at the word of command and at the tap of the drum, while the religious services went on, in no wise interrupted by the crash of arms. One of the most interesting features of Lyons is her manufactories of silk. In the high parts of the city, amid old houses and steep and nar- row streets, we find a large portion of the sub- urbs devoted to this business. There are about 32,000 looms engaged in it. These factories are not large, like our cotton mills, but a proprietor rents out an ordinary house to a factor, who fills it with looms. Frequently the work-shop and dwelling apartments are in the same^ house, so that the operations are most economical. They have carried their work to great .perfection, be- ing able to weave into the silk the most exqui- 84 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. site pictures and portraits. The machinery for the work resembles, in its general details, the power carpet-looms. There are 38,000 men employed at this work, and their influence in the city sometimes makes the greatest police vigilance necessary, especially in times of panic and commercial depression. During the last crisis, when hundreds were out of employment and clamoring for bread, the Emperor ordered the Bois de Boulogne, a large park, to be laid out, and so furnished employment for fourteen hundred men, saving as many families from want, and making himself intensely popular. Lyons, although a Roman Catholic city, has several Protestant churches, which are sources of great good to the people. I attended service at the English Episcopal chapel, where I heard a most excellent sermon from Mr. Barter, who also administered the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. As I partook of these consecrated ele- ments in that city, far away from home, I felt that I could heartily join in repeating the creed and saying, "I believe in the communion of saints ! " PROTESTANTISM. 85 I attended also the French chapel, under the Rev. Mr. Cordes, whose acquaintance I made, and from whom I learned many interesting facts in regard to the work which is going on in the south of France. Here is a most hopeful field for efibrt, for in the French Catholics there is a substratum of genuine piety which makes them peculiarly suscej^tible to evangelical truths. The Protestant Church here is Presbyterian. Part of it is supported by government, and thus is obliged to submit to governmental interfer- ence. In consequence of evils that have thus arisen, especially in regard to proper church dis- cipline, a new church has been formed, indepen- dent of the State, and is supported by many faithful and pious men, and they are doing a great and good work. Even among Catholics, they find most hopeful cases of conversion. Among the instances related to me, was that of a poor woman who became convicted of sin- She went to her priest, and he advised her to make a nine days' pilgrimage to the church of St. Fouvriere, dedicated to Mary. She attend- ed to his counsel, but found no relief. The 86 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. burden was still upon her heart. The priest gave her some pictures, and told her to study them and repeat so many prayers. This she did faithfully, but with no better result. Then the priest gave her some images to look at and pray, and assured her she would find peace. She followed his advice, but no peace came. At length she became ill and took to her bed. Here a Protestant sister found her, and learned the cause of her sickness. She told her she had a remedy. She took the Scriptures and read to her the words of Jesus and His pre- cious promises. Peace came to her heart — she recovered her health, and lived and died a sin- cere believer in Christ. There is a great deal of interest manifested in Sabbath-schools, and much is doino- for the instruction of children. They have also Bible-classes for adults, and there are Bible-readers who go from house to house, among the poor, opening to them the Scriptures, and teaching them the way of salva- tion. The work of the Protestant church lies chiefly among the poor and the middle classes, as the aristocracy or nobility are Catholics, RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. 