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St. Paul's Cathedral 
 
EUROPEAN DAYS 
 AND WAYS 
 
 JAMES F. RUSLING, A.M.,LL.D 
 
 Brigadier-General {by Brevet} United States Volunteers 
 
 Author of 
 
 "Across America," "Men and Things I saw in 
 
 Civil War Days," Etc." 
 
 % mWJ»rs4Z& 
 
 yy-ivi- 
 
 i-C^J 
 
 CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE 
 NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS 
 

 ' 
 
 THF LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 T\WQ COMfce RtCKIvED 
 
 NOV. ff 1902 
 
 OOPVRtaHT ENTRV 
 
 CLASSCX'XXr NO 
 
 VMrAV 
 COPY 6. 
 
RESPECTFULLY 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO ALL LOVERS OF TRAVEL 
 
 AT HOME AND 
 
 ABROAD 
 
PREFACE 
 
 F course, there are many Books of Travel, 
 and yet there seems room for this one 
 more. In 1899 I went abroad, with my 
 wife, son, and daughter. We landed at 
 Naples, and traveled thence through Italy, Switzer- 
 land, Austria, Germany, Holland, Belgium, France, 
 England, and Scotland. Before leaving home, after 
 much inquiry and searching many libraries, I could 
 find no single book covering our entire proposed route 
 and these several countries well, and have found none 
 since giving things as we saw them. Moreover, my 
 son had already been over twice, and so enabled us 
 to see, I think, at least twice as much as Americans 
 usually see, and to see things twice as well. Hence 
 this volume, which really seems needed by Americans 
 going abroad, and by others fond of European travel 
 by proxy. It is not a Guide-book, nor a "Sentimental 
 Journey," but a common-sense account of Europe 
 as it is. 
 
 It goes without saying, no two persons see the 
 same things when abroad, nor see the same things 
 
 7 
 
PrGfflGG in the same way. Their opportunities are different, 
 and their view-points different, and so, of course, their 
 impressions will be different. But I have endeavored 
 faithfully to report what we saw and experienced, and 
 this volume is the result. In the hope that it may 
 prove not altogether uninteresting to the reader, but 
 may lighten some dull day or cheer some passing 
 hour, it is now sent forth. 
 
 J. F. R. 
 Trenton, N. J., 1902. 
 
 For he who knows a book to read 
 May travel lightly without steed 
 
 And find sweet comfort on the road. 
 He shall forget the rugged way, 
 Nor sigh for kindly company, 
 
 Nor faint beneath his load. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. Our Voyage Over — The Azores, Gibraltar, Etc., - 13 
 
 II. Southern Italy, Naples, the Neapolitans, Etc., - 32 
 
 III. Southern Italy, Castellamare, Pompeii, Sorrento, 
 
 Amalfi, Salerno, Etc., 44 
 
 IV. Rome, ----- 64 
 
 V. Perugia, Valley of the Tiber, Apennines, Etc., - - 84 
 
 VI. Florence, - - - 91 
 
 VII. Pisa, ----- 104 
 
 VIII. Genoa, - 113 
 
 IX. Lombardy, Verona, Etc., - - - - - - 123 
 
 X. Venice, ---------- 132 
 
 XI. Milan, 149 
 
 XII. Lakes Como, Lecco, Lugano, Etc., - 160 
 
 XIII. St. Gothard, Lake Lucerne, Lucerne, Etc., - - 166 
 
 XIV. Interlaken, The Jungfrau, Murren, Scheidegg, Etc., 176 
 XV. Berne, Zurich, Lake Constance, Etc., - - - - 188 
 
Contents CHAPTER Page 
 
 XVI. Lindau, The Tyrol, Innsbruck, Etc., - - - 197 
 
 XVII. Munich, - - - - - - - - - 204 
 
 XVIII. Nuremberg, - - - - - - - - - 212 
 
 XIX. Heidelberg, Frankfort, Etc., - 221 
 
 XX. Down the Rhine, - 233 
 
 XXI. Holland, Utrecht, Amsterdam, Etc., - - - 245 
 
 XXII. The Hague, Leyden, Etc., ------ 256 
 
 XXIII. Belgium, Brussels, Etc., 266 
 
 XXIV. Waterloo, - - - 280 
 
 XXV. France, Paris, Etc., .-.-.. 306 
 
 XXVI. England — her Cathedrals, Scotland, Edinburgh, 
 
 Etc., 326 
 
 XXVII. England, Winterton, Epworth, Kin-Beyond-Sea, 
 
 Etc., 34! 
 
 XXVIII. England, Peterborough, Leamington, Warwick, 
 
 Stratford, Oxford, Etc., ----- 348 
 
 XXIX. London, --------- 359 
 
 XXX. Windsor, Canterbury, England, Etc., - - - 375 
 
 XXXI. England in General, 388 
 
 XXXII. Homeward Bound, 404 
 
 IO 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Page 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, ------- Frontispiece 
 
 Steerage Passengers, - 17 
 
 The Azores, - 2I 
 
 Gibraltar, 25 
 
 Strada, S. Lucia, Naples, -------- 39 
 
 Pompeii, Vesuvius in the Background, 47 
 
 Pompeii WagonRuts, 2,000 Years Old, - 49 
 
 Hotel Victoria, Sorrento, -------- 55 
 
 On the Road, Sorrento to Amalfi, - 58 
 
 Hotel Cappuccini, Amalfi, -------- 59 
 
 Positano, Gulf of Salerno, - 61 
 
 Rome from the Dome of St. Peter's, ------ 67 
 
 The Forum, Rome, ---------- 73 
 
 Rapid Transit, Perugia, 86 
 
 Ponte Vecchio, Florence, -------- IO i 
 
 Washing in the Arno, Florence, ------- 102 
 
 The Leaning Tower, Pisa, - - - 108 
 
 Between Pisa and Genoa, - 114 
 
 The Palms, Genoa, ---------- n8 
 
 The Church of St. Anthony, Padua, ...... 12 g 
 
 Market Square, Padua, - - - - - - - - 130 
 
 A Water Street, Padua, --------- 13! 
 
 Grand Canal and del Salute, Venice, ----- ^5 
 
 St. Mark, Venice. Feeding the Pigeons, ----- 140 
 
 S. Giorgio from the Top of Campanile, ----- ^ 
 
 A Typical Bridge, Venice, --------- 144 
 
 Duomo, Milan, 151 
 
 Lake Como, Bellagio, 161 
 
 Lake Como, from Mountain above Menaggio, ----- 162 
 
 Monte Resegone, Lecco, - - - - - - - - - 163 
 
 Washerwomen, Lake Lecco, - 164 
 
 Lake Lucerne, from Rigi, - - - - - - - - 168 
 
 II 
 
Page 
 
 LiSt Of M ° NCH AND ElGER, ElGER GLACIER, 169 
 
 Illustrations ^ uCERNE - ------------ m 
 
 "Working Like a Dog," Interlaken, - 177 
 
 Avalanche, Jungfrau. First Stage, 179 
 
 Avalanche, Jungfrau. Second Stage, - . - 181 
 
 On the Eiger Glacier, --------- iS 2 
 
 Swiss Chalets, Murren, - - - - - - - - 184 
 
 Berne, ^9 
 
 Ogre Fountain, Berne, - 190 
 
 Clock Tower, Berne, 191 
 
 The Rathhaus, Ltndau, -------- I9 8 
 
 In the Tyrol, Snapshot, - - 200 
 
 Market Square, Nuremberg, ------- 214 
 
 Woman's Rights, Nuremberg, 219 
 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main, - - 229 
 
 Main Street, Marken, - 253 
 
 Women Carrying Hay, Marken, 254 
 
 Natives, Marken, ---------- 255 
 
 Hotel de Ville, Brussels, 271 
 
 Place de La Concorde, Paris, - - 312 
 
 Paris, The Seine, etc., --------- 313 
 
 Versailles, ----- - 315 
 
 Fountain and Gardens, Versailles, 316 
 
 Lincoln Cathedral, - - - 330 
 
 York Minster, - - 331 
 
 The Nave, Durham Cathedral, - 334 
 
 Old English Inn, near Warwick, ------ 330 
 
 Magdalen College, Oxford, - - - - - - - - 355 
 
 The Strand, London, --------- 363 
 
 Houses of Parliament, Westminster, ------ 364 
 
 The Royal Exchange and The Bank of England, - - 365 
 
 Westminster Abbey, - 370 
 
 The Thames, Richmond Bridge, ------- 373 
 
 St. George's Chapel, Windsor, 377 
 
 Canterbury Cathedral, - - 381 
 
 A Big Wave, A Snapshot, - 406 
 
 Welcome Home, 410 
 
 12 
 
Chapter I 
 
 ND so at last we were going abroad. It What Route 
 had been my eager desire since my college 
 days. But somehow something always in- 
 tervened — business, illness, the war, or 
 otherwise — until it seemed we never would get off. 
 But now, in 1899, we decided to go anyhow — partly 
 for rest, partly for pleasure — and so on May 27th we 
 sailed from New York. 
 
 Our first thought had been to make a short trip, 
 and go only to England, Scotland, France, and Switzer- 
 land; but afterwards we decided to take in Italy, Aus- 
 tria, Germany, Holland, and Belgium also. How 
 should we go? If to England first, and then down 
 to Italy, we would have to pass over the same route 
 twice, in whole or part, and take the chances of hot 
 weather in Italy. But if to Italy first, we could then 
 come north with the summer, and keep always in "fresh 
 woods and pastures new." We weighed both routes 
 well, but finally decided to go via the Mediterranean 
 and land at Naples. 
 
 Our next question was, by what line should we 
 go — by swift or slow steamers? The one would take 
 five and a half or six days; the other ten or twelve 
 days. As we were in no hurry, and wanted the sea 
 voyage anyhow, we decided for the slow steamers, 
 
 13 
 
European and were never sorry we did so. They go plenty fast 
 
 Days and enough — about four hundred miles a day. They are 
 
 Ways more easy and steady in heavy seas, not being ''rushed'' 
 
 so much. And for comfort, enjoyment, and safety, I 
 
 think they are much to be preferred. 
 
 And so we sailed May 27th, as I have said, on the 
 good steamer Aller, of the North German Lyloyd Line. 
 We left the pier at Hoboken soon after 11 A. M., with 
 farewells to the friends who had come to see us off, 
 and passing New York and Staten Island (they never 
 seemed more lovely) were off Sandy Hook by 12.30 
 P. M. Here we struck straight out to sea, and were 
 soon out of sight of land. It was an ideal day, with 
 May still lingering in the lap of spring, and the ocean 
 swells were just enough to remind us that we were 
 venturing into the realm of Father Neptune. A little 
 land-bird flew aboard and hopped cheerily about the 
 deck for a while, but presently stretched his wings and 
 departed for Ocean Grove and Asbury Park. It was 
 a little incident, but we accepted it as a good omen, 
 and bade him God-speed back to America. 
 
 We found the Aller large and roomy, and every- 
 thing that could be desired. Her staterooms were 
 clean and sweet; her cabin spacious, if not palatial; her 
 table profuse and excellent. We had only ninety cabin 
 passengers on board, though she had a capacity for 
 about three hundred. We had several hundred steerage 
 passengers besides, chiefly Italians tired of America and 
 returning to sunny Italy. Many, however, were only 
 going over for a visit, and expected soon to return 
 here again. Our cabin passengers were chiefly Ameri- 
 cans bound for Italy and the usual European tour, 
 
 14 
 
though two or three were going on to Turkey, Russia, Passengers 
 and the Caucasus. They were mainly from Massa- 
 chusetts, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, 
 and Illinois. But we had one from Mexico, and a 
 newly-married couple from Australia. The Mexican 
 was a German, who had gone to Mexico in the days 
 of Santa Ana, and had served under Juarez against 
 Maximilian, and was now a prosperous coffee planter 
 and warm friend of President Diaz. He had two 
 sons — one a coffee planter, the other a mine-owner — 
 and he was never weary of praising Mexico and the 
 Mexicans. He declared Mexico was the best country 
 and the finest climate in the world, and her govern- 
 ment in some respects superior to the United States. 
 But he liked Americans, too, and was only sorry more 
 of them did not come down to the land of the Monte- 
 zumas. He was on his way to Italy and Switzerland, 
 where he always spent his summers, returning home 
 in the autumn via Germany and England. The Aus- 
 tralians were art students en route to Rome and Flor- 
 ence, to study music and painting. We had also an 
 Italian opera-singer or two, returning for rest and re- 
 freshment, and expecting to revisit America again the 
 following winter. 
 
 Our New Englanders were largely a "personally 
 conducted party," chiefly from Boston and near-by 
 places — schoolteachers, business men, etc. — and flocked 
 much together, of course. We had also two young 
 collegians from New York, just fresh from grad- 
 uation, and still frolicsome as colts; also a bevy of 
 young ladies from there, who kept the ship from get- 
 ting dull. Also grave physicians, anxious bankers, 
 
 15 
 
European and hard-worked lawyers, from New York, Newark, 
 Days and Philadelphia, and other cities, and matronly ladies, the 
 Ways wives or friends of these. The Westerners were breezy 
 and affable, as usual. We had also two or three Roman 
 Catholic clergymen; but these kept much to them- 
 selves, though not averse to a talk or smoke when 
 duly approached. One was from Washington, D. C, 
 a scholarly and modern man, on his way to the "Eternal 
 City" to see things for himself. He was as full of ro- 
 mance and enthusiasm about Rome as Luther when 
 he first journeyed there. I wonder whether he got 
 his "eyes open," like Luther also? Or did they be- 
 come more than ever hermetically sealed? We were 
 two Sundays on the ocean before we reached Naples,, 
 but were favored with no religious services of any kind 
 by anybody. 
 
 Our good ship Alter, as I have said, belonged to 
 the North German Lloyd Line, and was a good illus- 
 tration of German enterprise and skill. She was ad- 
 mirably built and equipped, and had been a first-class 
 liner in her day, though no longer new. But she was 
 large and roomy, with great steadiness and fine sea- 
 going qualities, and has but few superiors afloat. She 
 was 455 feet in length, of 5,217 tons burden, of 7,500 
 horse-power, and could easily make four hundred miles 
 a day, and keep it up. Her decks furnished an ex- 
 cellent promenade, and we took daily walks here at 
 all hours, but especially mornings and evenings. She 
 was really a floating hotel more than a ship, with hot 
 and cold water everywhere, salt-water baths, electric 
 lights and bells, etc., and everything that could rea- 
 sonably be desired. Here are a few of her staple equip- 
 
 16 
 
ments: About 35,000 yards of carpet, 12,000 napkins, Furnishings 
 10,000 towels, 7,000 sheets, 6,000 plates, 3,000 knives 
 and forks, 3,000 spoons, 2,000 tumblers, 1,000 napkin- 
 rings, 1,000 cups and saucers, 1,000 counterpanes, 1,000 
 pillows, 500 mattresses, 500 finger-bowls, and 500 salt- 
 cellars. Besides these she had a cold-storage room, 
 a butcher-shop, a bakery, an apothecary-shop, a hos- 
 pital, a printing-office, and an elaborate kitchen, with 
 supplies of all kinds to last both ways — including 
 American ice- 
 cream — this for 
 her cabin passen- 
 gers alone. And 
 then there were 
 her steerage pas- 
 sengers and crew 
 besides. 
 
 This was only 
 one of the many 
 steamers of this 
 great steamship 
 
 line. Its headquarters are at Bremen, Germany, and Steerage 
 from there it runs lines to New York, Baltimore, Gal- 
 veston, Brazil, Argentina, the Mediterranean, India, 
 Japan, Australia, and about all over the globe. It was 
 organized in 1857, with only $3,000,000 capital; but 
 now has a capital of $20,000,000. It began business 
 with only one steamer, but now has a fleet of nearly 
 one hundred, with as many more lighters, with a total 
 tonnage of over 30,000. Its total crews comprise nearly 
 six thousand officers and men, mostly first-class, all 
 on a common roster, like the navy, and promoted from 
 2 17 
 
 Passengers 
 
European ship to ship, as vacancies occur. The order and dis- 
 Days and cipline of the Alter were superb; every man knew his 
 Ways place, and kept it; every one his duty, and did it. All 
 this speaks well for the German marine, and a German 
 navy will follow as a matter of course — "first the blade, 
 then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear." Her 
 marine will be only the nursery of her navy, and all 
 the world may as well take warning. The German 
 emperor evidently "means business;" but I think John 
 Bull and Brother Jonathan will know how to care for 
 themselves. 
 
 One day a little party of us descended into the en- 
 gine-room of the Alter, and explored the bowels of 
 the great ship from stem to stern. It was hot and slip- 
 pery, with grime and grease everywhere; but we saw 
 a good deal that was interesting and instructive, and 
 learned more about the practical workings of an ocean 
 steamer than otherwise obtainable. The firemen, at 
 work before the roaring furnaces, were stripped to 
 the waist, with the perspiration streaming from their 
 faces and bodies. The throb of the engines was like 
 the beating of one's heart. And the long shaft lead- 
 ing to the screw, as thick as one's body — upon whose 
 strength and solidity the very life and speed of the 
 vessel depended — worked away as smoothly and reg- 
 ularly as a bicycle or a sewing-machine. 
 
 The second day out we struck the Gulf Stream, 
 and for two or three days the weather was warm and 
 muggy, with dashes of rain. But after that we had 
 mostly ideal weather, with the sea like a mill-pond, 
 and the sky serenely blue by day and ablaze with stars 
 by night. We saw schools of porpoises racing with 
 
 1 8 
 
the ship, and flying-fishes every day, but only a soli- On the Sea 
 tary whale, and he so far away we were not sure it 
 was a whale. We met very few vessels, scarcely any 
 until we passed the Azores; but from there to Italy 
 had sight of one or more every day. It was a long 
 sail from New York to the Azores — nearly a week — 
 and the ocean seemed daily more vast and illimitable, 
 if possible. No wonder the poets speak of it as "the 
 image of Eternity!" On land you have always some- 
 thing to go by, and to measure with — such as houses, 
 fields, forests, mountains, etc; but at sea you are only 
 a speck among boundless and trackless waters — vast, 
 illimitable, sublime — with the sun mocking at you by 
 day and the moon and stars by night, and a man never 
 seems so infantile and helpless. In this six days' voy- 
 age we sighted only two or three vessels— far distant 
 as a rule — and what would have happened in case of 
 a fire or accident, we did not care to think much about. 
 Few of our passengers were seasick, the ocean was so 
 smooth, and all soon got their "sea-legs" on, and 
 walked the decks constantly, or reclined in their steamer 
 chairs wrapped in their rugs and shawls. It was not 
 cold, but often breezy and damp, and the sea-air 
 usually necessitated an extra coat or wrap. Our fel- 
 low-passengers, as a whole, were social and agreeable, — 
 chatty, well-mannered, well-conducted, and far less 
 addicted to card-playing and wine-drinking than we 
 anticipated. Nearly everybody smoked, but there was 
 no drunkenness, and little gambling or profanity. The 
 chief occupation was talking and reading, sleeping and 
 writing diaries. I slept much the entire voyage, but 
 especially the first week. I had been very busy for 
 
 19 
 
European several weeks before leaving home, and needed rest, 
 Days and and now got more solid sleep to the square inch than 
 Ways ever before in my life. My physicians had often pre- 
 scribed an ocean-voyage as a means of rest and recrea- 
 tion (re-creation, in the true sense of that word), and 
 now I took their prescription to the full. We had 
 three full meals a day — breakfast, 8 A. M.; lunch, i 
 P. M. ; dinner, 7 P. M. — with refreshments on deck 
 between meals, and, as a rule, all ate heartily. Our 
 meats and fowls were excellent — kept in cold storage. 
 Our fruits — apples, cherries, oranges, bananas, grapes, 
 etc. — kept in the same way, and fresh as in New York 
 or Naples. May 30th was "Decoration-day," and our 
 ladies suddenly blossomed out in Red, White, and 
 Blue, with miniature American flags everywhere. The 
 ship's band at dinner gave us all the American airs, 
 winding up with "America" and the "Star-spangled 
 Banner," and all responded with hearty applause. We 
 had no speeches, as we ought to have had. But we 
 were just out of the Gulf Stream. 
 
 We struck the Azores, June 1st, late in the after- 
 noon, and encountered a large three-masted schooner 
 well in shore. Flores and Corvo were the first in sight, 
 and we welcomed their green fields and fleecy water- 
 falls. We did not stop, but could see the scattered farm- 
 houses and distant villages as we skirted by, with the 
 surf breaking on the rocky cliffs. It soon grew dark, 
 and then we could only catch the lights twinkling here 
 and there on land. The next morning, before sunrise, 
 we sighted Pico, a magnificent conelike peak, shoot- 
 ing up over seven thousand feet, as if out of the very 
 sea, and the sun came up out of the ocean like a ball of 
 
 20 
 
fire while I was gazing through my porthole at the The Azores 
 glorious little island. From thence on until well into 
 the afternoon the Azores were all about us, and land 
 never seemed more beautiful. There are nine of these 
 islands — San Miguel, Santa Maria, Terceira, San Jorge, 
 Pico, Fayal, Graciosa, Flores, and Corvo — with an 
 area of about seven hundred square miles, and a total 
 population of about two hundred and sixty thousand. 
 The Carthaginians seem to have been here once, and 
 then the Azores 
 were lost sight of, 
 and not rediscov- 
 ered until 1432, 
 or thereabouts, by 
 Cabral, a Port- 
 uguese navigator. 
 Portugal in those 
 days was a great 
 power, and the 
 Portuguese a live 
 people. The 
 Azores still belong to Portugal, and the population The Azores 
 is mostly Portuguese, with a considerable influx of 
 Flemish blood, which took place in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, when Spain was harrying the Netherlands, and 
 it is still apparent here. The climate is mild and 
 equable, the thermometer seldom rising above seventy- 
 five degrees or sinking below fifty degrees; and hence 
 Fayal, San Miguel, etc., are great health-resorts. I 
 think I would like to spend a winter here, and get 
 away from the dreadful cold and fog and snows of New 
 Jersey in January, February, and March, usually so 
 
 21 
 
European trying to one's health and temper. The islands are 
 Days and all of volcanic origin, and their soil astonishingly fer- 
 WayS tile — producing oranges, lemons, pine-apples, and other 
 tropical fruits in great abundance. Many of the orange- 
 trees are two and three hundred years old, and still 
 in full bearing and beauty. They blossom from January 
 to March, when the air is loaded with their delicious 
 perfume, which is often wafted out to sea to passing 
 vessels. The largest town is Punta Delgada, a place 
 of twenty thousand inhabitants, and quite a winter re- 
 sort. We did not stop at any of the Azores, but slowed 
 up off Punta Delgada, and threw a package of news- 
 papers and letters in oilskin overboard, as mail for the 
 German consul there, and which his rowboat, manned 
 by two ragged and picturesque Portuguese, hastened 
 to pick up and carry ashore. Our captain invited many 
 of us up on the "bridge," and from this greater eleva- 
 tion we had charming views of the town and surround- 
 ing country. The islands seemed to be well cultivated 
 and fairly inhabited, with stately churches gleaming 
 here and there; but the. roads were only donkey-trails, 
 "over the hills and far away." Fishing-boats were 
 numerous, and evidently the inhabitants cultivate the 
 sea quite as much as the land. 
 
 We were here on the track of Columbus, and had 
 been for several days, sailing over his original course, 
 when he discovered America. 
 
 " Behind him lay the gray Azores, 
 Behind the gates of Hercules ; 
 Before him only ghosts of shores, 
 Before him only shoreless seas." 
 
 22 
 
But he stuck to his job, in spite of all obstacles Spanish 
 and opposition, and so won at last, all honor to his COflSt 
 heroic soul! Here, indeed, were the "gray Azores," 
 gray and spectral, in truth, in the morning mists, but 
 sparkling like diamonds at midday, and seeming like 
 bits of Paradise or real Gardens of the Hesperides after 
 our long sea voyage from New York. In 1493, re- 
 turning from his first voyage of discovery, in the little 
 Nina, Columbus was overtaken by a terrible storm in 
 mid ocean, and he and his crew made a vow to the 
 Holy Virgin, that if saved, on reaching land they would 
 walk bareheaded and barefooted, and with no clothes 
 on save their shirts, to the nearest shrine, and offer 
 thanksgiving. The storm abated, and they landed on 
 Santa Maria, and proceeded to fulfill their vow; but the 
 governor, one Don Joao de Castanheda — doubtless a 
 hard-headed old soldier, and with little respect for saints 
 and vows — ordered them all arrested as scandalizing 
 pirates, and only released them when Columbus sub- 
 sequently produced his great commission from the King 
 of Spain. This was February, 1493, and in June, 1899, 
 four hundred and six years afterwards, we passed the 
 same spot, but without any such pious pilgrimage or 
 possibility of arrest. 
 
 Two days afterwards we sighted the coast of Spain 
 (June 4th), and soon were off Capes St. Vincent and 
 Trafalgar, where, a century ago nearly, Lord Nelson 
 won his great victory over the combined French and 
 Spanish fleets, and broke the sea-power of Napoleon 
 forever. It was a rude awakening for the great Cor- 
 sican, as he counted on victory there; but English grit 
 and skill were too much for him, and Trafalgar sounded 
 
 23 
 
European the knell of his power on sea, as Waterloo soon did of 
 Days and his power on land. Had he won at Trafalgar, there 
 Ways likely would have been no Waterloo, and the face of 
 the world would have been greatly changed. But 
 Horatio Nelson was too much for Villeneuve, and it 
 is no wonder the French admiral blew out his brains; 
 and he was a brave and capable officer, too. We re- 
 called Nelson's great battle-signal, "England expects 
 every man to do his duty." And they did it, too, and 
 made the names of Nelson and Trafalgar memorable 
 in history forever. 
 
 Here we encountered steamers and sailing vessels 
 again, as off Sandy Hook; and gulls, wild ducks, and 
 porpoises became much in evidence. On shore there 
 were lighthouses and cable-stations, and soon signal- 
 flags were flying, announcing the Alters safe arrival 
 thus far. The waves broke everywhere apparently 
 against a bluff and rocky coast, and the country inland, 
 as a whole, seemed barren and sterile. A range of 
 mountains loomed along the horizon, but they were 
 brown and treeless. 
 
 That night we passed the Straits of Gibraltar, and 
 the next morning early (June 5th) anchored off the 
 celebrated rock. We had coffee at 5 A. M., and at 
 6 A. M. a little steam tug or lighter took everybody 
 ashore who wanted to go. Some did not care to do so, 
 as they had been there before. But nearly all were 
 glad to touch terra firma again. Soon we were ashore, 
 and walking along the great mole and narrow streets, 
 or climbing up the great rock. Of course, soldiers 
 and military works are everywhere; but Gibraltar strikes 
 you first as truly a cosmopolitan and polyglot place. 
 
 24 
 
The town itself contains about twenty thousand popu- Gibraltar 
 lation; but English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italians, 
 Arabs, Moors, Jews, all abound — each with their na- 
 tive tongue and in their national costumes — and the 
 confusion and babel are picturesque and charming to 
 the passing American. Here were Greeks, in their 
 showy dress, with antiquities from Athens; Moors, in 
 their flowing robes, with knives and curios from Tunis 
 and Morocco; Spaniards, with grapes, and cherries, and 
 exquisite oranges 
 and lemons; but 
 not a single 
 Negro, which 
 seemed extraor- 
 dinary, Africa be- 
 ing so near. 
 
 We took a car- 
 riage, of course, 
 and drove through 
 the city, and along 
 the water-batter- 
 ies, and through the Alameda, and out to Point Europa, Gibraltar 
 and across the Neutral Ground (between England 
 and Spain), and then ascended to the rock galleries 
 and batteries, and indeed saw everything possible or 
 permissible. The whole place is simply a gigantic rock, 
 a quarter of a mile high and seven miles around, on 
 the extreme end of the Spanish Peninsula, dominating 
 the Straits of Gibraltar, and well called the "Key of 
 the Mediterranean." No wonder Spain craves it and 
 England holds it ! Besides the immense batteries along 
 the water front and sides, there are vast tunnels or 
 
 25 
 
European galleries through the rock itself, on different levels, 
 Days and with portholes and cannon every few yards — over three 
 Ways miles in all — and, first and last, over a thousand pieces 
 of artillery are mounted here. A garrison of several 
 thousand soldiers have their barracks and quarters near 
 the top of the rock, and supplies of all kinds, enough 
 to last for several years, are kept constantly in store. 
 The town is mostly along the water, but essays to 
 climb the mountain also. Its streets are few and nar- 
 row, chiefly only ten or twelve feet wide, with foot- 
 walks two or three feet or more; and these zigzag up 
 and down the mountain everywhere, but are well-paved 
 and clean, and a delight to an American. The houses 
 are of rough stone, or of cement and stucco, and gen- 
 erally are of white or cream color, though some are 
 blue and red from Venice or the Orient. Many are 
 built around little courts or gardens in the old Moorish 
 style, and all seemed densely peopled. Children and 
 goats swarmed everywhere, and everybody seemed in- 
 dustrious and contented. I did not see a frame build- 
 ing in the town; all were of stone or cement. I noticed 
 an English church, a Roman Catholic church, a Wes- 
 leyan (or Methodist) church, a Young Men's Chris- 
 tian Association building, and several public schools, 
 all of which seemed well attended. There was an ex- 
 cellent public market near our landing place, clean and 
 well kept and supervised. Fruit-stands and wine-shops 
 also abounded everywhere; but we saw no drunken- 
 ness or disorder, nor much real poverty. 
 
 There was a general absence of trees and soil, 
 Gibraltar being mainly a sheer and naked rock over 
 
 26 
 
thirteen hundred feet high. But the inhabitants make Gibraltar 
 up for this by planting trees and shrubs and vines in 
 the crevices of the rock, and in barrels and boxes; and 
 Spanish chestnuts, English locusts, Italian pines, 
 oranges, lemons, roses, geraniums, hollyhocks, palms, 
 daisies, and morning-glories grow everywhere, all the 
 year round. The general flora did not seem much 
 different from what we have in New York and New 
 Jersey in summer time; but here everything was on 
 a larger scale, and more luxuriant, as if growing per- 
 ennially. I never saw such big geraniums and mag- 
 nificent morning-glories, and the mere recollection of 
 them is an abiding delight. 
 
 We saw no apes or monkeys, though formerly 
 abounding at Gibraltar. They were said to breed in the 
 rocks and cliffs, and to appear and disappear period- 
 ically; but none were now visible. We were shown an 
 old and dilapidated tree, called the "Ape-tree," in the 
 Alameda, or public gardens, which monkeys were said 
 formerly to frequent; but it bore no such fruit when 
 we were there, and had not done so recently. What 
 had become of the simians no one seemed to know, 
 but at all events there were none there. The old tradi- 
 tion of their crossing from Africa under the straits by 
 an underground passage (they are of an African breed) 
 is evidently a myth, and such a transit clearly an im- 
 possibility. The straits are from ten to fifteen miles 
 wide at the narrowest place, and, if there was such an 
 underground passage, how could the apes and monkeys 
 travel it in pitch darkness and mud and water? The 
 Rock of Gibraltar itself abounds in natural caves and 
 
 27 
 
European caverns of unknown depth, never yet explored, as said, 
 Days and and the scenes of many a Moorish and Spanish tragedy. 
 Ways Doubtless the English do not care to have them known, 
 but prefer to keep the Rock as mysterious and awe- 
 inspiring as possible. 
 
 We saw several Spaniards with a herd of a dozen 
 or so goats each, driving from house to house and 
 milking them as wanted, selling milk pure and fresh 
 from the fountain. Also another, with four handsome 
 "Jersey" cows, doing the same thing. We did not see 
 a milk-wagon or a milk-store in the whole place, and 
 doubt if there is one. It is Spanish and Mediterranean 
 generally to deliver milk only as above. And, it must 
 be confessed, the plan has its advantages. No chance 
 for the milkman to use the pump as his best cow ! 
 
 The fine harbor, one of the best on the Mediter- 
 ranean, was thronged with vessels arriving and depart- 
 ing. English, German, Spanish, Italian, and other 
 liners halted while we were there — English for Egypt 
 and India, German for North America and Australia, 
 Italian for South America. Gibraltar is indeed a busy 
 place, and abounding with interest. A great dock- 
 yard and naval station are maintained here, as well 
 as the gigantic and impressive fortress; and England 
 clearly means Gibraltar shall defy the world. It cer- 
 tainly seems well able to do this. We saw her garri- 
 son on drill, a fine body of well-set-up officers and sol- 
 diers; and evidently they will give a good account of 
 themselves, if ever called upon to do so. 
 
 It is an old, old place. The Romans were here 
 once, and the Carthaginians and Phoenicians before 
 
 28 
 
them. Then came the Moors — and there is an old Gibraltar 
 Moorish tower and wall here still. Then came the 
 Spaniards. But in 1704 Great Britian wrested it from 
 Spain and has held it ever since, though Spain has often 
 tried to recover it. In 1782, after Burgoyne's surrender, 
 in the midst of our American Revolution, when things 
 looked black for England, Spain made a supreme effort, 
 aided also by France; but England proved too much 
 for them both. How it stirs one's blood even to read 
 about it! Spain and France sent two great fleets 
 and forty thousand men — soldiers and sailors together 
 — against Gibraltar, and the old rock seemed indeed 
 doomed. But General George Elliott was there, with 
 only 7,500 Englishmen, and he held on with a heroism 
 and courage worthy of the best traditions of the British 
 race. Two princes of France presided over the siege, 
 and nothing was left undone to capture the place. 
 They besieged it closely for over three years and a half, 
 with land batteries and water batteries raining shot 
 and shell by day and by night. Elliott's supplies ran 
 short; he had not expected such a prolonged siege, 
 nor anybody else. England failed to re-enforce him 
 promptly, and famine and disease also joined force with 
 the besiegers, and finally mutiny and insubordination 
 temporarily also. But Elliott held grimly out, with the 
 tenacity of a bulldog, with the courage of Grant and 
 the genius of Dewey, and so saved Gibraltar to Eng- 
 land and to Anglo-Saxon civilization at last. It was 
 a great achievement, nobly and heroically done, and 
 worthy of Gibraltar. Ever since, Gibraltar has been 
 the "Key of the Mediterranean," never more so than 
 
 29 
 
European now, and to-day is England's first step on her great 
 Days and highway to India and China, and so well safeguards 
 Ways her "morning drumbeat" and march around the world. 
 Of course, it .goes without saying, England duly 
 knighted the gallant Elliott, and to-day the stately 
 statue of "Sir George Elliott" stands in the Alameda 
 as a memorial forever, one of the royal family being 
 sent from England to help dedicate it. All honor to 
 the British Government and people! 
 
 From Gibraltar we passed on up the Mediterranean, 
 often in sight of the coast of Spain or France, with 
 their magnificent mountains looming along the horizon, 
 and, skirting Sardinia, reached the Bay of Naples about 
 midnight, June 7th. This whole Mediterranean voyage 
 was hot and muggy, with showers threatening every 
 day, but none coming. The sea was intensely blue 
 by day, and the sky superb with stars by night. The 
 sunsets were surprisingly beautiful. But the days were 
 long and the nights tedious, and we were all glad when 
 the last night came, with its customary ball on deck, 
 with the German and American flags everywhere inter- 
 twined, and the band playing American airs. Soon 
 after midnight we caught sight of the lights along shore 
 at Naples, and presently dropped anchor. But we did 
 not disembark until after breakfast next morning. And 
 so ended our voyage over — 4,224 miles from New 
 York — without a mishap, thanks to Captain Peterman 
 and his excellent officers and crew. It had taken us 
 twelve days nearly, including our stops at Gibraltar — 
 about a day beyond our schedule time. 
 
 Of course, we had to pass the ordeal of the Naples 
 
 3o 
 
custom-house. But this was soon over, only one of our At Naples 
 several pieces of baggage being even looked into; and 
 we did not have to "tip" the customs inspectors, either. 
 My son's previous European trips and knowledge of 
 Italian and Italian ways helped to speed things here. 
 Then we called a Neapolitan cab, and drove to the 
 Hotel Vesuve, on the Via Partenope, and were in Italy 
 at last. 
 
 31 
 
Chapter II 
 
 
 E found the Hotel Vesuve clean and invit- 
 ing. It is six stories high, on the corner 
 of two nice streets, and with a fine outlook 
 to Mount Vesuvius across the bay. The 
 broad Via Partenope, a new and handsome street, ex- 
 tends along its front and skirts the bay and harbor. 
 The hotel itself is modern, and its decorations purely 
 Pompeian. How simple and beautiful these are, both 
 in drawing and coloring, was a surprise and delight. 
 And then there are old Pompeian bronzes, marbles, 
 and other antiquities besides, scattered about the hotel. 
 It has an elevator — or "lift," as called everywhere 
 abroad — baths, electric lights and bells, and most 
 modern improvements. Its table was good, and the 
 water pure and delicious. 
 
 Having secured our rooms and unpacked some- 
 what, we started out to see Naples. As a preliminary 
 view we decided to take a street-car, trolley-car, and 
 omnibus ride, that together would take us much 
 around the city. As a rule, there is no better way in 
 a new place, as you thus get a general view quickly, 
 and then can go to special points afterwards on foot 
 or by carriage. We went first up the Via Partenope, 
 by the Villa Nazionale, to the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, 
 and, ascending this, wound along the heights of St. 
 
 32 
 
Elmo overlooking the city and bay, and so down to Naples 
 the National Museum, and then by the Via Roma and 
 Toledo back to our hotel again. Afterwards we took 
 our time to it, and saw Naples more at leisure, on that 
 and subsequent days there. 
 
 The first thing that strikes you is, that Naples is 
 an old place and a good deal of a city. The bay and 
 harbor are magnificent, and renowned from antiquity. 
 The Greeks, Romans, Goths, Byzantines, Germans, 
 Spaniards, and French have all been here, and all left 
 their marks on the place. It is the metropolis of South- 
 ern Italy, with over five hundred thousand population 
 and a garrison of ten thousand soldiers, and is a busy 
 and growing city. It absorbs the trade and commerce 
 of all that region, and reaches out to France, Spain, 
 Tunis, and Mediterranean countries generally. It also 
 has steamship lines to England, North America, and 
 South America, and with all its historic past believes 
 in itself and its future. It is widening and extending 
 its streets, and building new and handsome suburbs, 
 and is unquestionably the New York of Italy, and 
 destined to continue so. 
 
 Naples is situated mostly on a mountain side, rising 
 up abruptly from the sea, and extending, with its 
 suburbs, from Mount Vesuvius on the east around to 
 Pozzuoli on the west. Indeed, as a whole, nothing 
 could be more picturesque and enchanting. Its new 
 streets are broad and imposing, but its old ones zig- 
 zag everywhere along and up the mountain, often as 
 broad steps or stairways only, eight or ten feet wide, 
 and with houses on either side five or six stories high. 
 Here, in these ancient streets, the Neapolitans fairly 
 3 33 
 
European swarm like bees; men, women, and children living and 
 Days and working in the open air by day, and sleeping heaven 
 Ways only knows how by night; with poor light, bad air, 
 and next to no ventilation; setting all our modern 
 ideas of sanitation at defiance, and yet apparently 
 healthy and happy. The shops and trades all go on 
 along the sidewalks al fresco. The domestic occupations 
 are all performed in the doorways or windows. Chil- 
 dren are washed and combed at the curbstone or door- 
 sill. The washtub is a public institution, and the family 
 clothes wave in every breeze, on lines that criss-cross 
 all the dark alleys and narrow streets. I do n't know 
 anything more picturesque than "Old Naples," filled 
 with these narrow streets and alleys. But, all the same, 
 I wonder how human life manages to endure there. 
 And yet it has endured for centuries, now, and these 
 Neapolitans are apparently a strong and healthy race, too. 
 I have said. Naples strikes one as an old, old place; 
 and so it does, with all its modernity in some respects. 
 It has old streets, old houses, old churches, old forts, 
 and there is an air of antiquity about the whole place 
 that harmonizes well with its history. Old forts and 
 old convents crown the highest points about the city. 
 The old city walls and city gates still stand in part, 
 though the city has grown away beyond them; and 
 out in the harbor old forts and old prisons are still 
 occupied, though crumbling to ruins more or less. 
 Right opposite to our hotel was a notable one of these, 
 the Castello dell' Ovo, or Egg Castle, so named from 
 its oval shape. It was erected in 1 1 54, and was at once 
 a chapel, a treasure-house, a palace, and a fort for the 
 kings of those days. Its chapel was once adorned with 
 
 34 
 
frescoes by Giotto, but they have long since perished. Naples 
 For centuries it held Naples under its guns, but now 
 it is only a military prison, with crumbling walls and 
 portholes, and could not stand a day against modern 
 artillery. A company or two of soldiers still occupy 
 it, and go through the forms of guard-mounting; but 
 it is mainly a relic and a ruin. 
 
 In architecture, Naples is not bad, and some of it 
 is very good. Her National Museum, Galleria Umberto, 
 Royal Palace, chief hotels, and many private resi- 
 dences — especially on the newer streets — are all hand- 
 some and creditable. She has three hundred churches, 
 none of them very good, but many might be worse. 
 Her old cathedral of Saint Januarius — begun in 1272 
 on the site of a heathen temple of Neptune — is a basilica, 
 with aisles of Gothic vaulting, rich in marbles and 
 paintings, but noteworthy chiefly for the blood of the 
 saint himself, who suffered martyrdom under Diocle- 
 tian in 305. His holy blood liquifies three times a 
 year — May, September, December — and according as 
 its liquefaction is fast or slow, the season will be good 
 or bad, the priests say. In 181 4, when Joachim Murat 
 held sway here, in the days of the great Napoleon, 
 it refused to liquefy at all, and Naples was in great 
 commotion, not knowing what was going to happen, 
 and there was revolution in the air. But Murat sent 
 for the archbishop, and told him if Saint Januarius did 
 not liquefy as usual before nightfall, a squad of in- 
 fantry would march into his palace-yard before morn- 
 ing and bleed him. It is needless to say, Saint Januarius 
 soon began to liquefy as usual, and Naples went about 
 its business as before. 
 
 35 
 
European The churches all seem old, and none are new. They 
 
 Days and all abound with frescoes and paintings, but the wor- 
 WayS snipers were few. Many of them seemed very old, 
 and to be in the narrowest streets, the poorest quarters, 
 and most out-of-the-way places. They seem to have 
 cared little for "corner lots," like our American churches, 
 but got themselves built anywhere and everywhere, in- 
 different to surroundings. Possibly they may have 
 been well located originally, and have been overgrown 
 and crowded out by after generations and subsequent 
 buildings. But we found shops, stables, and worse 
 places jam up against some of them, and but little rev- 
 erence outside, however much inside — even at the very 
 church doors. The houses are all of stone or cement. 
 Indeed, we did not see a frame house or barn in all 
 Naples. The houses seemed well built, with little wood 
 about them, with iron beams, their floors tiled, their 
 stairways iron and stone, practically fireproof, and a 
 credit to their architects and builders. All the houses 
 have low iron balconies to every window of every story, 
 with potted plants and vines running over them, where 
 the people largely live when not down in the street; 
 and Naples might well be called "The Balcony City." 
 The streets are well paved, with stone blocks about 
 two feet by three, and the water supply is abundant 
 and excellent. The latter is a matter of recent years, 
 I believe; but now fountains and hydrants everywhere 
 abound. Men, with hose on little wheels, sweep and 
 wash the streets and plazas every day and night, and 
 Naples, as a whole, seemed cleaner and sweeter than 
 many American cities of its size, after all that has been 
 said and written against Italy and the Italians by some 
 
 36 
 
passing travelers. I do n't deny that there are some Naples 
 dirty and ill-smelling streets and courts there; but so 
 there are in New York, Philadelphia, and Boston even. 
 
 Naples, as I have said, is built on a mountain side, 
 street rising above street and zigzagging "every which 
 way," with magnificent views from above over the bay 
 and ocean. She gets up and down chiefly by cable- 
 cars or "furiiculares," as the Italians call them, that 
 run every few minutes, and make excellent speed. She 
 has also ancient streets that go straight up the moun- 
 tain side, with broad stone steps, that a sure-footed 
 horse or donkey can readily climb. She has also over- 
 head trolley-cars (made in America), that run every- 
 where, and everybody patronizes them. Besides these, 
 she has cheap cabs and omnibuses, and no Neapolitan 
 ever walks when he can ride, though the lower classes, 
 of course, go much afoot. The popular vehicle is the 
 one-horse cab, to carry two or four, with low wheels, 
 and a mere pony of a horse, but hardy and enduring. 
 These horses come from Sardinia, and it is a sight to 
 see them go. Their harness is literally covered with 
 mountings and brasses. They have no bits, but a halter- 
 like bridle, with a nosepiece that guides them right 
 and left, as you pull the lines, and their drivers literally 
 have no mercy on them. They crack their whips like 
 pistol-shots, and go off on the run in the midst of 
 crowded thoroughfares even, and collisions would be 
 common were these Jehus not experts. 
 
 One evening we went to dine at the Restaurant 
 Pallino, high up on the mountain, past Crispi's beau- 
 tiful modern villa, and not far from Virgil's tomb. It 
 was a lovely evening, with the sun setting in an un- 
 
 37 
 
European clouded sky. At our feet lay the city and bay, tinged 
 Days and with a thousand shadows and colors, of a beauty and 
 Ways a glory no artist ever dreamed of. Beyond rose Vesu- 
 vius, with his mighty flag of perpetual smoke and flame 
 streaming on the wind — a faithful and mysterious sen- 
 tinel over Naples always. We shall never forget that 
 dinner and the ride up and back. There were four of 
 us, besides the driver, in a one-horse cab. But the 
 little Neapolitan horse trotted right along all the way 
 there. The street was well graded, though the ascent 
 was considerable. But when we returned he literally 
 flew down the mountain side, on a full gallop much 
 of the way, and everybody made way for us as a matter 
 of course. In any American city we would have been 
 arrested for fast driving; but Naples thought it all 
 right — it was "the custom of the country." The drivers 
 always carry a mess of oats and a wisp of grass some- 
 where about their cabs, and take good care of their 
 ponies, though driving them unmercifully. They all 
 belong to a General Cab Company, that controls the 
 cabs of Naples, and their fares are moderate. We saw 
 some two-horse carriages, or "landaus," also in use; 
 but they were infrequent. It is these little one-horse 
 cabs, that go racing and spinning everywhere, and at 
 all hours of the day and night. 
 
 In one of these cabs we invaded "Old Naples" (as 
 a whole section of the city is called) several times, and 
 threaded its old streets, so narrow that two cabs can 
 not pass in many places, and without sidewalks as a 
 rule. Here everybody lives out-of-doors, and all pas- 
 sers-by walk in the middle of the street. Here every- 
 thing smacks of antiquity — old houses, old churches, 
 
 38 
 
old people, but with plenty of children sprawling every- Naples 
 where; and I apprehend "Old Naples," in its manners 
 and customs, people, occupations, and daily life, repro- 
 duces ancient Rome much as Caesar and Virgil saw it. 
 Naples also abounds in street sounds, as well as street 
 sights. Indeed, it is said to be the noisiest city in 
 Europe, and one can well believe this. What with the 
 trolley-cars and omnibuses, the clatter of the cabs, the 
 cracking of whips, the braying of donkeys, and the 
 shrill 
 
 cries 
 songs of 
 
 and 
 the 
 street venders, 
 Naples is never 
 quiet by day or 
 night. Her street 
 noises, indeed, are 
 constant and ap- 
 palling. Every- 
 body and every- 
 thing seems 
 screaming all the 
 time, with a shrill tenor we never hear in America. And Strada 
 
 the mighty volume of her noise rises with a roar and ' 
 
 & J Naples 
 
 resonance that wakes you in the morning, and is the 
 last thing you hear at night. New York seems bad 
 enough in this respect; but Naples is ten times worse. 
 As an art center, Naples has long been of interest, 
 and she has done some good work, though much that 
 is bad. Her climate and scenery naturally attract lovers 
 of art, and her artistic sense is much apparent. Painters 
 and sculptors are numerous, and in gems, jewelry, and 
 the like, she makes a good showing. She has many 
 
 39 
 
European public monuments of a good type, and her equestrian 
 Ddys and statues of Victor Emmanuel and others are striking 
 Ways and effective. Her National Museum is an imposing 
 building, well located, and is filled with a collection 
 of statuary, paintings, bronzes, etc., that does her credit. 
 It was originally a cavalry barracks (1586), but a cen- 
 tury ago was changed into a museum of antiquities 
 and pictures. Here are the famous Farnese Bull, and 
 the celebrated statue of Hercules, found in the Baths 
 of Caracalla at Rome, but long ago brought to Naples. 
 Both are exquisite in conception and finish, and Naples 
 is proud of their possession, as well as of hundreds of 
 other antiques, both Roman and Etruscan, more or 
 less good. Here, also, are the chief art treasures of 
 Pompeii and Herculaneum, exquisite and wonderful, 
 and one can make a good study of both of these inter- 
 esting places without going nearer than Naples. Here 
 also are some wonderful frescoes and mosaics, both 
 ancient and modern, and, in the picture galleries, Cor- 
 reggio, Titian, Raphael, Andrea del Sarto, and the 
 great masters of the German and Flemish schools are 
 well represented. 
 
 Her Galleria Umberto is an ambitious arcade of 
 recent construction, in the heart of the city, at the 
 intersection of three main streets, with two naves — one 
 one hundred and sixty yards long and the other one 
 hundred and thirty-three, each sixteen yards wide and 
 one hundred and twenty-five feet high, — with an 
 octagon in the center forty yards in diameter, sur- 
 mounted by a dome of glass and iron one hundred and 
 eighty-five feet high. It is adorned with statues of 
 Olympic deities in marble and of angels in copper, 
 
 40 
 
and has stucco and gilding everywhere, and at night Naples 
 is ablaze with electricity. It is crowded with shops 
 and stores and cafes, and swarms with people day and 
 night. The best people in Naples, as a rule, may be 
 met here. But we also saw some of her lazzaroni on 
 the steps outside, asleep in the sun at noonday, when 
 everybody else sought only the shade. It is said to 
 have cost four millions of dollars, but looks like a good 
 investment. 
 
 Her Villa Nazionale, or Public Park and Garden, 
 fronts along the sea, and is the central point of her 
 chief hotels and pensions. The grounds are flat, but 
 beautifully laid out, and handsomely embellished with 
 trees and flowers. Many magnificent palms grow here 
 in the open air, and the place is well worth seeing. 
 In the evening there are open-air concerts here, and 
 the crowds are immense. Near the eastern entrance 
 is a large antique granite basin, brought from ancient 
 Psestum nearly a century ago, and beyond this is her 
 celebrated marine aquarium, unique in its way. Here 
 is the largest collection of marine animals in the world, 
 including many specimens of electric eels, of the great 
 octopus or devil-fish, crabs, cray-fish, living corals, and 
 all the civilized "nations on the globe, including the 
 United States, contribute to its support as a school 
 for naturalists. The devil-fishes were gruesome-look- 
 ing monsters, though much inferior to Victor Hugo's 
 in his "Toilers of the Sea." But this aquarium is a 
 place of great and unique interest, and well repays a 
 visit. We spent part of a day there very instructively, 
 and intended to return again, but lacked the time. Of 
 course, it is her proximity to the sea that gave Naples 
 
 41 
 
European the opportunity for this marine aquarium, and she de- 
 DdyS and serves credit for having made the most of it, not only 
 ways for Italy, but the whole world. 
 
 Naples also has her botanic garden, founded a cen- 
 tury ago, and full of rare tropical and temperate trees 
 and plants. Many of its trees are immense, a wonder 
 and delight to the eye, and its roses and flowers are 
 charming beyond description. We wandered through 
 its broad paths and wide alleys, and beneath its um- 
 brageous trees, and found many of the same roses that 
 bloom in our yards at home. Indeed, much of the 
 flora of Naples is the same as ours, though usually on 
 a larger scale. 
 
 Altogether, it must be confessed, we were delighted 
 with Naples, and much impressed with her size, im- 
 portance, beauty, prosperity, etc. She is, indeed, "beau- 
 tiful for situation," and Lord Byron was not far wrong 
 when he wrote, "See Naples and die!" However, this 
 was not his own, but an old Italian proverb, and the 
 Italians, fond of sunny Naples and her superb bay and 
 glorious Vesuvius, knew what they were about when 
 they coined it. The Neapolitans are certainly a much 
 better people than they have usually been represented. 
 They have a low-down class, that are evidently the 
 descendants of the old Roman slaves, with the same 
 habits and customs, making little progress, and be- 
 tween whom and the better classes a great gulf still 
 exists; but above these are their mechanics, builders, 
 architects, manufacturers, merchants, etc., that would 
 be a credit to any city, and Naples has her face set 
 well to the future. 
 
 We found the evenings cool and delightful, with 
 42 
 
a sea-breeze sweeping in from the bay, and the morn- Naples 
 ings charming. But in the middle of the day it grew 
 hot and oppressive, and everybody took a "siesta" for 
 two or three hours. We readily fell in with "the cus- 
 tom of the country," and soon had to exchange our 
 American derbies for Italian straw hats (made in Eng- 
 land), and wore these constantly, to our great com- 
 fort and protection from the Italian sun. We had to 
 buy a sole-leather hatbox to carry our derbies; but 
 while this seemed absurd at first, it proved to be one 
 of our most useful pieces of luggage, carrying collars, 
 cuffs, and neckties, as well as hats. 
 
 43 
 
Chapter III 
 
 IDDING Naples good-bye, temporarily, we 
 went by railroad to Castellamare via Her- 
 culaneum, June ioth. We did not stop at 
 Herculaneum, as we were bound for Pom- 
 peii, and knew the latter much exceeded the former. 
 It was a superb morning, and the railroad swept around 
 the glorious Bay of Naples, and so off to the south. 
 Market-gardens filled the suburbs, with men and women 
 everywhere at work among their vegetables and flowers. 
 Irrigation was the rule everywhere, by ox or donkey 
 or man power, from ancient wells, that date back no 
 doubt to old Roman days. They were also everywhere 
 at work making "macaroni," and drying it in the sun — 
 an established Neapolitan industry; for what would 
 the Italian be without his "macaroni?" We reached 
 Castellamare, about twenty miles from Naples, in an 
 hour or so, and found it to be a good Italian town, on 
 the Gulf of Naples, of some thirty thousand people, 
 with considerable business and some foreign com- 
 merce, with a dockyard, etc. At the station, guides 
 and hackmen assailed us, and we were surprised to 
 be addressed in good English by one better dressed 
 than his companions, who said he had recently spent 
 three years in Belvidere, N. J., and had there learned 
 "to talk American." We might have gone to Pompeii 
 
 44 
 
by railroad direct, but wanted to see Castellamare, and Pompeii 
 also* wanted the carriage-ride from there to Pompeii. 
 We soon engaged a carriage, and set off for Pompeii. 
 As we turned a corner of the street, suddenly we caught 
 sight of an American flag streaming on the breeeze, 
 over the American consulate, and involuntarily lifted 
 our hats and cheered it. It was the first American 
 flag we had seen since arriving in Italy, and "good 
 for sore eyes." A little farther on we came upon the 
 English consulate, with the Union Jack flying over 
 it, and saluted that also, but not like "Old Glory." 
 Once out of Castellamare, the drive to Pompeii, some 
 five or six miles, was dusty and hot; but, with Vesuvius 
 ever before us and the great memories of the past with 
 us, we enjoyed every mile of the way. 
 
 We reached Pompeii about noon, and lunched at 
 the Hotel Suisse, the best place there, but none too 
 good. Flies and fleas both abounded, and it is difficult 
 to say which were the worst. After our "siesta," or 
 mid-day rest — essential everywhere in Italy — we se- 
 cured a guide, and two good carriers with a rude sedan- 
 chair, and entered Pompeii. The entrance is through 
 beautiful grounds, abounding in oleanders and other 
 flowering shrubs, and so to what was once the old 
 Marine Gate, though now far from the waters of the 
 bay. Evidently the sea has here subsided, or the land 
 been elevated, which amounts to the same thing. The 
 street passing through the gate seems too steep to 
 have been used much by vehicles, and was probably 
 used only by saddle and pack animals. There is a 
 narrow sidewalk on the left for foot-passengers, but 
 it is all very different from our modern ideas. 
 
 45 
 
European Pompeii was once a goodly city of thirty thousand 
 
 Days and souls, but is now only the skeleton or ghost of its 
 Ways former self. It was the Newport or Long Branch of 
 its day, the favorite summer watering-place of Naples 
 and Rome. Originally Oscan, it afterwards became 
 Greek and then Roman, and was renowned through 
 all Italy for its civilization and culture. But in the 
 year A. D. 63, Vesuvius woke up, after being asleep 
 for centuries, and a great earthquake occurred, that 
 destroyed much of the city, overthrowing its temples, 
 colonnades, theaters, dwellings, etc. Italy took com- 
 passion upon her, and sent great companies of me- 
 chanics, architects, and artists, to restore and beautify 
 her. But in the year A. D. 79 Vesuvius broke loose 
 again, worse than before, and finally destroyed Pom- 
 peii altogether. There was first a dense shower of 
 ashes, to the depth of two or three feet, which per- 
 mitted many of the inhabitants to escape, though over 
 two thousand, it is estimated, perished. This was fol- 
 lowed shortly by a shower of red-hot stones, that 
 covered the city to a depth of seven or eight feet, and 
 this again by a fresh shower of ashes, and again by 
 stones, until the present superincumbent mass is from 
 fifteen to twenty feet thick. The city was entirely over- 
 whelmed and wholly lost to view, and became utterly 
 forgotten for centuries. But in 1592 its ruins were 
 accidently discovered while constructing a subter- 
 ranean aqueduct, and about a century ago the Italian 
 Government began to excavate and uncover it. The 
 Bourbons did something on this line; but Murat and 
 Victor Emmanuel and Humbert have done more, and 
 in a few years they hope to have this ancient and his- 
 
 46 
 
toric city wholly in sight again. Many of the objects Vesuvius 
 discovered have been removed to the great National 
 Museum at Naples; but they have also a museum and 
 library at Pompeii, and, of course, the old ruins are 
 there, and always will be. 
 
 Mount Vesuvius rises up in isolated majesty from 
 the soft Campanian plain, some seven or eight miles 
 away, to the height of about four thousand feet. How 
 could he erupt and disgorge all this vast mass of ashes 
 and stones, and 
 hurl them this 
 great distance to 
 Pompeii? But it 
 seems he did, in- 
 credible as it ap- 
 pears; and there 
 is a record that 
 in 1 63 1 he hurled 
 one stone of even 
 twenty-five tons 
 weight a distance 
 of fifteen miles. A great old volcano he certainly is Vesuvius 
 when he wakes up, though vineyards and farms now 
 cover his flanks and shoulders, and all seems peace- 
 ful and serene, except his perpetual gonfalon of smoke 
 and occasional muttering and grumbling. The ascent 
 of Vesuvius is now made partly by "funiculare" (or 
 cable-road), and partly on horseback, and the view from 
 its summit must be superb and glorious. But the 
 fatigue is great, and we did not feel equal to the oc- 
 casion. Some of our steamer friends, however, made 
 the trip, both ladies and gentlemen; but from their 
 
 47 
 
European accounts afterwards we concluded we were wise in not 
 
 Days and attempting it. 
 
 Ways In entering Pompeii, just beyond the Marine Gate, 
 
 you come first to the museum on the right, and find 
 it full of interesting and wonderful things. Here are 
 exquisite marbles, bronzes, mosaics, etc., taken from 
 the ruins, though many of the choicest have been re- 
 moved to Naples and Rome. Here also are casts of 
 men, women, and children, and of dogs, that perished 
 in the eruption, but their bodies left molds in the ashes, 
 and these, being now filled with plaster of Paris, pre- 
 served their figures and attitudes after their death- 
 struggles. Here also are the carbonized remains of 
 loaves of bread, biscuits, etc., looking much like the 
 same we use now, though buried here nearly twenty 
 centuries ago. 
 
 Passing on, you are struck by the narrowness of 
 the streets. They are all paved, but seldom over 
 twelve or fifteen feet wide — usually less — with foot- 
 walks averaging only two or three feet. They have 
 been much used, as evidenced by the deep ruts along 
 them all, where the ancient vehicles went. So the side- 
 walks show much wear by pedestrians, and at the 
 street-crossings are high stepping-stones for use in 
 case of flooded streets after rains — quite like such as 
 they used to have in Baltimore, and I suppose there 
 still. The wheels of their carts and chariots passed 
 between these. At the corner of the Forum and in 
 other public places the footwalks are worn away diag- 
 onally, showing that the Pompeians liked "short cuts" 
 quite as well as we moderns do. Along the streets are 
 drinking-fountains for both horses and dogs, on every 
 
 48 
 
block or so, so that they must have been pretty civil- Pompeii 
 ized and humane even in those old days. 
 
 The buildings are mostly of concrete, faced with 
 brick or stone at the doors and windows. They are 
 now chiefly of one story, but the remains of stairways 
 show that originally some had other stories also. The 
 dwelling-houses were mainly built around an open 
 space or quadrangle, upon which the living-rooms 
 faced, and where fountains and flowers once abounded. 
 Some of these 
 houses have been 
 restored or pro- 
 duced as nearly 
 like what they 
 were originally, 
 as can now be as- 
 certained, and are 
 very artistic and 
 charming. They 
 have little foun- 
 tains and statues 
 everywhere, and roses, pansies, daisies, and lilies grow- -Pompeii 
 
 ing profusely. Inside, these restored mansions are agon-ruts, 
 ° r J 2,000 Years 
 
 decorated beautifully but simply, with a wealth of de- old 
 
 sign and color in the true Pompeian style, and one 
 can well imagine himself back in old Pompeii again 
 as he rambles through them. So also the ruined 
 houses, many of them, have rooms and walls still stand- 
 ing, covered with light and airy decorations, both 
 arabesque and grotesque, of graceful designs and har- 
 monious colors, both of plants and animals, g*ods and 
 goddesses, men and women, birds and fishes, that must 
 4 49 
 
European delight the soul of an artist. Here are airy birds poised 
 Days and on wing; exquisite vines and flowers; flying cherubs 
 Ways and Cupids; dancing fauns; divine boys and girls, and 
 all that art can execute or poetry imagine. A beauty- 
 loving, pleasure-enjoying, artistic people certainly these 
 old Pompeians were, whatever may be said of their 
 morals. Many of the houses have "Cave canem" (Be- 
 ware of the Dog) by the side of their doorways, or 
 Salve (Welcome) in their vestibules, done in good 
 mosaic-work; and their ancient baker-shops, butcher- 
 shops, tailor-shops, barber-shops, and the like, have 
 some sign or symbol on the pavements or elsewhere 
 indicating their business. On the street-corners are 
 notices of municipal elections, with names of candi- 
 dates, chalked or painted there two thousand years ago, 
 but still fresh and visible. 
 
 The ancient Thermae (or baths) are still there, with 
 their hot rooms, cold rooms, and vapor rooms, for 
 rich and poor, and both sexes, and must have been 
 handsome and spacious in their day. The Forum stands 
 near the center of the city, with an open space in the 
 middle five hundred and fifteen feet long by one hun- 
 dred and seven broad, and, with its temples, statues, 
 arcades, and colonnades, must have been an honor 
 and credit to the city. There were two theaters, one 
 capable of accommodating five thousand spectators, 
 and also an amphitheater capable of holding twenty 
 thousand. They were all in the open air, cut out of 
 the hillsides, or built up on masonry, and with their 
 stone seats arranged in tiers one above the other in 
 such a way that the feet of those sitting in one tier 
 should not inconvenience those below. They were 
 
 SO 
 
richly adorned with statues and frescoes, most of which Pompeii 
 have disappeared, though fragments still remain. In 
 the outer walls are still seen the stone rings and sockets 
 for the poles or masts, which supported awnings on 
 sunny or rainy days, and near by were reservoirs of 
 water for gently sprinkling, and thus refreshing, the 
 spectators in hot weather. All of these places of public 
 resort and amusement are admirably located, just where 
 the audiences could catch the best views of the sea 
 and mountains, and old Vesuvius, and their engineers 
 and architects must have understood and appreciated 
 the wonderful landscape effects at Pompeii to the full. 
 It must have been like paradise at Pompeii twenty 
 centuries ago, with all that nature and art and science 
 and literature and religion (their pagan religion) could 
 do for her. No wonder all Italy hastened to rebuild 
 Pompeii when she perished. But when she perished 
 a second time, within sixteen years, with large loss 
 of life and treasure, they gave her up for good, and 
 turned her over to Mount Vesuvius. 
 
 Much of the city has been uncovered; but we found 
 a hundred or so men and women still working away 
 with shovels and baskets. They could work faster, of 
 course, with better appliances, but prefer to go slowly, 
 in order to save uninjured the precious antiquities 
 they may discover. They are finding many of these 
 still from week to week, both interesting and valuable; 
 but the expense constitutes a heavy drain upon the 
 Italian treasury. 
 
 Our trip through Pompeii was hot and fatiguing; 
 there was so much to see, and we were so eager to 
 see it. But we took turns in the "sedan-chair," and 
 
 5i 
 
European rested in shady places in the shadow of her crumbling 
 
 Days and walls and columns, and altogether enjoyed Pompeii 
 
 Ways greatly. I read Bulwer's "Last Days of Pompeii" 
 
 when a schoolboy. But here I was in Pompeii itself, 
 
 and with all her ghastly memories and ghostly glories 
 
 around me. 
 
 Returning to Castellamare, we drove thence to 
 Sorrento, some twelve miles farther. In all, we drove 
 about twenty-five miles that day. The road follows the 
 curving shore of the Bay of Naples, often hewn out 
 of the solid rock or mountain side, and is a perpetual 
 charm. Like all Italian roads, it is a fine piece of civil 
 engineering, and we bowled along at a rapid pace. The 
 only drawback was the dust when we encountered other 
 carriages, but this was seldom. Fortunately we faced 
 the breeze, which blew our dust behind; but we met 
 half a dozen carriages of "Cook's tourists" going the 
 other way in close procession, enveloped in clouds of 
 dust, and they must have suffered much. We met 
 parties of workmen here and there blasting stone or 
 repairing the road, and now and then a drove of Italian 
 black pigs, peculiar to the peninsula. 
 
 At Vico Equense we found a considerable town, 
 situated on a rocky eminence, and beyond this passed 
 the Bridge of Arco, a good specimen of bridge archi- 
 tecture. The little River Arco comes down to the bay 
 here through a deep pass between the mountains, and 
 a high bridge is thrown across the wide chasm to main- 
 tain the grade of the road. Beyond this we came to 
 the plain of Sorrento, a level bit of country sheltered 
 by the neighboring mountains, and noted for its 
 salubrity and fertility. Here orange, lemon, and olive 
 
 52 
 
groves, mulberry and fig trees, pomegranates, and SOITGIltO 
 other fruit trees, abound, and the whole district seems 
 prosperous. As we got nearer to Sorrento the lemon 
 and orange orchards increased, and, later on, the road 
 was shut in by high stone walls on either side, exclud- 
 ing much view of the villas and fruit farms. At Piccolo 
 Sorrento (Little Sorrento) we found banners and 
 flags and flowers in great array, with much of the popu- 
 lation in the street, arranging for a grand festa next 
 day (Sunday), with fireworks at night. 
 
 We reached Sorrento early in the evening, and 
 drove through an avenue of orange and lemon trees 
 and a wilderness of roses and flowers — geraniums, 
 pansies, hollyhocks, and pinks — down to the Hotel 
 Vittoria. We were dusty and tired, and a hotel never 
 seemed more welcome, nor a dinner more delicious. 
 The Vittoria is indeed a fine hotel. It stands on a 
 rocky bluff, overlooking the Bay of Naples, with 
 lemon and orange grove back of it, and Vesuvius and 
 Naples across the bay superbly in front. It is a modern 
 structure, spacious and well appointed, and as it was 
 between the seasons, a dozen or so of us, mostly Amer- 
 icans, had the hotel and grounds all to ourselves. We 
 had choice rooms and good beds. We took our meals 
 on the terrace, in the open air, with the waves break- 
 ing at our feet and Naples and Vesuvius ever before 
 us. We had for fruit delicious oranges, figs, cherries, 
 and strawberries, grown on the premises or near by; 
 and the climate was so nearly perfect it seemed like 
 Paradise Regained. By day we had the blue Italian 
 skies over us, with scarcely a cloud to mar their sap- 
 phire beauty; by night, a wilderness of stars, with the 
 
 53 
 
European moon majestically overhead, and silvering the sea be- 
 Days and neath. We went to Sorrento to spend a day and night 
 Ways only, but were so charmed with the place that we 
 lingered nearly a week, and were reluctant to depart 
 even then. Altogether, I thought Sorrento the most 
 beautiful spot upon the earth, and have had no reason 
 to change this opinion since. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. There was no Protestant 
 service in the town, and so we went to a Roman Cath- 
 olic church, and worshiped there. It was a grimy and 
 dirty place, and we could not follow the service. But 
 we said a "Paternoster" or two in our own way, as 
 well as the few Italians present, and afterwards returned 
 to the Vittoria. 
 
 Sorrento (the Surrentum of the Romans, and a fa- 
 vorite resort of Augustus, Agrippa, Antoninus Pius, and 
 other great Romans) is a place of some ten thousand 
 population, and renowned for its beauty and salubrity. 
 It is a health resort for English and Americans in win- 
 ter and for Italians in summer, and has a good deal of 
 business and commerce of its own. It makes a specialty 
 of inlaid wood in all its branches, particularly tables, 
 chairs, and beds, of silk goods, and of fruit, the latter 
 of which it exports in large quantities, especially oranges 
 and lemons. The Sorrento oranges and lemons are 
 celebrated all over Europe, but go mainly to London 
 and New York. The workers in wood and silk have 
 little shops in their own houses, where you can see 
 all the processes going on, both men and women 
 working. In the evening some of these workers make 
 troupes of performers, and go from hotel to hotel, 
 dancing the Tarantella, in brilliant costumes and with 
 
 54 
 
great glee. Some of them are very handsome, and 
 they sang and danced in the moonlight on the terrace 
 at the Vittoria, nearly every night we were there, with 
 a sweetness of voice and a grace and charm of action 
 impossible out of Italy. An old priest told me they 
 had twenty churches in Sorrento and about thirty 
 priests. "Too many, too many," he added, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders, "for a place like Sorrento." He said 
 the stipends of the priests had all been cut off by the 
 new Italian Gov- 
 ernment (Victor 
 Emmanuel and 
 King Humbert), 
 and now many 
 priests hardly 
 knew how to 
 keep soul and 
 body together. 
 He said he re- 
 ceived one franc a 
 day (twenty cents) 
 for saying mass during the week, and three and a half 
 on Sunday (seventy cents) for masses then, or $1.90 
 a week in all, and some marriage and funeral fees oc- 
 casionally; but his total income would not support him 
 were it not for a legacy his father had left him. He 
 said most of the priests were even worse off, that taxes 
 were high and living dear; and yet they did not want 
 to go back to the old Bourbon times. Then they were 
 all slaves; their letters were opened; there were spies 
 everywhere; nobody had any liberty of thought or 
 speech. But now, at least, they were free, and he hoped 
 
 55 
 
 Sorrento 
 
 Hotel Vit- 
 toria, Sor- 
 rento 
 
European the times would improve, and the laity after a while 
 Days and learn how to support the clergy voluntarily, as they 
 Ways did in England and America. He said the present 
 trouble with Italy was "too many" priests and "too 
 many" soldiers;* they produced nothing and cost too 
 much, and evidently he was a wide-awake and pro- 
 gressive man. He had been to England, and wanted 
 to visit America, but feared he never would. "It was 
 a long way there, and he was a poor sailor !" 
 
 In ancient days Sorrento surpassed Naples, and was 
 rich in temples and villas, but has fallen much into 
 decay. It still has a piazza, however, where a band 
 plays in the evening; a public garden overlooking the 
 sea; a cathedral; a temple of Hercules; a temple of 
 Neptune; and a statue of the poet Tasso, who was born 
 here. His marble effigy stands in the little piazza; but 
 the house in which he was born has been swallowed up 
 by the sea. I amused myself in walking about the 
 streets, inspecting the shops and stores, talking or try- 
 ing to talk to the officers and soldiers, the sailors, the 
 postmaster, the customs officers, the priests, and pretty 
 much everybody I met, and picked up considerable Ital- 
 ian at the expense of much English. 
 
 Of course, we made the excursion from Sorrento to 
 Capri and the Blue Grotto. This is the one thing to 
 do, when at Sorrento, and every tourist does it. My 
 son went by sailboat, with a young Philadelphian who 
 was summering at Sorrento, and enjoyed the sail greatly. 
 But the rest of us went by the little steamer which 
 
 * Italy, with a population of thirty million, has three hundred thou- 
 sand priests and monks (about one-half monks), and nearly as many sol- 
 diers. " Too many ! too many ! " as the old Sorrento padre well said. 
 
 56 
 
makes the trip from Naples via Sorrento twice daily. Capri 
 It is much like the trip from New York to Coney Island 
 or Long Branch, but more picturesque and romantic. 
 Capri itself is a small mountainous island, off the Bay 
 of Naples, noted for its genial climate, and the Blue 
 Grotto is a cavern in its side, only about three feet high 
 at the entrance, but rising inside to the height of forty- 
 one feet, with a length of one hundred and seventy-five 
 by one hundred feet. The water is several fathoms 
 deep, and the refraction of the light from the outside 
 makes everything inside dazzlingly blue, while objects 
 in the water shine like silver. It was known to the 
 Romans, but lost in the Middle Ages, and rediscovered 
 in 1826, since when it has been a favorite attraction. 
 There are other caverns and grottoes along the coasts 
 of Capri, but none so famous as this. The island con- 
 tains about five thousand inhabitants, and its visitors are 
 reported at thirty thousand annually. The men often 
 emigrate to South America, to Argentina chiefly; but 
 generally return home, they love Capri so dearly. Here 
 also the Roman emperors used to come a-pleasuring, 
 and they founded vast palaces, temples, baths, and aque- 
 ducts here. On one of the highest points of Capri the pa- 
 latial villa of Tiberius is still pointed out; but it is now 
 in ruins and used partly as a cow-house. They show 
 you the cliff from which, it is said, Tiberius used to hurl 
 his slaves headlong down into the sea as a pastime and 
 sport for his Roman guests. But our modern human 
 nature refuses to believe in such hideous and wanton 
 cruelty, and modern historical critics declare this a 
 myth. 
 
 Leaving Sorrento after lunch (June 14th), we drove 
 
 57 
 
European thence by carriage to Amalfi the same evening. It 
 Days and threatened showers every hour, but we had only a few 
 Ways sprinkles, and the clouds served to veil the hot sun. 
 The road ascends the mountains by abrupt passes, 
 through lemon, orange, and olive groves, and then 
 winds along the face and top of cliffs, overlooking the 
 Gulf of Salerno, the entire way. This road is, indeed, 
 a wonderful piece of engineering, and the whole ride 
 picturesque and sublime. The blue and boundless sea 
 
 is always in sight, 
 with white specks 
 of ships or fishing- 
 boats dotting it 
 here and there, 
 and with its waves 
 breaking and 
 thundering at the 
 base of the cliffs. 
 The mountains 
 are all about, and 
 frequent moun- 
 On the Road j- a j n torrents rush down into the sea, under solid bridges 
 Amalfi ^ ln ^ to ^ ast a thousand years. Much of the road is 
 blasted out of the rock or built upon masonry, and in 
 places even tunnels have been necessary. Olive-trees 
 climb the mountain sides, and flocks of goats now and. 
 then appear; but the country, as a whole, is wild and 
 desolate, with only a peasant's hut or hamlet here and 
 there. Just the place for brigands, we all thought, and 
 so it used to be. But every few miles we met a pair 
 of mounted carbineers, patrolling the road (thanks to 
 the new Italian regime), trim and soldierly looking fel- 
 
 58 
 
lows, and this system seems to have ended brigandage Afflalfi 
 all over Italy. The contadini, or country peasants, 
 shaggy and hungry-looking customers, looked at us 
 askance; but their children, ragged and wild-eyed as 
 young deer, danced around our carriage, and some- 
 times ran for a mile by our side, with flying elfin locks 
 and extended hands, crying, "Macaroni! macaroni, 
 Sefiors!" A few centessimi (a fifth of a cent) would 
 satisfy them, all scrambling for the coins, and then the 
 lucky ones, with 
 radiant smiles, 
 would toss us 
 kisses, and "May 
 the Madonna 
 bless you!" 
 
 It was dusk 
 when we reached 
 Amalfi and clam- 
 bered up to the 
 Hotel Cappuccini, 
 an old Capuchin 
 monastery in use as a hotel, high up on a rocky cliff Hotel Cap- 
 
 overlooking the town and sea. It was founded in 12 12 
 by the Cistercians, but in 1583 passed into the hands 
 of the Capuchins. It 1867 it was suppressed by the new 
 Italian Government, and sold to the city of Amalfi, 
 which now leased it as a hotel for eight thousand francs 
 a year. There is no carriage-way up to it, but we had 
 to ascend a broad flight of stone steps hundreds in 
 number. It was a weary climb, but we were repaid by 
 good quarters and an excellent dinner. We slept in 
 the old cells of the monks, now converted into bed- 
 
 59 
 
 PUCCINI, 
 
 Amalfi 
 
European rooms, and the next morning had a delightful stroll 
 Days and around the cloisters, veranda, and flower-gardens, with 
 Ways orange and lemon trees and roses everywhere, and mag- 
 nificent views along the coast and off at sea. 
 
 Amalfi is now only a little town of seven thousand 
 inhabitants; but in the Middle Ages it was an active 
 seaport of fifty thousand inhabitants, and rivaled even 
 Pisa and Genoa. It is situated in the midst of wild and 
 picturesque mountains and rocks, and a few months after 
 we were there a landslide carried the whole Cappuccini 
 cliff, hotel and all, nearly down into the sea, with the 
 loss of many lives. Longfellow was once there, and 
 wrote some verses on Amalfi, and the hotel proprietor 
 had his portrait on the wall, along with Gladstone's and 
 others who had been his guests. He was an old gentle- 
 man, of the true Italian Boniface type, taking great 
 pride in his unique hotel and its belongings, and I won- 
 der whether he perished in the landslide. He regaled us 
 with many a good story in his broken English, more than 
 half Italian, and we smoked and talked far into the night. 
 From Amalfi to Salerno the ride was much the same 
 as the day before, but less wild and picturesque. The 
 road follows the rocky coast overlooking the sea, with 
 frequent villages and towns, and vineyards and lemon 
 groves everywhere. The people seemed to be a hardy 
 and industrious race, living partly on the sea and partly 
 on the land, and it was easy to see where our daring 
 Italian sailors come from. Salerno (the ancient Saler- 
 num) is a city of twenty thousand inhabitants, at the 
 northern extremity of the bay of the same name, and 
 has considerable trade and commerce. In the Middle 
 Ages it belonged to the Lombards and Normans, and 
 
 60 
 
was a place of importance, but has much decayed. It Salerno 
 has one fine street along the sea, called the Corso Gari- 
 baldi, with an equestrian statue of Victor Emmanuel; 
 but most of its streets are narrow and irregular, re- 
 minding one of the ninth and tenth centuries. Its old 
 cathedral, erected A. D. 1084, has some fine antique 
 columns brought from Psestum, and some ancient sar- 
 cophagi, and some bronze doors made in Constantinople 
 in 1099; but, as a whole, it is tawdry and disappointing. 
 The main thing 
 in all this region 
 is the mountain 
 and coast drive 
 from Sorrento to 
 Salerno, with its 
 superb views of 
 land and sea, and 
 that repays one a 
 hundred-fold. 
 There is nothing 
 finer in all Eu- 
 rope, I apprehend; and that means in the whole world. Positano, 
 
 From Salerno we went by railroad back to Naples, 
 first through mountains and hills nearly to Pompeii, 
 and thence up the bay coast via Herculaneum, back 
 again to Naples. We stopped at Naples again for a 
 day or two, to complete some "sight-seeing," and then 
 left for Rome (June 19th), arriving there the same after- 
 noon. The distance is about one hundred and fifty 
 miles, and it took us six hours, or about twenty-five 
 miles an hour, the usual speed of the Italian railroads. 
 It was an express train, with good European compart- 
 
 61 ' 
 
 LERNO 
 
European ment cars, and one American sleeping-car. It stopped 
 Days and at all the principal towns, of which Capua was chief. 
 Ways Capua, the scene of Hannibal's exploits and discom- 
 fiture, is still a fortified city of some fifteen thousand 
 inhabitants, in a bend of the Volturno, and nearly sur- 
 rounded by it, with castellated walls and fosse, and looks 
 like a good piece of mediaeval architecture and civil- 
 ization. The road skirts the base of the Apennines, or 
 makes its way through elevated valleys, and the country 
 as a whole is cultivated to the utmost. In places the 
 mountains are barren and sterile, reminding one of our 
 Rockies in Wyoming and Colorado; but, as a rule, they 
 are terraced and cultivated up the slopes and almost to 
 the summit, and every little shelf or cliff seems to have 
 its olive orchard and goats, if nothing else. 
 
 Around Naples and Capua, and like places, market 
 gardens and small farms abound, with irrigation from 
 ancient wells everywhere, carried on by ox or donkey 
 or man power, and with vegetables, oranges, lemons, 
 cherries, and olives as the main products. But farther 
 away large farms appear, with rye, barley, and maize as 
 the chief crops. Extensive vineyards appear every- 
 where, with the vines trained to trees, planted in long 
 rows, and crops growing between. Southern Italy was 
 in the midst of her grain harvest, and harvesting was 
 everywhere going on. Groups of men and women were 
 everywhere afield — certainly two women to one man or 
 more — all industriously at work with the sickle and rake. 
 Not a reaper and binder, nor a horse-rake, did we see 
 anywhere, but only the old-fashioned sickle and hand- 
 rake. The laborers wore all kinds of garments, in all 
 sorts of colors, but with blue and red predominating. 
 
 62 
 
How hard they worked, early and late, and for a mere TO Rom6 
 pittance of wages — fifteen to twenty cents a day only! 
 But they did not seem to mind it, and, on the whole, 
 appeared to be a happy, industrious, frugal, and healthy 
 race of people. 
 
 Farmhouses and buildings, usually of stone, are scat- 
 tered about these Italian farms, much as in America, 
 contrary to our expectations. But the villages and 
 towns are usually on some hill or mountain side. Here 
 the people once huddled for protection, and, as a rule, 
 they still cling to these mountain fastnesses. The moun- 
 tains are everywhere crowned with castles and monas- 
 teries, now mostly in ruins, and the real life of Italy in 
 former ages seems to have been largely there. Here 
 were the homes of her "robber barons" and priests in 
 mediaeval days, and Italy seems to have been literally 
 full of them. They at least protected their own serfs 
 and liegemen, and would allow nobody else to oppress 
 or plunder them. 
 
 As we neared Rome the whole country side went to 
 vineyards, with grapevines trained to perpendicular 
 stakes, looking for all the world like an American pole- 
 bean field. At Frascati, about twenty miles from Rome, 
 we struck the Roman Campagna, which is a great level 
 meadow or prairie-like expanse, reminding one of the 
 entrance to Chicago. Ruined towers and broken aque- 
 ducts dot the Campagna everywhere. But beyond it 
 lies the "Eternal City," and over all and dominating the 
 whole Roman landscape looms the mighty dome of 
 St. Peter's. 
 
 63 
 
Chapter IV 
 
 E were in Rome a week, and explored all 
 parts of it, and yet saw but little of it really. 
 One ought to be there a month, or a year, 
 or ten years, and even then he would not 
 see Rome completely. It is so old and so vast, so his- 
 toric and artistic, and has so much to interest you. But 
 you can see a good deal in a week, if you keep your eyes 
 open; and that is what we did, or tried to do. Let me 
 see if I can tell you a little of what we saw, or how 
 Rome impressed us. 
 
 First of all, Rome strikes an American as a good 
 deal of a city still. It is true it is inland — some twenty 
 or thirty miles from the sea — and has no commerce or 
 manufactures to speak of; but Rome now numbers 
 nearly a half million of inhabitants, and seems fairly 
 prosperous and progressive. As the capital of United 
 Italy, all the Government offices and foreign embassies 
 are here, and that brings much business and many peo- 
 ple to Rome. So, also, as the capital of the Roman 
 Catholic world and the home of the pope, she is the 
 Mecca of all good Roman Catholics, and they literally 
 swarm at Rome, both priests and laymen, not only from 
 Italy and Europe, but from all over the world. It is 
 said her priests and soldiers are the same — ten thousand 
 each — in St. Peter's alone one hundred and fifty priests. 
 
 6 4 
 
In some respects Rome is modern and progressive; but Rome 
 she lives chiefly upon her past glories, her antiquities 
 and art, and foreigners. The Tiber, which once poured 
 into her lap the commerce of the world, is now a tawny 
 little stream about a hundred yards wide by ten to fif- 
 teen feet deep — except during spring freshets, when it 
 booms like a Western river — and seems of little use 
 except as an open sewer. It is well controlled by good 
 stone docks or quays, and we saw a few little steamboats 
 and sailing vessels using it, but few and far between. 
 But she has railroads connecting her with all the other 
 Italian cities, and these bring trade and travel to Rome, 
 more or less the year round. 
 
 She has good streets, well-paved and clean as a rule, 
 often wide and straight, though narrow and winding in 
 her old quarters, and often very picturesque. Her 
 buildings, as a whole, are good, of both stone and 
 brick — not a frame house in all Rome, I think, and con- 
 sequently no fires. The Italian architects and builders 
 know how to erect fireproof buildings, with iron beams, 
 and stone or tiled floors everywhere, and no woodwork 
 anywhere, except doors and window-frames, and these 
 also are of metal frequently. 
 
 Mediaeval in some respects, yet Rome has electric 
 cars and automobiles (one line to St. Peter's, another 
 to the Forum, Colosseum, St. Paul's Beyond the Walls, 
 etc.), and crowded omnibuses, and busy cabs, and elec- 
 tric lights, and flying bicycles (there was a Pilgrimage 
 on bicycles from Padua to Rome along the old Via 
 iEmilia recently), and a pure and abundant water- 
 supply; and in many ways, indeed, Rome strikes one as 
 a live and growing place still. Her water supply is from 
 5 65 
 
European the Sabine Mountains, by both ancient and modern 
 Days and aqueducts — fifty miles long and over two thousand years 
 Ways old — and is so abundant that she has gushing fountains 
 everywhere. Some of these are old and curious, as the 
 Triton and the Tortoises; others vast and imposing, as 
 the Trevi, spouting thirteen million gallons daily; others 
 simply beautiful and artistic, as those in front of St. 
 Peter's; but they all abound in gushing waters, flashing 
 and dancing in the sunlight, as if Rome had a super- 
 abundance of liquid silver, and knew not what else to 
 do with it. Walk up to the Quirinal and see how the 
 King of Italy lives; drive up the Corso, and see what 
 shops and stores Rome has; ascend the Pincian Hill, the 
 heart of Roman wealth and fashion, and look around 
 you; go to the Villa Borghese, a great park and gallery 
 near the heart of the city, but so secluded it seems the 
 country; or drive up and around the great Janiculum 
 Hill, and see the statue of Garibaldi against the opal- 
 escent sky, with St. Peter's to the left and all Rome 
 beneath and around you, with new streets and trees 
 stretching away to the wide horizon, — and you can't 
 help thinking of Rome as a handsome city, with a great 
 future still; or as if she were really and truly what her 
 friends delight to call her, "The Eternal City !" 
 