8*7 But I was happy to hear that the Emperor, while himself a rigid papist, is desirous to have full religious liberty in France. And a case was related where he had interfered to set at liberty four persons who were victims of priestly intolerance, and had been juit in prison for preaching the Gospel. There are a number of Presbyterian churches in and about Lyons, and in France they have enough to form several Presbyteries and a Synod. Many earnest inquiries were made in regard to the revival in America, and a deep interest was manifested in its progress. When I turned from Lyons, I felt that there were in operation in that city means which, with the blessing of God upon them, would accomplish immeasura- ble good for France. V. L Y O X S TO X A P L E S . IT was a pleasant clay, in the middle of June, that we took the cars at Lyons for Montali- mar, where we were to spend the night. The road leads through a countiy of much in- terest and beauty, its fields highly cultivated, and its towns and villages exceedingly pic- turesque, many of them presenting abundant evidences of their high antiquity, and their Roman origin. The waters of the Rhone are flashing by us on their way to the sea, and the valley through which -we are passing presents a succession of beauties, rarely surpassed. At times the river sweeps round the base of some majestic cliff, crowned with the venerable ruins of an ancient fortress, built in the era of Roman M0NTAL1MAK. 89 greatness and power, and then opens into a broad and lovely plain, smiling amid the glories of the harvest. Occasionally the distant and snow-clad Alps tower over the intervening hills and stand out in solemn grandeur against the soft blue sky, and its rich drapery of clouds reflects the golden beams of the setting sun. Just at evening the train stops at the old city of Montalimar, surrounded by ramparts, abound- ing in queer and quaint old ruins, and chiefly devoted to the manufacture of morocco and soap ! A diminutive omnibus, with a jolly fat driver, conveys us through ancient, odd-looking streets, with an indescribable appearance of having once seen better days, into the court of an old French inn, full of diligences, donkeys and fleas — especially fleas, and exceedingly ac- tive ones at that. A long and dingy-looking building, with flights of stone steps leading to interminable corridors and halls, is the Post-Inn where we are to spend the evening. Our lodg- ing room, with its fixtures, its elaborate wain- scotting, and its venerable furniture, is a curios- ity, and the whole establishment presents us 5* 90 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. with a very good idea of a French inn of the olden time. The scenery around Montalimar is most brilliant and exceedingly picturesque, while the appearance of the town itself cannot fail to delight the lover of the antique. Passing down from this city, through ever- varying beauties and splendors, — now skirting the waters of the Rhone, or crossing one of its numerous tributaries ; then plunging through dark tunnels, built under large clifts or head- lands; now coming in sight of the ruins of an ancient Roman triumphal arch, or citadel, or aqueduct, or palace, — we at last pause for a while to look at the magnificent building, standing in full view at the station at Avignon, and inter- esting as being the ancient residence of the Pope during the schism between the churches of France and Italy, when two Popes claimed the Keys. The succession has never yet been set- tled, at least to our satisfaction, and we shall remain a Presbyterian until this nice point has been satisfactorily adjusted. Here Petrarch once lived and saw his Laura, whose fate was mingled so tenderly and touchingly with his own. NISMES AND ARLES. 91 From Avignon our way is still southward, through a country the character of whose scenery now changes to a rugged and sublime grandeur and wildness. We turn out of our way to visit, at Nisines, a noble amphitheatre — the ruins of the Temple of Diana, and gar- dens and fountain, which are fine evidences of ancient art and taste. As we pass onward, we observe many women in the quaint costumes of the south of France, which would be regarded here as great curiosities. Their head-dresses are immense, rising tier upon tier — but they have very pretty faces under them, nevertheless. From Aries, a city renowned for its Roman ruins, its quaint costumes, and its beautiful women, we pass over a vast unbroken plain, which, with its marshes and lagoons, is said to resemble Africa. Hurrying by long series of ruins, tunnels, embankments, viaducts and bridges, we at length enter the suburbs of Mar- seilles, and just at dusk are whirled past beau- tiful country seats, looking out upon lofty hills, crowned with chateaux and citadels, until we stop at the station in the city. After the ordinary 92 IMPRESSIONS BROAD. detention we are permitted to go to the Hotel des Empereurs, to experience there a system of extortion so thorough that it would do credit to any city in Italy. We mention the name of this hotel, so that if any of our friends ever visit Marseilles they may avoid it and go to some other, to be fleeced, probably, just as badly. Marseilles has a population of about two hundred thousand. It is beautifully situated upon, and surrounded by, hills which form a noble landmark to the sailor upon the Mediter- ranean. It has a fine harbor. As I sat upon the deck of the steamer, and watched the pro- cess of getting under way, and saw our ship shooting out from the midst of a fleet of vessels of all sizes and descriptions, I found sincere pleasure in looking out upon the scenes which were opening before me. Our ship was crowded with officers, soldiers, and priests, on their way to the seat of war, and we met two ships bound for France and loaded with Austrian prisoners. The coast, as we sail towards Italy, presents a variety of scenes of exceeding beauty. Four days from Marseilles, most of which time had BAY OF NAPLES. 