 What a magnificent place she must have been in her 
 old days, two thousand years ago, when she sat serene 
 upon her seven hills, and overflowed into the valley of 
 the Tiber and into the great plain of the Campagna be- 
 yond her! The Campagna is now malarious and pesti- 
 lential, but was then smiling with farms and villages, the 
 garden and granary of all Italy. The Italian Govern- 
 ment has laid its firm hand upon it, and in due time 
 
 66 
 
According 
 
 will subdue and civilize it, when it will yet rival our 
 Western prairies, where, as Emerson well said, "You 
 have only to tickle the earth with a hoe and she laughs 
 at you back with a harvest." In those old days Rome 
 numbered two or three millions of inhabitants. She was 
 a walled city, with thirty-seven gates, from which roads 
 radiated to all parts' of the Roman Empire, which then 
 embraced both shores of the Mediterranean and pretty 
 much the whole of the then known world, 
 to Zacharias, a 
 monk, who vis- 
 ited there in 540, 
 Rome then had 
 over 400 streets, 
 17,097 palaces, 
 13,052 fountains, 
 80 large statues of 
 gods in gilded 
 bronze, 66 in 
 ivory, 3,785 in 
 bronze of emper- 
 ors and great men, 22 colossal equestrian statues in 
 bronze, 31 theaters, 11 amphitheaters, 9,026 baths, and 
 dwelling-houses innumerable, and was well called the 
 "Mistress of the World," the "Eye of the Whole 
 Earth," and the "Hub of the Universe." One can well 
 believe all this, after gazing upon her enormous ruins 
 and colossal antiquities; and yet she utterly perished, 
 so that in the year 547, after her capture by Totila, it 
 is recorded that for forty days there was not one living 
 being within her vast walls. Her ivory statues have all 
 disappeared. Of her gilded statues only two remain. 
 
 6 7 
 
 Rome 
 
 Rome from 
 the Dome of 
 St. Peter's 
 
European Of her twenty-two bronze horsemen, only one now re- 
 DayS and mains — Marcus Aurelius on the Capitoline Hill, spared 
 Ways by the Barbarians and the Romans of the Middle Ages 
 because believed to be Constantine the Emperor, 
 founder of Roman Christianity. (Rydberg, 303, etc.) 
 How vast her old ruins and antiquities are, it is 
 difficult to realize, until one actually sees them. We had 
 read about them all our lives, and dreamed about them 
 many years, but here they were face to face. Rome's 
 very origin dazes you, begun over seven hundred years 
 before Christ. Her ancient walls of brick, planned by 
 Romulus and Remus, so they say, are still intact in part. 
 We wandered over the Palatine and Capitoline and 
 Quirinal Hills, strewn with broken capitals and columns. 
 We stood by the Arch of Septimius Severus and Trajan's 
 Column. We walked into the Cloaca Maxima, old 
 Rome's ancient and greatest sewer, still in good use. 
 We rode through the Arch of Titus, built to commem- 
 orate his victories over the Jews and the Fall of Jeru- 
 salem (A. D. 81), with the table of showbread, the 
 golden candlesticks, etc., carved thereon. We visited 
 the Mamertine Prison, an underground dungeon, where 
 Peter and Paul were incarcerated, and from which they 
 were led forth to martyrdom. We walked through the 
 Forum, where the Roman Senate and people used to 
 assemble, and deliberate, and vote, and where Cicero 
 spoke and Caesar fell. We went to the Colosseum, 
 where a hundred thousand Romans used to sit and 
 watch their great games and shows, and shout over the 
 victors; where, in Titus's time, they celebrated the one 
 thousandth anniversary of the founding of Rome, with 
 one thousand wild beasts roaring in the arena, and two 
 
 68 
 
thousand gladiators fighting each other to the death. Rome — 
 Next we visited Caracalla's Baths, where two thousand PfllaGGS 
 persons could bathe at once (hot, cold, and tepid baths) ; 
 and they had a race-course also, — all embraced within 
 the same walls, the area being over a thousand feet in 
 length, by nearly as many wide. Here also, on the Pala- 
 tine Hill, was once the magnificent palace of Septimius 
 Severus, four hundred and ninety feet long by three hun- 
 dred and ninety wide and one hundred and sixty high, 
 a veritable "mountain of masonry," but now only indis- 
 tinguishable ruins. 
 
 How colossal and magnificent these old edifices once 
 were, built of brick and encased with marble, we can 
 not conceive now; but we can imagine somewhat from 
 the vast ruins remaining, and from the exquisite statues, 
 bronzes, mosaics, etc., still unearthed there; such as 
 the Farnese Bull, the Hercules and the Flora at Naples, 
 and other marvels of art and architecture scattered 
 through Rome, and indeed all over Italy and Europe, 
 that once belonged there. For centuries Christian 
 Rome regarded her heathen ruins as her best quarries, 
 and literally gutted them of their marbles, bronzes, 
 mosaics, etc., for her churches and palaces. And what 
 she could not use herself she gave away, or sold abroad, 
 until now scarcely a marble slab is left about her ancient 
 buildings — only crumbling bricks and mortar. 
 
 What a wonderful people those old Romans must 
 have been; what engineers, architects, and artists; what 
 orators, poets, and philosophers; what politicians and 
 statesmen, as well as great soldiers! You think of all 
 these things as you wander about her old ruins, and 
 want to sit down and meditate alone, tired of guides 
 
 6 9 
 
European and their chatter. Here Romulus and Remus located 
 Days and and once lived; they show you the old she-wolf and 
 Ways the famous twins in antique bronze on the Capitoline 
 Hill still. Here great Csesar rose and fell, assassinated 
 in the capitol. Here Cicero spoke, as seldom man 
 spake. Here Virgil and Horace sang. Here Severus, 
 and Trajan, and Augustus triumphed. Here Kabius 
 stood, like Washington and Lee; and Scipio and Beli- 
 sarius fought, like Grant and Sherman. Here Peter 
 and Paul preached and suffered. Here great Rome 
 (and her soul or ghost) is still — ''the glory that was 
 Greece and the grandeur that was Rome." What does 
 it all mean? How could they all have passed away? 
 And who and what are to come afterward? 
 
 All this comes to you and charms and humbles you, 
 uplifts, and inspires, and subdues you. And yet, after 
 a while, you come to yourself, and rise up from the 
 broken capital or column upon which you have been 
 sitting, and walk away to your hotel, and thank God you 
 are an American citizen. It was a good thing to be 
 a Roman citizen, but ten times better to be an American. 
 Of course, we went to her great galleries and gor- 
 geous churches. We went to the Vatican, the Pope's 
 Palace and vast museum and gallery, with its eleven 
 thousand rooms, filled with paintings, mosaics, and 
 statuary, unsurpassed upon the earth. For centuries 
 the popes have vied with each other as great art col- 
 lectors, and have ransacked the world for masterpieces, 
 regardless of cost; and here they all are in the Vatican, 
 or St. Peter's, just adjoining. Here are wonders of 
 art from Greece, Egypt, and Asia Minor; the best things 
 of Phidias, Praxiteles, and perhaps Apelles. Here are 
 
 70 
 
the best things of Raphael, Michael Angelo, Titian, Rome — Art 
 Rubens, Guido Reni, Paul Veronese, Carlo Dolce, Fra 
 Angelico, Leonardo da Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Van 
 Dyck, Correggio, Murillo, Velasquez, Domenichino, 
 Salvator Rosa, Claude Lorraine, and others. Here are 
 the matchless statues of Laocoon, the Apollo Belvidere, 
 Father Nile, Torso of Hercules, Zeus, so world-re- 
 nowned, and justly so. In the Sistine Chapel is Michael 
 Angelo's great painting of "The Last Judgment;" the 
 good ascending to paradise, and the bad sinking to 
 perdition; angels wooing the one upwards, and devils 
 dragging the other downwards. Every phase of human 
 life and character, every variety of action and emo- 
 tion, is depicted in it by the great master of modern 
 art. And yet, it must be confessed, the great painting 
 is disappointing at first, it is so vast and awful. But 
 afterwards its true grandeur and sublimity and su- 
 preme genius appeal to you, and you are uplifted and 
 inspired, as if standing on some lofty mountain-peak 
 or soaring aloft on eagles' wings. The Sistine Chapel 
 was closed the first morning we were there, preparing 
 for some function where Pope Leo himself was to 
 officiate. But a few coins to the liveried doorkeeper 
 proved an "open sesame," and we had the famous 
 chapel to ourselves. Subsequently we visited it again, 
 and "The Last Judgment" grew constantly upon us 
 as something wonderful, weird, and mysterious, as I 
 think it does upon all beholders. 
 
 Next we went to the Rospigliosi Palace, and saw 
 Guido Reni's great picture "Aurora," or Apollo as god 
 of the day, seated in his golden chariot drawn by the 
 fiery horses of the Sun, while Aurora scatters roses and 
 
 7i 
 
European flowers before him, and the Hours, as lovely goddesses, 
 Days and dance airily around him. Altogether, to my thinking, 
 ways this was the finest painting we saw in Rome. Then 
 we went to the Barberini Palace, to see the famous 
 picture of Beatrice Cenci, also by Guido Reni. Then 
 to the Capitoline Museum, where the most antique 
 and curious things of old Rome are collected — arms, 
 armor, utensils, bronzes, marbles, and the like, includ- 
 ing the "Dying Gladiator." Then to the Doria Palace, 
 the Colonna Palace, the Borghese Palace, and others, 
 where all that is beautiful in art or exquisite in taste 
 seems to have been brought together; paintings and 
 statuary in all these by the acre, by the great artists 
 of all lands and all ages, though but few have been 
 mentioned here. 
 
 Next we went to the Pantheon, an old heathen 
 temple from old Roman days, but still well preserved, 
 and now in use as a Christian church, with no side 
 windows, but lighted by a single circular window in 
 the dome, thirty feet in diameter. The dome itself is 
 one hundred and forty feet high, and its diameter the 
 same, the whole edifice being stately and impressive. 
 It is of ancient Roman brick, and was originally coated 
 with marble, but scarcely a block of this remains, it 
 having been quarried away and used for buildings else- 
 where about the city. Its old walls are twenty feet in 
 thickness, and it is said to be "the only ancient edifice 
 at Rome which is still in perfect preservation;" that is, 
 whose original walls and vaulting still stand. Here are 
 the tombs of Raphael and other great artists, and, 
 though stripped of much of its ancient beauty and glory, 
 the Pantheon still charms all observers. 
 
 72 
 
Then we went to the Church of Santa Maria Mag- Rome — 
 giore, the pope's own church, the largest of the eighty ClUirGheS 
 churches in Rome dedicated to the worship of the Holy 
 Virgin, and one of the most ancient churches there. 
 Then to St. Peter in Vinculis, containing Michael 
 Angelo's great statue of "Moses" — something of a dis- 
 appointment, I think, but greatly celebrated. Then to 
 Santo Maria de Capitoli, on top of the Capitoline Hill, 
 the oldest church in Rome. Then to St. Paul's Beyond 
 the Walls, on the 
 Campagna, just 
 outside of Rome, 
 with its superb 
 ancient mosaics 
 and splendid mar- 
 ble columns, one 
 of the finest 
 churches in all 
 Europe, surpris- 
 i n g everybody, 
 but so fever- 
 stricken that nobody dares to stay there at night, and ^ HE FoRUM 
 absolutely without worshipers as a rule, its rich stained- 
 glass windows shattered by the explosion of a powder 
 magazine several years ago, and not yet restored. 
 
 Next we went to St. John in Lateran, one of the 
 best preserved basilicas of old Rome, dating back to 
 the first century of the Christian era, and long called 
 "the mother and head of all the churches of this city 
 and globe," with its ancient baptistery and museum, 
 and antique busts and statues and mosaics, and leaden 
 pipes from ancient aqueducts, and exquisite frescoes 
 
 73 
 
 Rome 
 
European and paintings, and wonderful ancient bronze doors; a 
 Days and pair of the latter from Caracalla's Baths, with silver 
 Ways mixed with the bronze, and so pitched and tuned that 
 their very creaking is melodious, and hence called St. 
 John's ''musical doors." Then to Scala Santa, or 
 Church of the Holy Stairs, containing twenty-eight 
 broad marble steps from Pilate's palace at Jerusalem, 
 which Jesus is said to have once ascended, and may 
 now be ascended only on one's knees, descending by 
 two adjoining flights. They are now protected with 
 wood at the edges, having been deeply worn away by 
 the knees of sometime worshipers there. These are 
 the "stairs" which Martin Luther mounted, partly on 
 his knees, after his long pilgrimage from Germany, and 
 then suddenly rose and turned Protestant, light break- 
 ing in upon his soul and dissipating his old supersti- 
 tions when the memorable words, "The just shall live 
 by faith," rang in his ears like the chime of distant 
 church-bells. Then to the Church of the Cappuccini, 
 with its four thousand skulls and skeletons ranged 
 about its walls and grinning horribly at you. There 
 are four great open-air burial-vaults here, decorated in 
 a ghastly manner with the bones of about four thou- 
 sand departed Capuchins, grouped about the walls and 
 sides — skulls and skeletons everywhere — some of them 
 arranged as lamps, candelabras, and chandeliers. Each 
 vault serves as a tomb, and contains holy earth brought 
 from Jerusalem. When a monk or priest died the body 
 which had been longest interred was removed to make 
 way for him, and then the old corpse was boiled and 
 stripped of its flesh, and its bones paraded as aforesaid. 
 Of course, all this is stopped now, but there is no con- 
 
 74 
 
ceit these old monks did not indulge in, however queer Rome — 
 or horrible. In a side chapel is a famous picture of DllIHjeon 
 Guido Reni's "St. Michael and the Dragon," one of 
 the art treasures of Rome, and justly world-renowned. 
 
 Then we went to the Mamertine Prison, an un- 
 derground dungeon from old Roman days, where 
 Jugurtha was strangled, and Peter and Paul were im- 
 prisoned, and miraculous springs then burst forth that 
 they might baptize their jailers; and Peter's head made 
 a deep indentation in the solid rock when slapped by 
 a brutal Roman soldier, so the monkish guide tells 
 you. He shows you the big dent in the rock still, and, 
 of course, it must be so. How else would the dent have 
 got there? This Mamertine Prison is a cold and clammy 
 place, even in the Roman summer; and the wonder 
 is how men managed to sustain human life in such a 
 subterranean dungeon, even briefly. They have a dingy 
 and dirty little chapel there now, with ill-smelling 
 kerosene lamps and candles burning, and a shabby 
 priest or two in attendance, and they show you an old 
 opening in the ancient wall, communicating with the 
 Cloaca Maxima, through which Roman prisoners, when 
 dead or slain, or even half dead, it is said — if the prison 
 was wanted for others — were cast into the Roman 
 sewers. An uncanny and horrible old place, in very 
 truth ! 
 
 We did not take in all these churches in the above 
 order exactly, and we saw many others. There are 
 about four hundred churches in Rome altogether, of 
 all kinds, and, of course, it is the most ecclesiastical 
 place in the world. But these were the chief churches 
 we saw, and then we went to St. Peters, and visited 
 
 75 
 
European it three times. Our first visit was for a cursory view 
 Days and only, and we drove all around and about it; our second 
 Ways for a more critical observation and examination; and 
 our third to verify some details we were not certain 
 about. The other churches, as a rule, are plain out- 
 side, but gorgeous inside; as a whole, I fear, somewhat 
 disappointing. But St. Peter's is a great and wonder- 
 ful ecclesiastical edifice, the largest building in the 
 whole world, and, like the sea or some great moun- 
 tain-peak, grows upon you the more you behold it. 
 Its very history dazes you : founded by the Emperor 
 Constantine in the first century after Christ, on the 
 site of Nero's circus, where the early Christians were 
 burned and sacrificed to wild beasts, and St. Peter 
 himself is said to have suffered martyrdom; only a little 
 tomb or mortuary chapel at first, where Christian men 
 and women met to weep and pray, on the spot where 
 Peter had died. But this grew at length into a noble 
 church, with colonnades, chapels, and monasteries, its 
 interior sumptuously decorated with gold and silver, 
 mosaics and marbles. Here Charlemagne was crowned 
 in the year 800 as chief of the great Roman Empire, 
 and subsequently numerous emperors and popes came 
 here to be crowned. In the course of time this old 
 edifice became unsafe, and about 1400 it was pulled 
 down, and the present church begun; but it was not 
 finished until 1626 — over two centuries in building. 
 Rossellino, Bramante, Raphael, Michael Angelo — the 
 greatest architects and engineers of their time — all had 
 a hand in it, and the treasuries of the world were ex- 
 hausted in completing it. How vast and grand it really 
 is! Its great dome — the greatest in the world — dom- 
 
 76 
 
inates the whole Roman landscape, and when you Rome — 
 stand beneath it and look upward you seem to be gaz- St. Peter's 
 ing into the very Italian sky itself. This dome was 
 designed and built by Michael Angelo himself, that 
 wonderful painter, sculptor, architect, and engineer, 
 all rolled into one; one of the most remarkable men 
 that ever lived, seemingly half genius and half lunatic 
 at times; who declared one day, in talking about St. 
 Peter's, that he "would take the heathen Pantheon, 
 colossal as it was and is, and swing it into the air, as 
 a dome for our Christian Church." And he did it mag- 
 nificently; for it is just about the size of the old Pan- 
 theon, and you could hide the Pantheon in it. 
 
 You get to St. Peter's by electric tram-cars, if you 
 want to do so, which seems an anachronism in old 
 Rome. Or you take a cab and drive through its nar- 
 row and winding streets, and crossing the Tiber by the 
 castle of St. Angelo, so reach St. Peter's. Like most 
 of the churches and galleries in Rome, it sits on a hill; 
 you have to be forever climbing up and down while 
 there. You approach it either through great elliptical 
 colonnades, with four rows of travertine columns on 
 each side, or by an ancient Egyptian obelisk from 
 Luxor, between two magnificent fountains, over broad 
 marble steps and platforms leading up to it. You 
 ascend these, and enter the church through superb 
 bronze doors, each one a work of transcendent art. 
 You are struck first with the vastness of the edifice, 
 and then with its exquisite harmony and symmetry — 
 a very poem in stone. And then, as you pass up its 
 great nave and through its long aisles and across the 
 transept, and walk about the high altar, and see all 
 
 77 
 
European the elaborate popes' tombs, exquisite side chapels, con- 
 DflyS and fessionals, columns, mosaics, statuary, windows, Ma- 
 WayS donnas, and Christs — everything religion can con- 
 ceive or art can execute — you become at last simply 
 dazed and astonished. You take in its enormous size 
 and superb finish, as if the jeweler as well as the archi- 
 tect and artist, had been everywhere at work, and St. 
 Peters at last becomes something sublime and awful, 
 the most magnificent and awful edifice upon the earth, 
 an ecclesiastical gem, an architectural miracle, the 
 modern wonder of the world. Its greatest frescoes and 
 paintings have been removed to the Vatican; but copies 
 in mosaic have been substituted, and these are so ex- 
 quisite in color and finish they look quite like the orig- 
 inals. They have a mosaic manufactory in the Vatican, 
 where only skilled artists and workmen are employed, 
 for the express business of copying celebrated pictures 
 for churches and collectors; and in this delicate work 
 they are said to use twenty-five thousand different 
 shades of colored glass. Of course, such mosaics will 
 never fade, while the best of frescoes and oil-paintings 
 presently will; and hence St. Peter's has perpetuated 
 the best of her Raphaels, and other artists, in mosaics. 
 But then the cost of St. Peter's ! One could not 
 help thinking of this also. No pains or expense seems 
 to have been spared. The whole world, and all ages 
 nearly, have contributed to it, — millions on millions of 
 dollars, — until no man can compute its cost, wrung 
 largely from human hopes and fears, and which ought 
 to have gone mainly into human welfare and human 
 betterment, as an American can not but think. What 
 a lot of free schools and modern colleges the cost of 
 
 78 
 
St. Peter's would have built! And would not Italy, Rome — 
 and mankind, have been better off with these, and St. Peter's 
 fewer priests; and Italians have been better men and 
 better citizens? 
 
 Here are a few figures about St. Peter's, that seem 
 to me impressive : Its total length is 696 feet; its breadth, 
 459 feet; height of dome, 403 feet; its area, 18,000 
 square yards (nearly four acres), or about seventy times 
 the size of an ordinary American Protestant church. 
 The cathedral at Milan contains only 10,000 square 
 yards; St. Paul's at London, 9,350; St. Sophia's at Con- 
 stantinople, 8,150; and Cologne Cathedral, 7,400. The 
 cost of St. Peter's, to the year 1700 only, was $50,000,- 
 000, and its total cost is now believed to be over $100,- 
 000,000; its annual expense about $50,000. It holds 
 80,000 people, so they say, standing up, and in some 
 of the great papal functions it is crowded to its walls 
 and doors. 
 
 In sharp contrast with St. Peter's, and the Roman 
 Catholic churches generally, are the few Protestant 
 churches in Rome. Some of these are only hired halls, 
 in the second or third story of back streets; others 
 obscure and unsightly edifices, with little of the churchly 
 about them. But "All Saints," the English church in 
 the Via Babuino, is a credit to the Anglican Church, 
 with a capacity of about six hundred, though the con- 
 gregation consisted of only ten men and forty women, 
 by actual count, the Sabbath we worshiped there. Few 
 of these were Italians, but most Englishmen and Amer- 
 icans. So, also, the American Methodist Episcopal 
 church, at the corner of the Via Venti Settembri and 
 Via Firenze, opposite the Italian War Department, is 
 
 79 
 
European an honor to American Methodism, and is doing a gen- 
 DayS and nine and great work for Italy. It is excellently located ; 
 Ways could scarcely be better in all Rome. It is in a fine 
 and growing quarter of the city, on the corner of two 
 main avenues, and is on the site of an old Roman Cath- 
 olic church, that was itself built on the ruins of an 
 ancient heathen temple. It is a church, mission house, 
 theological school, and college, all combined. It is 
 five stories high, built of stone and brick, and abso- 
 lutely fireproof. There is no wood in it, except the 
 doors and window-sashes. The beams are of iron and 
 steel. The floors are concrete and tiles. One might 
 kindle a fire on every floor, and the building would not 
 burn. On the first floor are an admirable church and 
 chapel for both Italian and English services; on the 
 next, printing and publication rooms; on the next, liv- 
 ing-rooms for the officers and professors; on the next, 
 lecture and recitation rooms; on the next, dormitories 
 for the students. Among the students was a grand- 
 son of glorious old Giuseppe Garibaldi, and we had 
 the pleasure of shaking hands with him. This church 
 is well filled on Sunday morning, afternoon, and even- 
 ing, chiefly by Italians, and its services are only dis- 
 tinguished from Methodist meetings in America and 
 elsewhere by the Italian language. Its music and sing- 
 ing are superb. It stands there on its magnificent 
 corner, in the heart of old Rome, as an American and 
 Methodist protest against the mummery and imposture 
 and rank paganism of much of what we saw in the 
 Eternal City, and says to everybody and everything: 
 "Here we are, the Methodista Episcopale Chiesa ! We 
 have arrived, and have come to stay!" It is true 
 
 80 
 
it cost nearly $200,000, land and all; but it was Prot- Rome— 
 estant money well spent, and our Protestant Churches Health 
 must not hope to capture Italy without some such 
 notable expenditure and sacrifice. 
 
 Rome has a bad name for summer heat and the 
 Roman fever, so called. But in the latter part of June, 
 even, we did not find the heat excessive, and the 
 "Roman fever" is believed to be largely a thing of the 
 past. The mornings and evenings were delightful. It 
 was hot in the sun in the middle of the day, but cool 
 in the shade, and so cool in the churches and galleries 
 that an extra coat or wrap was really necessary. We 
 were warned to beware of the evening air, but went 
 everywhere at all hours the same as in America. We 
 fell in with "the custom of the country," and took a 
 "siesta" — a nap and rest in the middle of the day — 
 because everybody else did; but otherwise went every- 
 where unharmed. The fact of the matter is, that the 
 climate and sanitary condition of Rome have been 
 vastly improved of late years (thanks to the new regime), 
 by the better drainage and cultivation of the Campagna 
 near by, and her death-rate now is, indeed, even less 
 than that of Vienna or Paris. In 1899 her death-rate 
 was only 17.8 per thousand inhabitants, and her per- 
 centage of deaths from typhoid fever was only 1.92, 
 from diphtheria 0.34, from influenza or "grippe" 1.14, 
 and from malaria 1.89. Her population, too, had in- 
 creased from 248,208 in 1871 to 500,610, and her wards 
 had been so extended to keep pace with this in- 
 crease that what were but recently her suburbs are 
 now among the most thickly populated quarters of 
 Rome. 
 
 6 81 
 
European Eor street pavements Rome has mostly large blocks, 
 Days and like Naples, or well-fitting Belgian blocks, or asphalt; 
 Ways the latter coming into general use now. The old streets 
 are without sidewalks or else very narrow ones, often 
 only two or three feet wide, with the people walking 
 in the middle of the streets; a European custom in all 
 the old cities. Her new streets have wide sidewalks, 
 the same as our American cities; but still many of the 
 people take to the roadway, from old habit or "inherited 
 tendency." 
 
 Of course, churches and shrines everywhere abound, 
 and "patron saints" are innumerable. Every occupa- 
 tion and profession has its own saint, though all worship 
 the Virgin, and many seem to worship even the pope. 
 He never appears upon the streets of Rome, but con- 
 fines himself to St. Peter's and the Vatican, and indeed 
 calls himself "the prisoner of the Vatican," because 
 not allowed civil jurisdiction any more beyond the 
 walls of the Vatican. But when he appears in St. 
 Peter's, at the great ecclesiastical functions there, he is 
 borne in a great sedan chair, richly decorated, on the 
 shoulders of Roman princes, with waving peacock 
 plumes before and after him, amid the acclamations 
 of the multitude, as if he were a demigod. Even the 
 lawyers have their patron saint, though usually they 
 know how to take care of themselves the world over. 
 The story runs that, in the fourteenth century, one 
 Evona or Ives, an eminent attorney of Brittany, was 
 lamenting that men of his profession had no patron 
 saint to bless and guide them. So he made a pilgrimage 
 to Rome, and petitioned the pope to help the lawyers 
 out. The pope, of course, was considerably puzzled. 
 
 82 
 
But finally he told the attorney to go three times blind- Rome — 
 folded around the Church of San Giovanni in Lateran, EvOIKi 
 and, after he had repeated six Ave Marias, the first 
 image he took hold of there should be his patron. 
 Evona obeyed orders, and, laying his hands on an image 
 at the proper time, he exultantly proclaimed, "This 
 is our saint; this be our patron !" But when the bandage 
 was removed from his eyes he found he had stopped 
 at the altar of St. Michael, and instead of taking hold 
 of St. Michael himself he had grasped the image be- 
 neath St. Michael's feet — the devil ! It is alleged poor 
 Evona was so overcome by the affair that in a few 
 months he died. He ascended to Paradise, and when 
 he knocked at its gates for admittance he was told by 
 St. Peter that there was no room in heaven for lawyers. 
 "O, but," said Evona, "I am an honest lawyer who 
 never took fees on both sides, nor pleaded in a bad 
 cause; nor did I ever set my neighbors together by 
 the ears, nor live by the sins of other people !" Where- 
 upon St. Peter's heart was moved, and he let him in, 
 and thereupon the good advocate of Brittany became 
 St. Evona, and the patron saint of all the lawyers ! 
 This story is too good to be true; but is probably as 
 true as most of the other "patron-saint" stories. 
 
 83 
 
Chapter V 
 
 DO not know whether it was too much 
 "sight-seeing," or a touch of the Roman fever, 
 but I broke down, and was glad to get away 
 from Rome. We left there June 24th, and 
 because I was ill went "first-class." We had a com- 
 partment all to ourselves, and enjoyed it much. The 
 station at Rome — large and roomy — was dirty and 
 discreditable for such a city, and was filled with con- 
 tadina or farm-laborers, both men and women, en route 
 to Ancona and the summer harvest-fields. They had 
 their implements, clothing, cooking utensils, all with 
 them, and it is the custom of Italian harvesters thus 
 to travel from one district to another in harvest time, 
 camping out near their work. We saw them thus all 
 over Italy, and they were a merry, happy set of people 
 as a rule. 
 
 Our route lay up the valley of the Tiber, constantly 
 ascending, skirting the Apennines, and every mile we 
 got away from Rome the air became more pure and 
 bracing. We were bound for Perugia, an old mountain 
 city of Italy, one hundred and twenty-eight miles north 
 of Rome, and long before we got there I seemed like 
 another man. The valley of the Tiber is never broad — 
 from three to five miles only- — but seemed wonder- 
 fully fertile and well-tilled. Harvesting was every- 
 
 84 
 
where going on, and the fields were alive with both Tiber Valley 
 men and women actively at work with their sickles 
 and hand-rakes, like their ancestors two thousand 
 years ago. We did not see a single mower or reaper 
 and binder; but it was hand-work everywhere, with the 
 proportion of about two women to one man. The 
 whole country was one vast vineyard also, with grain 
 between the rows of trees and vines. Beyond the Tiber 
 Valley, on either side, the land rises into mountains, 
 with abrupt peaks and ridges, and these as a rule are 
 crowned with villages and towns, or churches and 
 monasteries, or the ruins of them. How they ever 
 got the churches and monasteries up some of them, 
 or why they built them there at all, and at what enor- 
 mous labor and expense, surprises and puzzles one. 
 I suppose each priest wanted to get higher up and 
 build loftier than his brother, on the same principle 
 as in America each church tries to build its spire higher 
 than its neighbor, and cared little what it cost his peo- 
 ple to climb up and down such mountain heights. All 
 this would be "imputed to them for righteousness !" 
 So he taught, and they devoutly believed. 
 
 As we neared Perugia we got more among the 
 Apennines, the great mountain range which runs the 
 whole length of Italy and is the backbone of the Penin- 
 sula. The day was warm, but showers chased each 
 other along the Apennines, and when we reached 
 Perugia it was raining hard. It is a ride of a mile 
 or two from the station to the town, but we made it 
 dry in a good hotel omnibus. Perugia is the capital 
 of the province of Umbria, with about twenty thousand 
 inhabitants, and is the residence of the prefect, of a 
 
 85 
 
European military commandant, and a bishop, and is the seat of 
 Days and an old university. Pope Leo XIII was formerly bishop 
 Ways here, and I think was so when called to the papal chair. 
 It is a fine example of an old Italian mountain city, 
 and hence our trip there. Indeed, Perugia was an old 
 Etruscan city before Rome itself was born, and alto- 
 gether is a very picturesque and remarkable old place. 
 It lies on the top of a mountain, or rather a group of 
 little mountains, about thirteen hundred feet above the 
 
 valley of the 
 Tiber, and sev- 
 enteen hundred 
 feet above the sea, 
 with the Apen- 
 nines surround- 
 ing and stretch- 
 ing away beneath 
 it. It is built 
 in an antiquated 
 style, partly on 
 top of the moun- 
 Rapid tain and partly on its slope, with numerous buildings 
 p ' of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when Perugia 
 was in its zenith. From a distance it seems perched 
 on the very top of an abrupt mountain, and one wonders 
 how to get up or down. But a splendid road has been 
 dug and blasted out of the mountain side, and this 
 winds up and around and zigzags about, and at last 
 lands you easily on the summit. A company had re- 
 cently been formed to build an electric road from the 
 station to the city, right up and around the mountain, 
 and the engineer in charge, a bright young Dutchman 
 
 86 
 
from Antwerp, told us they expected to have it com- PeriHjia 
 pleted within a year or so. 
 
 We stopped at the Grand Hotel, on the very sum- 
 mit, near the Prefecture, kept by an English landlady, 
 and in the best English-Italian style. The table was 
 excellent, and our rooms all that could be desired. The 
 guests were few, as it was out of the season. But in 
 the winter, we were told, this hotel is crowded. The 
 air was superb, and the views from the hotel verandas 
 and windows magnificent, over the valley of the Tiber, 
 and with the Apennines stretching away and around 
 and beneath you like a grand amphitheater to the far 
 horizon. It reminded us of the views from Lookout 
 Mountain, Tennessee, where we had been two or three 
 years before. But the Italian scenery is more subdued 
 and cultivated, with farms and villages climbing all the 
 mountains, as our American mountains may be cen- m 
 
 turies hence. 
 
 In the public square is the inevitable equestrian 
 statue of Victor Emmanuel, and in another piazza not 
 far away one of Garibaldi also. The Italians have 
 statues of these popular heroes in all their cities and 
 towns, and they are so much alike they all seem to have 
 been designed by the same artist, or as if built by con- 
 tract. It rained all the evening the day we arrived; 
 but the next morning was clear and glorious, a typical 
 Italian morning. It was the Sabbath, but there was no 
 Protestant service, and so about 10 A. M. we walked 
 up the Corso or main street to the old cathedral of San 
 Lorenzo, begun in the fifteenth century and still un- 
 finished. The shops and stores were all open as usual, 
 and the country people thronged the Piazza del Mu- 
 
 87 
 
European nicipio in front of the cathedral for their chief market of 
 Days and the week. They would slip away into the ancient ca- 
 WayS thedral for a few prayers and a touch of holy water, but 
 were soon back at their produce and wares again, and 
 Perugia gave few signs of an American Sabbath. In 
 the quaint old cathedral itself we found two or three 
 hundred people, chiefly women and children, and the 
 usual Roman mass proceeding. The cathedral contains 
 some paintings and statuary not without interest; for 
 Perugino himself once lived and painted here, and had 
 Raphael for a pupil, and indeed founded a school of 
 artists. But we had seen so much of painting and sculp- 
 ture at Rome that Perugia now palled on us. 
 
 The Palazzo Publico, or City Hall, is a huge old 
 Gothic structure, with its principal fagade towards the 
 Corso, and another towards the Piazza del Duomo, or 
 Cathedral Square. It dates back to 1281, and has some 
 fine windows, a noble portal, and Gothic sculptures of 
 the city arms, saints, etc. Over the portal in the Piazza 
 del Duomo are a curious griffin and lion in bronze of 
 the fourteenth century, and below are old chains and 
 gate-bars commemorating the victory by the Perugians 
 over the Sienese in 1358, a century and a half before 
 Columbus discovered America. Perugia was even then 
 a memorable and gallant city, for a place of its size; and 
 on many lines it seems to be a live place still, for such a 
 mountain town. That afternoon showers set in again, 
 real American summer showers, chasing each other 
 along and over the Apennines, and it rained steadily all 
 the evening; and it became so cool and damp we had 
 to have fires kindled in our rooms, in order to be com- 
 fortable. And this was June 25th, too. 
 
The next morning was superb again, and we walked PeriHjid 
 and drove all over Perugia. We passed through its 
 narrow. and winding streets, where Guelph and Ghibel- 
 line used to do valiant battle — so narrow wagons could 
 not pass, and so steep that a few men-at-arms could keep 
 back a multitude. We explored its quaint old palaces, 
 and viewed its ancient Etruscan walls, old before Christ 
 was born, and enjoyed the lovely prospects from its 
 abrupt cliffs and historic promenades. We saw the gar- 
 rison at drill, both infantry and artillery, and pretty good 
 work they did, too. The men were a little slouchy, and 
 not well set up; but the officers seemed bright and in- 
 telligent, as the Italian army officers generally are, and 
 Italy will yet have a fighting force equal to her needs. 
 All about the city, and scattered well over her mountain 
 slopes are old olive-trees, knotted and gnarled, and Ital- 
 ian chestnuts, and every foot of ground seems cultivated 
 to the utmost. The people seemed happy and con- 
 tented, and beggars were at a discount. We did not 
 take the drive to Assisi, as recommended; but it must 
 be something charming and delightful, and Assisi itself 
 is only fifteen miles away. 
 
 Leaving Perugia, we soon crossed the divide be- 
 tween the Tiber and Arno, and then descended the val- 
 ley of the Arno by Lake Trasimene and Vallombrosa 
 to Florence. At Lake Trasimene we passed the historic 
 battlefield between Hannibal and Klaminius, June 23, 
 B. C. 217 (just about two thousand years ago), where 
 the Romans lost fifteen thousand men, or half their army, 
 in three hours, and the other half was routed and dis- 
 persed. What a great soldier Hannibal really was, and 
 how wonderfully he maintained himself in the enemy's 
 
European country, living on the country, for fifteen years; and 
 Days and what a wonder it is that Rome was not captured and 
 ways her power destroyed by him ! The ride down the valley 
 of the Arno was beautiful and picturesque, and we 
 reached La Bella Florence June 26th, late in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 90 
 
Chapter VI 
 
 A BELLA FLORENCE, or Florence the Florence 
 
 Beautiful, as the Italians love to call her. 
 They have a fancy for giving surnames to 
 their chief cities, as Rome is the Eternal 
 City; Naples is, "See Naples and die;" Genoa is Genoa 
 La Superba, or the Proud; Milan is Milan La Grande, 
 or the Grand; Venice is Venice the Pearl of Italy, or 
 the Queen of the Adriatic. But Florence is always La 
 Bella or the Beautiful, the City of Flowers, and her very 
 name is derived from the Latin Florentia. So a flower 
 is her favorite ornament, and it is cut and carved or 
 painted everywhere here. She is well named, as noth- 
 ing could be more beautiful, situated as she is on the 
 banks of the Arno, rich in art and architecture, sur- 
 rounded by lovely gardens and picturesque mountains, 
 with Fiesole on the north and Lucca on the west, in the 
 midst of which she sits as an exquisite jewel, as some 
 surpassing opal or diamond, dominating and glorifying 
 the wonderful landscape; or, as another has written, 
 "Like a water-lily rising on the mirror of the lake, so 
 rests on this lovely ground the still more lovely Flor- 
 ence, with its everlasting works, and its inexhaustible 
 riches," both of literature and art. 
 
 Florence was formerly the capital of the Grand 
 Duchy of Tuscany, and then of the Kingdom of Italy, 
 
 9i 
 
European before Victor Emmanuel went to Rome; but now only 
 Days and of a province of the same name. It is the seat of an 
 Ways archbishop, the headquarters of an army corps, and 
 ranks among the chief cities of Italy. As early as the 
 fifteenth century it contained ninety thousand inhabit- 
 ants, and now numbers about two hundred thousand. 
 While Rome is the ecclesiastical and political center of 
 Italy, Florence has long been the focus of its intellectual 
 life, and the Florentines have always been distinguished 
 for their vigor of mind and pre-eminence in artistic 
 talent. Even now their superiority over most other 
 Italians is apparent in their manners and dress. It was 
 formerly a walled city; but its walls have been almost 
 entirely removed, only its ancient gates having been 
 spared, several of which are very interesting and beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 We stopped at the Pension Picciola, on the Via 
 Tornabuoni, in an old fifteenth or sixteenth century 
 palace now in use as a pension, and were excellently 
 entertained. The proprietor was an Italian gentleman, 
 but his wife an English woman of unusual ability, and 
 she, in fact, ran the pension. The parlors were spacious, 
 overlooking the Arno, and our rooms quite palatial. 
 We took all our meals here, and found none better in 
 Italy. The location was central and handy to every- 
 thing we desired to see, and the only objection was, it 
 was a little noisy in the daytime, being near one of the 
 chief bridges across the Arno. 
 
 We went first for a drive along the Arno and through 
 the city generally, so as to get a general view of Flor- 
 ence, and then wended our way to the venerable bap- 
 tistery, and to the Duomo, and Giotto's campanile, all 
 
 92 
 
close together in the chief piazza. The baptistery is FlOrenGG — 
 an octagonal structure, founded about noo, and was The DUOHIO 
 
 originally the Cathedral of Florence, in honor of St. 
 John the Baptist. All children born in Florence are 
 now baptized there. Its chief glories are its three cele- 
 brated bronze doors by Ghiberti, decorated with Scrip- 
 ture subjects, each one of which is a poem in bronze by 
 itself, and one of which is so lovely, that Michael Angelo 
 declared it "worthy of forming the entrance to Para- 
 dise." The Duomo, or the Cathedral of St. Mary of 
 the Lily (so called from the lily in the arms of Florence) 
 was erected 1294- 1462 on the site of an earlier church, 
 and was the work chiefly of Arnolfo, Giotto, and Brunel- 
 leschi. It is built in layers of alternate white and black 
 marble, which detracts from its general effect, though 
 one can not help being impressed by its simple dignity 
 and grandeur. It was nearly two centuries in building, 
 and is larger than all previous churches in Italy, being- 
 five hundred and fifty-six feet long by three hundred and 
 forty-two wide, with a dome three hundred feet high 
 (larger than St. Peter's), and a lantern fifty-two feet 
 above that. Inside it seems bare, compared with St. 
 Peter's and the Roman churches generally; but it con- 
 tains some fine monuments, mosaics, and stained-glass 
 windows, many of the latter from designs by Ghiberti, 
 and, on the whole, is a grand and noble ecclesiastical 
 edifice. We visited it several times, and it was a rare 
 treat to sit down and ponder it, and to think of what it 
 had witnessed, or to wander through its great nave and 
 dim aisles at will. Giotto's campanile, or bell-tower, was 
 begun in 1334 and completed in 1387. It is a square 
 structure two hundred and ninety-two feet high, built 
 
 93 
 
European in four stories, and richly decorated with colored mar- 
 DayS and bles. It is covered with statues and bas-reliefs of saints 
 Ways and prophets; of the Seven Cardinal Virtues, the Seven 
 Works of Mercy, the Seven Beatitudes, and the Seven 
 Sacraments; of the Progress of Mankind from the Cre- 
 ation to the climax of Greek Science and Art; and alto- 
 gether is a remarkable edifice. Ruskin says it possesses 
 "the characteristics of power and beauty to a greater 
 degree than any other building in the world;" and I 
 suppose, of course, John Ruskin knew. But I confess 
 I was disappointed with it at first. It was not so tall, 
 nor so massive, nor so beautiful as I had anticipated. 
 But the more one saw and studied it, the more it grew 
 upon you, and wherever you go in Florence the cam- 
 panile rises before you; and in the end you come to 
 concede its majesty, and symmetry, and exquisite ap- 
 propriateness, and humbly to acknowledge that only 
 Giotto could have done it. Like campaniles, on a lesser 
 scale, exist all over Northern Italy; but they all seem 
 to have been patterned after this one of Giotto's. He 
 meant to place a spire on top, one hundred feet high; 
 but this would have seemed superfluous, would have 
 detracted from its beauty and dignity; and I am glad 
 he did not do it. Its magnificent chime of bells rings 
 out over Florence at all hours of the day and night, as 
 they have rung for five hundred years, and all Italy, in- 
 deed, seems to be a land of bells and bell-ringing. On 
 one pretext or another, some of them are always ringing, 
 and the "tintinnabulation of the bells, bells, bells," be- 
 comes a weariness to the tired tourist, until he gets used 
 to their perpetual noise. The great bell in Giotto's 
 Tower is called the "old Vacca" or Cow, and the lowing 
 
 94 
 
of the Old Cow, as it is phrased, has been the chief Florence 
 signal to summon the Florentines to worship or to arms 
 for centuries past. Whenever its brazen tongue rings 
 forth at an unusual hour, all Florence knows something 
 has happened or is going to happen, and the people 
 swarm out of their houses and gather into the public 
 squares to learn their happiness or doom. 
 
 Opposite to the campanile, on the south side, is the 
 oratory of the Misericordia, an order of monks or 
 brothers robed in black from head to foot, and with 
 cowls covering their heads, leaving apertures for their 
 eyes only. These ghostly creatures are frequently seen 
 on the streets of Florence, as the ghosts of other days, 
 and the wonder is that grown men would consent to 
 masquerade in such outlandish costumes in this day and 
 age, or that their fellow-men do not hoot them back 
 into their mediaeval cells. Their oratory contains some 
 reliefs, statues, and paintings that are not without merit. 
 But they should modernize their dress, and behave like 
 sane human beings, and not stalk about in open day- 
 light as religious scarecrows or ecclesiastical humbugs. 
 