93 been spent at Genoa, Leghorn and Civita Vecchia, we sighted the headlands of the Bay of Naples, and as I came upon deck and caught my first glimpse of the scene, I felt that description was surpassed, and that the half of its glories had not been told. The beautiful indentation of the shore which forms the Bay of Naples commences, on the North, at the Gape of Miseno, and sweep- ing round, in a most graceful curve, towards the east and south, terminates at the Capo Delia Campanella, making a circuit of thirty-five miles. As our ship rounds the northern headland, there come rapidly into view beautiful and bold shores, covered with Italian villas, palaces, gar- dens and convents — until the whole of this mag- nificent bay bursts upon the view and presents a scene which has, perhaps, no equal, and which no pen can fully describe. Almost in the centre of this glorious picture, Vesuvius, its head wreathed by the dark clouds of smoke which ceaselessly roll up from its crater, rises majes- tically from a lovely valley. As the eye sweeps around the beautiful coast, it takes in a series of 94 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. villages and hamlets, peeping out from groves of orange, citron and olive-trees, while behind them the distant hills rise in graceful outlines, and mountains, softened by distance and mel- lowed by the indescribable glow of an Italian atmosphere, shut in the lovely scene. Turning from this picture, to which words do no justice, we catch our first view of the city of Naples, which lies upon a smaller indentation of the bay. Dashing by lines of forts and castles, through fleets of small vessels, with the peculiar oriental model of the Mediterranean, which are lying quietly at anchor, — just as the morning bugle is arousing the soldiers of the castle, and the guns of the ships-of-war are thundering over the waters, we come to anchor under the range of one of the batteries, and opposite the Custom- house of Naples. During the long hours we spend in waiting for the return of our passports, which have been sent on shore to the police, we amuse ourselves by watching the small boats which surround the ship, filled with fruit or other edibles, or laden with musicians who have all the airs of opera singers, and who have come GETTING ASHORE. 95 out to pick up a few pence for their perform- ances. At last the officers of the Government are satisfied, and we are permitted to debark. Small boats now swarm about the vessel like leeches, and the boatmen tender their services most pertinaciously. While we are wondering how we shall make our way to the shore, we hear a voice asking in good English, " Is there any one here for the Hotel des Etrangers ? " " Yes," we replied, " It is the very hotel to which we have been recommended. What is your name ? " " Luigi Capelli." "And you," said we, "are the very man of whom we heard at Lyons." We found Luigi the very prince of guides. Putting our- selves under his care, we were soon landed, and after the usual formalities and extortions at the Custom-house, permitted to go to our hotel on the shore of the bay. Indeed, it seems to me that the Government officials at Naples have reached the very acme of cheating. One wants pay for lifting your trunk ; another for touching it ; another for looking at it ; and still another must be paid for letting it down. And then, 90 IMPRESSIONS A.B&OAD. hawing escaped these, you have to encounter a swarm of beggars in all stages of misery, and seemingly with every form of disease They abound everywhere in Naples, and are so active and pertinacious that it is almost impossible to escape them. A blind beggar, and a lame one, once ran a race with oar carriage, coming from Pompeii, and kept up with us for several blocks. The lame man came out Becond best. Begging is one of the aits of Naples, and is carried to a perfection of which we can have had no idea. It is a great relief to reach our hotel, and hear the bright waters of the Mediterranean murmur at <»ur feet their ceas . — music. Our first thought is of Pompeii and Hercu- laneum. and under the direction of Luigi. we on on our way thither. TTe pass through the crowded streets of Xaples, tilled with a busy bustling population : and what they have to be busy about no one can tell, for there is nothing to do. and yet they contrive to be merry in the midst of misery and want, and with no com- merce worth speaking of. manage to give their city the air of a modern metropolis of trade. A PLEASANT RIDE. 97 They are a nation of Mark Tapleys, and like that character in Dickens' novel, they are jolly under the worst of circumstances. Tapley was to have upon his tomb, " Here lies a man who would have come out strong, hut never had the oppor- tunity." The people of Naples have the oppor- tunity and they improve it ! We make our way out tli rough troops of lazzaroni and beggars ; amid donkeys and Neapolitan cabriolets ; past companies of soldiers ; processions of priests ; splendid churches and palaces ; squalid and wretched hovels ; lovely villas, surrounded by gardens laid out with exquisite taste ; long lines of high stone walls, through which may be occa- sionally seen the entrance to some fine mansion ; over a road of lava, the dust of which as it rises behind us is almost intolerable, — out to the beautiful coast of the bay. Before us Vesuvius, with its two peaks, rises to the height of four thousand feet. The road to Pompeii leads by the base of the mountain, through a succession of villages, which seem but a continuation of Naples. As we approach the modern town built over the ruins of Herculaneum, unmistakable 98 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. signs of the fearful ravages which the eruptions have made, appear in the immense beds of lava which in many places cover the earth to a great depth. From this point the crater of the vol- cano is visible, and as w r e look a river of molten lava is pouring forth and threatening to destroy the village at the foot of the mountain. Here, and at intervals along our road, are statues of priests and saints, their hands raised depre- catingly towards the dreaded volcano. On the 27th of August, A. D., 79, the first recorded eruption of Vesuvius took place. The first recorded eruption; for there must have been eruptions before that, the streets of Pom- peii being paved with blocks of lava, so ancient that they are worn in ruts by the carriage wheels, and may now be seen just as they were buried on that fatal day. The crater poured forth a flood of lava, which flowed over the city of Herculaneum, and buried it sud- denly and forever from sight. At the same time a cloud of water, pumice-stone and ashes arose from the volcano, and, floating over a dis- tance of eight miles, fell upon Pompeii, the POMPEII. 99 abode of wealth, luxury, taste and crime. Of the early history of this city little is known, although the discoveries which have been made in its exhumed portions tell too plainly of a state of morals which must have rivalled that of Sodom and Gomorrah, and sufficiently ex- plain why God should have, in this singular manner, blotted it from the world. In the year 1748, a peasant who lived above this city of the dead, determined to sink a well in his garden, and thus accidentally discovered a painted chamber, filled with statues and other objects of art. Since then the work of exhuma- tion has gone on at intervals, until about one- fourth of the city is uncovered. And here, let me remark, in order to correct an erroneous im- pression which I had before I saw Pompeii, and which others may have shared with me, that in visiting it, you do not go down into a cellar. The city was buried in ashes, and all that is re- quired is to cart them out, and the streets ap- pear just as they were eighteen centuries ago. Indeed the whole is so natural, and so like an inhabited city, that you feel as if you had no 100 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. right there, and that the inhabitants would re- turn in a few moments, and call you to an ac- count for your intrusion. With Herculaneum it is different. There you do go down into a cellar, and have to carry a lamp with you. That city was destroyed by lava, and it is a work of the greatest difficulty to cut away the solid rock. At Pompeii, even, the exhumation is not carried forward very rapidly, and it is thought that there are stores of wealth and curiosities yet to be discovered. When some great dignitary arrives at Naples, the King has a new house or two disinterred, and thus the work proceeds. About three miles of wall, of great solidity and strength, have been traced out. It is built of immense slabs of lava, laid up without cement, and having perfect joints, which are sometimes dovetailed together. This absence of cement is one of the characteristics of Italian architecture, the stones of some of the noblest and most splendid mansions, which have stood for ages, being thus laid up without it. My first visit was to the ancient amphi- AMPHITHEATRE. 