 Next we went to the Church of San Croce, the 
 Pantheon of Florence, with its monuments of her great 
 men, with a marble pulpit said to be "the most beau- 
 tiful pulpit in Italy," with its exquisite sculptures by 
 Donatello, and superb frescoes by Giotto and della 
 Robbia, and its lovely old cloisters, where it would seem 
 one might pray and dream forever. In front of it, in 
 the spacious Piazza San Croce, stands a noble statue 
 of Dante in marble, nineteen feet in height, erected in 
 1865 on the six hundredth anniversary of his birth, with 
 its corners adorned with lions and the arms of the chief 
 
 95 
 
European cities of Italy. Not far off is the house in which he was 
 Days and born, and they will show you the step upon which he 
 Ways used to sit and meditate his Divine Comedy, so they say. 
 Then to old San Marco, where Savonarola preached 
 and prayed, and where Fra Angelico, over four centuries 
 ago, painted those marvelous frescoes of piety and devo- 
 tion that are unrivaled to this day. Then to San Maria 
 Novella, which is not so much of a church, though it 
 has some handsome Madonnas by Cimabue and some 
 celebrated frescoes by Ghirlandajo, but is chiefly noted 
 for the piazza in front, with its two obelisks of marble 
 standing on brazen tortoises in the axes of an ellipse, 
 around which as goals the Florentines used to have 
 chariot races on the eve of the festival of St. John. 
 Then to the Church of San Maria del Carmine, with its 
 wonderful frescoes by Filippino Lippi, relating to events 
 in the lives of the apostles, especially St. Peter. Then 
 to the Church of San Spirito, a basilica in the form of a 
 Latin cross, covered with a dome and containing thirty- 
 eight altars after a design by Brunelleschi, with numer- 
 ous Corinthian columns and pillars supporting its noble 
 interior, and with paintings and windows by Perugino, 
 Lippi, and Ghirlandajo. Then to the Chapel of the 
 Medici, with its rich frescoes illustrating the journey of 
 the Magi, with its kings and knights and pages in sump- 
 tuous array, winding their way through a rich cham- 
 paign country, and with charming angels in the Garden 
 of Heaven on the window-walls, of admirable design and 
 finish. Then to other churches also, with their Ma- 
 donnas, and saints, and crucifixions, and frescoes, by art- 
 its of more or less merit, but chiefly old masters, until 
 we got well tired of this whole church business. 
 
 9 6 
 
Next we went to the Uffizi Gallery, of course, and to Florence- — 
 the Pitti Gallery, and saw collections of paintings and Art Galleries 
 sculptures not inferior to those at Rome, and some of 
 them quite superior. Of course, they are not so exten- 
 sive; but they have a beauty and excellence that are 
 incomparable, and show a fineness of art and an exquis- 
 iteness of taste that have made Florence world- 
 renowned, and will keep her so. Indeed, there is no 
 such an array of masterpieces in so small a compass 
 anywhere in the world. Here are Raphaels, Murillos, 
 Titians, and Van Dycks, not surpassed by anything in 
 the Vatican. Here is Raphael's "Madonna della Sedia," 
 or Madonna of the Chair, with the Virgin seated in a 
 chair, the child Jesus in her loving arms, its Divine cheek 
 pressed to her cheek; and there is nothing more touch- 
 ing and beautiful in all Europe, in my judgment. Here 
 also are the lovely pictures of Ghirlandajo, as "The 
 Adoration of the Magi," that in design, expression, and 
 color seem to me perfect. There may be greater paint- 
 ings elsewhere, and I do not pretend to be a connois- 
 seur, but these superb works of Ghirlandajo greatly im- 
 pressed me, and I only know how they touched and 
 thrilled me and others. The little room in which they 
 hang was constantly thronged with intelligent visitors, 
 while others adjoining were practically empty. Here 
 also are Fra Angelico's divine productions, as "The 
 Coronation of the Virgin," with his incomparable angels, 
 looking so pure and perfect and glorious, as if they had 
 just dropped down out of paradise, with their songs and 
 musical instruments along with them and in celestial 
 tune; and as one gazes upon them with rapt vision he 
 may well believe they were heaven-inspired. Evidently 
 7 97 
 
European this old artist-monk did not paint for money, but because 
 Days and he had the love of heaven in his heart and a passion for 
 Ways beauty in his soul, and he must needs express himself 
 along angelic lines. Here also are pictures by Perugino, 
 Michael Angelo, Correggio, Rubens, Paul Veronese, and 
 the Dutch and Flemish schools, famous the world over. 
 Here also are cabinets of gems and precious stones, once 
 the property of the great Medicean family, unequaled 
 out of the Vatican, if surpassed even there. 
 
 The Pitti Gallery is in the Pitti Palace, on the north 
 side of the Arno, a noble building of Cyclopean massive- 
 ness and grandeur, erected four or five centuries ago, 
 and now the residence of the King of Italy when in Flor- 
 ence. We passed through the royal apartments and gar- 
 dens, and were charmed with their general beauty and 
 good taste. In passing through the Throne Room, I 
 ventured to sit down on the throne (to see how an 
 American would feel in such a place), to the dismay of 
 the attendant. But when I exclaimed, "Viva Victor 
 Emmanuel ! Viva Garibaldi !" his scared face broke into 
 a smile, and he answered, "Viva George Washington!" 
 Then we went to San Miniato, with its fine marble 
 fagade, on the hill to the southeast of Florence, beyond 
 the Arno, from which there is a noble view of Florence 
 and the Arno, and beyond which are the fortifications, 
 constructed by Michael Angelo in 1529, and defended 
 by him during nearly a year's siege of the city, when he 
 was engineer and commander-in-chief for the Republic 
 of Florence. What a wonderful man he was to be thus 
 artist and soldier both combined — the greatest artist of 
 his time, if not of all time, and the greatest engineer of 
 his day! 
 
 98 
 
Of course, we went to the Palazzo Strozzi, on the FIOrenGC- 
 Via Tornabuoni, with its three imposing facades (one, Pates 
 one hundred and twenty-six feet long by one hundred 
 and five feet high), and antique lanterns, and link- 
 holders, and rings, built five hundred years ago, and still 
 one of the finest specimens of the Florentine palatial 
 style; not so large, indeed, as the Pitti Palace, but lighter 
 and more buoyant. Its antique street lanterns are so 
 artistic and beautiful that they are taken for models in 
 New York and Philadelphia to-day, and their reproduc- 
 tions sold as "after the Florentine" for our public build- 
 ings. As you walk along the street, the noble propor- 
 tions of this Strozzi Palace strike you as faultless, and 
 it seems impossible to have been built before Columbus 
 sailed. 
 
 The Palazzo Vecchio or Old Palace is a huge, castle- 
 like building, with projecting battlements and a unique 
 tower three hundred and eight feet high, erected in 1298; 
 originally the capitol of the Republic, subsequently the 
 residence of Cosmo I, but now in use as a town hall. 
 Inside it has been elaborately decorated by the hands 
 of Michael Angelo, Ghirlandajo, Leonardo da Vinci, 
 Vasari, and others, and its walls are also hung with some 
 wonderful tapestries of historic and other subjects. The 
 Palazzo Vecchio, indeed, is really a grand old edifice, 
 most stately and impressive, and with its great Gothic 
 tower dominates the city, and in some respects impresses 
 one even more than the Duomo. At all events, this is 
 how it struck me, and I was never weary of gazing at it. 
 It stands on the side of the Piazza della Signoria, in the 
 very heart of Florence, the scene of its popular assem- 
 blies and tumults, and still a center of business and 
 
 LofC. 99 
 
European pleasure. Here Guelphs and Ghibellines, patricians and 
 Days and plebeians, used to rally around their chiefs and shout 
 Ways their battle-cries. It was on this square also, in front 
 of the Palazzo Vecchio, that Savonarola was burned at 
 the stake May 23, 1498. But now in the great hall of 
 the old palace itself stands a colossal statue of him in 
 marble, as a perpetual rebuke to the religious bigotry 
 of his times, and "the deep damnation of his taking off." 
 Near by, on another side of the same public square, 
 is the Loggia di Lanzi, a magnificent open-vaulted 
 palace, designed for public speeches and public occa- 
 sions, and rich with elegant sculptures (erected 1376). 
 Faith, Hope, Charity, Temperance, and Fortitude, all 
 stand here in exquisite marble, as well as Perseus, Mene- 
 laus, Hercules, and other classic characters, in bronze 
 or marble, and the effect of the whole is exalted and 
 beautiful. Some Italian schoolboys or street-gamins 
 were playing hide-and-seek about the marble statues, or 
 climbing over the artistic lions and horses and sliding 
 down them, the day we were there; but the Florentine 
 police paid no attention to their lively antics. 
 
 Next we went to Fiesole, of course, by electric tram- 
 cars, from the Piazzo San Marco, near the Duomo. A 
 carriage-ride there is best; but it was hot and dusty, and 
 the tram-car handiest. It is a ride of about three miles, 
 through Florence and its suburbs, and then by zigzag 
 grades between high garden-walls up the heights of 
 Fiesole. This is an abrupt little mountain, overlooking 
 Florence and the valley of the Arno, and justly cele- 
 brated for its fine climate and magnificent views. Flor- 
 ence lies at your feet, with its domes and towers and pal- 
 aces; while the Arno flashes through its lovely valley like 
 
 100 
 
a thread of silver. On the very top are the remains of 
 an ancient Etruscan tower, the Cyclopean walls of which 
 are still partly preserved. Just beyond are the ruins of 
 an old Roman theater and some Roman baths, and, of 
 course, there is a cathedral here, a church or two, and 
 a seminary. It would be impossible for the good fathers 
 not to pre-empt such a charming spot as Fiesole, and 
 to make the most of it. Of course, there is a bishop 
 here, and a little town of some two thousand inhabitants, 
 the most of whom 
 are engaged in 
 straw-plaiting, an 
 established indus- 
 try in much of 
 Italy. We took 
 "lunch" at Fie- 
 sole, sitting under 
 a leafy and flow- 
 ery arbor, near its 
 summit, and gaz- 
 ing our eyes full 
 at all around and beneath us — a view worthy of Para- 
 dise — and lingered along our way back until well into 
 the evening. Beautiful Fiesole ! Worthy of La Bella 
 Florence ! Hannibal was encamped here before he be- 
 gan his direct march on Rome, and I suppose Fiesole 
 was just as beautiful then as now. 
 
 The Arno flows through the whole length of Flor- 
 ence, from east to west, dividing it into unequal por- 
 tions, and is bordered by handsome quays called L,un- 
 garno. It is crossed by six bridges, of which the Ponte 
 Vecchio, dating back to old Roman days, and re-erected 
 
 IOI 
 
 Florence — 
 Fiesole 
 
 Ponte Vec- 
 chio, Flor- 
 ence 
 
European in 1362 after repeated demolitions, is the most interest- 
 DayS and ing. It consists of three ancient arches, and is flanked 
 Ways by houses and shops on either side several stories high, 
 and looks more like a picturesque old rookery than a 
 modern bridge. Here you can buy anything you want, 
 from a watch to a jackknife or a match-box, at reason- 
 able prices, provided you know what you are buying. 
 The infinity of the articles for sale surprises you, and the 
 whole shop consists chiefly of a show-window, with a 
 
 shelf or two in the 
 rear. I amused 
 myself by wander- 
 ing from shop to 
 shop here, and 
 talking Italian the 
 best I could, and 
 really secured 
 some bargains. 
 Beneath, along 
 the banks of the 
 Arno, the city 
 washerwomen were at work, and indeed the whole Arno 
 seemed like one vast public laundry. 
 
 Florence, however, abounds in excellent shops and 
 stores elsewhere, where objects of art — paintings, statu- 
 ary, gems, glass and earthenware, furniture, silks, and 
 indeed all kinds of goods — can be purchased, at fair 
 prices, and is the delight of English and American 
 "shoppers." In winter, it is a regular English and 
 American colony, and grows more so every year. The 
 little gold coin "florin" was first coined here — so called 
 
 102 
 
 Washing in 
 the Arno, 
 
 Florence 
 
after Florence — and soon became a leading standard of Florence — 
 value throughout Europe. Great 
 
 Here in Florence is the house and tomb of Amerigo Families 
 Vespucci — the man who gave his name to America, after 
 Columbus had discovered it — and there is also a street 
 named after him. But we were so absorbed in other 
 things that we did not have time to look these up. He 
 was no doubt a worthy adventurer; but he stole the 
 plumage that belonged to Columbus, and the world lacks 
 interest in him. 
 
 Florence is a well-paved city, chiefly with large stone 
 slabs, like Naples and old Rome, and its newer streets 
 are wide and imposing. But its old streets are narrow 
 and winding, with overhanging houses that almost touch 
 each other, and often with no footwalks at all. Its streets 
 take their names from the old families, the guilds, public 
 games, and trades, and the like. The great family of 
 the Medici once lived and ruled here, "rich beyond the 
 dreams of avarice,'' and with talent and ambition beyond 
 their riches; and their names, and palaces, and monu- 
 ments, or the names of their descendants, appear every- 
 where in Florence. A great race they must have been, 
 afterwards sadly degenerate. But they left their mark 
 deep and broad on Florence and Italy, and history must 
 always make large mention of them. 
 
 And so we saw Florence, and, I need scarcely add, 
 were greatly interested. Our only regret was, that we 
 could not stay longer and see more. And this, I think, 
 is the general experience of all Americans there. And 
 so I conclude this chapter, as I began it: '%a Bella 
 Florence, forever and a day!" 
 
 103 
 
* 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 T is only an hour's ride by railroad, perhaps 
 thirty or forty miles, from Florence to Pisa. 
 The route is down the valley of the Arno, with 
 the little river nearly always in sight, but with 
 considerable mountains bounding the landscape, 
 crowned here and there with castles, mostly in ruins. 
 
 We were now in the land of the Lombardy poplar, 
 and long lines of this grenadier-like tree were every- 
 where visible. We arrived at Pisa about 2.30 P. M. 
 (June 30th), in the midst of an Italian thunder-shower, 
 and encountered a downpour of rain not exceeded in 
 America usually. A good omnibus, however, carried us 
 dryshod across the Arno, by a fine bridge, to the Hotel 
 Victoria, where we got good rooms and excellent meals. 
 It rained all the afternoon; but in the evening, after a 
 good dinner, we got out a little, with our umbrellas, and 
 visited the Lungarno, the old arcades, and the Piazza 
 Garibaldi, with its usual fine statue of Garibaldi. 
 
 Pisa is now a city of about thirty thousand inhabit- 
 ants, and the capital of a province; but was formerly a 
 place of importance and real power in Italy. It was an 
 old Roman colony before Christ. Augustus named it, 
 and Hadrian and Antoninus Pius erected temples, the- 
 aters, and triumphal arches here, all of which have per- 
 ished. In the Middle Ages Pisa became one of the great 
 
 104 
 
cities of Italy, rivaling Genoa and Venice, as a commer- Pisa 
 cial and seafaring power. But afterwards Genoa and 
 Florence conquered the place, and now it is only the 
 shadow of its former self. It now lies six miles from the 
 sea, on both banks of the Arno; but is supposed to have 
 been much nearer the Mediterranean formerly. The 
 city has some art, and some manufactures still; but is a 
 sleepy old place, with apparently no future. 
 
 The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, even 
 for Italy, and we early wended our way through the 
 quaint old streets to the Duomo, the baptistery, the 
 leaning tower, and the Campo Santo, the four chief 
 things at Pisa, all close together. The old Duomo, or 
 cathedral, was erected so long ago as 1063 to commem- 
 orate a great naval victory of the Pisans over the Sara- 
 cens, and is a noble old basilica, with a nave and double 
 aisles, and transept flanked with aisles, three hundred 
 and twelve feet long by one hundred and six feet wide, 
 and covered with an elliptical dome over the crossing. 
 It was partly burned down in 1595, but was subse- 
 quently restored, and is still a remarkable old edifice, 
 constructed of white marble, with black and colored 
 bands for ornamentation. Its facade is especially mag- 
 nificent, being adorned with columns and arches, and 
 in its upper parts with open galleries. Of its ancient 
 bronze gates or doors, only one remains, and this repre- 
 sents a score or more of Scriptural scenes, exquisite in 
 design and finish. The other doors are also fine, but 
 comparatively recent and not equal to this ancient door, 
 which charms every beholder. 
 
 Inside, the old cathedral is adorned with altars and 
 paintings by Michael Angelo, Andrea del Sarto, and 
 
 105 
 
European Ghirlandajo; with bronze angels by Giovanni da Bo- 
 DayS and logna; with mosaics by Cimabue, and frescoes by other 
 Ways old masters. There are some pictures here by Andrea 
 del Sarto, especially his St. Agnes, and his altar-pieces 
 and choir-pieces, that are not surpassed by anything we 
 saw at Rome or Florence, and that is saying a good deal. 
 His St. Agnes, especially, is a beautiful and touching 
 picture, and thrills you unawares, as one does not expect 
 to see such a masterpiece in Pisa. So there is another 
 painting (I have forgotten by whom) that represents the 
 Deity borne aloft by a flock of flying angels, with wings 
 like swallows' tails. The design is unique, but the draw- 
 ing and coloring excellent. In the nave is a large 
 bronze lamp suspended from the lofty ceiling, and con- 
 stantly swaying to and fro, very old and very beautiful, 
 and its swaying is said to have first suggested to Galileo 
 the idea of the pendulum, and so of the revolution of 
 the earth. The good fathers were going to burn him for 
 this, and he had to retract or die. But still he muttered 
 through his set teeth, "And yet it moves — it moves !" 
 and so all the world now proclaims. The whole interior 
 is supported by sixty-eight ancient Greek and Roman 
 columns, all very beautiful, captured by the Pisans in 
 war with the Turks — marble, alabaster, and porphyry; 
 and what a history they must have! Once, no doubt, 
 they were the ornament and the prop of heathen tem- 
 ples; but here the support of a Christian Church! 
 
 The baptistery is quite near the cathedral, and is also 
 a beautiful edifice, entirely of marble. It was begun in 
 1 1 53, but not completed until 1278 — over a century in 
 building — and is admirably preserved. It is a circular 
 structure, one hundred feet in diameter, surrounded by 
 
 106 
 
half-columns below and a gallery of smaller columns Pisa — 
 above, and covered with a conical dome one hundred Baptistery 
 and ninety feet high. The main entrance is elaborately 
 adorned with columns, with symbolic representations of 
 the Months to the left and other sculptures to the right, 
 with a Byzantine relief above, and, still higher up, with 
 a Madonna by Giovanni Pisano. Inside, in the center, 
 is a massive octagonal marble font, very old, and near 
 it the famous hexagonal pulpit by Niccolo Pisano, 1260, 
 supported by seven columns. The reliefs on this are 
 very beautiful, and consist of the Annunciation and Na- 
 tivity, the Adoration of the Magi, the Presentation in 
 the Temple, the Crucifixion, and the Last Judgment. In 
 the spandrels are the prophets and the evangelists; above 
 the columns, the Virtues. All this work is most skillful 
 and exquisite, and the whole baptistery indeed is a gem 
 of art. 
 
 In addition to all this, this fine old baptistery has a 
 magnificent echo, not surpassed in Europe. The attend- 
 ant startled us by placing his hand to his mouth and 
 shouting aloft. Presently the echo came back, not as 
 a single voice, but rather as a choir of voices or a band 
 of musical instruments, and it was hard to make one 
 believe that he did not have confederates concealed 
 somewhere up in the lofty galleries. Then I tried it 
 myself, and others of our party. We shouted "George 
 Washington," "Abraham Lincoln," "William McKin- 
 ley," and other names, and they came reverberating 
 back to us in waves of musical sound. Then we sang a 
 verse or two of "America," and "Home, Sweet Home," 
 and ended with the "Doxology." I shall never forget 
 the delightful hour we spent in that charming old bap- 
 
 107 
 
European tistery at Pisa. We were the only persons there that 
 Days and superb July morning, and had the "echo" all to our- 
 WayS selves. 
 
 Just in front of the Duomo, and but a hundred yards 
 or so away to the east, stands the campanile, or cele- 
 brated leaning tower of Pisa. This, too, is old, having 
 
 been begun in 1174 and com- 
 pleted only in 1350, being nearly 
 two centuries in building. It is 
 one hundred and seventy-nine 
 feet high, with eight different 
 stories, and is girt about with 
 half columns and colonnades. It 
 reminds one somewhat of Gi- 
 otto's campanile at Florence, 
 but, of course, is inferior and 
 older. This also is a very beau- 
 tiful structure, but thirteen feet 
 out of the perpendicular; and the 
 query is, What caused this "lean- 
 ing?" As you walk around it, it 
 really seems dangerous, as if 
 liable to topple over any minute; 
 but it has stood there nearly six 
 The Leaning nun dred years now, and it seems good for another six 
 hundred years, or longer. It is strange that no records 
 exist explaining why it so leans. Some think it was 
 built so, as a marvel in architecture; others, that the 
 ground sank on the south side while building, and this 
 carried the tower over a little. The latter does not seem 
 credible, as the sinking would likely continue and carry 
 the tower down with it long before now. But it was 
 
 108 
 
likely built so, as two others were at Bologna, erected Pisa — 
 about the same time, though less out of the perpendic- Campanile 
 ular — one four feet, the other ten feet. This view is 
 further strengthened by the fact that this Pisa campanile 
 contains a chime of seven bells near its summit, the 
 heaviest one alone weighing over six tons; and it would 
 seem that the daily ringing and swinging of these huge 
 bells would soon be destructive to the tower, were it not 
 purposely built to be solid and substantial, though "lean- 
 ing." I had read about this "leaning tower of Pisa," 
 and seen pictures of it, since I was a schoolboy, and 
 could hardly realize that here I was walking about it, 
 and comprehending its peculiarity better than ever be- 
 fore. It is ascended by nearly three hundred steps, and 
 the view from the top is said to be fine. But we left that 
 for others. 
 
 A little farther away, to the north of the Duomo, 
 stands the celebrated Camp Santo or old Cemetery of 
 Pisa. This was founded about the year 1200, and con- 
 sists of a plot of ground about five hundred feet long by 
 two hundred feet wide — said to be after the dimensions 
 of Noah's Ark — surrounded by a marble arcade in the 
 Tuscan-Gothic style, adorned with figures and reliefs. 
 Inside are fifty-three shiploads of earth brought hither 
 from Mount Calvary in old times, in order that Pisa's 
 dead might repose in holy ground. And they have been 
 buried here, over and over again, until the whole place is 
 one vast charnel-house. Under the arcades the great 
 and distinguished have their graves, in vaults around the 
 walls or beneath the marble pavements, and mortuary 
 statuary everywhere abounds, good, bad, and indifferent. 
 Three little chapels adjoin the spacious cloister, not of 
 
 109 
 
European much account. But its walls are elaborately frescoed 
 Days and with pictures that even Michael Angelo did not disdain 
 ways to imitate. In one place are the Crucifixion, the Resur- 
 rection, Doubting Thomas, and the Ascension — all well 
 done. In another, a long series of pictures representing 
 the Triumph of Death, the Last Judgment, and Life in 
 Heaven and Hell, with contests of angels and devils for 
 the souls of the deceased; the one ascending up to 
 heaven wafted by angelic choirs, the other dragged 
 down to hell by all sorts of fiends and demons, and there 
 broiled on gridirons or pitchforked back into a fiery lake 
 when trying to escape. It was all done five or six hun- 
 dred years ago, and those old painters were very realistic, 
 interpreting the current theology precisely as it was 
 preached. But how pitiful and tragic it all seems in this 
 age and time ! 
 
 On another wall is the History of Man, from Genesis 
 to Solomon, including the Creation, the Fall of Man, 
 Expulsion from Paradise, Cain and Abel, Building of 
 the Ark, the Deluge, Noah's Vintage and Drunkenness, 
 the Curse of Ham, the Tower of Babel, the history of 
 Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and Aaron, 
 David, Solomon, and the Queen of Sheba. Much of 
 this is very good, and it is extraordinary it should have 
 withstood the ravages of time all these years so well as 
 it has. Of course, part is much faded, exposed as it is 
 to the weather. But how brilliant and glorious it must 
 have been when first executed ! And the first artists of 
 Italy did it, we may be sure. 
 
 Here, also, under the arcades, are monuments and 
 sculptures, both ancient and modern, of interest and 
 value, memorials of distinguished Pisans or their deeds, 
 
 no 
 
down to recent times. And, besides these, there are PiSd — 
 sarcophagi, altars, and tombs, of both Roman and CcHlipO SantO 
 
 Etruscan days, carved beautifully with Bacchantes, 
 Centaurs, Psyches, and Cupids, and ancient Roman 
 milestones, of rare archaeological value, hardly equaled 
 outside of Rome and Naples. In the open spaces roses 
 and flowers grow profusely in "the holy ground;" and 
 altogether we found this old Campo Santo a very in- 
 teresting spot. May its dead sleep sweetly in their 
 chosen place ! 
 
 Next we drove to the old church of the Knights 
 of the Order of St. Stephen, erected 1565-96 from de- 
 signs by Vasari, with its walls hung with gonfalons and 
 battleflags in glass cases, captured from the. Turks, with 
 ceiling paintings of the great battle of Lepanto, and 
 other victories over the Turks by Pisa in the long ago — 
 a venerable old church, but not else of much importance 
 in it. 
 
 Then to the ancient university, which still has a 
 library of over fifty thousand volumes, and is attended 
 by over six hundred students. Galileo was once Pro- 
 fessor of Mathematics here (1610), and his modest resi- 
 dence is still shown you in an old street not far away. 
 We drove quietly past it, and lifted our hats in rever- 
 ence to his great memory. 
 
 Next we crossed the Arno, by the beautiful new 
 Solferino Bridge, to the church of San Maria della 
 Spina, or St. Mary of the Thorns, so called because a 
 fragment of the veritable "crown of thorns" was once 
 here, and may be here still, so they say. It looks like 
 a toy church in the distance, but is really a handsome 
 little edifice in the French-Gothic style, erected so long 
 
 in 
 
European ago as 1230 for sailors about to go to sea, and adorned 
 
 Days and with sculptures of a high order by great Pisan artists 
 
 Ways in the city's palmy days. We did not think it much of 
 
 a church till we got there, but were delighted with its 
 
 beauty and delicacy, both outside and inside. 
 
 We left Pisa with real regret. We were not there 
 long; only a day and a night. But you can see a good 
 deal of Pisa in that time; her "things to do" are so 
 close together, not widely separated as so often else- 
 where. She gives you the impression of old times, of 
 genuine antiquity; not much of the modern about her 
 or her ways. And I think we got more for our money 
 at Pisa, all things considered, than at any other town 
 in Italy, during the same time, except perhaps Verona. 
 
 112 
 
Chapter VIII 
 
 mmnft 
 
 E arrived at Genoa about 7 P. M., July 2d, Genoa 
 after a disagreeable ride from Pisa of about 
 one hundred miles, through one hundred 
 tunnels, more or less. The railroad skirts 
 the shore of the Mediterranean, and the ride ought 
 to be very charming. But the mountains crowd down 
 to the sea so closely that tunneling was cheaper than 
 grading; and hence you see but little of the Mediter- 
 ranean as you pass along, except exquisite glimpses 
 here and there. These are so beautiful you long to 
 see more. But even while you are stretching your 
 eyes to see, you plunge into a tunnel, and have only 
 coal-smoke and the blackness of darkness again. 
 
 At Spezia we passed the great naval arsenal of Italy, 
 a walled town of fifty thousand inhabitants and some 
 business, but of no great strength against modern artil- 
 lery. There was an Italian in our compartment, ap- 
 parently a civil engineer or contractor; a pretty wide- 
 awake man. He could speak Spanish, but no Eng- 
 lish. But he pointed proudly to Spezia's ancient walls, 
 and said, "Spezia, bello ! bello !" I knew but little 
 Italian, but answered in the best I knew: "Si, Signor, 
 Spezia, bello ! multi bello ! But Admiral Dewey, our 
 grande American admiral — Manila Bay — come here, 
 with grande artillery — his big guns, bang, bang ! Dyna- 
 8 113 
 
European mite! Smash Spezia all to flinders!" And I whacked 
 Days and my two fists together by way of emphasis and panto- 
 WayS mime. The Italian, caught on quickly, and laughingly 
 replied: "Si, Signor! Si, si, si! Yes, sir! Yes, yes, 
 yes !" They have a way of repeating "Yes" and "No" 
 in this way, not only in Italy, but all over the Continent. 
 The Englishman and American would say "yes" or 
 "no," and stop there. But the Italian or Frenchman 
 would say, "Yes, yes, yes!" or "No, no, no!" three 
 
 times over or 
 more. 
 
 At Genoa we 
 found the hotels 
 crowded and 
 rooms scarce and 
 poor. We drove 
 to a half dozen 
 different hotels 
 before we could 
 secure even toler- 
 able accommoda- 
 Between tions. We did not know it until we arrived there, but 
 Genoa Genoa was g°i n g to celebrate the eight hundredth an- 
 niversary of San Giovanni's Day (St. John's), and the 
 city was full to overflowing with strangers and sight- 
 seers. They came from near and far, all over that part 
 of Italy, and packed Genoa full. The tradition was, 
 that during the Crusades, or about that time, Genoa 
 purchased the relics of St. John from the Holy Land. 
 Subsequently, in a war with Pisa, they were wrested 
 from her and carried off to Pisa as a priceless treasure. 
 Afterwards, in another war with Pisa, she recovered 
 
 ii4 
 
them, and brought them home to Genoa with great Genoa — 
 pomp and rejoicing, and since then, every one hun- A Festival 
 dred years, has celebrated their recovery, and this was 
 her eight hundredth anniversary. 
 
 The celebration began next day (Sunday) with elab- 
 orate services in all the churches, and then a great pro- 
 cession of ecclesiastics, religious societies, etc., with 
 the bones of St. John (so alleged) under a gorgeous 
 canopy of gilt and silk, borne upon the shoulders of 
 four men, wound through the city hour after hour. 
 There were archbishops, bishops, priests, and acolytes, 
 old and young, but all on foot and bareheaded, ex- 
 posed to the pitiless Italian sun, with banners, vest- 
 ments, Madonnas, and Christs galore, but no music, 
 except loud chanting when they passed the cathedral 
 and chief churches. Not a band anywhere. Multitudes 
 thronged the sidewalks — men, women, and children — 
 in all the principal streets, but the best of order pre- 
 vailed. We went with the crowd, first to the old church 
 of San Annunziata, quite near our hotel, a fine old 
 basilica with a dome, and handsome fluted and inlaid 
 marble columns, said to be "the most sumptuous church 
 in Genoa," though far from clean; and afterwards to 
 the great Cathedral of San Lorenzo, erected in noo 
 on the site of an older church, and altered so much 
 it now consists of three distinct styles — Romanesque, 
 French Gothic, and Renaissance. It is built of alter- 
 nate courses of black and white marble, like the Duomo 
 at Florence, and richly decorated both inside and out- 
 side with sculptures of the twelfth century, with antique 
 ornamentation on the entablatures and capitals. In the 
 interior are some exquisite Corinthian columns of col- 
 
 115 
 
European ored marble, that belonged to the original church, and 
 DdyS and many handsome frescoes and paintings, with a copy 
 Ways of Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper." In one of the 
 chapels, in a stone coffin of the thirteenth century, are 
 the relics of St. John the Baptist, above referred to; 
 and in another place an emerald vessel, "out of which 
 the Savior and his disciples are said to have drunk at 
 the Last Supper, and in which some drops of Christ's 
 blood were caught by Joseph of Arimathea." This was 
 captured by the Genoese in iioi, at Csesarea, and 
 greatly reverenced, as it deserves to be, if genuine. The 
 cathedral was filled with a surging mass of people, and 
 the services were solemn and imposing, with magnifi- 
 cent music, both vocal and instrumental. But it was 
 hot and oppressive, and it did not seem a safe place 
 to stay that hot July morning. Outside, the street was 
 packed almost as densely as the cathedral, for a block 
 or two away, and we were glad to escape to our hotel 
 again. 
 
 At night there was a general illumination of Genoa 
 and her fine harbor, and this was really the finest thing 
 of the kind we ever witnessed. The innumerable street 
 lamps, by extra gas-pipes, were ingeniously enlarged 
 into great flower-pots. The houses were bright with gas 
 and candles, every window seemingly. The churches 
 and public buildings were ablaze with lamps and lan- 
 terns, from summit to foundation-stone. And out in 
 the harbor the vessels were one fairy scene of electric 
 lamps and Chinese lanterns, outlining their masts and 
 yards, while the flashlights of the warships swept the 
 city and sky. We took a carriage and drove for an 
 hour or two that evening, and shall never forget the 
 
 116 
 
wondrous sight. Genoa is built on the side of a moun- Genoa — 
 tain overlooking the sea, and hence lends herself well The Bay 
 to such an occasion. 
 
 The next day we called on the American consul, 
 but found he was absent in America. He was from 
 Iowa — and therefore adapted to a seaboard "consulate" 
 — and had gone home on a visit to the "wild and woolly 
 West." His deputy was also absent — at "breakfast" 
 still, though it was then 2 P. M. His deputy, or clerk, 
 rather a bright-looking young Italian, spoke some 
 English; but when pressed with questions about "San 
 Giovanni's Day," its history, meaning, etc., could only 
 answer, "I am not a paper man !" — meaning, I suppose, 
 that he did not know, or was not a "reporter!" — and 
 so we had to gain our information elsewhere and other- 
 wise, the best we could. As the crowd had left, we 
 secured a better hotel, though none too good, and then 
 went by electric tram-cars and "funiculares" to the 
 Righi, a high mountain overlooking the Bay of Genoa 
 and Genoa. The view from here was superb, taking 
 in the whole city, harbor, shipping, fortifications, and 
 the distant snowcapped Alps, and we "lunched" there 
 in a vineclad restaurant on the edge of a lofty cliff, 
 beneath the blue and bending Italian sky, while far away 
 beneath us, across the bay, we could see the Italian 
 warships practicing at a floating target in the distance. 
 Doubtless they had learned a lesson from Manila and 
 Santiago, and were trying to catch up with Brother 
 Jonathan. It will take them a long day. 
 
 Genoa is the metropolis of all Northern Italy, and 
 a stirring city of two hundred thousand people. She 
 was a great sea-power in her day, as evidenced by her 
 
 117 
 
European wharves, forts, and palaces, and gives signs of again 
 Days and waking up. Though on the side of an abrupt moun- 
 WayS tain, there are many fine streets, substantially paved, 
 with some narrow and steep ones also — mere rocky 
 alleys — and electric tram-cars everywhere, with over- 
 head wires. Her buildings, both public and private, 
 are of a high order, surpassing those of most Italian 
 cities, and her situation well entitles her to the surname 
 of "La Superba." Her old marble palaces are now, 
 
 many of them, 
 either warehouses, 
 or stores, or of- 
 fices or schools; 
 but there is a pic- 
 turesque and ro- 
 mantic beauty 
 about her quite 
 her own. It is 
 said fifteen thou- 
 sand vessels now 
 enter her harbor 
 The Palms arm ually, of which one-third are steam, with lines to 
 all parts of the world, and she seemed prosperous and 
 enterprising beyond all other Italian cities we had seen, 
 except Naples. Here in Genoa we saw the first new 
 church (Roman Catholic) being erected in all Italy so 
 far. It was a stately and handsome edifice in one of 
 her new and growing suburbs, and that fact speaks for 
 itself. 
 
 The next day was July 4th. But we had no "Glorious 
 Fourth" there. There were but few Americans in Genoa 
 then, and they told us at our consulate that no arrange- 
 
 118 
 
ments had been made to celebrate the day. Indeed, Genoa — 
 we saw but two American flags afloat in all Genoa that ColumbUS 
 day; one over the United States consulate, of course, 
 and the other in an obscure street not ten feet wide, 
 from the window of a humble dwelling, evidently some 
 poor Italian's, who had been over to America and 
 learned to love our "Glorious Fourth," and had not 
 forgotten it that day. We began the day by going 
 to the fine monument to Christopher Columbus, as 
 the next best thing. This is of marble, embosomed in 
 palm-trees, in the center of a spacious square, in front 
 of the chief railway station, with ships' prows around 
 the pedestal. At the feet of his colossal statue, which 
 leans on an anchor, kneels the figure of America, with 
 surrounding allegorical figures of Religion, Science, 
 Strength, and Wisdom. Between are reliefs from the 
 history of Columbus. We lifted our hats and saluted 
 him, and recited such parts of the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence as we could remember, and then quietly sang 
 "America" and the "Doxology," all by ourselves; and 
 then went sight-seeing for the rest of the day. In the 
 forenoon we took the electric-cars and rode out to 
 Genoa's Campo Santo — a great rural modern cemetery, 
 one of the sights of Italy — abounding in monuments 
 and tombs on the most elaborate scale. Some of these 
 are real works of art, and show that Italians still know 
 how to use the chisel, though many, of course, are poor 
 and trivial. In the fine mortuary chapel there, where 
 there are funeral services every day and almost every 
 hour, we attended a typical funeral service, with priests, 
 mourners, and requiem, and afterwards strolled about 
 the tombs and grounds, and took the cars back to Genoa 
 
 119 
 
European again. In the afternoon we took another tram-car ride 
 Days and to Nervi, some ten or twelve miles through the suburbs 
 Ways and down along the bay, with the Mediterannean break- 
 ing at our feet; much as if there was an electric road 
 from Seabright to Manasquan, N. J., not inland, but 
 close along the sea. Olive orchards, orange and lemon 
 groves, and exquisite roses and flowers everywhere 
 abounded, and the whole ride down and back seemed 
 like Paradise Regained. I do n't wonder Italians love 
 Italy. It has a thousand things to make it lovable. 
 But few more so than this glorious ride to Nervi. 
 
 On this day, also, we visited the Palazzo Pallavicini, 
 and other noble palaces and galleries, with some superb 
 paintings, statues, and tapestries, and also saw the 
 famous "Columbus Egg," or the egg Columbus is re- 
 ported to have used, when replying to some jealous 
 geographers of his day, that the discovery of America 
 was not so much of an achievement after all — "anybody 
 could sail west." "Here," said Columbus, "take this 
 egg and make it stand on end;" and nobody could do 
 it. But he took the egg, and tapped it on the table, 
 and then, of course, it stood. "O," said they, "anybody 
 could do that!" "Yes," replied the great discoverer, 
 "when somebody has shown you how !" How the egg- 
 shell survived, I do n't pretend to know. But here 
 was a veritable eggshell, pretty good-sized, encircled 
 with bands of gold, and held in high esteem and rev- 
 erence. 
 
 In many of the old palaces there are extensive 
 courtyards, with fountains and grottoes, and one marvels 
 at the number and beauty of these. It seems to have 
 been a "fad" in old Genoa to have a grotto in the back 
 
 1 20 
 
yard, with fountains, and flowers, and ferns, and a marble Genoa — 
 statue or two, and many of these are very charming The PoliGC 
 still. We were exploring one of these courtyards — 
 its old palace now banking and insurance offices — and 
 admiring its exquisite ferns and flowers and marble 
 statuary, when, wanting some information about it, I 
 approached two well-dressed gentlemen, and inquired, 
 "Do you speak English?" One of them, smiling and 
 bowing, replied, "A little; I am an Italian." But the 
 other answered bluffly : "I do ! I am an Englishman !" 
 And I said, "I am an American!" "Well," responded 
 John Bull, "that 's the next best thing to being an 
 Englishman!" "No," I replied; "it is the same thing, 
 or rather a second edition, enlarged and improved! I 
 beg pardon, but this is our Fourth of July!". We shook 
 hands all around, and laughed heartily; and so we 
 parted^good friends, after all. But better friends be- 
 cause of Manila and Santiago ! 
 
 We were struck by the police of Genoa as something 
 local and peculiar. They are a fine body of men, natty 
 and well-set-up for Italians. But, with high silk hats, 
 black broadcloth clothes, white gloves, and old-fash- 
 ioned tasseled canes, they look like old sixteenth or 
 seventeenth century beaus, rather than nineteenth or 
 twentieth century guardians of the peace, and would 
 be "guyed" unmercifully in New York or Chicago. 
 But, all the same, they know how to "keep the peace" 
 and preserve law and order in Genoa, and that is their 
 chief office, after all. So all the Genoese horses wear 
 a Greek cross on their bridles. Why, or for what pur- 
 pose, I could not ascertain; but it seemed to be a uni- 
 versal custom, especially upon their work-horses. Some 
 
 121 
 
European of these crosses are very elaborate and beautiful, and 
 
 Days and handsomely burnished; but nearly all work-horses in 
 
 Ways Genoa wear them, and their drivers seem inordinately 
 
 proud of them, and we did not notice the like elsewhere 
 
 in Italy. And so good-bye to "Genoa the Superb!" 
 
 She well deserves the name. 
 
 122 
 
Chapter IX 
 
 E left Genoa, as we entered it, through long Lombardy 
 mountain tunnels, that were hot and suf- 
 focating, July 5th. But we soon passed 
 out of the mountains, and got down into 
 the plains of Lombardy; and thence to Milan the country 
 was almost as level as an American prairie. We soon 
 struck the Po, and continued down its lovely valley 
 nearly to Milan. The whole country is intersected with 
 irrigating canals, that take the water out of the rivers 
 and streams and conduct it gently over the land, and 
 make it wonderfully fertile. There are few finer crops 
 anywhere than are grown in Lombardy, and the whole 
 region seems like one vast garden. Wheat, rye, oats, 
 flax, and grass are produced in great abundance, while 
 vast vineyards — the vines festooned on long rows of 
 trees — are in evidence, as everywhere in Italy. Here, 
 also we struck the real home of the "Lombardy poplar." 
 These poplars are planted along all the roads and 
 streams, and in the distance seem like long columns 
 of tall grenadiers marching across the vast plains. Mul- 
 berries for silkworms are also planted along all the 
 division-lines and irrigating ditches, and every precau- 
 tion taken to prevent evaporation and keep the ground 
 moist and productive. At Milan we spent only a 
 single day, visiting its noble Duomo and arcades, 
 
 123 
 
European and shall speak further of it on our return from 
 
 Days and Venice. 
 
 Ways The next day (July 6th) we proceeded to Verona, 
 the home of Romeo and Juliet, and found it to be a 
 considerable town still (over sixty thousand inhabitants), 
 though only the shadow of its former greatness. It 
 stands on the Adige, and, with Peschiera, Mantua, and 
 Legnago, made up the famous "Quadrilateral," that 
 was formerly the mainstay of Austrian rule in Italy. 
 The battles of Magenta and Solferino (1859), not far 
 from Verona, ended all this, and Italy came to her own 
 again, thanks to Napoleon III and Victor Emmanuel. 
 But the old fortifications are still maintained and look 
 quite formidable, with their walls and ditches, both wet 
 and dry, and permanent garrison of six thousand sol- 
 diers. Its ancient walls, from old Roman days, still 
 stand in part, and Verona was then quite surrounded 
 by water. We were halted at the old city gates, and 
 our baggage examined by the "octroi" officers, for the 
 first time in Italy; but they found nothing suspicious, 
 except an American "kodak" we carried everywhere 
 and took "snapshots" with. But they soon chalked 
 this "O. K." and passed us in. We stopped at the Hotel 
 Colomba d'Oro, on the Via Colomba, which, being 
 interpreted, means the "Golden Dove Hotel" on "Dove 
 Street" — an excellent place, with clean rooms and a 
 good table, kept by an English boniface. We were 
 about the only guests there then; but in winter Verona 
 and this hotel are crowded with foreigners, so they 
 said. A wonderful old grapevine grew up the side of 
 the house, and covered the whole wall nearly, and it 
 may have been planted there in Romeo's time. 
 