101 theatre, which stands in the south-western angle of the city. It is built in the form of an ellipse, four hundred and thirty by three hundred and thirty-five feet. It could hold about ten thou- sand persons, and has eighty or ninety vomitories or entrances. It is said that, at the time of the eruption, this theatre was filled with a throng, who readily made their escape into the country. Retracing our steps, we stand within the streets of the city, which are usually narrow. They are paved with blocks of lava, which are every- where worn into deep ruts by the chariot wheels. The Russ pavement, so much talked about, was an old idea in Pompeii, as were also the raised stepping-stones, for the convenience of pedestrians wishing to cross the streets dur- ing a shower. Often there is a narrow foot- path of mosaic or stucco. As the ashes which buried Pompeii are re- moved, the ancient appearance of the city is at once restored, so that one feels that he is look- ing upon the same scenes from which the in- habitants fled in terror, nearly 1,800 years ago. The walls of many of the houses are nearly en- 102 IMPRESSIONS ABROAD. tire, showing every room and garden as they appeared when the city was destroyed. It is impossible to describe the emotions with which one passes through these silent and deserted streets, houses, and temples. The very man- ners and customs of the people may be distinct- ly read, and we seem to be introduced into their homes and see how they lived, and what were their pleasures and business. Here are streets of stores, in which merchants trafficked and grew rich. Here are wine- shops, the bottles still un- broken, the name of the owner over the door, the marble-topped tables (no new idea at our restaurants) at which his customers sat, and the very marks of the wine-glasses still upon them. Here are private houses with beautiful gardens and fountains, kitchens, dining-rooms, and sleep- ing-apartments. Here are floors of rich mosaic, as perfect as when it was first laid. Here are frescoes, and marble statuary, and exquisite carvings, showing a degree of art and skill un- surpassed at the present day. Here are the temples where the people worshipped, the idols to which they sacrificed, and the altars on which TRAGIC THEATRE. 103 they left their offerings. Often the name of the owner is upon his door-post, and we can see where Sallust lived, and where the wealthy Dio- mede and his family had their home and their graves. Immediately behind the barracks, which are tasteful and convenient accommodations for the soldiers of Pompeii, stands a Grand Tragic Thea- tre, built in a semi-circular form, upon the slope of a hill, open to the air, and facing the sea. Every part of it is lined with Parian marble, and although most of the decorations were re- moved, we can still form an idea of its ancient splendor. It could seat about 5,000 persons, and many of the seats still retain their numbers and divisions, showing that modern janitors and ushers have no new ideas in this respect. The ladies had seats separated from the rest of the audience, and (significant fact!) immediately be- hind them was the police officer. Most of the shops of Pompeii were of a single story, open to the street, and closed with a slid- ing shutter. In front was a counter of stone or brick, elevated by three steps, the better to 104 1MPEZ- 51 S A] AD. display the goods. Bakers' -hop- had - oven? at one end. Drinking saloons were com- mon. A goat indicated a milk- A picture of two men carrying a large bottle, - _ _ - where wine w - - Id. Two men righting was the sign of a gladiatorial school — unless they had primary elections in those days, and taught the ;. f g verning the people by rowdies and shoulder-hitter-. The BchooJ-maste] a gn was a man whipping a boy, v. 3 trussed up ujx»n another boy's back, shewing that for Young Poinpeii they had severer discipline than moral suasion. The dw .._-'. ses : Pompeii were m - upon <>r - that one is a tyr** of all. ex- cepting the additions which taste or wealth - ggest The ground-floor is the princi- pal part of the house, Y 11 enter through an ssum __ "-way into a hollow square, where areu- : untains, statuaiy. and Mosaic | inent- Aj und this court are the apartments of the family. There is the boudoir of the lady, the library of the husband, a cozy dining-room, anl there, under fanciful columns, where the D10MED. 105 vines crept upon trellis- work, is the table around which the family gathered to take their ease. That the Pompeians were fond of bathing, is evident from the fact that most perfect arrange- ments are everywhere met with for supplying the city with water. Splendid marble bath- tubs, vast bathing-houses, substantial aqueducts, pipes underlying the city, with faucets,