 124 
 
From the Colomba d'Oro we explored the classic Verona 
 old town, and were charmed with its old churches, pal- 
 aces, and tombs. Many of these date back to the twelfth 
 and thirteenth centuries, and all give the impression of 
 age and antiquity. The Palazzo del Consiglio, or old 
 town hall, is one of the best buildings in Northern 
 Italy of the early Renaissance style, and is adorned 
 with some fine bronze statues representing the An- 
 nunciation and of celebrated ancient and modern 
 Veronese. The old cathedral is of the twelfth century, 
 and seems very antique. In its handsome portal, be- 
 hind its columns and griffins, are Roland and Oliver, 
 the paladins of Charlemagne, in half-relief, executed so 
 long ago as 1135. To the left of its facade are old 
 Romanesque cloisters, the arches resting on double 
 columns of red marble. They contain an antique Roman 
 column, considerably mutilated, and ancient Roman 
 mosaic pavements, recently discovered, several feet un- 
 derground, very beautiful, and in excellent preserva- 
 tion. They keep these carefully covered over with saw- 
 dust, to exclude the light and air; but sweep the saw- 
 dust away, and exhibit them for a fee. The old churches 
 of San Zeno and of San Anastasia are also very inter- 
 esting, and are fine examples of Lombardic architecture 
 of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. They are both 
 built of alternate strips of red and white brick, or of 
 red and white marble, the latter abounding in quarries 
 near Verona, both colors occuring in the same quarry 
 and sometimes in the same block. On their walls and 
 vaulted roofs are many fine frescoes, ranging from the 
 thirteenth to the fifteenth century, and they also con- 
 tain many finely sculptured tombs of the same period, 
 
 125 
 
European with noble effigies and reliefs of saints and sacred 
 
 Days and subjects. 
 
 Ways The old architecture of Verona, indeed, is very no- 
 ticeable. It passed through the Lombard, Florentine, 
 and Venetian stages, and was influenced by them all, 
 though retaining a style somewhat of its own. It owes 
 very much to the genius of Fra Giocondo, a native of 
 Verona (1435-1514), who was bred a friar, but subse- 
 quently rose to great celebrity as an architect, and de- 
 signed many handsome buildings, not only in Verona, 
 but in Venice, Rome, and even France. 
 
 Near the center of Verona, adjoining the old Lom- 
 bardic Church of San Maria Antica, are the imposing 
 tombs of the Scaligers, "the stern Gothic forms of which 
 immortalize the masculine genius of their dynasty." 
 They were princes of Verona, and ruled her destinies for 
 over a century (1 260-1 375), and here are their monu- 
 ments — some equestrian, some simple statues, others 
 under canopies, others massive sarcophagi. They oc- 
 cupy a little square by themselves, and their family 
 crest, a ladder (ambition, climbing upwards-, "getting 
 there"), appears everywhere on the iron railings sur- 
 rounding it. This iron work is most elaborate and 
 artistic, is a fine example of what Verona could do in 
 metals in her best days, and is altogether one of the 
 most interesting things we saw in Verona. 
 
 Of course, we went to the palace and tomb of "all 
 the Capulets." Not very much of a "palace," — about 
 what we would call a good city house, as many of the 
 Italian palaces really are. 
 
 Next we went to the house of Juliet, and saw the 
 balcony from which she threw her sighs and kisses down 
 
 126 
 
to Romeo, and afterwards visited her neglected grave. Verona 
 You have to pay a fee to see this (in a back street and 
 an obscure quarter of the town), and everybody is ex- 
 pected to leave his carte de visite there, and we left ours 
 with hundreds of others heaped upon her poetic tomb. 
 Not a very nice tribute to pay her. But it is "the custom 
 of Verona." 
 
 We had a late dinner that day, and after it was over 
 strolled down to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, in the 
 heart of Verona, to sip our coffee and hear the band 
 play. It played well, as all Italian bands do, and the 
 whole city seemed assembled there. But soon an im- 
 pending thunder-shower, with real Italian thunder and 
 lightning, sent us back to our Golden Dove Hotel. 
 We retired early, but along about midnight were awak- 
 ened by some fine tenor voices singing magnificently 
 as their owners passed along the street. These were 
 succeeded by speeches and applause in a neighboring 
 cafe. And then a little pandemonium broke loose on 
 the street, and sleep vanished till nearly morning. What 
 it was all about we failed to discover. But there was 
 a good chance for the Verona police to demonstrate 
 its usefulness. 
 
 The next morning was cool and delightful. After 
 breakfast we walked down to the old Roman Amphi- 
 theater, or Arena, and walked all around it. It was 
 erected about the year 300, under Diocletian, and is 
 still in a good state of preservation. It is an enormous 
 structure of brick and stone, after the Colosseum at 
 Rome — five hundred and four feet long, by four hun- 
 dred and two wide, and three hundred and eighteen high 
 ■ — and was capable of seating over thirty thousand spec- 
 
 127 
 
European tators in its day. Subsequently it was used as a stone 
 Days and quarry, and carved blocks of it appear in many of the 
 Ways Veronese churches and palaces to-day. Napoleon re- 
 stored it, but it is again falling into decay, and its great 
 corridors and vast vomitories are now used only as 
 coal and wood, lime, and lumber yards. Just to think 
 of it — here where Roman soldiers and consuls, priests 
 and priestesses, once officiated ! "To such base uses 
 are we come at last !" Its massive proportions are 
 not realized until you walk around and through it, it 
 is so symmetrical; and then you think what a great 
 people those old Romans must have been, to erect such 
 a colossal building for pleasure purposes merely. 
 
 Next we went to the Piazza Erbe, the ancient forum, 
 but now in use as a fruit and vegetable market, and 
 one of the most picturesque squares in all Italy. A 
 marble column here bears the lion of St. Mark, a modern 
 copy of the ancient lion of the Republic at Venice. The 
 antique fountain is adorned with a statue of "Verona." 
 In the center of the piazza is the Tribuna, under a can- 
 opy supported by four columns, anciently the seat of 
 judgment. The surrounding houses are decorated on 
 their street fronts with frescoes of the Coronation of 
 the Virgin, Adam and Eve, Madonna and Saints; and 
 are fine examples of what we saw occasionally else- 
 where in Italy, but no modern examples thereof except 
 a few new houses in Genoa. Evidently, in old times, 
 they frescoed the street-fronts of their palaces and 
 houses very beautifully, and even great artists did not 
 disdain to lend their brushes to this work. How gor- 
 geous their streets must have appeared, in comparison 
 with our modern plainness ! 
 
 128 
 
We took a final stroll along the banks of the Adige, Verona 
 to look at the old mediaeval water and grist mills there, 
 with undershot wheels; and then took the train for 
 Venice. We liked Verona very much, and regretted 
 we could not stay longer. But, as a whole, she im- 
 presses you as a dead city, or as only the ghost of de- 
 parted grandeur. I think one 
 gets this impression more in 
 Verona than any place we saw 
 in Italy, except perhaps Pisa. 
 Indeed, Verona and Pisa are 
 very much alike in this respect, 
 and that is one reason why they 
 seemed so admirable and enjoy- 
 able. There is nothing of this 
 work-a-day life and world about 
 them, but only the aroma of age 
 and antiquity. 
 
 In its day, two thousand 
 years ago, Verona was the home 
 of Pliny, Catullus, Cornelius 
 Nepos, and other celebrated Ro- 
 mans. It was an old Roman 
 colony, and of commanding mili- 
 tary importance, because of its nexus of roads, leading 
 practically everywhere. Afterwards it was the home of 
 great soldiers and statesmen, the Scaligers and others, 
 and of Paul Veronese and his great school of painters, 
 and of other artists and architects innumerable. But 
 to-day Verona is only the ghost of things, with no future 
 before her except to doze and dream. 
 
 It is only a short ride from Verona to Padua — some 
 9 129 
 
 The Church 
 
 of St. An- 
 
 T H O N Y, 
 
 Padua 
 
European fifty miles or so — over half way from Verona to Venice. 
 Days and Padua was once one of the largest and richest cities in 
 Ways Italy, and is still a place of fifty thousand inhabitants, 
 though much decadent. It abounds in old palaces and 
 old arcades, especially in the heart of the city, many 
 of them very interesting and beautiful. The Church 
 of St. Anthony of Padua, an associate of St. Francis 
 of Assisi, is a huge edifice, with six lofty domes, after 
 both the Byzantine and Gothic orders, suggesting St. 
 
 Mark's at Venice, 
 but can hardly be 
 called handsome, 
 though ambitious 
 and impressive. It 
 dates back to 
 1 23 1, when Padua 
 was in its palmy 
 days, and contains 
 some superb 
 Sculptures and 
 paintings by 
 Donatello and others. St. Anthony, the patron saint of 
 Padua, lies buried here, and his superb tomb is much 
 visited and reverenced. 
 
 In the Scuola del Santo, the Arena Chapel, on the 
 site of an old Roman amphitheater, and the Municipal 
 Gallery are many handsome frescoes, sculptures, and 
 bronzes, by Titian, Giotto, Romanio, Donatello, Andrea 
 Mantegna, and other great masters. Indeed, the whole 
 of the exquisite Arena Chapel is said to have been 
 painted by Giotto, who spent several of his busy 
 years here, and dowered Padua with his genius and 
 
 130 
 
 Market 
 
 Square, 
 
 Padua 
 
art. The cathedral does not impress one so much, Padllfl 
 though old (about 1550); but the Piazza Vittorio 
 Emanuele, with its double row of illustrious Italians, 
 including- Petrarch, Galileo, Tasso, Ariosto, Livy, and 
 others (mostly Paduans), over eighty in all, more or 
 less good, is spacious and attractive, and speaks well 
 for modern Italy. In the center of the city, between 
 the old Market Squares of the Fruits and the Herbs, 
 stands the stately old Hall of Justice, now called II Sa- 
 lone, dating back 
 to 1 1 72, and justly 
 celebrated for its 
 vaulted wooden 
 ceiling — two hun- 
 dred and seventy- 
 three feet long, 
 ninety feet wide, 
 and two hundred 
 and thirty-four 
 feet high. Its 
 spacious walls are 
 adorned by three hundred frescoes, painted by Miretto A Water 
 and others, representing the influence of the seasons and P ™^ T ' 
 the constellations of mankind. 
 
 Padua has long been noted for its learning and art, 
 and its ancient university still numbers about fifteen 
 hundred students, though, like the rest of the city, its 
 glory has much departed. Indeed, Padua, like Verona, 
 seems decadent and decrepit. Its houses are chiefly old 
 and dilapidated. Its once busy canals, extending to 
 Venice and the sea, are silent; and the whole city gives 
 one the impression of a ghost only of former greatness. 
 
 131 
 
 Padua 
 
Chapter X 
 
 ROM Padua to Venice is only about twenty- 
 two miles, and the country is one vast gar- 
 den and vineyard still, though not so fertile 
 and productive as about Milan. You come 
 suddenly upon Venice, and soon realize that she is in- 
 deed the "Pearl of Italy," and "Queen of the Adriatic." 
 Venice is situated, not upon the mainland, but among 
 lagoons, some two or three miles from the mainland, 
 and you enter it over a long causeway built up from the 
 sea. It stands on one hundred and seventeen small 
 islands, divided by one hundred and fifty canals, and 
 connected by three hundred and seventy-eight bridges. 
 The authorities differ as to these figures somewhat, but 
 the above seem substantially accurate. It contains about 
 fifteen thousand houses and palaces, erected chiefly on 
 piles. The islands are so well built over, there is not 
 room for more houses; but there are shallow places in 
 the lagoons that can be reclaimed and occupied when 
 needed. Her early history is involved in obscurity, but 
 she seems to have been settled first by refugees from 
 the mainland, who then turned pirates. In time she 
 gathered wealth and power, and in the fifteenth century, 
 the zenith of her glory, Venice numbered over two hun- 
 dred thousand inhabitants — which meant more then than 
 now — and dominated the trade and commerce of the 
 
 132 
 
world. She was a kind of a Republic in those great VeniGd 
 days — not much like our American Republic, however; 
 more of an oligarchy — but is now a part of free and 
 united Italy. Venice then possessed three hundred sea- 
 going vessels, with eight thousand sailors; three hundred 
 smaller craft, with seventeen thousand men; and a fleet 
 of war galleys, manned by eleven thousand men; and 
 maintained the naval and commercial supremacy of the 
 Mediterranean, and so of the whole civilized world. Her 
 annual exports were then reckoned at 10,000,000 ducats, 
 of which 4,000,000 were said to be clear profit. She did 
 the great carrying trade for the Crusades, to and from 
 Palestine, and amassed vast sums from this pious busi- 
 ness, and for centuries controlled the trade of the Indies, 
 and so of the Orient via the Red Sea. But the discovery 
 of the all-sea route to India via the Cape of Good Hope 
 (1497) transferred the India trade to Portugal and Spain, 
 and soon afterwards Venice began to decline, and kept 
 this up until a century ago, when her population had 
 dwindled one-half. But with the opening of the Suez 
 Canal, a quarter of a century or so ago, Venice revived, 
 and now again has about one hundred and seventy-five 
 thousand people, her suburbs included. She has lines 
 of steamers to Athens, Constantinople, Palestine, Alex- , 
 andria, Tunis, and the Mediterranean generally, and is 
 again a growing city, though less so than Naples and 
 Genoa apparently. 
 
 Arriving at Venice, you leave the railroad at the sta- 
 tion, and take a gondola or a "pocket edition" of a 
 steamboat thence down town. Of course, there are no 
 cabs, or omnibuses, or street-cars, because there are no 
 streets in Venice, only canals and little byways or lanes, 
 
 133 
 
European by courtesy called streets; no horses, or mules, or don- 
 DflyS and keys, or vehicles of any kind, only gondolas and "barks'' 
 Ways or boats. How the natural trade and commerce of a 
 large city like Venice, and its necessary travel and traffic, 
 are carried on in this way is surprising. But the gon- 
 dolas and boats are numerous, and they dart about in all 
 sorts of ways and places, with a dexterity and speed 
 amazing to one not a Venetian. There are public gon- 
 dolas, of course, for hire everywhere. But many private 
 houses and palaces also have their own gondolas, often 
 shapely and beautiful, but all of the same color — black, 
 as prescribed by law. Instead of alley-ways, as in other 
 cities, they have gondola-ways between and underneath 
 their residences, and doorways from their houses to 
 these, from which they can step directly into their gon- 
 dolas and be rowed away or return. The canals are of 
 all widths and sizes, from the Grand Canal — one hun- 
 dred feet wide and two miles long — to others eight or 
 ten feet wide only, or less, merely wide enough for a 
 gondola to slip through. Many are too narrow for two 
 gondolas to pass, and the gondoliers have to shout from 
 one bend or corner to another, to give warning to others 
 coming their way. The ocean-tide ebbs and flows in 
 these canals, and their depths vary from three feet to a 
 fathom or so. Without the tide to cleanse them daily 
 these tiny Venetian canals would soon become pesti- 
 lential, and, as it is, many of them are foul and ill-smell- 
 ing. They are the open sewers and public baths of 
 Venice, and often, as you row along, you may see a flock 
 of boys in swimming, the younger ones tied by a rope 
 to the doorposts, as a precaution against drowning, 
 though it is hard to drown a Venetian. 
 
 134 
 
The houses and palaces, as a rule, rise directly out 
 of the sea, with their front steps leading down into the 
 water, though some have narrow footwalks. Back of the 
 houses, and extending by bridges of all sorts from island 
 to island, is a perfect labyrinth of little lanes or byways, 
 yclept streets, paved with stone blocks or asphalt, with- 
 out sidewalks, of course, but alive with picturesque and 
 romantic shops and throngs, men and women every- 
 where carrying burdens on their heads or backs that 
 would elsewhere 
 be borne or drawn 
 by horses or don- 
 keys. One must 
 go to Venice, if he 
 would know what 
 human beings are 
 capable of endur- 
 ing in this way. 
 
 As we were in 
 Venice we de- 
 cided to do as 
 Venice does. So we called a gondola, and were rowed 
 down the Grand Canal to the Grand Hotel, over a mile 
 or more, and taking three-quarters of an hour. The 
 Grand Canal is much the shape of the letter "S," and is 
 lined throughout with handsome houses and stately pal- 
 aces, chiefly of marble and brick, the ancient houses of 
 the Venetian nobles and merchant princes. Many of 
 these are now devoted to public offices- and private 
 business; but many also stand vacant, their owners dead 
 or impoverished, and their noble families "run out." 
 Many of these edifices are noble and artistic, rich with 
 
 135 
 
 VeniGe — 
 
 Canals 
 
 Palaces 
 
 Grand 
 Canal 
 and DEL 
 Salute, 
 Venice. 
 
European carving and sculpture, and few lack beauty and excel- 
 Days and lence of some sort. It is the old Italian taste and skill 
 Ways over again; only Venice seems to have improved upon 
 the Italian nature. Her police were everywhere, and 
 arrayed in the same seventeenth-century fashion as those 
 at Genoa, with high hats, white gloves, canes, etc. But 
 they maintained "law and order" in Venice, and what 
 else are policemen for, anyhow? 
 
 At the Grand Hotel we secured good rooms, and 
 found Trenton friends there to welcome us. A large 
 majority of the guests were Americans, like ourselves 
 bent on sight-seeing. Many were schoolteachers and 
 college professors; some were ministers; and the Amer- 
 ican girl was everywhere in evidence. In the evening, 
 when we sat down to the long table d'hote, the few gen- 
 tlemen present seemed swallowed up by the many ladies. 
 Of course, everybody went everywhere in a gondola, 
 for the romance of the thing; or, if you threaded the little 
 streets on foot in the daytime, sightseeing or shopping, 
 the thing to do in the evening was to take a gondola- 
 ride on the Grand Canal. It was certainly very delight- 
 ful and charming, and our ladies especially never tired 
 of this. There was always music afloat in the air from 
 some gondola or other, and often illuminations in some 
 quarter or other, and gondola life at Venice is certainly 
 all poetry and song. The gondoliers row their unique 
 and antique boats, standing erect, by a single oar at the 
 stern, and seem a hardy race apart by themselves. They 
 are stalwart, muscular men, with a dialect of their own, 
 and transmit their trade from father to son. Formerly 
 they did a thriving business, because of the numerous 
 travelers at Venice; but they complain bitterly of the 
 
 136 
 
little steamboats now on the Grand Canal as reducing Venice — 
 gondola traffic and cutting prices, and they would dearly Gondolas 
 like to go back to the old times again. It does seem EtG. 
 an anachronism to see modern steamboats puffing along 
 the Grand Canal, under the Rialto, by old St. Mark's, 
 the Doges' Palace, and the Bridge of Sighs. But, all 
 the same, the steamboats are there to stay as "the sur- 
 vival of the fittest," and Venetian gondolas will soon 
 become as extinct as Roman triremes or Indian war- 
 canoes. To save them, or to delay their fate a little, a 
 recent inventor proposes to attach electric motors to 
 them. But then they would cease to be Venetian gon- 
 dolas ! 
 
 It was hot and sultry at Venice in the mornings. But 
 in the afternoons we had a sea breeze always, and the 
 evenings were cool and delightful. We went every- 
 where with umbrellas or under gondola awnings, and 
 once in the churches and galleries found no discomfort 
 from the heat, their walls are so thick and massive. 
 Heavy padded leather curtains at all the doors kept out 
 the heat and glare, and a cap and a wrap even were not 
 unwelcome usually, when once inside. 
 
 The great Church of Venice is old St. Mark's, or San 
 Marco, as they call it there. St. Mark is the patron saint 
 of Venice, and his bones are said to have been bought 
 by a great Venetian merchant, and brought there from 
 Alexandria about A. D. 829. St. Mark's itself was built 
 the following year, as a Romanesque brick basilica, but 
 was burned down (as seems to have been the fate of so 
 many of the ancient churches — they must have had poor 
 fire engines and no fire departments in those old days), 
 and was rebuilt in the eleventh and twelfth centuries in 
 
 137 
 
European the Byzantine style, and decorated with Oriental mag- 
 DayS and nificence by Greek and Arabian artists. It is now in the 
 Ways form of a Greek cross, with Byzantine domes in the cen- 
 ter and at the ends of the arms, and is about two hun- 
 dred and fifty feet long by one hundred and sixty-eight 
 feet wide. Externally and internally it is adorned with 
 over five hundred columns, of exquisite design and work- 
 manship. Its interior is richly decorated with gilding, 
 bronze, and mosaics, the latter alone covering nearly 
 fifty thousand square feet. Its columns are marble, ala- 
 baster, porphyry, and verde antique, from ancient 
 heathen temples, brought from Greece, Constantinople, 
 Syria, and Egypt, many consisting of a single block of 
 priceless value — matchless elsewhere. How beautiful 
 and exquisite these all are ! Its color scheme is iri- 
 descent glass, transparent alabaster, polished marble, 
 and burnished gold, artistic and beautiful beyond con- 
 ception. Over its main entrance are the famous four 
 gilded bronze horses, said to be the finest of ancient 
 bronzes, and the only surviving specimen of an ancient 
 quadriga. They are likely of old Greek origin, and were 
 stolen by Nero and placed over his arch at Rome. After- 
 wards they were placed over the Arch of Trajan there. 
 The Emperor Constantine robbed Rome of them, and 
 took them to Constantinople. The Doge Dandolo, 
 when he captured Constantinople, brought them to 
 Venice, A. D. 1204. In 1797, Napoleon I robbed Venice 
 of them, and took them to Paris; but when Napoleon 
 went down, in 181 5, they were sent back to Venice. 
 What a history they have had, and what a tale they could 
 unfold, if they could only speak ! They are exquisite 
 and beautiful beyond description, and have been the 
 
 138 
 
wonder and the despair of sculptors for twenty centuries Veita — 
 or more. The general effect of St. Mark's is that of age St. Mark's 
 and the Orient. The touch of the East is everywhere 
 about it. Its marble floor is uneven and contorted, some 
 of the piles on which it rests having sunk more than 
 others. But the old cathedral itself seems as solid as a 
 mountain and as beautiful as heaven. 
 
 On the Sunday morning we were at St. Mark's it 
 was thronged with worshipers, more or less devout, and 
 the music was superb and glorious. The same day, 
 later, we attended the Protestant service of the Scotch 
 Presbyterian Church — the only Protestant Church then 
 open — and found thirty-four persons present by actual 
 count, though the sermon was exceptionally good and 
 helpful. This "church," so called, was in a back room 
 of moderate size, on the third floor of an ordinary house, 
 in an obscure street; and how could Protestantism hope 
 to succeed in such a "church," with Venice full of spa- 
 cious and beautiful Roman Catholic churches and ca- 
 thedrals? There was nothing in it to touch the intellect 
 or fancy, the heart or soul, of a true Italian, and, in point 
 of fact, I do n't think there were a half dozen Italians 
 present in the little congregation, if so many. The rest 
 were English and American tourists, chiefly the latter. 
 
 The Piazza or Place of St. Mark's is a huge, open- 
 air square, in front of the church, its other three sides. 
 inclosed by imposing edifices, which look like one vast 
 marble palace bleached by time and weather. It is about 
 two hundred yards long by one hundred yards wide, 
 and is the heart of Venice and its ancient glory. The 
 evenings we were there it was thronged with thousands 
 of both men and women, who came to sip their coffee, 
 
 139 
 
European and smoke, at the little tables placed everywhere there, 
 Days and and to enjoy the superb music of the Military Band; and 
 Ways really there is no more enchanting or fascinating spot 
 in all Italy. By day a large flock of pigeons enliven it, 
 who roost and make their multitudinous nests in the 
 nooks and crannies of the surrounding buildings, partic- 
 ularly St. Mark's and the Doges' Palace. For centuries 
 these were fed daily, at the public expense of the city. 
 But now they are dependent on citizens and travelers. 
 
 Nobody thinks of 
 molesting them 
 or scaring them 
 away; but scatter 
 grain to them, and 
 they will cluster 
 about you, and 
 perch upon your 
 arms and shoul- 
 ders, and we pho- 
 tographed two of 
 our party in this 
 position, with scores of these doves or pigeons fluttering 
 about them. 
 
 Opposite St. Mark's in a corner of the piazza, stands 
 the famous Campanile of Venice,* a square tower three 
 hundred and twenty-two feet high, founded A. D. 888, 
 rebuilt 1329, and now surmounted by an angel of gilded 
 bronze sixteen feet high, put up there in 1517. It is 
 ascended by a winding inclined plane and broad steps, so 
 gentle that Napoleon I distinguished himself by riding 
 his horse to the top one day, it is said, when he was at 
 
 St. Mark's, 
 
 Venice. 
 
 Feeding the 
 
 Pigeons. 
 
 * Fell July 14, 1902. 
 
 140 
 
Venice. Opposite this, near a corner of the piazza, is 
 the old clock tower, built 1496 (only four years after Co- 
 lumbus discovered America), and in the top of this are 
 two giants in bronze, who curiously strike the hours with 
 hammers on a great bell, heard all over Venice. 
 
 Near by, in the direction of the Lagune or Grand 
 Canal, stand two imposing columns of granite, from 
 Constantinople or Syria, one erected A. D. 1180 and 
 the other A. D. 1329. One is crowned by the winged 
 Lion of St. Mark, 
 the historic Lion 
 of the Republic; 
 the other by St. 
 Theodore, the an- 
 c i e n t patron of 
 the Republic, 
 standing on a 
 crocodile, typify- 
 ing the triumph 
 of Christianity 
 over Egyptian 
 idolatry and heathenism. This used to be the place of 
 public executions also, but is now the headquarters of 
 the gondoliers — a happy change, truly. 
 
 Directly opposite, fronting on the Lagune and also 
 on the piazetta, is the Palace of the Doges, a venerable 
 pile, one hundred and fifty-six feet long by one hundred 
 and sixty-four feet deep. It was founded A. D. 800, 
 and has been destroyed by fire or earthquake no less 
 than five times, but re-erected each time in grander style 
 than before. Exteriorly it is faced with small slabs of 
 colored marble, and it has two arcades, one above the 
 
 141 
 
 VeniGe— 
 Campanile 
 Doges' 
 Pate 
 
 S. Giorgio 
 from THE 
 TOP OF 
 
 Campanile. 
 
European other; the upper one, "La Loggia," remarkably rich. 
 
 Days and Both fronts are rich with carvings and statuary, of Adam 
 Ways and Eve, of Moses, Solomon, Numa Pompilius, Scipio, 
 Trajan, and other historical characters; and the old Ve- 
 netian and Florentine artists seem to have spared no 
 pains or expense to make this old palace of the Republic 
 grand and glorious. Its water-front has been the scene 
 of many notable spectacles and pageants. Here Venice 
 annually "wedded the sea" with a ring. Here her doges 
 were inaugurated. Here her great sea captains departed 
 and returned. Here foreign embassies, kings, and em- 
 perors were received and entertained. Here her cele- 
 brated Council of Ten sat and administered the Repub- 
 lic, and adjudicated life and death to its enemies, and 
 to Venetians, for long years. What a history the famous 
 old palace has really had ! 
 
 You enter the Doges' Palace by the Scala dei Gi- 
 ganti, a gigantic marble staircase, with colossal statues 
 of Mars and Neptune, the favorite gods of Venice, at the 
 top. Once inside, you wander from room to room and 
 hall to hall, filled with divine frescoes and paintings by 
 Tintoretto, Palma Giovane, Paul Veronese, Titian, Bel- 
 lini, and other great masters. Many of these are huge 
 battle-pictures by sea and land, illustrating the history 
 of Venice, and are well worth a study of years, for their 
 costumes, ships, arms, guns, etc. Other galleries are 
 filled with antique bronzes and marbles, bewildering in 
 extent and exquisite in design and finish; and the beauty 
 and the splendor of the gorgeous old palace are a con- 
 stant wonder and delight. We wandered through it 
 everywhere at will, and afterwards descended into the 
 prisons and dungeons underneath the palace, once 
 
 142 
 
Rialto 
 
 crowded with prisoners of state, and saw the old torture- VeiUGe — 
 chamber and place of execution there, and the old Bridge Of 
 "Lion's Mouth" into which secret accusations could be Sighs 
 put and the accused haled for trial without counsel or 
 jury; and also gazed upon the lofty Bridge of Sighs, 
 which connects the Doges' Palace across a broad canal 
 with the prison for common criminals there. This has 
 a romantic interest, indeed, but is neither so beautiful 
 nor so lofty as the Rialto, or High Bridge, which is a 
 really fine piece of work. The Rialto consists of a single 
 white marble arch, one hundred and fifty-eight feet long 
 by ninety feet wide, and thirty-two feet high, on twelve 
 thousand piles, spanning the Grand Canal and connect- 
 ing the east and west quarters of Venice. It was built 
 in 1588, and is flanked by rows of shops on either side, 
 where you may purchase almost anything produced or 
 made upon the earth. Of course, it is for foot-passen- 
 gers alone, and is not level, as bridges usually are, but 
 has broad and easy marble steps for ascending and de- 
 scending, and seems always thronged with people. 
 
 Of course, we went to the Church of Santa Maria 
 Formosa; not much of a church, but it contains a gem 
 of a painting — St. Barbara and four other saints by 
 Palma Vecchio. The "other saints" do not amount to 
 a great deal, but St. Barbara herself is grandiose and 
 peerless. Her calm and steadfast eyes, her exuberant 
 hair, her diadem and robe, her superb neck and throat, 
 are all regal and majestic, though thoroughly womanly, 
 and there is not a painting of the kind in Italy that im- 
 presses one more deeply and chastely. Hard by is the 
 Church of St. John and St. Paul, a magnificent edifice, 
 second only in Venice to St. Mark's, where the doges 
 
 143 
 
European were brought for burial and their funeral services per- 
 DayS and formed. Near to this, in a little square, is the exquisite 
 Ways statue in bronze of Bartolommeo Colleoni, a great gen- 
 eral of the Republic, on a handsome marble pedestal, 
 of which John Ruskin wrote, "I do not believe there is 
 a more glorious work of sculpture existing in the 
 world!" Under the fine Venetian sky, it is indeed 
 superb, the whole man and horse seeming instinct 
 with life and action, like an old Greek centaur. 
 
 Next we went 
 to the Church of 
 the Frari, and saw 
 the elaborate 
 monuments of 
 Titian and Ca- 
 nova — too "elab- 
 orate." Then to 
 the Church of the 
 Jesuits, which is 
 veneered or lined 
 inside with mar- 
 ble inlaid with verde antique — a most tedious and costly 
 business — until the whole interior looks like elaborate 
 lace-work; very artistic and expensive, but somewhat 
 rococo and meretricious. Then to the Scuola di San 
 Rocco, which has a magnificent facade and a handsome 
 old staircase and halls, and whose walls are adorned ex- 
 clusively by Scripture scenes, chiefly by Tintoretto, in 
 the highest style of Venetian art. Then to the Church 
 of Santa Maria delle Salute, a stately dome-covered 
 church, on the Grand Canal, nearly opposite our hotel, 
 erected 1631-82 in memory of the great plague of 1630, 
 
 144 
 
 A Typical 
 Bridge, 
 Venice. 
 
and decorated largely with pictures by Titian. Some do VeniGG — 
 not like delle Salute, but I thought it very noble and Titiflll'S 
 impressive. "AsSUIlip- 
 
 Afterwards we went to the Academy of Fine Arts, tlOIl 
 which is crowded with , masterpieces by John Bellini, 
 Gentile Bellini, Palma Vecchio, and other great Ve- 
 netian artists. But its greatest masterpiece, to my mind, 
 is Titian's "Assumption of the Virgin," which struck me 
 on the whole as the grandest and most glorious paint- 
 ing I saw in Italy. It is the Virgin ascending to heaven, 
 with upturned face and outstretched arms, with angels 
 swarming around her like bees, and saints and apostles 
 grouped reverently beneath her, all filled with wonder 
 and awe and celestial joy; and the artistic effect of the 
 whole, with its marvelous pose, drawing, coloring, and 
 expression, must be seen to be appreciated. I have 
 seen many photographs and engravings of it, but they 
 all fall far short of the glorious original. We stood en- 
 tranced and enraptured before it as before no other pic- 
 ture in Venice, and, I make bold to say, this "Assump- 
 tion" alone is well worth a voyage across the Atlantic, 
 if you want to see a great painting. If Titian had 
 painted nothing else, this picture alone would have im- 
 mortalized him, and entitled him to a passport to Para- 
 dise. There is another painting there, by Tintoretto, 
 that also impressed us deeply. It is that of a Christian 
 slave doomed to torture and death, but miraculously 
 saved by St. Mark. He is bound and chained to a stake. 
 His persecutors strike at him with clubs and staves, but 
 they sliver to atoms. They assault him with hammers 
 and battle-axes, but they break and fall to pieces. They 
 attack him with daggers and knives, but they fall harm- 
 10 145 
 
European less at his feet. Calm and serene in his Christian faith, 
 
 Days and with St. Mark near by, invisible to his enemies, he faces 
 
 Ways everybody and everything, and triumphs gloriously. It 
 
 is splendid and inspiring, in both drawing and coloring, 
 
 as well as motif, and well worthy of one of the great 
 
 masters of Italy. 
 
 Another day we went to the arsenal, where Venice 
 has admirably collected and preserves her army and navy 
 antiquities, and where once she employed eighteen thou- 
 sand men, though now only two or three thousand. 
 Here are models and specimens of arms and ships for a 
 thousand years and more — many of them most curious 
 and interesting — and her whole military and naval his- 
 tory may be studied to advantage. Among other curi- 
 ous things here is the model of an ancient revolver much 
 like our Colt's, and another of a bicycle five hundred 
 years ago, though neither came into actual use. In front 
 of the arsenal stand four antique lions, brought to Venice 
 from Greece in 1687, and of great antiquity before then, 
 famous for their symmetry and beauty, and probably the 
 work of Phidias or Praxiteles. 
 
 Beyond the arsenal lies the Public Garden, a pretty 
 park of considerable extent, on land obtained by con- 
 fiscating and destroying several monasteries in Napo- 
 leon's time. Here roses and flowers grow in great 
 profusion, and many of the trees are magnificent speci- 
 mens of European flora. Beyond this still, a mile or two 
 away, across the bay, is the Lido, the Coney Island of 
 Venice, with bathing grounds, concert-halls, and many 
 popular attractions, but all well regulated and guarded. 
 Still beyond this are the great breakwaters of Venice — 
 huge walls of stone, with broad steps sloping to the sea, 
 
 146 
 
but abrupt toward Venice — and they have stood there VeniGG- 
 
 for centuries. Arsenal 
 
 We spent part of an afternoon at the Lido, with LidO 
 throngs of people coming and going, and among the rest 
 were Don Carlos of Spain, with his wife and great Sibe- 
 rian bloodhound, always with him. He was then living 
 on the Grand Canal in a house of his own, well-appearing 
 but not palatial, not far from our hotel, and went daily 
 down to the Lido on one of the little cheap and popular 
 steamboats, to enjoy the sea air and see the sights and 
 crowds, like any other mortal. And with his big dog 
 and little cigarette he seemed very human ! 
 
 Another day we went to the Venetian glass and lace 
 factories, for which Venice has long been famous, and 
 were much interested in their rare and costly products. 
 But these and their products are modern Venice, so to 
 speak, and ancient Venice, with her thousand and one 
 objects of art and beauty and old historic associations, 
 interests one more; and this glamour of art and antiquity 
 is never absent for an hour, while you are there. 
 
 Of course, the above are not the only things we saw 
 in Venice. But they are the chief and the best. In 
 Venice, as a whole, we had no disappointment. But 
 rather rare pleasure and enjoyment. Her art and archi- 
 tecture, her beauty and magnificence, surpassed our ex- 
 pectations, and her old palaces (many of them frescoed 
 all over their street fronts by her best artists and not yet 
 faded), her queer streets, and quaint ways, were a con- 
 stant surprise and delight. Her modern water-colors 
 seem highly tinted, and would be elsewhere, and are here 
 in certain hours and weather. But there are other days 
 and weather when the lights and shades on the Lagunes 
 
 147 
 
European and sky are all these pictures indicate, and all Venice is 
 Days and superb with red and pink and purple and gold. Then 
 Ways paradise seems to drop down out of the sky. Then her 
 palaces, and churches, and ships, and clouds, and waters 
 take on all the wealth of color that these water-colors 
 show, and Venice becomes really and truly the Pearl of 
 Italy and the Queen of the Adriatic. 
 
 Altogether, Venice has indeed a fascination and a 
 charm quite her own, and seems at times like an antique 
 gem on a large scale, or like a poet's beatific vision, or 
 some Midsummer Night's Dream — weird, mysterious, 
 magnificent, and glorious beyond a modern American's 
 conception, until he goes there and "sees Venice" for 
 himself. Let me advise everybody to go; for old 
 Venice, the Venice of the gondola and the gondolier, 
 will soon cease to be. 
 
 148 
 
Chapter XI 
 
 left Venice at 8.45 A. M., July 13th, and Milan — 
 arrived at Milan the same day at 2.30 Plains Of 
 P. M.— about two hundred miles. At last Lombardy 
 we had struck the "Italian summer." It had 
 been cool in Southern Italy generally — in Rome too 
 cool for June comfort — but in Genoa and Venice we 
 had found warm weather, and here in Milan it was hot. 
 The mornings and evenings were not so warm; but in 
 the middle of the day the sun blazed from an unclouded 
 sky, and everybody sought a "siesta." The shops and 
 stores even were practically closed, and if you ventured 
 inside nobody cared to wait upon you; all were lying 
 down or napping. To keep out the heat and glare of 
 the sun, they extend their canvas awnings out to the 
 curbstones and down to the curbstones, and thus you 
 may walk for blocks well-sheltered from the sun. Why 
 would not this be a good thing in many of our American 
 cities in July and August? 
 
 We liked Milan, however, and thought it the most 
 American of all the Italian cities. The Italians surname 
 it "La Grande," and it certainly deserves the name. It 
 stands on the plains of Lombardy, like Chicago on the 
 prairies of Illinois, and is the great industrial and finan- 
 cial center of united Italy. There is a magnificent farm- 
 ing country all about it, and her people are wide-awake 
 
 149 
 
European and business-like for Italians. Her streets are not much 
 Days and wider or straighter than elsewhere in Italy, but evidences 
 Ways of growth and progress appear on all sides. Her street 
 pavements are many of them cobble-stones still, much to 
 one's surprise; but she is replacing them with brick and 
 asphalt, and will soon be "up-to-date" in this respect 
 also. She has electric cars everywhere of a high order, 
 with a "belt-line" around the city on the site of her an- 
 cient walls, which she outgrew and leveled years ago. 
 
 Milan is the capital of Lombardy, is the seat of an 
 archbishop, the headquarters of an army corps, and con- 
 tains, with its suburbs, about five hundred thousand in- 
 habitants. It does a large business in silk and woolen 
 goods, gloves, carriages, machinery, and furniture, and 
 is developing a school of art in both painting and sculp- 
 ture quite its own. Indeed the Milanese artists claim to 
 surpass both Rome and Florence nowadays, and their 
 claim seems good. 
 
 Of course, she is an old, old place. The Romans had 
 a colony here two centuries before Christ, and in after 
 centuries she surpassed even Rome in importance at 
 times. In the eleventh century she contained three 
 hundred thousand inhabitants; but in n 62 was totally 
 destroyed by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. In 
 1 1 67 the allied cities of Brescia, Bergamo, Mantua, and 
 Verona, taking pity on her people, rebuilt her some- 
 what, and again she grew to importance. She is sit- 
 uated on the little river Olona, but is connected by a 
 network of canals with the Ticino, the Po, the Adda, 
 and Lakes Maggiore and Como, as well as by railroads 
 with all Italy, Switzerland, Austria, and Germany. 
 
 The great thing at Milan is her peerless Duomo, 
 150 
 
or cathedral, which the Milanese claim is "the eighth Milan — 
 wonder of the world." It is not so large as St. Peter's The DllOfflO 
 at Rome, nor the cathedral at Seville, but is the third 
 largest church in Europe. It is older than the present 
 St. Peter's, though not so old, of course, as the orig- 
 inal St. Peter's. It was founded in 1386, but not fully 
 completed until the present century. It has cost any- 
 where from fifty to one hundred millions of dollars, but 
 even now the fagade does not suit them, and they have 
 recently appropri- 
 ated four millions 
 of dollars for a 
 new facade, and 
 given their archi- 
 tect forty years to 
 do it in. It is a 
 huge edifice of 
 brick encased 
 with white mar- 
 ble, four hundred 
 and eighty-six 
 
 feet in length by two hundred and eighty-eight feet in d uomo, 
 breadth, with a nave one hundred and fifty-seven feet 
 high. Over this is a dome two hundred and twenty 
 feet high, with a marble tower rising three hundred 
 and sixty feet from the pavement. The roof also is 
 of marble, and is adorned with nearly one hundred tur- 
 rets or pinnacles, each surmounted by a marble statue 
 of some saint or hero (Napoleon I among them), while 
 every niche and corner bears the same. Even the su- 
 perb columns inside, which support the massive marble 
 roof, have canopied niches, with statues instead of cap- 
 
 151 
 
European itals. Altogether, inside and outside, the Duomo is 
 
 Days and said to have over five thousand marble statues, and 
 
 Ways is unique in this respect. It stands in the center of a 
 
 great square, or "piazza," as the Italians say, and covers 
 
 an area of fourteen thousand square yards, and will 
 
 hold forty thousand people, as claimed. 
 
 Its stained-glass windows in the choir are said to be 
 the largest and most beautiful in the world, and are 
 certainly a mass of color and splendor. They are of 
 Scripture subjects, from the Creation down to the 
 Crucifixion, and picture the whole life of man. Most 
 of them are three and four centuries old, and all are 
 exquisite and glorious. One might linger there for days, 
 studying these windows alone, as works of divinest art. 
 The interior, as a whole, is not so rich in mosaics and 
 paintings as St. Peter's, but it abounds in costly marbles, 
 rare bronzes, and magnificent tombs, and the general 
 effect of the Duomo as a whole is most solemn and 
 impressive. Its general style is Gothic, with many 
 divergences; but it is more churchlike than St. Peter's, 
 and I believe it to be the finest ecclesiastical edifice 
 upon the earth. It is poetry in marble. It is carved 
 eloquence. It is frozen music. It is sublime, and uplift- 
 ing, and Christlike, and does more to inspire the re- 
 ligious sentiments than all the Madonnas and saints from 
 Naples to Milan. 
 
 Just within the main entrance is a band of brass 
 across the pavement, and a little slit high up in the 
 thick wall admits a ray of sunlight at noon that tra- 
 verses this brass from wall to wall, and so fixes Milan's 
 meridian. In the center of the north transept is a val- 
 uable bronze candelabrum, in the form of a tree with 
 
 152 
 
seven branches, executed in the thirteenth century, and Milan — 
 decorated with costly jewels — a really wonderful piece The DUOIHO 
 of art". Under the dome, in a crypt, lies the embalmed 
 body of the Cardinal St. Carlo Borromeo, canonized 
 for his good deeds during the great famine and plague 
 of 1576. His body lies in a silver sarcophagus, faced 
 with rock-crystal, and is adored by an almost continuous 
 stream of pilgrims and sight-seers. In the right tran- 
 sept, to the rear of the altar, but adjacent, is the marble 
 statue of St. Bartholomew, executed in the sixteenth 
 century, and anatomically remarkable, because St. 
 Bartholomew is represented as an ordinary man flayed 
 alive, but bearing his skin on his shoulder, with every 
 muscle and vein clear and distinct. How he managed 
 to live and move after being thus "flayed alive," I 
 do n't know; but his statue is remarkable for its fidelity 
 and skill, anatomically considered, and is the only one 
 of the kind we saw abroad, though there are copies 
 elsewhere. They have many other treasures in the 
 Duomo, but its chief treasure is a nail of the true cross 
 (so they say). They keep this inclosed in a costly box 
 of rock-crystal in the great apse of the cathedral, high 
 up above the high altar, where all may see and adore 
 it from all parts of the Duomo. Once a year they take 
 it down, and carry it in holy procession through the 
 broad aisles and up the great nave of the Duomo, and 
 it heals the sick, cures the lame, makes the blind to 
 see, the deaf to hear, etc. So they say at Milan. And 
 it is only an old rusty nail, too ! But then it is from 
 Palestine ! 
 
 The founder of the Milanese Church was St. Am- 
 brose, who is greatly venerated throughout Lombardy 
 
 153 
 
European as the compiler of the Ambrosian Liturgy, which is still 
 
 D9yS and in use at the Duomo, and never gave place to St. Peter's. 
 
 Ways In former centuries, Rome often essayed to establish 
 
 her ritual here, as elsewhere in the world. But Milan 
 
 stood loyally by St. Ambrose, and does so still. 
 
 I walked all around the Duomo one day, and was 
 there several times. I liked to drop in alone, and wander 
 from spot to spot, and take in things by myself. I 
 think that is the only way to "do" a great church or gal- 
 lery. One does n't want a "guide," if he reads up a 
 little. Better to see and meditate by one's self. You 
 will soon get all you want in this way, and get it a great 
 deal better than from a chattering and usually half- 
 informed or misinformed guide; especially if you pick 
 up a little of the language, which you will everywhere 
 do, if you try seriously. I attended high mass there 
 one day, for an hour or two. The music was divine, 
 and rolled and echoed through the great Duomo like 
 paradisiac thunder and melody. There were four arch- 
 bishops and bishops present, and forty-four other ec- 
 clesiastics, by actual count, and about three hundred 
 people, mostly of the poorer classes. The exercises 
 were chiefly genuflexions and ceremonies, with swing- 
 ing censers everywhere. It was all very democratic, 
 however. I got up as near the altar as laymen were 
 allowed, and found a seat on a long wooden bench. 
 A woman with a child in her arms and another with 
 a market-basket sat down near me, and a flock of Ameri- 
 can tourists, largely young ladies, roamed about at will, 
 with "Baedeker" in hand and in open-eyed wonder. The 
 service went on all the same, and so did these kin of 
 mine. The Italians did not seem to mind that. But 
 
 154 
 
what would we Americans think of such irreverence Milan — 
 and disrespect in time of religious services? Evidently ArG9(l6S 
 the Italians regard us all as a sort of half-barbarians 
 and privileged heathen, because our travel pays so well. 
 An intelligent Milanese told me that Italy realizes 
 nearly $100,000,000 a year from foreign travel alone, 
 of which America contributes about one-half. "And 
 so," he said, "it pays us to take care of our antiquities 
 and art!" 
 
 Next to the Duomo, I think the finest thing in Milan 
 is the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, or the Arcade of 
 Victor Emmanuel. This is not ancient, but modern — 
 built 1865-67 — and is one of the most spacious and 
 beautiful edifices of its kind in Europe. It connects 
 two of the chief squares of Milan, and cost nearly two 
 millions of dollars. It is in the form of a Latin cross, 
 nine hundred and sixty feet long by forty-eight feet 
 wide, and ninety-four feet high, with a dome over the 
 center one hundred and eighty feet in height. The dec- 
 orations are well executed, and bear testimony to the 
 good taste of modern Milan. It is adorned with frescoes 
 of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America; of Science, Art, 
 Industry, and Agriculture; and with statues of famous 
 Italians, including Arnold of Brescia, Cavour, Vittore 
 Pisano, Gian Galeazzo Visconti (the founder of the 
 Duomo), Macchiavelli, Marco Polo, Raphael, Galileo, 
 Dante, Michael Angelo, Volta, Beccaria, Columbus, 
 Savonarola, etc. On the first floor are handsome shops 
 and splendid cafes, and at night the whole place is ablaze 
 with electric lights and crowded with the elite of Milan. 
 Everybody comes here to dine, or to sip his coffee and 
 hear the military band play, as in the piazza of St. Mark's 
 
 155 
 
European at Venice, or the piazza at Florence, and all good Ameri- 
 
 DflyS and cans meet here, of course. 
 
 Ways Just beyond this magnificent arcade, which would 
 be a credit to any city or any century, is the Piazza della 
 Scala, with Milan's monument to Leonardo da Vinci, 
 also modern (1872). It is a statue of the great master 
 in Carrara marble, over life-size, on a high pedestal, 
 surrounded by four of his most famous pupils, and 
 adorned with copies in relief of his greatest works. 
 Everybody goes to see this, of course, and it is well 
 worth a visit. But Leonardo's great masterpiece is not 
 in this handsome piazza, but in the refectory of the 
 old monastery of S. Maria delle Grazie, now or late a 
 cavalry barracks. This is his world-famous "Last Sup- 
 per," and is now so faded and forlorn as to be much 
 of it obscure, if not indecipherable. It was discovered 
 in Napoleon's time at Milan, covered over with white- 
 wash, when a company of his cavalry was quartered in 
 this old monastery. It has since been rescued and made 
 the most of, and as you study it the genius of the great 
 master becomes more and more apparent. But what 
 must it not have been when fresh and new? There 
 have been many copies of it, and good ones too; but 
 they all fail to exhibit the features and emotions which 
 Leonardo meant to express, and which are still dis- 
 cernible in the grand old picture, faded though it be. 
 As Goethe well says : "The artist represents the peace- 
 ful little band [of the disciples] around the sacred table 
 as thunderstruck by the Master's words, 'One of you 
 shall betray me.' The whole company is in dismay, 
 while he himself bows his head with downcast eyes. 
 His whole attitude, the motion of his arms and hands, 
 
 156 
 
Brera 
 
 all seem to repeat with heavenly resignation, and his Milflll- 
 silence to confirm, the mournful words: 'It can not be "Last 
 otherwise. One of you shall betray me!' ' Slipper" 
 
 While studying it, and drinking in all that is best 
 and noblest in it, in tramped a party of young ladies 
 from Philadelphia, chaperoned by a lady from New 
 York, well known to us at home, and the exchange 
 of our travel experiences absorbed the rest of the hour. 
 Nevertheless, we saw the "Last Supper" well, and ad- 
 vise everybody else to go see it when at Milan. It is 
 one of the world's greatest paintings, and its memory 
 will survive even when its colors are no more. 
 
 Next we went to the Brera, or the Palace of Science, 
 Letters, and Art, formerly a Jesuit college, but now 
 a picture gallery, a library (three hundred thousand 
 volumes), a collection of coins (fifty thousand), an 
 observatory, a collection of casts from the antique, and 
 an archaeological museum. Surely this is an improved 
 use to put the old edifice to ! As you enter, in the 
 center of the handsome court, a fine bronze statue of 
 Napoleon I as a Roman emperor, by Canova, greets 
 you. Inside, the gem of the paintings is Raphael's far- 
 famed Sposalizio, or the "Nuptials of the Virgin," 
 painted in 1504, and never surpassed by him. It is not 
 unlike Perugino's painting of the same subject, but dis- 
 plays more genius. Here, also, are many other fine 
 pictures, by Palma Vecchio, Gentile Bellini, Paul Vero- 
 nese, Tintoretto, Titian, Guido Reni, Rubens, Van- 
 Dyck, Jordaens, and other masters. There are some 
 portraits especially of men and women, by Lorenzo 
 Lotto, that would be hard to surpass elsewhere, and 
 the gallery as a whole is well worthy of Milan. 
 
 LS7 
 
European Next we went to the Museo Poldi-Pezzoldi, which 
 
 Days and is a charming collection of nearly everything in art, 
 Ways made at great expense, and recently bequeathed to 
 Milan by its founder, Cav. Poldi-Pezzoldi, together with 
 the superb house or palace in which he lived. His wife 
 died; his children died; his brothers and sisters all died; 
 and then he gave the elegant property, to which he had 
 devoted his life and fortune, to Milan and her citizens 
 forever. The building itself is spacious and beautiful; 
 but the collection seems incomparable for a private per- 
 sonage, including valuable pictures, arms and armor, 
 and many exquisite objects of antiquity. Here are 
 marble statues and statuettes that seem to live and 
 breathe; superb wood-carvings; Turkish and Persian 
 carpets, as lovely as oil-paintings; Dresden, Sevres, 
 Japanese, and Chinese vases and porcelains, charming 
 as a dream; gold and silver plate; valuable vessels, em- 
 bellished with gems and enameling; Romanesque crosses 
 and reliquaries; Roman and Oriental bronzes, antique 
 glass, etc.; Persian weapons, Cloisonne enamelware 
 from India and China; and mirrors, tables, cabinets, 
 bureaus, bookcases, and bedsteads, that fascinate and 
 bewilder you. One handsome carved bedstead in par- 
 ticular, on the first floor, unique and exquisite in all its 
 details, has its four feet resting each on the back of 
 some animal, symbolic of what rest and sleep may over- 
 come; such as care, fatigue, grief, and trouble. We 
 felt well repaid for the hour or two we spent here, 
 and Milan may well be proud of such a museum and 
 such a citizen. 
 
 Of course, we went to Bocconi's. Signor Bocconi 
 is the John Wanamaker of Italy, and he boasts of great 
 
 158 
 
BoGGoni's 
 
 department stores in all the chief cities of the kingdom. Milan — 
 We visited several of these, but none better than the Poldi- 
 one in Milan, if any so good. Here was everything PeZZOldl 
 for sale, raw and ready-made, in styles and at prices 
 to suit the purchaser, and customers swarmed as at 
 our Wanamaker's. We did some "shopping" here, and 
 found it quite satisfactory; but it seemed extraordinary 
 he had so few English-speaking salespeople, in view 
 of the large English and American travel at Milan. 
 
 The last thing we did at Milan was to take a tram- 
 car ride on the "Circonvallazione," or the belt-line 
 around the city. This runs on the site of the old city 
 walls, and is several miles in extent. Parts of the old 
 walls are still standing, and most of the old city gates, 
 and the old canals of Milan are still there and in use. 
 The ride shows you all parts of the city well, except 
 the modern suburbs, and gives one a better general 
 idea of Milan than is otherwise obtainable. One can 
 not but conclude that Milan is a prosperous and pro- 
 gressive city, and its people wide-awake and artistic. 
 
 We stopped at the Hotel Roma, on the Corso Vit- 
 torio Emanuele, only a block or two away from the 
 Duomo and the great Arcade, and found comfortable 
 entertainment, but not first-class. Indeed, the hotels 
 of Milan are not equal to the city otherwise, and which- 
 ever one you go to, you will likely regret you did not 
 stop at some other one. But there are many of them, 
 as well as "pensions," and one takes his choice! 
 
 159 
 
Chapter XII 
 
 E left Milan, Saturday afternoon, July 15th, 
 and the same evening arrived at Bellagio, 
 on Lake Como. It was first a short ride 
 by rail to Como itself — a town of ten or 
 twelve thousand people, at the south end of the south- 
 west arm of Lake Como, surrounded by an amphi- 
 theater of mountains, and noted for its large silk manu- 
 factories — and then a steamboat ride up the lake to 
 Bellagio. The lake itself is about thirty miles long b^ 
 two or three wide, and surrounded by mountains, some 
 of them seven thousand feet high — the Italian Alps. 
 Lake Como was extolled by Virgil in his day, and 
 may well be considered the most beautiful lake in 
 Northern Italy. The little steamboat zigzagged from 
 one side of the lake to the other, touching at all the 
 villages and summer resorts, landing or taking on pas- 
 sengers, and once or twice was struck by thundergusts 
 so violent that it could not make its landings at all. 
 The ride up the lake, however, was picturesque and ex- 
 quisite beyond description, and the change of climate 
 from hot Milan was most charming and delightful. 
 How cool and grateful its temperate breezes seemed 
 after the tropic heat of Milan and the plains of Lom- 
 bardy! The great mountains crowd quite down to the 
 water's edge, naked and barren above, but clad with 
 
 160 
 
clustering farms and villages below, and with a climate Lake CORK) 
 so mild that palms/ roses, oranges, lemons, and figs 
 thrive in the open air, their delicious perfume borne 
 on every breeze. 
 
 We landed at Bellagio early in the evening, re- 
 freshed by our lake ride, and found excellent quarters, 
 at moderate rates. Bellagio is a little town of about a 
 thousand inhabitants, scattered along the base of the 
 rocky promontory that separates the two arms of the 
 lake there. It 
 abounds in hotels 
 and pensions, all 
 more or less good, 
 and seemed to 
 u s — w e a r y of 
 Venice and Milan 
 and their summer 
 heat — one of the 
 most charming 
 spots in the 
 world. We halted 
 there to spend Sunday only, but were so charmed with Lake Como, 
 the place that we staid nearly a week, and were loath 
 to depart. The walks and grounds about the great 
 hotels abounded in flowers and fruits, and the old town 
 itself, with its ancient arcades, picturesque boats, and 
 rows of washerwomen along shore — with great white 
 umbrellas over them, while they beat and rinsed their 
 clothes — was always of interest. It has only one street 
 along the water; the others, narrow and steep, mere 
 rocky alleys, run straight up the mountain or zigzag 
 along its sides. 
 
 ii 161 
 
European I had been reading about Lake Como all my life, 
 
 Days and and here it was at last, surpassing my expectations. 
 Ways The lake was a gem by day and a dream by night. 
 Lofty mountains frame it in on all sides, with snow- 
 peaks here and there gleaming in the distance. The 
 climate seemed perfect for July; neither too hot nor too 
 cool. Life in the daytime seemed idyllic, and at night 
 we had the July moon in her first quarter, with a wil- 
 derness of stars in the deep blue of the Italian sky, 
 
 -i while the tinkle 
 of distant cow- 
 bells came to us 
 across the water 
 from the chalets 
 along the moun- 
 tain sides. A 
 brace of lovely 
 swans kept us 
 company at our 
 meals, catching 
 the morsels we 
 tossed them from our table under the plane-trees along 
 the shore, and nearly every evening a thunder-shower, 
 just at sunset, swept over the mountains and along the 
 lake, and added to the weird beauty and sublimity of 
 the landscape. No wonder Byron loved the Italian 
 lakes, and we fully realized the fine lines which he wrote : 
 
 "Far along, 
 From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 
 Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, 
 But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
 And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, 
 Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!" 
 162 
 
 Lake Como, 
 from moun- 
 tain above 
 Menaggio. 
 
One day we took a little steamer in the morning, 
 and went up the southeast arm of the Lake to Lecco, 
 where it contracts into the River Adda and flows out 
 under the Ponte Grande — a stone bridge of ten arches, 
 built in 1335, and still in good condition. Lecco is a 
 busy little town of about six thousand inhabitants, at 
 the foot of a mountain, with silk, cotton, and iron 
 works, with statues of Manzoni and Garibaldi in its 
 piazza. It has an old church, and abounds in old castles, 
 tombs, shrines, 
 etc. We took a 
 romantic drive 
 along and through 
 its ancient streets, 
 by its old garden 
 walls surmounted 
 by queer dwarfs 
 and dogs, keep- 
 ing watch and 
 ward over the 
 gardens, and got 
 back to Bellagio in time for dinner. This arm of the 
 lake is very beautiful, but the mountains are not so 
 lofty nor the scenery so grand as from Como to Bel- 
 lagio. Nevertheless, the excursion to Lecco is well 
 worth taking, if one has the time. 
 
 Another day we crossed the lake to Cadenabbia, 
 and spent a delightful morning in the Villa Carlotta 
 and its handsome grounds. Here are celebrated reliefs 
 by Thorwaldsen, and sculptures by Canova and others, 
 and in the spacious garden or grounds are rare trees 
 and exotics, roses, flowers, and palms, that could 
 
 163 
 
 Como — 
 Imo 
 
 Monte Rese- 
 gone, Lecco. 
 
European flourish only in such an environment as here. How 
 Days and exquisite it all is, with the overshading mountains on 
 Ways one side, Lake Como at your feet, and the superb 
 mountains rising again on the farther shore, with the 
 Italian sky bending over all! No wonder the rich and 
 the cultured, the noble and the titled of England, and 
 all Europe indeed, frequent Lake Como, and build 
 their villas and summer-houses along its lovely shores. 
 And no wonder American tourists love to visit and 
 
 linger here. If 
 not Paradise Re- 
 gained, surely it 
 is the next thing 
 to it, and not dis- 
 tant. 
 
 But all things 
 come to an end, 
 and so one after- 
 noon we packed 
 our bags, and left 
 for Lugano (July 
 19th). We crossed Lake Como to Menaggio by boat, 
 and here took a little narrow-gauge railroad over the 
 mountain to Porlezza, on Lake Lugano. This ride was 
 charming in its way, the road winding in and out over 
 crag and torrent, with far-stretching views of Lake 
 Como at times, and, when finally we got down to Lake 
 Lugano, we seemed to be on Como again. Of course, 
 Lugano is not so grand as Como, nor so picturesque, 
 but it is very fine in its way; and if one had not been 
 to Como first, he would be enraptured with Lugano. 
 At Porlezza we took a little steamer down the lake to 
 
 164 
 
 Washer- 
 women, 
 Lake Lecco. 
 
Lugano itself, and intended to ascend Monte S. Salva- MenajjiO — 
 tore (about three thousand feet high) by cableroad, LliganO 
 and spend the night there, overlooking the Italian 
 Alps. But our boat was late, and so we had to spend 
 the night at Lugano instead. 
 
 We might have stopped at a worse place. For 
 Lugano is a smart little city of some seven thousand 
 population, with villas and country-seats scattered along 
 the lake, embowered in vineyards and gardens, and 
 abounding with chestnuts and walnuts. A broad quay, 
 with double rows of trees, extends along the lake front, 
 a popular promenade of an evening, while the interior 
 of the town has arcades, workshops, and old buildings, 
 quite Italian in their character. The mountain and lake 
 views are both very fine here, but they, do not equal 
 the views at Bellagio or Cadenabbia. 
 
 We did not visit Lake Maggiore and the other 
 Italian lakes, because we did not care for them after 
 Como and Lugano, and also because we were eager to 
 get into Switzerland. Neither did we cross the Simplon, 
 and go thence to Mont Blanc and Geneva, as we had 
 originally planned. We found this would involve a 
 diligence ride of ten or twelve hours over the moun- 
 tains, and it might be in the rain, and as some of us 
 did not feel equal to this, we decided to go on to 
 Lucerne instead. 
 
 165 
 
Chapter XIII 
 
 E left Lugano, July 20th, at 9.30 A. M., and 
 reached Lucerne the same day at 5 P. M. 
 We went via the St. Gothard Railroad, 
 through the famous St. Gothard Pass to 
 Fluelen, and thence by steamboat to Lucerne. It was 
 a wild and wonderful ride by railroad, through the 
 mountains, along precipices, over torrents, through 
 tunnels, by "Devil's Bridges," following the Reuss 
 and its tributaries mainly, and when at last we came 
 out on Lake Lucerne it was like coming from Inferno 
 to Paradise again. 
 
 St. Gothard is a mountain group, with extensive 
 glaciers, and numerous peaks, averaging from eight 
 thousand to ten thousand feet high. The Pass itself 
 is a barren depression about seven thousand feet above 
 the level of the sea. The Romans used to come this 
 way, when invading Austria and Germany, and it has 
 been the highway of armies and commerce for cen- 
 turies. The railroad was built here 1872- 1882 to con- 
 nect Germany and Italy, and cost over $40,000,000. It 
 took 2,500 workmen most of the time, and sometimes 
 as high as 3,500 were engaged. It has one tunnel alone 
 nine and a quarter miles long, the longest in the world; 
 and altogether the line has fifty-six tunnels, thirty-two 
 great bridges, ten viaducts, and twenty-four minor 
 
 166 
 
bridges. It was built chiefly by German capital, largely St. Gotliard 
 for military reasons, when Italy joined the Triple Alii- The Alps 
 ance (Germany, Austria, and Italy), and has extensive 
 fortifications at each end of the Great Tunnel. Noth- 
 ing could be grander or sublimer than this railroad ride 
 much of the way. The mountains towered ever before 
 us and around us. Snowfields and snowpeaks were 
 often in evidence. Distant avalanches were not infre- 
 quent. Waterfalls were on every side, and mountain 
 torrents foamed and roared everywhere, like rivers of 
 lace. The road climbs the Pass by gentle gradients, or 
 shoots through dark tunnels, or poises itself on the 
 edge of dizzy precipices, and often startles one's nerves 
 by its audacity and daring. But it has been well built 
 and is well managed, and, on the whole, we enjoyed 
 the journey greatly. A superb wagon-road preceded 
 it, and is always in sight from the car windows, and 
 a carriage drive over this must be exhilarating and in- 
 spiring. 
 
 The country as a whole is naturally barren and un- 
 inviting, but it is well peopled and made the most of. 
 There are little villages and scattered chalets every- 
 where, with wayside churches and shrines, and herds 
 of cows and goats, and industrious and hard-working 
 men and women. The houses and barns are mostly 
 of logs or frame, with their roofs loaded down with 
 rocks, and the fence-posts and vineyard poles are often 
 of stone. In all the secluded valleys and sheltered nooks 
 vineyards abound, as in Italy, and the language and 
 dress of the inhabitants indicate an Italian extraction 
 for many of them. Indeed, the Italian and Swiss Alps 
 run altogether, and the races have mingled insensibly. 
 
 167 
 
European At Fliielen we left the cars, and took a little lake 
 Days and steamer down Lake Lucerne to Lucerne. The Lake 
 Ways of Lucerne, or "Lake of the Four Forest Cantons," as 
 called there, is bounded by the Forest Cantons of Uri, 
 Schwyz, Unterwalden, and Lucerne, and is "unsur- 
 passed in Switzerland, and even in Europe, in magnifi- 
 cence of scenery." We had thought Como and Lugano 
 beautiful and grand, and so they are; but Lucerne cer- 
 tainly surpasses them, and nothing could be finer. The 
 
 lake itself is 
 nearly cruciform, 
 about twenty-five 
 miles long by two 
 and one-half wide, 
 and greatest depth 
 seven hundred 
 feet. There is a 
 railroad along one 
 side of it (St. Go- 
 thard), but it also 
 has a fleet of 
 LakeLu- twenty-five little steamboats, that ply constantly over 
 Rigi ^' an< ^ ^ an< ^ P assen g ers a t every hotel and hamlet. These 
 are a feature of all the Swiss lakes, and are delightful 
 in their appointments and management. The wooded 
 mountains crowd quite down to the water's edge; but 
 villas, hotels, and pensions crown the bluff shores every- 
 where, and the travel from point to point is large and 
 constant. As we passed down the lake we took on 
 parties everywhere that had come up from Lucerne 
 for the day or week, and not a few of these were Amer- 
 icans or English, though the Germans preponderated. 
 
 1 68 
 
Soon we reached Tell's Platte, with its little Tell's 
 Chapel, said to have been built originally in 1388 on the 
 spot where William Tell sprang out of Gessler's boat, 
 and afterwards shot that tyrant. Historians now, how- 
 ever, doubt the whole story; but the Tell legend still 
 remains strong among the Swiss people, and ought to 
 be true, if it is not. Then 
 presently on the right rose 
 the Rigi, on the left Pilatus, 
 and facing us were the Biir- 
 genstock, the Buochser 
 Horn, the Stanser Horn, 
 the Wetterhorn, the Schreck- 
 horn, Monch, Eiger, Jungfrau, 
 and a host of lesser mountains. 
 Above all towered Pilatus, seven 
 thousand feet high, its barren, 
 rugged peaks sharp against the 
 sky, but swathed in clouds about 
 the summit, while on the oppo- 
 site shore loomed the Rigi, not 
 so lofty (about six thousand 
 feet), but smiling in sunshine, its 
 lower slopes covered with gar- 
 dens and villas, and its upper with forests and pastures. 
 Before us lay the city of Lucerne, with its towers and 
 battlements and churches, like a diamond upon the 
 breast of a Roman matron, and nothing more was 
 needed to complete the idyllic picture. 
 
 Lucerne itself is a goodly city of twenty-five thou- 
 sand inhabitants, and the capital of the canton of that 
 name. It lies at the efflux or exit of the River Reuss, 
 
 169 
 
 Lake LuGerne 
 
 Monch and 
 Eiger, Eiger 
 Glacier. 
 
European which enters the Lake of Lucerne near Fliielen, and 
 Days 3nd flows out at Lucerne, emerald green, with the swift- 
 Ways ness of a torrent. It is crossed by several bridges, two 
 of which — foot-bridges only — date back to old mediaeval 
 days and cross the river obliquely. These are the 
 Kapellbrucke and Miihlenbrucke, and are covered with 
 roofs, painted on the inside with scenes from Swiss his- 
 tory and the lives of the patron saints of Lucerne, and 
 with a "Dance of Death." The paintings, however, all 
 date from the eighteenth century, and are rather mat- 
 ters of curiosity than of art. The city itself is sur- 
 rounded by well-preserved walls of brick and stone, with 
 watch-towers and gates, erected in 1385, and with its 
 amphitheatrical situation, facing the Rigi and Pilatus, 
 with the lake at its feet and the snowclad Alps beyond, 
 is of surpassing interest and beauty. 
 
 Along its front is a magnificent quay, made by fill- 
 ing in the shallow waters of the lake, and planting rows 
 of horse-chestnuts, whose branches have been trained 
 to interlace, and thus form an umbrageous bower from 
 the sun. Here are seats and chairs ad libitum, and bands 
 of music at night, and boats to hire, both by day and 
 night. These boats all carry little flags, according to 
 the taste or nationalities of their occupants, and it was 
 pleasant to note that not a few bore the Stars and 
 Stripes. Here, on this great quay, were thousands of 
 promenaders, well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, both 
 by day and night, and frequently at night there were 
 illuminations also, both on water and land, in imitation 
 of Venetian carnivals. Just beyond the quay and bor- 
 dering on it, fronting the lake, is a magnificent avenue, 
 lined with great hotels and residences, and the city 
 
 170 
 
proper lies back of this, with its shops, stores, and Luceme- 
 churches. We found the hotels all full, but secured LiOH Of 
 good accommodations at the Beaurivage, fronting on LUG6Me 
 the lake, and continued there several days. 
 
 We found Lucerne a very interesting old place, and 
 enjoyed our stay there very much. It is full of hotels 
 and pensions, and all Europe and America seem to pour 
 in here during the summer — over three hundred thou- 
 sand in a season, so they said. It abounds in lovely 
 walks and views, and old fountains and statues, and 
 ancient walls and battlements, and its shops are among 
 the finest in Europe. Of course, our ladies went "shop- 
 ping," and reported good results; but I strolled all over 
 the city, and along its old walls and towers by myself 
 usually, and always came back well repaid for my fatigue. 
 We all went together to see the famous "Lion of Lu- 
 cerne." This is a fine work by Thorwaldsen, executed 
 in 1 82 1 to the memory of the officers and soldiers of 
 the Swiss Guard (some eight hundred), who fell at 
 Paris in 1792 in defense of the Tuileries. It represents 
 a dying lion of gigantic size, reclining in a grotto, trans- 
 fixed by a broken lance, and sheltering the French lily 
 with its paw. It is hewn out of the natural sandstone 
 rock there, and is very touching and effective. It is 
 surrounded by trees and shrubs and ferns, and a spring 
 at the top flows down and forms a pool at the base. 
 An intermittent fountain plays before it now and then, 
 and there are always groups of tourists studying it. 
 There are lovely walks all about it, and one of them 
 leads up to the "Glacier Garden" above it, which is 
 well worth visiting. This contains thirty-two "pot- 
 holes" or "giants' cauldrons," of different sizes (one 
 
 171 
 
European twenty-six feet wide and thirty deep), made by rocks 
 
 Days and worn by water or glacial action, discovered here in 1872, 
 
 Ways and connected by steps and bridges. A museum there 
 
 contains a reconstruction of a lacustrine village, a relief 
 
 of a glacier, a relief of Central Switzerland, and some 
 
 genuine relics of the glacial period. 
 
 In the older parts of the town are many quaint and 
 picturesque houses of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
 turies. The ancient Rathhaus in the corn-market dates 
 
 from 1519. A 
 queer old Gothic 
 fountain in the 
 wine-market was 
 erected in 1382; 
 another in 1481. 
 On the rising 
 ground overlook- 
 ing the quay and 
 lake is the Hof- 
 kirche, a vener- 
 able church 
 Lucerne, founded in the seventh century, restored in the seven- 
 teenth century, and now standing solid and secure, with 
 two unique slender towers and spires erected about 
 1506. It contains a carved pulpit and stalls and crucifix 
 by famous wood-carvers, and stained-glass windows of 
 exceptional beauty, and an old organ we shall never 
 forget. It was built in 165 1, and reconstructed in 1862, 
 and is a superb instrument. It plays every day from 
 6.30 P. M. to 7.30 P. M., and the day we were there it 
 gave us pieces from Bach, Handel, Mendelssohn, and 
 Mozart, and then a "Fantaisie" of a thunderstorm among 
 
 172 
 
the Alps. This last surpassed anything we ever heard. LllGeme — 
 The great organ seemed to quiver and speak. You Cathedral 
 could hear the patter of the rain, the sweep of the tem- 
 pest, and the crash and roar of the thunder, until the old 
 church seemed ready to topple and fall about you. 
 Through the midst of it all, the old Alpine folksong rang 
 out, clear and flutelike, from the vox humana stops, and 
 the audience sat awed and spellbound. It was a great 
 organ, greatly played, and we shall never forget its great 
 and noble music that evening at Lucerne. Outside and 
 around the church is a neglected and shabby-looking 
 graveyard or Campo Santo, that compares unfavorably 
 with what we saw in Italy, though this is a Roman 
 Catholic church too, and Lucerne is a Catholic city. 
 
 Another evening we climbed up the Gutsch, a moun- 
 tain nearly two thousand feet high, at the west end of 
 Lucerne, and dined there. We went up by "funiculare," 
 or cable-road, and had a splendid view of the city, the 
 lake, the Rigi, and the Alps of Uri, Unterwalden, and 
 Engelberg, and had an excellent dinner as well. We 
 found a German Swiss there, who spoke a little Eng- 
 lish, and, as I spoke a little German, we got on famously 
 together. 
 
 We did not go up Pilatus, because it seemed envel- 
 oped with clouds and mists nearly every day, but as- 
 cended the Rigi instead. We took a little steamer up 
 the lake to Vitznau, and thence ascended to the Rigi- 
 Kulm or summit by a "rack-and-pinion" or cogwheel 
 railroad. Our progress was slow, but we had magnifi- 
 cent views from the outset. The base of the Rigi is 
 planted with chestnut and almond trees, and above these 
 are gentle slopes and broad terraces, covered with pas- 
 
European tures and cows. As you ascend, the landscape of lake 
 Days and and mountain unfolds before you, until you take in a 
 Ways view three hundred miles in circumference, as said, and 
 unsurpassed for beauty in Switzerland. When you get 
 to the summit, you are six thousand feet up in the sky, 
 and a wonderful panorama of mountain and valley, of 
 lake and river, of cities and towns, stretches around you. 
 The jagged peaks of the snowclad Alps and of the 
 Bernese Alps, clad in perpetual snow, crown the land- 
 scape by the score and hundred, while Lakes Zug and 
 Lucerne nestle at your feet. It was a scene of a life- 
 time, and there are no words to describe it adequately. 
 There are fine hotels on the Kulm (of stone), where 
 many stay all night to see the sun set and rise, but we 
 were satisfied with what we saw by day. We dined, and 
 then lay around on the rocks and grass, and talked and 
 dreamed, and took photographs of what interested us, 
 and late in the afternoon returned to Lucerne. Up on 
 the Kulm it was really hot in the sun, with mosquitoes, 
 gnats, and flies in abundance, and as vicious as ever I 
 saw, but cool in the shade. It is an all-day's trip to 
 ascend the Rigi and return. But it repays one richly. 
 Mt. Washington is good, but it bears no comparison 
 to the Rigi. 
 
 We found people of all nationalities on the Rigi, but 
 the only "piggish" or selfish creature was a Frenchman. 
 Outwardly polite — a mere surface politeness — he wanted 
 the best of everything, and did not hesitate to appro- 
 priate this, even from ladies. We gave him a "setback" 
 or a "backset," when he tried to take the best seat in 
 the car from one of our ladies at the Rigi-Kulm, and his 
 fellow-passengers had no sympathy for him. There were 
 
 174 
 
some English and Americans and a few Italians; but the LllG&Me 
 Germans outnumbered all, with their perpetual "Ja ! Ja ! 
 Ja!" and good nature, and keen intelligence, and we 
 were the best of friends with them always. 
 
 We spent a Sunday at Lucerne, and sought out the 
 English church, but found it rebuilding on a larger and 
 handsomer scale on the chief avenue of the city. Thence 
 we went to the old Swiss Protestant church, where an 
 English service was being held, and found it full of Eng- 
 lish and Americans. The music was first-class, and we 
 saw more clean and Christian folks, it seemed to me, 
 than in all Europe before. One of the hymns given 
 out was, — 
 
 " When all thy mercies, O my God, 
 
 My rising soul surveys, 
 Transported with the view I 'm lost 
 
 In wonder, love, and praise," — 
 
 and the congregation sang it with a fervor and swing 
 seldom heard even in America. 
 
 On the whole, we liked Eucerne well. It was 
 differentiated from the Italian cities by the com- 
 plete absence of officers and soldiers. Not a mili- 
 tary man was to be seen anywhere. No standing 
 army in Switzerland; but the little Republic rests upon 
 its citizens, a few police now and then, but not many 
 of these. The Swiss believe in the schoolhouse and the 
 spelling-book rather. But, we regret to record, we first 
 saw men and women here harnessed up with dogs, draw- 
 ing milk and vegetable wagons about the city, and saw 
 women bearing burdens on their heads that would break 
 the backs of their American sisters. 
 
 175 
 
Chapter XIV 
 
 L were at Lucerne just a week, and left there 
 for Interlaken July 27th. We went by the 
 way of the romantic and picturesque Briinig 
 Pass to Meiringen, and from there via Brienz 
 to Interlaken. The day was warm, but our road skirted 
 the Lake of Lucerne, and winding around the base of 
 Pilatus soon began to ascend, and the heat gradually 
 moderated. It was an ordinary steam railroad for sev- 
 eral miles, through mountain valleys and along moun- 
 tain slopes, with snow-peaks and snow-ranges in the dis- 
 tance, but with fine farms and good farm-buildings 
 everywhere. The fields were small, but well cultivated. 
 The houses were typical Swiss chalets with overhanging 
 roofs and balconies, and stairways outside, and, as we 
 got farther up into the mountains, with their roofs 
 weighted down with rocks, as a precaution against the 
 winter tempests, which are violent here at times. Red 
 clover, wild carrots, and buttercups grew in the fields, 
 as at home; apple and cherry trees abounded every- 
 where; and along many of the streams and marshes 
 pond-lilies grew freely, as in America. Here and there 
 were a few scattered Lombardy poplars, but always aged 
 and in decay, as in America. At Alpnach, a pretty little 
 hamlet, we passed a modern church, with a tall and 
 slender spire, erected from the proceeds of the sale of 
 
 176 
 
timber cut from the forests of Mount Pilatus, and 
 brought down by a wooden slide eight miles long. 
 
 At Gisweil you get well up into the mountains, and 
 the railroad changes to the "rack-and-pinion" system, 
 and your progress becomes a slow climb. The road runs 
 by steep gradients, through tunnels and rock-cuttings, 
 across torrents and along the edge of dizzy precipices, 
 high above the picturesque Lake of Lungern, until 
 finally you reach Briinig, on the crest of the divide, not 
 far from the old 
 Briinig Pass, 
 about thirty-three 
 hundred feet 
 above the sea. 
 Here you get fine 
 views of the Wet- 
 terhorn, and the 
 Engelhorner, and 
 the Faulhorn 
 chain, and of 
 Meiringen, and 
 Lake Brienz, and here also you find a first-rate moun- 
 tain hotel and railroad restaurant. It must be a de- 
 lightful spot to spend a few days in summer; but we 
 had to hasten on after a brief lunch. Thence down to 
 Meiringen we went partly by "rack-and-pinion" road, 
 and partly by steam railroad, through rock-cuttings and 
 tunnels, by overhanging cliffs, and finally descended into 
 the valley of the Aar. The ride through the Briinig 
 Pass is justly famed throughout Europe, as one of the 
 most beautiful in Switzerland, but it did not seem to us 
 so picturesque as the ride through the St. Gothard. 
 i2 177 
 
 Brunig Pass 
 "Rack and 
 Pinion" 
 Railroad 
 
 "Working 
 
 like a dog,' 
 Interlaken. 
 
European The Aar runs through a level valley two or three 
 
 Days and miles wide, surrounded by wooded mountains, with 
 Ways snow-peaks in the distance. Originally it meandered all 
 through its valley, but long ago it was taken in hand by 
 the Swiss, and reduced to a straight channel, safe- 
 guarded by stone walls, and thousands of acres of wild 
 marshes were thus converted into good meadow-land. 
 They are still doing this with other streams here and 
 elsewhere in Switzerland, not allowing them to wander 
 and wash about at their own sweet will, but curbing and 
 controlling them in fixed courses, at infinite labor and 
 expense; and ultimately they will make these mountain 
 valleys "bloom and blossom as the rose." 
 
 A ride of an hour or so by steam railroad down the 
 valley of the Aar brought us to Brienz, at the head 
 of the lake of the same name — a town of two or three 
 thousand people, stretching along the lake, bounded by 
 green pastures and fruit-trees, and celebrated for its 
 wood-carving industry, which employs several hundred 
 persons. We were now in the heart of the Bernese Ober- 
 land, with wooded mountains, glistening snow-peaks, 
 and flashing waterfalls all about us. Here we took a 
 little steamer, and rode down Lake Brienz to Interlaken, 
 some nine or ten miles — an exquisite ending to our 
 day's journey. 
 
 Interlaken ("Between the Lakes") is really not much 
 of a place, only about five or six thousand inhabitants. 
 But its situation is charming and its air in summer ideal. 
 It is on a piece of level land — level as a prairie — between 
 the Lakes of Brienz and Thun, which are about two 
 miles apart, and one several feet higher than the other. 
 The river Aar connects them, and flows like a mill-race 
 
 178 
 
from Brienz into Thun. Back of Interlaken are wooded 
 mountains, abrupt and lofty; in front great mountain 
 ranges, with the Jungfrau towering back of all. It has 
 but one street, the Hoheweg, a broad avenue of old 
 walnuts, flanked by great hotels and shops on one side, 
 and by the city park, or "Meadow," on the other. Here, 
 near the northeast end of the Hoheweg, is an old 
 monastery and nunnery, founded in 1130, but suppressed 
 in 1528, and now used in part as a hospital and city hall; 
 the rest is used 
 for Anglican, 
 Scottish Presby- 
 terian, French 
 Protestant, and 
 Roman Catholic 
 services, indiffer- 
 ent 1 y — a good 
 specimen of Swiss 
 toleration. 
 
 We found good 
 quarters at the 
 Belvidere, a hotel on the Hoheweg, directly fronting the 
 Jungfrau. We could sit at our table, and see all the 
 changing features of the mountains, and watch the 
 "Alpen-glow" fade out over the Jungfrau with the even- 
 ing sunset. We were fortunate in striking excellent 
 weather. Sometimes visitors find only clouds and rain 
 at Interlaken, with the Jungfrau veiling her face from 
 morning to night; but our days there were perfect, with 
 the Jungfrau ever beautiful and glorious. Great wooded 
 mountain ranges come together in front of Interlaken, 
 and in a gap between two lofty ranges, back of them, 
 
 179 
 
 Brienz — 
 Interlaken 
 
 Hoheweg 
 
 Avalanche, 
 Jungfrau. 
 First Stage. 
 
European looms up the Jungfrau, 13,640 feet high, and snowclad 
 Days and from base to summit, all pink and crimson and purple at 
 Ways sunset. This is the chief thing to see at Interlaken, and 
 indeed it is well worth seeing. The Hoheweg is the 
 great promenade at Interlaken. It faces the Jungfrau, 
 and all day long is thronged with tourists, gazing at the 
 Jungfrau or discussing it, armed with glasses and guide- 
 books, and at eventide, when the "Alpen-glow" sifts 
 down over it, the Jungfrau is indeed something superb 
 and glorious. 
 
 One afternoon we took a carriage, and drove to 
 Unterseen — an old suburb of Interlaken, at the far end 
 of it. This consists chiefly of old wooden houses of the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, with an old church and 
 tower, 1385. There are some new Swiss houses here 
 of stone. and cement; but they are chiefly old, and of 
 boards and timber quaintly carved. The houses and 
 barns are all under the same roof, or with a connecting 
 roof, as usual everywhere in Switzerland, and indicating 
 severe winters. Old walnut-trees are all about Inter- 
 laken, many of them hundreds of years old, and they 
 constitute quite a feature of the place. A few of the 
 women still wear their old Swiss costumes, with black 
 velvet bodices, silver ornaments, silver chains, etc. But 
 the Swiss of that kind are fast passing away. 
 
 Of course, there is no comparison between Inter- 
 laken and Lucerne in general. Lucerne, indeed, quite 
 surpasses Interlaken in beauty, her views are so exten- 
 sive and varied. But, then, Lucerne has no Hoheweg 
 and Jungfrau, and upon these Interlaken specially 
 plumes herself; and well she may. 
 
 Next we climbed up to Miirren, above the clouds, at 
 180 
 
the foot of the Jungfrau, Monch, and Eiger, in order 
 to see these great mountains and their comrades face 
 to face. We went first by railroad, and then by "rack- 
 and-pinion" road up a wooded mountain valley, with a 
 wild Alpine torrent foaming by our side, to Lauter- 
 brunnen, and then by cable road abruptly up the moun- 
 tain side, and then by electric road along the mountain 
 to Miirren. At Lauterbrunnen — which means noth- 
 ing but springs — there are springs and waterfalls 
 everywhere; but 
 the finest is the 
 Staubbach ("Dust 
 Brook"), which 
 descends by a 
 single leap nine 
 hundred and 
 eighty feet, and is 
 converted mostly 
 into mist before 
 reaching the 
 ground, wafted to 
 and fro by the breeze like a silvery veil. Thence up to 
 Miirren you continue to ascend, until you get nearly 
 six thousand feet up into the sky, with Alpine peaks and 
 ranges all about you; not only the Jungfrau, Monch, 
 and Eiger, but the Wetterhorn, the Schneehorn, the 
 Silberhorn, the Mittaghorn, the Grosshorn, the Breit- 
 horn, the Tchingelhorn, the Gspaltenhorn, and ever so 
 many more unpronounceable "horns" also. The most 
 of these are snowclad the year round, or icebound, with 
 glittering and contorted glaciers crawling down their 
 valleys and ravines. Ever and anon a snowfall or an 
 
 181 
 
 The Jungfrau 
 Murren 
 Lauter- 
 brunnen 
 
 Avalanche, 
 Jungfrau. 
 Second 
 Stage. 
 
European 
 
 Days and 
 
 Ways 
 
 avalanche breaks loose, even as you gaze, and thunders 
 down into the valley beneath you. 
 
 We stopped at the Hotel des Alpes, on the very 
 brink of the mountain at Miirren, and spent Sunday, 
 July 30th, there. Here is one of the finest views in the 
 Bernese Oberland, and I doubt if there is anything 
 
 better in Switzerland. The Jung- 
 frau, Monch, and Eiger are 
 right before you — you seem to 
 be standing in their august 
 presence, and tempted to lift 
 your hat involuntarily — while 
 their comrade peaks stretch all 
 around you, like a serrated and 
 silver crown. Great valleys yawn 
 at your feet, like gaps into the 
 very bowels of the earth. The 
 air is so clear you may see miles 
 away, and so pure you may catch 
 the tinkle of cowbells from the 
 very foot of the snow-fields, or 
 hear men talking a mile or more 
 away. Buttercups, bluebells, and 
 daisies, of a reduced size, grow 
 On the q U ite up to the glaciers, and herds of cows graze there all 
 summer. Over it all is God's blue and bending sky, like 
 an arch of beauty and omnipotence, and it is a mean soul 
 that can not bow down to him there in reverence and 
 worship. How grand and sublime it all is, there are no 
 words to express. You must go and see for yourself; 
 nobody else can see it for you; and even then you won't 
 see it, unless you have eyes to see. 
 
 182 
 
 Glacier. 
 
We rose early Sunday morning to see the sun rise Sunday at 
 over the Jungfrau, but it was disappointing — clouds all Mlirren — 
 about it. But afterwards the clouds disappeared, sank The Alpen= 
 down into the valley, and all day long we had paradise fllOW 
 up there at Miirren. At evening we had the "Alpen- 
 glow" all over the mountains, like a crimson veil let 
 down from heaven; and what more could we ask? We 
 worshiped, in the morning, in a little English church 
 not far from our hotel, and found it crowded with 
 tourists. Its rector came from London for the summer, 
 under the auspices of the "Society for the Propagation 
 of the Gospel in Foreign Parts/' and gave us a sensible 
 discourse. But few Swiss attended; they were busy 
 about their hotels, pensions, and shops. In the way- 
 side booths girls were knitting lace and making sales 
 of carved wood, as on other days, and the Sabbath did 
 not seem to get up to Miirren much, especially after 
 noon. 
 
 How Miirren exists, it would be difficult to say. 
 Yet here it is, a village of several hundred people in 
 the midst of the Alps, right up by the snow-line, and 
 has been there for years. For eight or nine months in 
 the year it is utterly cut off from the outside world by 
 snow and ice. Occasionally, trips may be made on 
 snowshoes and with alpenstocks, in cases of necessity; 
 but that is all. Its young and active people descend 
 into the valleys in autumn, and find work there in winter, 
 but the rest hibernate at Miirren, and care for their 
 cows, make lace, shoes, etc. In summer, of course, 
 they all live upon the tourists, many of them as guides. 
 These last are stocky, athletic fellows, accustomed from 
 their youth to hunt the chamois and climb the glaciers 
 
 183 
 
European and precipices, and, with their alpenstocks and hob- 
 DayS and nailed shoes, are ready to take you anywhere at about 
 Ways five dollars a day, refreshments extra. Not a high price, 
 all things considered. 
 
 The next day we descended to Lauterbrunnen again, 
 and climbed thence to Scheidegg, by "rack-and-pinion" 
 and electric roads again. It was a slow process; but 
 the mountains were all about us, with superb views con- 
 stantly, and we reached Scheidegg at last. Here we 
 
 were at the very 
 foot of the great 
 glaciers that 
 come down from 
 the Jungfrau, 
 Monch, and 
 Eiger, and about 
 a thousand feet 
 higher up in the 
 sky than at Mur- 
 ren. We could 
 walk out on the 
 glacier, and take a sled or sleigh ride across it, as some of 
 us did. We could see and hear the snowfalls and ava- 
 lanches thundering down to the valleys. We had a game 
 of snowball, and then returned to Scheidegg for lunch in 
 a crowded restaurant. Here were a few Americans and 
 English; but the large majority were Germans and Aus- 
 trians. Indeed, Germans swarmed everywhere in Switzer- 
 land — students and lawyers from Berlin, ministers and 
 professors from Breslau and Leipsic, and Hans and 
 Gretchen the bride from everywhere. Usually they 
 traveled light, with only a knapsack or handbag and 
 
 184 
 
 Swiss 
 Chalets, 
 Murren. 
 
alpenstock, and patronized only the cheaper hotels and SGheide(}(J- 
 pensions; but they took the scenery in, all the same, as GlflGierS 
 the English nabobs and American millionaires, and Germans 
 saved half their money. After waiting half an hour, 
 we got a seat at a table with a German couple from 
 Berlin, and secured a satisfactory meal. They spoke a 
 little English, and we a little German, and so we got on 
 capitally together. He was a young lawyer, and she 
 a very beautiful and attractive lady, and we parted with 
 mutual esteem and regret. A German banker whom 
 we also encountered there spoke English well, had been 
 to New York and beyond, and admired America, but 
 feared we could not raise the soldiers needed or stand 
 the cost of the Philippine war. "Why," I answered, 
 "we have only about sixty thousand men in the Philip- 
 pines, and during our great Civil War we used to have 
 a million men under arms, and the South nearly as 
 many more. So, it is only costing us about $200,000,000 
 a year, and we used to spend ten times that, or more, 
 on both sides. Since then we have doubled in popula- 
 tion and resources, have nearly eighty million popula- 
 tion; and if Germany, with only about fifty million, can 
 keep a standing army of five hundred thousand men, 
 why can't America keep sixty thousand or one hundred 
 thousand temporarily, if necessary, without feeling it 
 greatly? Only a 'flea-bite,' my friend — only a 'flea-bite' 
 for Uncle Sam — depend upon it !" He opened his eyes 
 a little, but continued to shake his head. Like all the 
 Germans we met, he was still thinking of Manila Bay, 
 and lamenting Germany did not acquire the Philip- 
 
 pines ! 
 
 While lunching and resting here, a great herd of 
 
 185 
 
European cows, hundreds of them, all with tinkling cowbells, came 
 Days and grazing by on their way to another pasture, and for 
 Ways the first time we saw the Swiss cows in large numbers. 
 In the lower valleys and towns we saw very few of 
 them, and wondered where all the milk and cheese 
 came from. But early in the summer the Swiss drive 
 their cows to the mountains, where they graze along 
 the snow-line in great herds until autumn, and then 
 gradually feed their way down into the valleys again. 
 Meanwhile every foot of grass in the lower valleys is 
 mowed twice over, and carefully stacked away for their 
 long winter's use. Hence their very name of "Alps" 
 suggests to them mountain pastures. 
 
 Late in the afternoon we descended to Grindelwald, 
 by "rack-arid-pinion" road, winding around the base 
 of the Eiger and through vast cow-pastures, and got 
 down to about three thousand feet again. Here is a 
 beautiful and secluded little valley, well sheltered and 
 mild for the Alpine region, with gigantic mountains 
 around it, and splendid hotels in the midst of it. We 
 found the climate warmer than Scheidegg or Miirren, 
 and spent a delightful evening there. We took a long 
 stroll through the town (it has about three thousand 
 inhabitants) after dining, and could well believe it to 
 be a favorite resort for English people. At our hotel 
 we met two brave English girls, who were walking 
 through the Alps alone. They traveled light, with only 
 an alpenstock and a handbag each, sending their lug- 
 gage on by express. They had walked that day, by 
 wild mountain-paths, from Miirren to Scheidegg, and 
 from Scheidegg to Grindelwald, about fourteen miles, 
 and expected to walk on to Meiringen the next day, 
 
 1 86 
 
eighteen miles farther, and the following day to Lucerne Grindelwald 
 via the Briinig Pass, some twenty miles more. They Switzerland 
 showed no fatigue, but ate a hearty dinner, and looked Oil FOOt 
 fresh and chubby as German cherries or Rubens's god- 
 desses. They expressed no fear, and said they had 
 everywhere met with only kindness and courtesy. These 
 were only typical English girls, and others like them 
 appear everywhere in Switzerland. So, parties of men, 
 by twos and fours, and a gentleman and lady alone, 
 are often seen "doing" Switzerland on foot, and they 
 get amply repaid by their leisurely sight-seeing and 
 improved health, as well as greater economy. But, 
 then, it takes time, and time is more than money to us 
 Americans in haste. 
 
 i8 7 
 
Chapter XV 
 
 |HE next morning, August ist, we returned 
 to Interlaken, over the same route we as- 
 cended to Lauterbrunnen mainly, and, after 
 a brief stop at Interlaken, proceeded on to 
 Berne. Our route lay down the northerly shore of the 
 Lake of Thun, and, when once we got out of the moun- 
 tains, ran through an open and well-cultivated country 
 to Berne. There were large fields, and fine farms, and 
 good farm-buildings, with the Alps in the distance, and 
 everything indicated prosperity and thrift. In our com- 
 partment we had a Maine lady, who had left Boston 
 July 20th, and was due back there, she said, September 
 20th; that is to say, she was going to "do" Europe in 
 sixty days ! She had been post-haste to Venice and 
 Milan, and was now on her way back through Switzer- 
 land, Germany, and France to England, and so home 
 again. She was alone, and gave her days to sight- 
 seeing and her nights to traveling, and really was ac- 
 complishing a great deal. She seemed to be a gov- 
 erness or schoolteacher, on the wrong side of fifty, but 
 active and canny, and resolved to see Europe for her- 
 self; and I guess she did it! Her luggage consisted of 
 a handbag, and she was as "independent as a journey- 
 man woodsawyer." Afterwards we encountered her in 
 
 1 88 
 
Berne, doing the city with rapidity and intelligence, and 
 she needed no male guide or courier, either. 
 
 Berne, the capital of Switzerland, is a goodly city 
 of fifty thousand inhabitants, and seemed prosperous 
 and thriving. It is an old town, dating back to 1191, 
 with old churches and cathedrals, but has much of 
 modernity about it also. Its old cathedral, or Munster, 
 a fine late-Gothic structure, was begun in 1421, and it 
 took nearly two centuries to complete it. From the 
 cathedral terrace, 
 in fine weather, 
 you get the most 
 extensive pano- 
 rama of the Ber- 
 nese Alps in the 
 Oberland. Its 
 museums also are 
 rich in paintings 
 and armor, and in 
 minerals and fos- 
 sils, and its fed- 
 eral or national buildings are fine specimens of the 
 Florentine style, with a stately-domed edifice in the 
 middle not yet completed, resembling somewhat our 
 National Capitol at Washington. When done, Switzer- 
 land will have a National Capitol not unworthy of the 
 Alpine Republic. Berne has some broad avenues and 
 streets, well built upon, and her bridges and suburbs 
 are really handsome. She has electric lights and tram- 
 ways, or street railroads, everywhere, operated by com- 
 pressed air, and she utilizes the river Aar for this pur- 
 pose, which flows around her rocky peninsula like a 
 
 189 
 
 Berne 
 
 Berne. 
 
European 
 
 Days and 
 
 Ways 
 
 Ogre Foun- 
 tain, Berne. 
 
 mill-race, and turns the great wheels that compress 
 the air. 
 
 On the other hand, Berne retains more mediaeval 
 features than any other city in Switzerland. In the old 
 part of the town her streets are flanked by low arcades, 
 which form covered ways for foot-passengers; good in 
 
 bad weather, but which make 
 her shops dark and gloomy. In 
 the middle of her old streets are 
 numerous fountains, quaint and 
 curious, many of them dating 
 back to the sixteenth century. 
 One is called the Bagpiper Foun- 
 tain, surmounted by the figure 
 of a man playing on bagpipes, 
 and with water gushing from all 
 his pipes. Another is called the 
 Archer Fountain, with an an- 
 cient archer shooting, and the 
 water gushing from his weapons. 
 Another represents Samson and 
 the Philistines. Another is 
 called the Ogre Fountain, and 
 consists of a gigantic ogre, with 
 children bursting from all his pockets, while he is try- 
 ing to swallow two or three, with water spouting every- 
 where. In the heart of the town, but on what was once 
 its western gate, is an ancient clock several feet in 
 diameter, which announces the hour by the crowing of 
 a cock, while, just before it strikes, a troop of bears 
 march in procession around a sitting figure. The bear 
 is the heraldic emblem of Berne, and is indeed the 
 
 190 
 
tutelar saint and guardian angel of all Switzerland, as 
 the cowbell is its popular symbol. Bears and cowbells, 
 large and small, carved and painted, are everywhere in 
 evidence and everywhere for sale, as mementos of Switz- 
 erland. In the heart of Berne is a great bear-pit, safe- 
 guarded by stone walls and iron railings, where a family 
 of bears has been maintained at 
 the public expense from time im- 
 memorial — over seven hundred 
 years. You may throw them 
 bread and fruit, which they will 
 seize and devour eagerly. But 
 "Beware of Bruin !" 
 
 We stopped at the Schweizer 
 Hof, in the heart of the city, 
 and found good accommoda- 
 tions at moderate rates. We 
 rambled and rode all over Berne, 
 and found it a much better place 
 than we anticipated. We left 
 there the next day toward noon 
 via Zurich for Lake Constance 
 and Lindau. One seldom sees a 
 finer country than we had the 
 whole way. It is the agricultural heart of Switzerland, 
 and a fine farming region it is, and well tilled. It was 
 in the midst of their haying-time and grain-harvest, and 
 men, women, and children were everywhere at work in 
 the fields. They have abandoned the sickle, but still 
 cut their grass and grain with an old-fashioned scythe. 
 We did not see a grain-cradle, and but one or two mow- 
 ing-machines in all Switzerland; not a single reaper and 
 
 191 
 
 Berne — 
 Fountains 
 Bear-Pit 
 
 Clock 
 
 Tower, 
 
 Berne. 
 
European binder. Their grain-fields were small, often only two 
 Days and or three acres; mere patches, like gardens more fre- 
 WayS quently. But their grass-fields were large, and, indeed, 
 hay is the chief crop of Switzerland everywhere. They 
 cut two crops a season, and husband it carefully for their 
 long winters. In May they drive their splendid cows 
 up into the Alps, and graze them quite up to the snow- 
 line, insuring good grass and water, and make butter 
 and cheese there. In October they bring them home 
 again, and house and feed them until spring. Mean- 
 while they mow the whole country-side and lower 
 mountains over, and gather every handful of grass every- 
 where for winter use. 
 
 We saw old Swiss chalets everywhere, but new and 
 improved ones too, with great Swiss barns, etc., all 
 included under the same roof and all indicative of pros- 
 perity; but no fences anywhere worth mentioning. 
 The Swiss are too shrewd to waste -money and labor 
 in that way. So, also, we found new factories building 
 in all this part of Switzerland, for watches, clocks, silks, 
 lace, linen, cloth, and not even New England seems 
 more industrious and thrifty. 
 
 Zurich is an even better city than Berne, has one 
 hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, and is the finan- 
 cial and business center of Switzerland. It is on a lake 
 of the same name, and has a railroad station, hotels, 
 banks, and manufactories worthy of a larger place. It 
 is the most modern and progressive city in Switzerland, 
 and its university is already world-renowned, and a great 
 credit to little Switzerland. 
 
 And so we passed out of Switzerland by Lake Con- 
 stance, with delightful recollections of her mountains 
 
 192 
 
and lakes, and with a hearty admiration of her people SwiSS 
 and government. The Swiss have well been called "the Farmers 
 Yankees of Europe," and they are certainly the most Zurich 
 like Americans of any people we saw on the Continent. Government 
 A hard-working, frugal, religious, brave, kindly race, 
 they have made the most of their environment through 
 all the past, and still set a good example to mankind. 
 They have a little country, only about twice the size 
 of New Jersey, and half of that rocks and mountains; 
 but they have over three times its population. They 
 have twenty-two cantons against New Jersey's twenty- 
 one counties, each one about twice the size of our aver- 
 age county. But they pay their President, usually a good 
 one, only $1,500 a year, while New Jersey pays her 
 governor $10,000 a year, and our President, not always 
 a good one, receives $50,000 and extras. 
 
 We did not see a tramp or beggar in all Switzerland, 
 nor meet with a drunkard; but everybody and every- 
 thing was at work, intelligently and industriously. As 
 a hotel clerk said to me, "We Swiss are not afraid to 
 work, and, if we can't find what we want, we take what 
 we can get !" The women were at work in the fields 
 gathering hay, wheat, rye, and barley with the men, 
 and even the children were knitting lace and stockings, 
 while they waited to sell wood-carvings. They put 
 everything into harness, and make it earn its living, 
 from their rivers to their great St. Bernard dogs; their 
 rivers, by turning motors and developing electricity, 
 by which they run their mountain railroads and light 
 their cities and towns; their dogs, by helping to draw 
 their milk and bread carts and market-wagons, har- 
 nessed up with a man or woman. They run their toy 
 13 193 
 
European railroads up and down their mountains and valleys, and 
 DdyS and along the edge of dizzy cliffs and precipices, where a 
 Ways chamois almost would be afraid to venture. They were 
 constructing one up to the summit of the Jungfrau 
 when we were there, and another up Mont Blanc, blast- 
 ing and tunneling through perpetual snow and ice and 
 rock, and expected to get there soon, and make them 
 pay, too; and they were doing it chiefly by harnessing 
 and using their rushing and otherwise useless moun- 
 tain torrents, as a rule. Clearly an honest, intelligent, 
 enterprising race, these Swiss are. 
 
 They believe in the schoolhouse and the church. 
 You will find these side by side, or at least not far apart, 
 everywhere, as in New England; not always a Protestant 
 church either, but often a liberalized Catholic church, 
 which the Swiss have discovered how to curb and reg- 
 ulate. Some of their cantons are Protestant and others 
 Catholic, but perfect toleration is everywhere. Every 
 Swiss boy has to go to school and learn his rights and 
 duties, and get ready for them; and every Swiss girl,, 
 too. Primary education is free, both books and tui- 
 tion. But there is a small charge for high schools, col- 
 leges, and universities. The finest modern buildings 
 in Lucerne, Interlaken, Berne, and Zurich, after the 
 great hotels, are the schoolhouses and universities. It 
 was a canny old Swiss who said, "Our people all vote, 
 and hence our masters must be educated !" Good pol- 
 itics, this, for every American city and State, too. 
 
 They have no army in Switzerland. Their little 
 Republic needs none. It rests upon intelligence and 
 integrity — not bayonets. In Italy officers and soldiers 
 swarmed everywhere. But we did not see a soldier 
 
 194 
 
in Switzerland, except a few squads of national guards- The SwiSS 
 men en route to their rendezvous for drill and discipline. Their Army 
 But they practice rifle-shooting at home, and keep a LfllKJUdge 
 skilled and alert modern staff, up-to-date in everything 
 relating to the art of war; and when it comes to actual 
 fighting, Switzerland has always given a good account 
 of herself, from the days of William Tell and Arnold 
 von Winkelreid, and doubtless will do so hereafter. 
 
 But, singularly, they have no national language; 
 rather they are Italian, French, and German. All three 
 of these languages are spoken in their National Con- 
 gress, and they keep official interpreters there to explain 
 their public speeches one to another, and their laws 
 are printed in all three languages. One would sup- 
 pose that they had been a Republic so long (since 1292) 
 that they would have unified into one people and one 
 speech by this time. But they are of different race 
 stocks, in their different cantons, and their mountains 
 have kept them separate, except for national purposes. 
 They celebrated the six hundred and seventh anniver- 
 sary of their independence, their Fourth of July, while 
 we were at Berne, with the ringing of bells and public 
 rejoicing, and feeding of the bears, all over Switzer- 
 land; and may the plucky little Republic, now modeled 
 largely on our own, live to celebrate twice that, and 
 more ! 
 
 At Romanshorn we struck Lake Constance — or 
 Bodensee, as the Germans call it — and took a little 
 steamer for Lindau and Bavaria. Lake Constance is 
 forty miles long by seven or eight wide, and, while not 
 so picturesque as the Swiss lakes, is yet larger than 
 any of them. Its banks are flat, but the Appenzell 
 
 195 
 
European Alps and Voralberg Alps, with several snow-peaks in 
 Days and the distance, lend variety to the scenery, and the ride 
 Ways across to Lindau was a pleasant ending to our day's 
 journey. Sometimes the lake is a little rough; but it 
 was placid as a mill-pond the day we crossed, and the 
 sunset was charming. We reached Lindau just at dusk, 
 and entered its little harbor, with its colossal marble 
 Lion, twenty feet high, on a granite pedestal thirty- 
 three feet high, sitting upon its haunches, and "keep- 
 ing watch and ward" over its narrow entrance, and, 
 passing the custom-house without difficulty, found good 
 quarters for the night at the Bayerischer Hof, an ex- 
 
 cellent hotel fronting on the lake. 
 
 196 
 
Chapter XVI 
 
 IINDAU is a little town of some five thou- Lake 
 sand inhabitants, that seems to have retro- COflStdllGe 
 graded rather than advanced. It was once LlIKulU 
 an imperial town and fortress, and in the 
 Middle Ages was a thriving commercial emporium, but 
 now is known chiefly as the terminus of the Bavarian 
 Railway, en route to Switzerland, via Lake Constance. 
 It is also said to have been the site of an ancient Roman 
 fort, and they show you an old well and tower there, 
 with parti-colored tiles, which they say date back to 
 old Roman days. In the Reichsplatz is an old Rath- 
 haus, erected 1422, with frescoed facades and an inter- 
 esting collection of antiquities, and it has some queer 
 old houses and streets, that remind one of Southern 
 Italy. The best part of Lindau now seems to be along 
 the lake front. There are several hotels here that look 
 inviting, and there is a curious old tower that may have 
 been anything from a prison to a lighthouse, though 
 nobody could tell us exactly what. It looks ancient 
 enough to be a thousand years old; but we could learn 
 little about it. Off on the lake, gulls were soaring and 
 swooping, as at sea, or as if they had mistaken Lake 
 Constance for a bit of the ocean. 
 
 We only stopped at Lindau over night, and the 
 next morning (August 3d) left for Bregenz and the 
 
 197 
 
European Austrian Tyrol. At Bregenz we entered Austria, and 
 Days and had to pass the custom-house again, as we did at 
 Ways Lindau the evening before (only a few miles apart), 
 but had no trouble. Indeed, European custom officers, 
 as a rule, are very sensible and polite, and seldom mis- 
 take real travelers for passing smugglers. Here at 
 Bregenz we entered the Austrian Tyrol, and all day 
 long had a most interesting and charming ride through 
 the narrow valleys and up the lofty mountains of that 
 
 wonderful region. 
 The railroad as- 
 cends the begin- 
 nings of the 
 Rhine, and fol- 
 1 o w s its tribu- 
 taries up into the 
 Tyrolean Alps, by 
 rock-cuttings and, 
 tunnels, and 
 finally crossing 
 the "divide," 
 The strikes the headwaters of the River Inn and descends its 
 Lindau' picturesque and romantic valley to Innsbruck. We had 
 intended to stop near the summit, and spend the night 
 there, but continued on to Innsbruck instead, and were 
 glad we did, from what we afterwards heard of the 
 hotels there. 
 
 This ride through the Tyrol was everything lovely 
 and beautiful; no, grand and sublime rather ! The Tyro- 
 lean Alps towered about us, not so lofty as the Swiss 
 Alps, but often with snowclad summits, and seeming 
 everywhere to uplift and prop the very sky. The 
 
 198 
 
weather was perfect, though a little warm in the middle BretjeilZ — 
 of the day, and the intense blue of the sky reminded The Tyrol 
 one of Italy or America. The narrow valleys, as if cut 
 out with a knife — usually a quarter to a half mile wide 
 or less — were cultivated to the utmost with rye, wheat, 
 and barley, though grass was the main crop. This 
 grew everywhere luxuriantly and away up on the moun- 
 tain sides, and the Tyrolese, both men and women were 
 everywhere busy cutting and gathering it. In many 
 places the fields were too steep for wagons, or carts 
 even, and here they used sleds, or carried the hay down 
 into the villages on their backs, as we had seen them 
 do in Switzerland. They live chiefly in villages (each 
 with its toy church) for good company's sake, and go 
 down along the valleys or up among the mountains 
 to their work and return, though there are scattered 
 chalets here and there. Their chalets and barns were 
 mostly roofed with large shingles without nails, but held 
 down by rows of great stones or rocks and timbers, 
 as in Switzerland also, as a safeguard against the winter 
 winds, which are often wild and tempestuous here, as 
 in Switzerland. The newer ones, however, were roofed 
 with heavy red tiles or small, well-nailed shingles, and 
 lacked the rocks and stones — which would seem to ex- 
 plode the old story that all Swiss and Tyrolese roofs 
 are anchored down by rocks. 
 
 As you get out of the mountains, down towards 
 Innsbruck, the valley of the Inn widens out, and here 
 are fine farms and towns again, with plenty of wheat, 
 rye, barley, and Indian corn even, growing in the fields. 
 The roads are everywhere splendid, winding in and out 
 and over the great mountains, bridging the swift tor- 
 
 199 
 
European rents, and evidencing good engineering talent by some- 
 DayS and body. Little churches clot the country, and wayside 
 Ways crosses and shrines, with rude representations of Christ 
 on the cross, everywhere abound. In the valley of the 
 Inn I counted six of these in one mile, and we seemed 
 never out of sight of at least one or more. Clearly these 
 Tyrolese are a devout and religious people, and an in- 
 dustrious, prosperous, and gallant people. Tall, hardy, 
 and athletic, they seem like our Rocky Mountain and 
 
 Western people 
 over again. 
 
 At Innsbruck, 
 the capital of the 
 Tyrol, we stopped 
 at the Hotel Eu- 
 rope, and found 
 an old and inter- 
 e s t i n g city of 
 thirty thousand 
 population, ap- 
 parently busy and 
 well-to-do. It dates back to old Roman days and be- 
 fore, and has long been the main gateway from Italy 
 into Germany, via Verona. Half of the Tyrol is Italian, 
 and we met constant reminders of Italian ways, in 
 paintings, furniture, customs, and names. The lofty 
 Bavarian Alps with their silvery crests come quite down 
 to Innsbruck on the north, and shelter it from the 
 winter winds, while the Brenner gives the south wind 
 free passage up from Italy. Hence the climate is not 
 unduly cold in winter, nor unduly hot in summer, while 
 its scenery is superb. 
 
 200 
 
 IN THE 
 
 Tyrol, 
 Snapshot. 
 
It is a university town, and its libraries and museums IlMSbrilGk — ■ 
 are well worth visiting. Its Ferdinandeum or National Old Buildings 
 Museum, named after its first patron, Ferdinand I, is 
 a fine structure, and its collections well illustrate the 
 history, characteristics, and culture of the Tyrol. They 
 include not only the works of native artists, but those 
 also of foreign masters, and in archaeology, ethnography, 
 and mineralogy, are quite full and interesting for a place 
 like Innsbruck. 
 
 We went first to the Maria Theresa Arch and Street, 
 with its superb view of the Bavarian Alps to the north, 
 and walked by its handsome shops down to the Hof- 
 gasse with its genuine mediaeval aspects. Here were 
 old arcades, more antique even than those at Berne, 
 and the Golden Roof, a late-Gothic oriel house, whose 
 roof is covered with tiles of gilded bronze, erected 1500. 
 Near by are other old houses and palaces, frescoed on 
 the outside, and built in 1234. In this quarter, too, 
 are old inns — three on opposite corners, the Golden 
 Lion, the Red Eagle, and the Golden Chamois — and the 
 streets are so narrow you may almost shake hands 
 across them. Not far off, on the Herzof Friedrich- 
 strasse, stands the old Stadtthurm — a tall old stone 
 prison and clock tower, with a belfry above it that af- 
 fords a fine view from its upper balcony, and which 
 looks more ancient than it really is. In the old Market 
 Square were peasants in old Tyrolean costumes, quaint 
 and picturesque, and their one-horse mountain wagons, 
 with only one thill instead of two, seemed peculiar to 
 Innsbruck and the Tyrol. Some of their city carriages 
 had only one thill in the same way. 
 
 Innsbruck has also several nice churches, but none 
 201 
 
European of much interest except the old Franciscan Church, or 
 Days and Hofkirche, which has well been called the Tyrolean 
 Ways Westminster. This was erected 1 553-1 563 by the Em- 
 peror Ferdinand I, of Austria, in memory of his grand- 
 father, the Emperor Maximilian I, both Hapsburgs. 
 This old church is world-renowned as containing the 
 splendid tomb of Maximilian, though, singularly, Maxi- 
 milian himself is not buried here. It is surrounded 
 by twenty-eight colossal bronze statues of heroes and 
 kings who have had some connection with the House 
 of Hapsburg, real or fanciful. They are all in ancient 
 armor, of different styles and merit, but two of them 
 (Arthur of England and Theodoric the Goth) are of 
 unusual excellence and beauty. The tomb itself is sur- 
 mounted by a statue of the emperor, and figures of the 
 four cardinal virtues, all in exquisite bronze, while its 
 sides are ornamented by marble reliefs representing 
 scenes from the life of Maximilian. 
 
 Near by is the statue of Andreas Hofer, the George 
 Washington of the Tyrol, carved in Tyrolean marble, 
 with his two lieutenants, Joseph Speckbacher and 
 Joachim Haspinger (his soldier-priest) lying by his side, 
 with the simple inscription, "From a grateful Father- 
 land to the sons who perished in the patriotic wars. 
 1838." To an American, and all lovers of liberty, this 
 simple monument speaks more loudly than the elaborate 
 tomb of Maximilian; for Andreas Hofer, the Tyrolean 
 innkeeper, was a pure patriot and gallant soldier, and 
 deserved a better fate than to be betrayed by a traitor 
 and shot to death with musketry by a gasconading 
 Frenchman, who could not conquer him in a square 
 fight, nor capture him except by gold. 
 
 202 
 
You go upstairs by a marble staircase, and reach the The Hof- 
 Silver Chapel, so called from a silver image of the Virgin KirGhe 
 Mary, presented by Archduke Ferdinand, regent of Hofer 
 Tyrol (1563-95). Here are beautiful tombs of the arch- 
 duke and his first wife, the lovely Philippine Welser, and 
 others, and before the altar kneels a life-sized bronze 
 figure of the archduke himself in full armor, his hands 
 folded in prayer. All these are exquisitely done and 
 executed, mostly by Tyrolean artists, and they speak 
 well for Innsbruck and the Tyrol. 
 
 Afterwards we wandered down to the City Park 
 stretching along the Inn, with enormous old plane- 
 trees and pines, and secluded walks and drives, and 
 then wended our way back to the Hotel Europe in time 
 for a late lunch. Altogether we had seen a good deal 
 of Innsbruck in a brief stay, and came away with de- 
 lightful impressions of the old place. It seemed busi- 
 ness-like and prosperous much beyond what we ex- 
 pected, and we were only sorry we could not stay longer 
 and see more of it. 
 
 203 
 
Chapter XVII 
 
 jE left Innsbruck August 4th, after lunch, 
 and arrived at Munich the same afternoon. 
 It is only a four hours' ride, and after you 
 get out of the mountains is mainly across 
 a wide, level plain, reminding one of the approach to 
 Milan or Chicago. At Rosenheim you pass a thriv- 
 ing city of several thousand people, and at Roabling 
 are reminded of our American Roebling, who built the 
 Brooklyn Bridge, the Niagara Bridge, and others, the 
 name is so much alike, though our Roebling was a 
 Prussian. The whole country seemed highly cultivated, 
 and grass and grain of all kinds were being harvested; 
 no patent mowers or reapers and binders, however, but 
 the sickle and scythe were in use everywhere, and 
 women at work in the fields with the men, raking, bind- 
 ing, pitching on hay and wheat, and holding their own 
 with the men. A very industrious, hard-working, 
 frugal people, these Bavarian Germans seemed to be, 
 with many signs of prosperity and progress. 
 
 Our fellow-passengers were mostly Germans, who 
 had been down to Switzerland on their vacation. In 
 our own compartment we had two German ladies from 
 Breslau. They did not show up much in dress, but 
 were well-bred and agreeable. They knew just a little 
 English, and we just a little German, but it was aston- 
 
 204 
 
ishing how well we got on together. Of course, they Munich — - 
 knew us to be Americans at once; all Europeans always German 
 do. One of them said her father, many years before, LddiGS 
 had written a Life of George Washington, and this, of 
 course, put us on a friendly footing from the start. She 
 also said her brother had been an officer in the Franco- 
 German War, and was now a professor in the university 
 at Breslau, from which we concluded she was of some 
 social standing. From this we branched out into a 
 hundred questions, literary, artistic, social, and religious, 
 and by dint of pantomime and guesswords, as well as 
 language, carried on a three hours' conversation nearly. 
 We parted at Munich with real regret, they going on 
 to Baden-Baden. 
 
 Munich itself is a smart city of five hundred thousand 
 people, with American straight streets and broad ave- 
 nues, and we saw more new buildings erected and being 
 erected there than in all Italy, except Genoa and Milan. 
 It is the capital of Bavaria, and though Bavaria is now 
 merged into Greater Germany, Munich still maintains 
 its significance and importance. It lies seven hundred 
 feet above the sea, with the Alps bounding its horizon, 
 but it is a hot place in August, nevertheless. It is well 
 sewered and well paved with Belgian blocks and asphalt, 
 but has no shade-trees along the streets, and conse- 
 quently the sun just blazes there on hot days. They had 
 good shade-trees there once, so they said; but one of 
 her mad kings cut them down or pulled them up, be- 
 cause they obstructed the view of some of the fine pal- 
 aces and other buildings he had erected, and these are 
 not so "fine," after all, that one cares to see much of 
 them. 
 
 205 
 
European There are some good churches and fine galleries and 
 Days and museums here — the Pinakothek, both old and new, the 
 Ways Glyptothek, and the National Museum — but they seem 
 indifferent after seeing Italy. Munich, however, is a 
 good place to study Rubens, Van Dyck, Rembrandt, 
 and the Dutch and Flemish masters, and there are some 
 landscapes here by Claude Lorraine that are really 
 charming. But the gems of the Munich galleries, to my 
 mind, are a half dozen exquisite Murillos, representing 
 "Beggar Boys at Seville" eating fruit or playing dice, 
 and a score or more of genre paintings by Dow and 
 Teniers of scenes in humble life in Holland and Ger- 
 many. These are so touching and lifelike they almost 
 seem to speak to you, and to move one to laughter or to 
 tears involuntarily. There is also an "Assumption" by 
 Guido Reni that is good, but far inferior to Titian's at 
 Venice. There is a whole roomful of pictures by Ru- 
 bens; but his fair and fat beauties — both women and 
 children, Madonnas and goddesses — did not interest us. 
 The Glyptothek, however, is a gallery of statuary 
 well worth seeing. It contains fine specimens of As- 
 syrian, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art, and 
 reflects credit on Munich and Bavaria. So, also, the 
 royal palace, with its splendid rooms, gorgeous furnish- 
 ings, inlaid tables, rare and costly vases, and Niebelun- 
 gen frescoes, is impressive, and the royal stables, with 
 their handsome horses, magnificent coaches, sleighs, and 
 harness, interest one somewhat. But artistically and 
 aesthetically they do not compare with like places at 
 Florence and Rome, and such lavish waste of other peo- 
 ple's money disgusts you more than ever with kings and 
 monarchies. You do n't wonder that Bavaria has be- 
 
 206 
 
come noted for its mad kings, and you do wonder how MlMlGll — 
 the people have stood such royal humbugs so long. Beer 
 
 Munich is also quite celebrated for its theaters and 
 music halls, but it was too hot to see much of them. It 
 abounds in monuments and public squares, and seems 
 to have much civic pride. Its suburbs are fast building 
 up with new and handsome residences, and we saw 
 women here "tending masons," carrying brick and mor- 
 tar in handbarrows up long platforms, not a hodcarrier 
 about. It has a fine city park of six hundred acres, called 
 the "English Garden," with superb old trees, and wat- 
 ered by two arms of the Isar, and the walks and drives 
 here are very charming in summer. We spent a morn- 
 ing here on a hot August day, and were delighted with 
 its cool and umbrageous retreats. 
 
 The chief industry of Munich, however, seems to be 
 beer. It makes and drinks vast quantities of this Ba- 
 varian beer, and exports it all over Europe, and indeed 
 everywhere. They claim it to be the best beer in the 
 world, and everybody in Munich drinks and thinks beer 
 — men, women, and children. It is only fair to add, it 
 does not seem to be so intoxicating as American beer 
 (we did not see a drunken man in Munich), but how they 
 can consume such vast quantities of it surprises an Amer- 
 ican, and must result in ill effects sooner or later. The 
 rich men of Munich, and her chief citizens, are her brew- 
 ers. Her money-making and busy places are her beer- 
 cellars and beer-gardens. And to speak of Munich with- 
 out mentioning her beer, would be "like the play of 
 Hamlet with the part of Hamlet omitted." Her Hof- 
 brauhaus, a vast beer hall in the heart of the city, is one 
 of the sights of Munich, and here thousands of her citi- 
 
 207 
 
European zens of all classes may be seen of an evening, men, 
 Days and women, and children, quaffing their beer, and enjoying 
 Ways the excellent music, while every good German, of course, 
 smokes. Munich enjoys the proud distinction of con- 
 suming more beer per head than any other city in Ger- 
 many, and so in the world. Germany drinks annually 
 sixty-one million hektoliters of beer, which means 235 
 liters per head in Bavaria and 206 liters per head in 
 Berlin. Munich, however, drinks 566 liters per head 
 annually, Frankfort 428, and Nuremberg 421. A "liter" 
 is a quart and something over. So that Munich drinks 
 over a quart and a half per day for every man, woman, 
 and child there. One of these days, let us hope, she will 
 find a better business and a humaner industry. 
 
 We spent a Sunday at Munich, but could find no 
 English service, after considerable hunting; all closed 
 for the summer. Instead we went to St. Peter's, the 
 oldest Roman Catholic Church in Munich (1170), and 
 to the Frauenkirche, or Church of our Lady, on or near 
 the Marienplatz, in the heart of old Munich. The latter 
 is the cathedral of the Archbishopric of Munich and 
 Freising, built, 1468, of brick, with two uncompleted 
 towers, each three hundred and eighteen feet high, and 
 with many ancient tombstones on the outside walls. It 
 has handsome stained-glass windows of the fifteenth and 
 sixteenth centuries, and rich carved woodwork of the 
 Coronation of the Madonna, of the apostles and proph- 
 ets, and costly bronze and marble monuments of Ba- 
 varian kings and princes, but, on the whole, lacks sym- 
 metry and beauty as compared with Italian churches. 
 We found it crowded with a devout audience of men 
 and women — chiefly women, but more men than we 
 
 208 
 
expected — and the service was solemn and impressive. MlMiGtl — 
 In addition to the organ and choir, there was a large Sunday There 
 band of both brass and stringed instruments, and the SOldiGFS 
 
 music was superb. We advanced well up the nave, and 
 secured comfortable chairs in the midst of the congre- 
 gation, and spent the hour, if not profitably, at least 
 without disedification. Munich, of course, is a Catholic 
 city, and Bavaria a Catholic country, but Protestantism 
 is taking root here and there. 
 
 We saw fewer soldiers than we anticipated. In the 
 Marienplatz, in the center of old Munich, there was 
 guard mount every morning, with much marching and 
 countermarching, and good music; but few officers and 
 soldiers appeared on the streets elsewhere, and these al- 
 ways orderly and well-behaved. Munich, however, has 
 a garrison of ten thousand men; but they are kept well 
 in their barracks and confined to drill and discipline, as 
 they should be. From what we saw of them, they were 
 well-set-up and soldierly fellows, and looked as if they 
 could run right over their Italian and Austrian allies, 
 and have not much of a job either. 
 
 In Munich we stopped at a pension, on Barerstrasse, 
 not far from the Pinakotheks, or "Picture Galleries," 
 and saw something of pension life. It was a large and 
 handsome house, well furnished, and Frau F. did her 
 best to make her guests comfortable. Her servants were 
 all female, and they handled our trunks and luggage 
 and did all kinds of work as if men. Her guests were 
 chiefly English and Americans, with some Austrians and 
 Germans, and changing daily. Her rooms were clean 
 and table good, and guests interesting and entertaining. 
 Some American girls from Cleveland and Chicago made 
 14 209 
 
European things lively, and a retired English naval officer afforded 
 Days and much amusement. He was a thorough John Bull, and 
 Ways a law unto himself. He claimed to have traveled every- 
 where, and to know everything and everybody the world 
 over nearly, and used to go about the pension and come 
 to his meals with a green parrot perched upon his shoul- 
 der! His room was an "Old Curiosity Shop" in- 
 deed, and his reminiscences were diverse and diverting. 
 He had been to New Orleans once, and therefore 
 claimed to know America and Americans ! He had been 
 to Manila once, and thought Dewey a fine commander, 
 and our "men behind the guns" good sea-dogs, but not 
 to be compared with British tars, do n't you know ! An- 
 other character was an Austrian civil engineer, who had 
 lately been a professor in the university at Zurich, but 
 had resigned, and was now studying in Munich. He 
 both read and spoke English well, and we had many in- 
 teresting conversations together. Another was a young 
 and handsome German lady, who smoked her cigarette 
 regularly and beautifully after each meal in the guest- 
 hall. Another was a Tyrolean gentleman, who wore a 
 long white heron-feather in his hat, and thought he was 
 en regie. Pension life has this advantage over hotel life, 
 that it brings people closer together, and you get better 
 acquainted, and know more about passing men and 
 things, than when stopping at a hotel. You have not 
 quite the same freedom, of course, as when "taking mine 
 ease in mine inn," as Shakespeare phrases it. But a 
 good pension is better than a poor hotel, and the charges 
 are much more reasonable — only about two-thirds or 
 one-half, as a rule. Many pensions are really small 
 
 2IO 
 
hotels, as this one was; but few are better kept or better MlMiGh — 
 managed than the Pension F. at Munich. Pensions 
 
 While here, we had a singular experience. We went 
 out to walk one evening after dinner, and, returning 
 about 9 P. M. under an electric street-lamp, came plump 
 upon two American friends that we knew were some- 
 where in Germany, but had no idea they were in Munich. 
 They had just arrived, and, after dining, also went out 
 for a stroll, and thus came plump upon us! It was a 
 mutual surprise, and a very joyful one, and we signalized 
 it by all returning to our pension, and having a long 
 talk together. If they or we had been a few seconds 
 sooner or later under that street-lamp, or just hap- 
 pened a few seconds elsewhere, we should have missed 
 seeing each other altogether, like ships passing blindly 
 in the night. 
 
 211 
 
Chapter XVIII 
 
 E left Munich, August 8th, at i P. M., and 
 reached Nuremberg about 5 P. M. the same 
 day. The first few miles we passed through 
 a rich farming country, where the people 
 were everywhere at work in the fields, harvesting their 
 hay and grain, and there seemed to be no end to their 
 crops. Women were at work by the side of men, hold- 
 ing their own, and oxen and cows were the chief draught 
 animals. Horses were infrequent and indifferent, but 
 excellent cows seemed to be the favorites, both double 
 and single. The roads, of course, were perfect every- 
 where, as they always are in Germany. Farther along 
 we came into the hop-country, with hopvines growing 
 on poles and trellises over vast districts, and it was easy 
 to see whence Munich got her supply of hops. In- 
 deed, the hop industry is a great business through much 
 of Bavaria, and accounts for Bavarian beer largely. 
 Next we came to a thin and poor country, of sand and 
 pine barrens mostly, which extended much of the way 
 to Nuremberg, and reminded one of the New Jersey 
 "Pines" and North Carolina generally. 
 
 At Nuremberg we stopped at the Wittelsbacher Hof, 
 on the Pfannenschmiedsgasse (such names !) in the heart 
 of old Nuremberg, where we had excellent rooms, but 
 took our meals chiefly at outside restaurants, wherever 
 
 212 
 
we happened to be when hungry. Nuremberg is an Nuremberg 
 old city, founded A. D. 1050, and there is probably no 
 town in Germany so mediaeval in appearance or so sug- 
 gestive of the wealth and importance of old Germany. 
 The discovery of the sea-route to India and China im- 
 paired its prosperity; for the whole Rhine trade from 
 Venice to Amsterdam passed through Nuremberg, and 
 it suffered still more during the Thirty Years' War, and 
 afterwards. But in 1806 it became a Bavarian city, and 
 since then has prospered greatly, and is now the most 
 important commercial and manufacturing city in South- 
 ern Germany. It has about one hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand population, and with its new and extending su- 
 burbs, its electric roads, and bicycle factories, impresses 
 one with its renewed youth and vigor, as well as old age. 
 Old Nuremberg is indeed old and curious; but there is 
 a Young Nuremberg that reminds one rather of Cleve- 
 land and Chicago. 
 
 The little River Pegnitz divides the town into two 
 nearly equal parts, and is crossed by several bridges, 
 one of them, the Fleischbriicke, being an imitation of 
 the Rialto at Venice, and a pretty good one, too. An- 
 other, the suspension bridge, was one of the first of 
 its kind in Germany. Another, the Karlsbriicke, is 
 adorned with two obelisks — one with a dove and olive- 
 branch, and the other with the imperial eagle, as 
 memorials of the Emperor Charles VI, "the Peace- 
 bringer." The banks of the river are crowded with 
 quaint old houses, gambrel-roofed and many-gabled, 
 picturesque and dilapidated, as if they had come down 
 from many centuries. 
 
 The old fortifications date from the Middle Ages, 
 213 
 
European 
 
 Days and 
 
 Ways 
 
 and must have been massive and handsome in their 
 time. In many places they have been removed to make 
 way for the growth of the city; but the old gates and 
 towers still stand, and some of the ancient walls. Orig- 
 inally they consisted of a high brick rampart encircling 
 the city, with square and round towers at intervals, 
 and a dry moat thirty-five yards wide and thirty-three 
 feet deep. Now only trees and grass and flowers grow 
 in the great moat, and here and there a flock of boys 
 
 were having a 
 game of baseball. 
 How the merry, 
 red-faced lads 
 seemed to enjoy 
 it! And perhaps 
 all the more be- 
 cause grim-vis- 
 aged war once 
 ruled there, 
 though now only 
 "the piping times 
 Nuremberg abounds in quaint and pic- 
 turesque old houses and public buildings, with low 
 side-walls, but lofty fronts and high-peaked gables, 
 some seeming all roof, with queer little windows along 
 the roofs, indicating the stories. We saw some only 
 one or two stories at the side walls, but with six or 
 seven above these at the gable ends and along the roofs. 
 They are usually of stone or brick stuccoed, though 
 some old ones are of wood. Their general style is old 
 Gothic, but the facades are often richly frescoed and 
 ornamented in the Renaissance style. The old Rath- 
 
 214 
 
 Market of pe ace." 
 Square, 
 Nuremberg. 
 
haus, or Town Hall, was erected in 1340, and contains Nuremberg- 
 frescoes by Albrecht Durer and some handsome old AlbreGht 
 stained-glass windows. They show you Albrecht Durer 
 Durer's house, on Albrecht-Durer-Strasse, and his 
 statue in Albrecht-Durer-Platz, and also Hans Sachs's 
 house in Hans-Sachs-Gasse, and his statue in the Spital- 
 platz near by. Durer, of course, was their great artist, 
 and Sachs their popular poet, and Nuremberg still holds 
 them both in loving and reverent memory. I think 
 Albrecht Durer's "Christ" the finest head of Christ 
 we saw in Europe. We saw none in Italy that inter- 
 ested me much; they were all effeminate, like the usual 
 and habitual "Christ," except perhaps one in the Vatican 
 at Rome by Raphael or Guido Reni. But Albrecht 
 Durer's "Christ" expresses intellect and power, as well 
 as Divine love and pity; is both Godlike and man- 
 like; and I prize a copy I got at Nuremberg very 
 highly and dearly. 
 
 Her old churches of St. Lawrence (thirteenth cen- 
 tury) and St. Sebaldus (eleventh- century) were both 
 originally Romanesque structures, but afterwards re- 
 modeled into Gothic. They contain exquisite stained- 
 glass windows, and elaborate stone sculptures and wood- 
 carvings, and famous bronzes and brasses, by Adam 
 Krafft, Peter Fischer, and others, and abound in beauty 
 and quaintness. Some of these masterpieces took the 
 artists and their assistants thirteen years to complete, 
 and cost a mint of money. But how exquisite and 
 charming they are, and they will continue so forever! 
 
 Her National Museum is accounted one of the finest 
 in Germany, and well repays a prolonged visit. It 
 occupies an old suppressed Carthusian monastery, a 
 
 215 
 
European Gothic building of the fourteenth century, to which an 
 Days and old Augustine monastery of the fifteenth century was 
 Ways afterwards added. Clearly they could not have been 
 put to a much better use. They contain nearly one 
 hundred rooms, and their contents well illustrate the 
 history and progress of Germany. Here are old Greek 
 and Roman antiquities; Germanic antiquities; prehis- 
 toric antiquities from lake-dwellings; ancient tomb- 
 stones; German and Venetian glass, porcelain, and 
 majolicas; richly-carved furniture; old Gothic wardrobes 
 and bedsteads in ebony; old German costumes and 
 armor and weapons; German paintings and sculptures; 
 models of German wagons, ships, printing-presses, 
 calendars, maps, musical instruments, and about every- 
 thing else a German has ever invented or used. We 
 spent several hours here very pleasantly and profitably, 
 and think Nuremberg may well be proud of her old 
 museum. 
 
 Nuremberg has also some curious old fountains, 
 that surpass even those at Berne. One is called the 
 "Little Goose-Man," with a goose, the German national 
 fowl, under each arm, spouting water from their bills. 
 Another, by the side of her great cathedral (St. Law- 
 rence) has a figure of Justice with her scales on top, 
 with water spouting from the nipples of her breast; 
 with an eagle behind her, and water spouting from his 
 beak; with six trumpeters several feet beneath, and 
 water spouting from their trumpets; and, several feet 
 below these, allegorical figures of Peace, War, Art, 
 Science, Religion, and Poetry, with water spouting from 
 the nipples of all their breasts. There is another one, 
 most exquisitely and curiously wrought, in the old 
 
 216 
 
marketplace in front of old St. Sebaldus; but I can not Nuremberg- 
 recall its details now, and omitted to record them. The Berg 
 
 Nuremberg owes her location and importance to a 
 high and abrupt hill or "Berg," that rises on the north- 
 west side of the city, and dominates the whole land- 
 scape there. Here some robber baron, or strong man, 
 settled centuries ago, and built his castle, and "took 
 toll" of all passing travelers, and the town grew up 
 around it. The old castle or citadel is still there, and 
 on its parapet are shown two hoof-shaped impressions, 
 which they say were left by the horse of a captive knight 
 in the sixteenth century, who escaped by leaping over 
 the broad moat. Of course, it could not have been 
 so wide as now (thirty-five yards), but I give the legend 
 for what it is worth. Inside is an old well, three hun- 
 dred and sixty feet deep, through the solid rock, for 
 use in time of sieges, with side galleries deep down ex- 
 tending under ground to the ancient Rathhaus, and so 
 out into the city, they say. Here also is an old museum, 
 with ancient arms and armor, and the old "torture 
 chamber," with the "Maid of Nuremberg," or "Our 
 Lady of Nuremberg," and other ancient implements 
 of punishment. We were shown an old executioner's 
 sword here, that had cut off eight hundred heads, so 
 it was labeled. Here also are ancient thumbscrews and 
 racks, that were used to make people tell the truth 
 or untruth, as their torturers desired. Balls and chains, 
 handcuffs and manacles, of course, are there; but these 
 are nothing. We were shown an old "cradle," lined 
 with sharp iron spikes, into which men and women 
 were made to lie down, and then rocked to death; also 
 a "wheel" upon which men were broken alive; also the 
 
 217 
 
European "Spanish Saddle," a sharp piece of hard wood upon 
 Days and which men were made to mount, and then their feet 
 Ways were weighted down with stones or iron until they were 
 sawn asunder. 
 
 The "Maid of Nuremberg," or "Our Lady of Nurem- 
 berg," is a colossal statue in bronze of a comely woman, 
 with her front opening on side hinges, into which a 
 traitor or heretic was thrust alive, and then "Our Lady" 
 closed slowly upon him, piercing his eyes, head, and 
 heart with needles of steel, crushing his arms and legs, 
 and literally hugging him to death in her infernal em- 
 brace. What ingenuity and refinement of torture and 
 cruelty those old Germans, and indeed all Europe, really 
 had! And they kept it up, too, down to a century or 
 so ago. To decapitate a man was a common thing, 
 unless he was one of the aristocracy; and even then 
 he did not stand much chance, if accounted a heretic. 
 How could human beings do or stand such things? 
 How could kings and priests, with sword and gown — 
 with "bell, book, and candle" — as servants of God and 
 ministers of Justice, be guilty of such devil's work under 
 the sacred names and forms of law and order? The 
 French Revolution was a great tragedy, and Napoleon 
 Bonaparte a great rascal, no doubt. But they ended 
 all these kingly outrages and priestly crimes against 
 our fellow-men, and may History execrate such atroci- 
 ties forever! I am glad I did not live in such times, 
 for they would have beheaded me as a patriot, or burnt 
 me as a heretic, for certain and for sure ! 
 
 Nuremberg is also noted for its exquisite laces and 
 fine embroideries; for its wood-carvings, toys, and 
 metal work; for its stamped leather and pottery ware; 
 
 218 
 
for its linen, woolen and iron mills, and other modern 
 industries. We took a long trolley-ride one afternoon 
 through its new and growing suburbs, out to Furth 
 and return, some five miles, and it seemed like a con- 
 tinuous mill or factory the entire route, nearly. Furth, 
 too, is a quaint and curious old town, but full of modern 
 intelligence and energy, and, if 
 in America, would soon be an- 
 nexed, with her fifty thousand 
 inhabitants, to the still greater 
 Nuremberg. Practically they 
 comprise but one city, and ought 
 to be under the same munici- 
 pality. 
 
 On the whole, one thinks 
 Nuremberg takes herself seri- 
 ously, as befits her antique edi- 
 fices and ancient history. But 
 she also has her modern pleas- 
 ure-grounds, the Stadt-Park, 
 some three or four miles out by 
 trolley-car, where she has 
 swings, boats, dancing, and 
 music galore. Here the modern 
 men and maids of Nuremberg disport themselves at 
 will, like New York or Chicago even, and "all goes 
 merry as a marriage-bell." We took a ride out there 
 one morning; but it was too early to see much more 
 than the park itself, which was everything lovely and 
 attractive. 
 
 Here, also, at Nuremberg again, I regret to say, we 
 saw German women performing all kinds of manual 
 
 219 
 
 Nuremberg- 
 Furth 
 
 Woman's 
 
 Rights, 
 
 Nuremberg. 
 
European labor, like men, and also harnessed up with dogs to 
 Days and little wagons and carts. They had a kind of rope or 
 Ways leather harness over their chests and shoulders by which 
 they pulled their share of the load, and went bare- 
 headed everywhere, in sunshine and shade. They 
 hauled milk and vegetables, and all kinds of light mer- 
 chandise, about the streets in this way, and nobody 
 seemed to mind it — rather looked upon it as a matter 
 of course. In the old marketplace, before the Church 
 of St. Sebaldus, we saw scores of women and girls har- 
 nessed up to such vehicles, and others carrying hampers 
 and crates of goods on their backs, that it seemed impos- 
 sible for women to bear. We took "snapshots" at some 
 of them, with our little Kodak, but others turned their 
 heads and darted away, as if they shunned such im- 
 mortality. One old creature in particular rushed madly 
 off; but we "got" her, after all, from another view- 
 point around the corner, and she is "took" forever. 
 
 It goes without saying, that we enjoyed Nuremberg 
 very much, and think all good Americans must do the 
 same. It is so quaint and curious, so different from 
 all we ever see in America, and withal so artistic and 
 picturesque. Moreover, it has caught the modern 
 spirit, too, and between the ancient and the modern 
 is quite perfect in its way. See Nuremberg, and live! 
 
 220 
 
Chapter XIX 
 
 ;E left Nuremberg August nth, 9.30 A. M., Wwzblirg 
 and arrived at Heidelberg the same after- 
 noon. The first part of the way was through 
 a fine country, but presently it became sand 
 and pines again, and this extended well towards Wurz- 
 burg. As we approached Wiirzburg, however, we 
 struck a fine country again, covered with vast hop- 
 fields and vineyards, through the lovely valley of the 
 Main, and found here another old city of some sixty 
 thousand people. It was the seat of a bishop as long 
 ago as A. D. 741, when Burkardus was consecrated 
 here by St. Boniface, and is now the capital of the 
 Bavarian Province of Unterfranken, or Lower Fran- 
 conia. It contains many buildings of interest, both 
 old and new, including the old cathedral (begun 862 
 and consecrated 1189), the New Munster Church 
 (eleventh century), the university (1587), the royal 
 palace (1720), and a huge wine-cellar, said to be the 
 largest in Germany, holding two hundred great casks 
 of the famous Franconian wine, produced by the royal 
 vineyards here and near here. We were here only an 
 hour, awaiting our railroad connection, but judged 
 Wiirzburg to be quite a place, if one had time to see it. 
 Thence we proceeded on to the Neckar, an affluent 
 of the Rhine, and struck this at a little place called 
 
 221 
 
European Neckarelz. Next we came to Neckarhausen, then to 
 Days and Neckarsteinach, then to Neckargerolden, then to Neck- 
 WayS argemiind, and there is a Neckarburken, and a Neckar- 
 bischofsheim also, though I am not sure I have these 
 "Neckars" in their proper order. The valley of the 
 Neckar is rich and fertile, and its hills and stretches 
 beautiful beyond description. The fields are separated 
 by great stone rows, the work of centuries of toil, and 
 cultivated to the utmost. Here, also, the people were 
 everywhere in the fields, harvesting their summer crops, 
 and their wagons were drawn almost invariably by 
 sleek and well-fed cows. In the fields only a single 
 wagon, piled high with hay or grain, was hitched to 
 a yoke of cows; but when the good macadam roads 
 were reached, often two and three wagons were fas- 
 tened together, and hauled by a single yoke of cows. 
 There was a general absence of horses and mules, and 
 what we saw were poor and ill-cared-for, much to our 
 surprise. And at Neckargerolden, as we drew up at 
 the station, the only hotel carriage (and mail-wagon) 
 present was a little hack capable of holding a half dozen 
 or so, drawn by a single cow harnessed between the 
 shafts! She was munching her cud in blissful happi- 
 ness, and seemed no way disturbed by our noise and 
 racket — a perfect picture of German content! Of 
 course, her passengers would find progress slow; but, 
 in time, they would "get there" all the same ! And 
 "time" is not so valuable in Europe as in America. 
 
 We reached Heidelberg late in the afternoon, and, 
 after a considerable stroll about the town, dined early. 
 After dinner we took another walk through the heart 
 of the city and down along the Neckar. The city con- 
 
 222 
 
sists mainly of one street, the Hauptstrasse, a mile Heidelberg- 
 and a half long, stretching along the Neckar and The Univer- 
 crowded into its narrow valley, with a few unimportant Sity 
 parallel and cross streets. It has a handsome little 
 park, called the Anlage, planted with trees and shrub- 
 bery, and flanked by modern hotels and dwellings. 
 The rest of the town is old and quaint, though it lacks 
 the picturesque roofs and gables of old Nuremberg. 
 It contains about thirty thousand inhabitants, and is 
 now the capital of the Grand Duchy of Baden, and, 
 on the whole, seems prosperous and well-to-do. So 
 long ago as 1228 it became the capital of the Palatinate, 
 and continued so for five hundred years, so that it must 
 have been a place of considerable importance even be- 
 fore then. It has an old university, founded 1386, and 
 an old library of four hundred thousand volumes, and 
 here the German princes and all that is best in Ger- 
 many come for an education. The university averages 
 from one thousand to twelve hundred students, with 
 eminent professors and splendid scientific collections, 
 and has students from all over the world as well as 
 Germany; but its buildings compare poorly with the 
 palatial halls and dormitories of Harvard and Prince- 
 ton. Possibly we Americans are putting too much 
 money in buildings, and not enough in cheapening 
 education, so that even the poorest boy may have a 
 chance. Surely "brains" are of more importance than 
 mere brick (or stone) and mortar. 
 
 The great and distinctive feature of Heidelberg, 
 however, to the tourist is her ancient Schloss, or castle, 
 which is of vast extent, and said to be "the most mag- 
 nificent ruin in Germany." It lies on a high hill, or 
 
 223 
 
European little mountain, overlooking the city and river, and the 
 Days and view from thence down the valley of the Neckar is 
 Ways something superb and glorious. There is a good car- 
 riage-road and fine footpath up there; but there is also 
 a cable road, that will take you from the Kornmarkt 
 down in the town right up to the castle in less than 
 five minutes. After an early breakfast, we took this 
 cable road, and were soon landed near the castle gate. 
 It is an old, old place, originally a chateau only 
 (A. D. 1300), and then a castle, and then a palace, and 
 then enlarged and strongly fortified as both castle and 
 palace, until it became practically impregnable, and 
 dominated the whole country there. Its ivy-clad walls 
 and towers still stand in great part, some of them twenty 
 feet thick and fifty feet high, surrounded by a moat 
 thirty feet deep and over a hundred feet wide. The 
 old castle itself is still a majestic ruin — part in good 
 repair, and part being now carefully restored by the 
 Imperial German Government. As the exterior served 
 chiefly for defense, all architectural ornament, of course, 
 was reserved for the inner facade, facing on the Schloss- 
 hof or castle yard, and this is singularly beautiful. This 
 facade is partly Ionic and partly Corinthian, and rises 
 in three lofty stories, adorned with lovely sculpturing. 
 A double flight of steps leads up to the portal, which 
 is itself supported by stately Caryatides. Above is the 
 bust of the founder, Elector Otto Heinrich, with his 
 armorial bearings. In the niches of the facade are 
 handsome statues, all having a symbolical meaning, and 
 in the Renaissance style. "In the four lower niches 
 are Joshua, Samson, Hercules, and David, the repre- 
 sentatives of strength and courage, the foundations on 
 
 224 
 
which a princely house rests; in the middle niches, alle- Heidelberg— 
 gorical figures of Strength, Justice, Faith, Hope, and The SGlllOSS 
 Charity, the virtues which adorn a princely family; in 
 the upper niches, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Mercury, Diana, 
 Apollo, and Jupiter, or the seven gods of the planets, 
 symbolizing the higher powers, who rule the destinies 
 of all. In the window arches are medallions of the 
 heads of eminent men of antiquity." 
 
 The above is the main fagade. Another adjoining 
 is four stories high — Doric, Tuscan, Ionic, and Co- 
 rinthian — and, while inferior in ornamentation, yet sur- 
 passes the other in grandeur. In its niches are sixteen 
 admirable statues of Charlemagne and other German 
 princes and counts palatine; and the whole seems to 
 have been done regardless of time and expense. Scores 
 of skilled workmen were busy with hammer and chisel 
 in restoring both of these facades and the castle else- 
 where, and the German Government deserves much 
 honor and credit for thus seeking to preserve and per- 
 petuate this magnificent old ruin. 
 
 We wandered all through the old castle, and the 
 castle chapel, by its corridors and secret passages — its 
 walls so thick, passages easy anywhere — and ascended 
 the tower, and came out on the balcony, where one 
 gets a magnificent view of Heidelberg and the Neckar 
 Valley. How exquisite and superb it all is! And how 
 majestic and glorious the old castle must have been 
 in the age of knighthood and chivalry! One can well 
 imagine kings and princes, knights and fair ladies, 
 peopling all these vast halls and walls, while their 
 countless retainers swarmed below; and what a picture 
 Heidelberg must have been in those days! 
 15 225 
 
European In the great wine-cellar we were shown the famous 
 
 Days and Heidelberg Tun, a monster wine-cask capable of hold- 
 WayS ing fifty thousand gallons. It was constructed in 1751 
 by the Elector Charles Philip, as the successor of three 
 others, the first of which was erected in 1591. It is 
 authenticated by humorous inscriptions and grotesque 
 wooden figures, and is one of the sights of the old 
 castle. 
 
 The old castle was in good condition until 1688, 
 when both town and castle capitulated to a French 
 general, who spent the following winter here. In the 
 spring, on the approach of the German armies, he deter- 
 mined to burn and blow up the whole place, so far as 
 it would burn and blow up. He blew up one of the 
 main towers, ninety-three feet in diameter and twenty- 
 one feet thick, and the half of it merely toppled over 
 into the broad fosse, or moat, and there it lies uncrum- 
 bled still. He might as well have tried to blow up a 
 mountain. The Germans rebuilt it, and a half century 
 afterwards it was struck by lightning, and now for a 
 century or more it has been a gigantic ruin, but will 
 last a thousand years yet, whether restored or not. Evi- 
 dently those old Germans knew how to make mortar 
 and cement, like the builders of old Rome. The whole 
 is built of red sandstone, much like that in the valley 
 of the Delaware, but finer grained and harder. It came 
 from the bluffs in the valley of the Neckar, and these 
 are still being quarried and their product shipped by 
 boat down the Neckar and Rhine to Holland and 
 Belgium. 
 
 Beyond the castle extends the Schlossgarten and 
 Great Terrace for half a mile or more along the moun- 
 
 226 
 
tain side, overlooking the castle and the Neckar Valley, Frankfort Oil- 
 and affording magnificent views of both. Here are the-Main 
 choice trees and shrubbery, and fountains and flowers, 
 and excellent restaurants, and all Heidelberg comes 
 up here for its Sunday afternoons and summer "out- 
 ings." We found many tourists here, with Germans 
 predominating as usual, and they could not go to a 
 finer or more interesting place in all Europe than dear 
 old Heidelberg. 
 
 We left Heidelberg, August 12th, after luncheon, 
 and arrived at Frankfort-on-the-Main the same day 
 about 4 P. M. It is only a short ride down the valley 
 of the Neckar and through the broad plains of Hessen- 
 Darmstadt, and you are soon there. En route you pass 
 through* Darmstadt, the capital of the Grand Duchy 
 of Hessen, a town of some fifty thousand people, with 
 broad streets and handsome little parks, but we did 
 not stop there. In the smaller towns and villages, as 
 we passed along, the houses seemed to be all of brick, 
 with gable-ends to the street, in true German style, 
 and usually of only one story. In Darmstadt many 
 were the same, though others were more modern and 
 pretentious. 
 
 At Frankfort we found a handsome and growing 
 city of nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants, with 
 every sign of prosperity and progress. It is an old 
 town, too, dating back to the first century, when it 
 was only a small Roman camp. But it was long a Free 
 City, and prospered accordingly. It now belongs to 
 Prussia (since the Franco-German War, 1870-71), but 
 Prussia knows how to rule it wisely and well. It lies 
 in a spacious plain, on the right bank of the Main, with 
 
 227 
 
European mountains in the distance, and commands the trade and 
 Days and commerce of all that region, and so down to the Rhine. 
 Ways Its old walls have been demolished, and instead hand- 
 some parks and pleasure-grounds now girdle the city, 
 with walks and drives we never can equal in America, 
 because we have never had any walls encircling our 
 cities. They were alive with carriages and equestrians 
 the day we rode there, and it was a charming day, too 
 — neither too hot nor too cold. Four old watch-towers 
 are still maintained as memorials of the past, and they 
 look as antique and mediaeval as those at Nuremberg. 
 We stopped at the Hotel Schwan (Swan), where 
 the treaty of peace between Germany and France was 
 concluded, May 10, 1871, and found excellent^ accom- 
 modations. They show you the parlor in which the 
 treaty was signed, and the table around which Bis- 
 marck and Favre and their colleagues sat, and will 
 sell you a photograph of the whole business, if you want 
 it. Above all, the hotel was clean, and its charges 
 reasonable; and as I had to be ill for a day or so, as it 
 chanced, we were glad to be there. 
 
 Frankfort has some narrow streets in her old quar- 
 ters; but in the main her avenues and streets are broad 
 and handsome, and flanked by stately buildings. She 
 has many squares, or "Platz," with monuments to 
 Luther, Gutenburg, Goethe, and others, and her old 
 Romer, or town hall, erected 1405, is a late-Gothic 
 edifice, with lofty gables and broad-pointed doorways, 
 worthy of the Free City of Germany. Its great hall is 
 adorned with portraits and statues of German emperors 
 and princes, from Charlemagne to William I, and is rich 
 in historic associations. Its old cathedral dates back 
 
 228 
 
to 852, and contains some good frescoes and fine 
 stained-glass windows, and it has a fine town library 
 of two hundred thousand volumes, free to everybody. 
 It has an art institute, founded by one of its citizens, 
 who bequeathed his pictures, engravings, houses, etc., 
 to the city (worth over half a million of dollars), in 
 order to found a school of art, and he could not have 
 done a better thing with his money. Here are many 
 fine specimens of the Dutch and Flemish schools, and of 
 modern German 
 painters as well, 
 and the collection 
 is well worthy of 
 Frankfort. 
 
 They show 
 you the dingy old 
 house in the Ju- 
 dengasse (or Jew's 
 street or alley), 
 where Mayer 
 Rothschild was 
 
 born and lived — the founder of the 
 Rothschild — and also the Rothschild 
 
 great 
 
 House 
 Museum and 
 
 Rothschild Public Library, containing the magnificent 
 art collections of the Rothschild family, and worthy of 
 them. The library is yet in its infancy; has only ten 
 thousand volumes; but the museum is rich in gold and 
 silver plate, gems, cameos and intaglios, works in rock 
 crystal, pique work, wood and ivory carvings, enamels, 
 and Chinese and Japanese porcelains unrivaled in 
 private collections. This old Jews' street, down to a 
 century ago, was closed every evening, and on Sundays 
 
 229 
 
 Q f Frankfort- 
 
 ON-THE- 
 
 Main. 
 
European and holidays throughout the whole day, with lock and 
 Days and key, and no Jew was allowed to venture abroad under 
 WflyS penalty of fine and imprisonment. In spite of this, and 
 other petty tyrannies, many Jews managed to prosper 
 in these squalid quarters, and became great bankers, 
 financiers, and musicians — all honor to their Hebrew 
 blood ! Napoleon Bonaparte ended all this, too, and 
 every Hebrew owes him a debt of gratitude. 
 
 One of the finest things we saw in Frankfort, how- 
 ever, and which yet lingers in my memory, is a marble 
 group of Ariadne on the Panther, by Dannecker of 
 Stuttgart, in Bethmann's Museum. This museum con- 
 tains other good sculptures also, but nothing approach- 
 ing this Ariadne. In pose, in expression, in simplicity, 
 in beauty, in everything that goes to make up a life- 
 like and imposing piece of sculpture, this Ariadne is 
 not surpassed out of Italy, and by not much of its 
 kind there. We went back to it again and again, and 
 always found it surrounded by a group of ardent ad- 
 mirers; and it well deserves its high repute. 
 
 The Gutenburg monument is a fine group in bronze, 
 on a large sandstone pedestal, erected in 1858. The 
 central figure is Gutenburg himself. On his right 
 stands John Faust, on his left Schoffer. On the frieze 
 are portrait-heads of fourteen celebrated printers, in- 
 cluding our English Caxton. In the four niches be- 
 neath are the arms of the four towns where "the art 
 preservative of all arts" was first practiced; to wit, 
 Mayence, Frankfort, Venice, and Strassburg. Around 
 the base are figures representing Theology, Poetry, 
 Natural Science, and Industry. The whole thing is a 
 credit to Frankfort, and she is justly proud of it. The 
 
 230 
 
Goethe monument is also very beautiful. The reliefs Frankfort 
 in front are allegorical; on the sides are figures from 
 Goethe's poems. In one of her chief streets is also a 
 fine War Monument to the memory of the soldiers of 
 Frankfort, who fell in the great war of 1870-71 with 
 France, and it is worthy of the Free City of Frankfort. 
 
 It would be hardly right to leave Frankfort without 
 some mention of her old bridges across the Main. The 
 oldest one dates back to 1222, and is eight hundred 
 and sixty-nine feet long, with fourteen arches. For 
 centuries it has been surmounted by an iron crucifix, 
 with an insignificant cock over it, to commemorate, 
 so they say, the cock which first crossed the bridge, 
 and thus fell a prey to the devil, who, in hope of a 
 nobler victim, had sold his assistance to the bridge 
 architect. This cock and crucifix are mentioned in 
 history as early as 1405, and antiquaries assert that 
 they probably mark the spot where criminals in the 
 olden times were flung into the Main. 
 
 Frankfort has always been more of a commercial 
 and financial center than an industrial town. It once 
 had a great book-trade, but has long been distanced 
 in this respect by Leipsic. It now manufactures con- 
 siderable jewelry, gold and silver thread, tapestry, 
 leather, clocks, furniture, and such like articles, and is 
 famous for its great spring and autumn fairs. But its 
 chief business is banking and finance. It has over three 
 hundred banking offices, and its financial schemes 
 reach around the globe. It is full of intelligence, busi- 
 ness, and energy, and long may it continue so — a 
 credit to itself and an honor to the great German 
 Empire. 
 
 231 
 
European Frankfort, like many other German cities, is grow- 
 
 DayS and ing almost as fast as Chicago and New York. They 
 Ways have waked up and made great strides during the last 
 thirty years. They have street pavements, asphalt and 
 Belgian blocks, sewers, water supply, electric cars, 
 schoolhouses, and other modern improvements, not 
 much excelled in America, and the use of the telephone 
 and electric lights is almost universal, much more than 
 here. The modern German is a wide-awake man, and 
 will bear watching, even by Brother Jonathan. 
 
 232 
 
1 
 
 Chapter XX 
 
 E struck the Rhine at Mayence, August MayeilGe- 
 14th, after a brief railroad ride from Frank- Down the 
 fort, and took a little steamboat down to 
 Coblenz the same afternoon. Here we were 
 
 at last on the Rhine, the historic and classic Rhine; 
 and we set out to enjoy it duly. It did not seem to 
 be much of a river at Mayence, not so large as the Dela- 
 ware at Trenton; but it grew larger as we descended 
 it, and more picturesque and beautiful. We did not 
 see much of Mayence, as we were there only an hour 
 or so. But it is a town of over seventy thousand in- 
 habitants, with a garrison of eight thousand soldiers, 
 and dates back to old Roman days. Agricola was here 
 with a Roman legion before the birth of Christ. 
 It has had a checkered career, and was once so rich 
 and prosperous it was called the "Golden Mayence." 
 It has many ancient houses, and a fine old Gothic 
 cathedral, that was built originally in 975, and burned 
 down four times, but after each fire re-erected better 
 than before. In 1767 it was struck by lightning, and 
 afterwards used for many years as an army magazine; 
 but in 1 814 it was duly repaired and restored to its 
 sacred uses. It has also a statue of Gutenburg in a 
 Platz named after him, and claims with good reason 
 to have been the birthplace of the great inventor of 
 
 233 
 
European printing. It is strongly fortified, and regarded as one 
 DdyS and of the great strongholds now of Germany on the Rhine. 
 Ways It has a lovely esplanade along the Rhine, where the 
 bank of the river has been filled in and planted with 
 handsome trees, and my best recollection of Mayence 
 is of sitting there on a hot afternoon and enjoying 
 lunch while waiting for the down-river steamboat. 
 
 This came along duly, crowded with passengers,* 
 but we found excellent seats on the upper deck under 
 a canvas awning, and were soon en route down the 
 Rhine. We reached Coblenz in time for a late dinner, 
 and stopped at the Hotel Bellevue, overlooking the 
 Rhine and Ehrenbreitstein. The next morning we took 
 a carriage, and drove all about the city, except where 
 the narrow streets or the city regulations made us walk. 
 Coblenz is another old Rhine town, with a population 
 of some forty thousand and a garrison of five thousand. 
 It lies at the junction of the Moselle and the Rhine, 
 two of the most picturesque rivers in Germany, if not 
 in Europe, and commands charming views in all direc- 
 tions. Right at the junction of the two rivers, and 
 overlooking both, a massive monument has been 
 erected, stately and beautiful, commemorative of the 
 great war of 1870-71 and of the signal victory of Ger- 
 many over France. We did not see a finer war monu- 
 ment while abroad, nor a better site for one. 
 
 Coblenz has also utilized her river bank, and made 
 a "Rhine promenade" that exceeds in extent and beauty 
 even that at Mayence. She has simply filled in her 
 ragged and unsightly river bank, curbing the Rhine with 
 
 The Rhine travel is estimated at two or three millions annually. 
 234 
 
stone walls, and planting the new ground thus made CobleilZ — 
 with handsome trees and shrubbery. It was done only Down the 
 in 1890, under the auspices of the Empress Augusta, Rhine 
 and she is credited with much of the good sense and 
 taste thus displayed. Here is now the chief park and 
 pleasure ground of Coblenz, and she could not have 
 a finer one. Many an American city might profit by 
 her example. 
 
 A bridge of boats, about four hundred yards long, 
 with a draw for steamboats, stretches across the 
 Rhine to Ehrenbreitstein, the great German fortress 
 on the opposite bank of the river. So jealous have 
 Germany and France been of each other that they 
 have never allowed the Rhine to be bridged in this 
 region, except by a bridge of boats. There was one 
 built here or near here by Caesar in his time, but it was 
 soon destroyed as a military precaution. There is a 
 railroad bridge at Coblenz, and at other points; but no 
 ordinary travel is allowed over these, and they could 
 soon be blown up or broken down in case of war. Mili- 
 tary reasons have long controlled everything here, and 
 bid fair to do so for generations to come. The fortress 
 itself is a precipitous rock, except on the north side, 
 rising four hundred feet above the Rhine, and heavily 
 fortified on every side with all that German art and 
 skill can do. High-class guns are mounted on every 
 point, and command all approaches, and a garrison of 
 over five thousand men here keep watch and ward over 
 "Father Rhine" for the kaiser. 
 
 August 15th we took boat again for another ride 
 down the Rhine, and the same evening arrived at 
 Cologne. We stopped at the Hotel Dom, on the square 
 
 235 
 
European fronting the great cathedral or Dom, and found ex- 
 DayS and cellent accommodations. We dined out at a restaurant, 
 Ways to see more of the people and something of the town, 
 and the next morning rambled and drove about the 
 city still more. Here again is another old, old place. 
 It was founded by the Ubii, B. C. 38, when they were 
 compelled by Agrippa to migrate from the right to the 
 left bank of the Rhine. About a century afterwards, 
 Agrippina, daughter of Germanicus and mother of 
 Nero, brought a colony of Roman veterans here, and 
 hence its name from the Latin "colonia." In A. D. 
 308, Constantine the Great built a stone bridge across 
 the Rhine here, but it was soon destroyed for military 
 reasons, and now only a bridge of boats and an iron 
 railroad bridge span the river here, as at Coblenz. 
 Through all the Middle Ages Cologne was an important 
 and prosperous city, belonging to the Hanseatic and 
 the Rhenish Leagues, and is now a city of three hun- 
 dred thousand inhabitants, with a garrison of ten thou- 
 sand. As you approach it, it has an imposing appear- 
 ance, with its numerous towers and spires; but on land- 
 ing you find many of its old streets narrow, gloomy, 
 and badly drained. Hence the old story, that Cologne 
 has "seventy stinks, each separate and distinct," not- 
 withstanding her celebrated Cologne-water, and also 
 the old couplet: 
 
 "The river Rhine doth wash Cologne, 
 But who shall wash the river Rhine?" 
 
 The town-site, however, has recently been nearly 
 doubled by an advance of the line of fortifications, and 
 her new and wide streets are extending and being 
 
 236 
 
built up rapidly. The old fortifications were purchased Cologne — 
 by the city, at a cost of nearly $3,000,000, and demol- The Dom 
 ished, and the new Ringstrasse here is a series of 
 boulevards four miles long, encircling the town, and 
 beautifully laid out with trees and flower-beds. Here 
 modern buildings are going up, ambitious and strik- 
 ing, and Cologne will renew her youth under better 
 auspices and conditions. 
 
 The chief thing at Cologne, of course, is her great 
 Dom, or cathedral, which charms everybody, and is 
 probably the most magnificent Gothic edifice in the 
 world. It is the first thing you see as you approach 
 Cologne, and the last as you depart, its lofty towers 
 dominating the city and landscape. It stands on a 
 slight eminence, about sixty feet above the Rhine, com- 
 posed of old Roman remains, and an old church was 
 built here as early as the ninth century. The present 
 structure was begun in 1248, over two centuries be- 
 fore Columbus discovered America, and it took over 
 six hundred years to complete it. It is a great old 
 church, four hundred and forty-four feet long by two 
 hundred wide, with twin towers five hundred and twelve 
 feet high — the highest, I think, in Europe — its elab- 
 orate towers alone costing over five millions of dollars. 
 How they soar and uplift themselves, as if they meant 
 to pierce the very sky! Its architects and builders, 
 in the very beginning, "devised liberal things." They 
 worked away at their great plan two hundred years, 
 and then stopped. They tried it again for two hun- 
 dred years more, and then gave up in despair. They 
 built the choir and part of the nave, and worshiped 
 long in these; but they fell into decay, and they 
 
 237 
 
European had no money to repair them. Then the French cap- 
 DayS and tured Cologne, in one of their old Rhine campaigns, 
 Ways and occupied the cathedral as a hay and grain maga- 
 zine, and tore off the leaden roof and cast it into bul- 
 lets to fire at the Germans. But the Germans finally 
 recovered possession again, in spite of French bullets, 
 and plucked up their Christian courage, and set to work 
 to rebuild and finish their grand old church; and in 
 1880, after the Franco-German war, they finally com- 
 pleted it, thanks to the French indemnity in part. And 
 there it will stand forever (apparently), on the banks 
 of their German Rhine, as a monument to German 
 genius, German piety, and German pluck. All honor 
 to the German race ! 
 
 It is sui generis, but has suggestions evidently from 
 the matchless Duomo at Milan. It is really a mountain 
 of masonry, but is enlivened by a profusion of flying 
 buttresses, turrets, gargoyles, cornices, and foliage. Its 
 two huge towers consist of four stories, the three lower 
 square, while the fourth is octagonal, crowned with open 
 spires. Its great bronze doors are models of skill and 
 beauty, and really poems in bronze. The crane on the 
 south tower, by which building materials were raised 
 and lowered, stood there for four hundred years, as one 
 of the chief landmarks of Cologne, and was not re- 
 moved until 1868. Its largest bell weighs twenty-five 
 tons, and takes twenty-eight men to ring it. It was cast 
 in 1874, from captured French cannon, which was only 
 poetic justice! Its stained-glass windows, part ancient 
 and part modern, are visions of loveliness and beauty, 
 worthy of a poet's dream or a painter's fancy. Its whole 
 interior is exquisite and beautiful, with all that Art can 
 
 238 
 
do or Religion conceive, though, as a whole, it does not Cologne — 
 impress one, I think, so much as the Duomo or St. The 
 Peter's. There is a sublimity and grandeur about the Cathedral 
 Duomo, and a gorgeousness and glory about St. Peter s, 
 that the hand of man has never yet equaled and ap- 
 parently never will. 
 
 We spent several hours strolling around and through 
 the grand old cathedral, and went back a second time 
 for a further look, and bade it good-bye at last with 
 genuine regret. I wonder if we will ever have such a 
 church in America; and, if so, where will it grow up? 
 Or is the age of cathedrals past, as well as miracles? 
 For such a cathedral is, indeed, a miracle both of art 
 and treasure. 
 
 The Rhine itself is a good deal of a river for Europe. 
 We struck it first in the Tyrol, whence it runs through 
 Lake Constance, and so for two hundred and fifty miles 
 through Switzerland; then four hundred and fifty miles 
 through Germany; and then one hundred miles through 
 Holland, making eight hundred miles in all, until lost 
 in the Zuyder Zee. At Mayence it seemed to be only 
 four or five feet deep, but down at Coblenz and Cologne 
 it got to be twenty or thirty, and in places even deeper. 
 It is of more uniform depth than our American rivers 
 because fed all summer by the Alpine snows, and is a 
 great highway for travel and traffic, as it has been for 
 two thousand years and more. Before Caesar's time it 
 was the favorite road from the Mediterranean to the 
 North Sea, and was the classic river of the Middle Ages, 
 as the Tiber was of antiquity. Starting from Venice, 
 the route was first to Verona, and then to Innsbruck; 
 thence either through the Tyrol to Lake Constance, and 
 
 239 
 
European so down the Rhine; or else from Innsbruck to Munich 
 Days and Nuremberg, Mayence, and so down the Rhine — pretty 
 Ways much as we traveled. It was the rivers and river-valleys 
 that dictated the route originally, before the days of the 
 locomotive and the railroad, and when these came along 
 there were the cities and the people, and they followed 
 the same way substantially. Of course, there was some 
 cutting "across lots," but it was chiefly up the Inn and 
 down the Rhine, and so to Holland and England. 
 
 No wonder France and Germany have fought over 
 the Rhine so much; France claiming it to be her natural 
 boundary; Germany claiming both banks as essential to 
 her defense. France got there under Napoleon, but 
 Germany now has both banks, and means to hold them 
 at whatever cost of men and money. And with her fifty 
 millions of population against France's forty millions, 
 and increasing rapidly, while France stands still, she bids 
 fair to maintain her hold on Father Rhine. 
 
 In two respects, I confess, the Rhine disappointed us. 
 First, we did not expect to see such a busy and thriving 
 region. We expected, of course, to find it picturesque 
 and romantic; but we found it literally swarming with 
 steamboats, freight-barges, and rafts, and an almost con- 
 tinuous town and village, with a forest of smoke-stacks 
 everywhere. Indeed the whole Rhine valley is now liter- 
 ally a beehive of industry, and all Germany as well. The 
 German Empire would be a bad thing for Americans; 
 but the Germans like it, and are prosperous and con- 
 tented under the "kaiser" beyond all manner of doubt. 
 The Rhine Valley, indeed, reminds one of the Schuylkill 
 and the Ohio, and the same air of business and of thrift 
 is everywhere apparent. 
 
 240 
 
Next, it was smaller and less beautiful than we an- The Rhine 
 ticipated. From above Coblenz to near Cologne the 
 Rhine passes through the Seven Mountains, and is cer- 
 tainly picturesque and romantic, with its lofty bluffs, 
 its ruined castles, and its historic associations. But the 
 Ohio and the Tennessee are larger, the Hudson is more 
 lordly and majestic, and the Columbia much surpasses 
 it. I think its old castles are the chief thing. These 
 crown every mountain and perch on every cliff, mostly 
 in ruins from the Drachenfels down; and if we only had 
 these ruined castles on the Hudson and the Columbia, 
 what .rivers they would be ! There is nothing on the 
 Rhine much finer than the Palisades and West Point, 
 and nothing to compare with the passage of the Colum- 
 bia through the Cascade Mountains, with Mount Hood 
 looming in the distance, snowclad from base to summit, 
 and piercing the very sky. After seeing all these at 
 home, and enjoying them greatly, of course, we were 
 too good Americans to "lower the flag" to anything 
 German — not even the Rhine ! 
 
 One thing, however, must be said for the Rhine- 
 landers: as a rule, they have not suffered their fine 
 scenery to be debased by signs and advertisements. One 
 exception was between Coblenz and Cologne, where on 
 a distant precipice we descried great white letters many 
 feet high, which as we came nearer spelled out the magic 
 American words, "Quaker Oats!" We saw the same 
 thing back in the Tyrol, and it was the only American 
 advertisement we did see there. 
 
 The whole region, of course, is covered with vines 
 and vineyards. The hills and mountains are terraced to 
 their summits, and grapevines and trellises are every- 
 16 24T 
 
European where in evidence. The vineyards are mainly between 
 Days and Mayence and Cologne, a distance of less than one hun- 
 WayS dred miles; and the best wines are produced only in the 
 Rheingau, a picturesque district about twelve miles long, 
 between Riidesheim and Biebrich. The well-known 
 brands Johannisberger, Steinberger, Marcobrunner, etc., 
 are all grown in this narrow compass, and the total value 
 of the Rhine wine-crop is said to be fifteen to twenty 
 millions of dollars annually. Its white wines are the best 
 in the world, according to connoisseurs, but its red 
 wines are not equal to Bordeaux. It was not yet the 
 grape season, but the whole country-side seemed given 
 up to wine, to the exclusion largely of beer even. Every- 
 body, nearly, drank wine, and at some hotels and on the 
 steamboats plain water was hardly to be had for love or 
 money, unless one first ordered wine. When you asked 
 for plain drinking water, the waiters would bring you 
 soda-water, or Apollinaris, or stare wonderingly at you, 
 evidently thinking, as they say down in Italy, that "only 
 camels and Americans drink water !" And yet European 
 water is everywhere good, as I personally know, because 
 drinking it freely in every place where we stopped, espe- 
 cially in the larger cities. And the quantities of wine 
 they drink is amazing. On our boat coming down from 
 Mayence to Coblenz, there were four young people at a 
 table near us, and they drank twelve bottles of wine be- 
 tween them in the course of the afternoon, and after 
 landing we encountered them in a restaurant in the even- 
 ing still drinking wine. And they were not intoxicated 
 either — only a little flushed and merry. 
 
 All down the Rhine we saw the German women 
 everywhere at work the same as men, and often in most 
 
 242 
 
toilsome labors. We saw them mowing, plowing, etc. German Vine- 
 They were at work in the vineyards and harvest-fields yards and 
 the same as men, and holding their own. In Munich we Women 
 saw them "tending masons" — carrying mortar, bricks, 
 and stones to workmen on new buildings — and along the 
 Rhine we saw them loading and unloading barges, carry- 
 ing great hampers or crates of lime, coal, and stone on 
 their backs, as if they were oxen or horses. It seemed 
 incredible that they could bear such burdens; but they 
 had to do it, and did. 
 
 Where were the German men? Nearly half a million 
 of them withdrawn from civil life and in barracks and 
 forts, keeping their "Watch on the Rhine," and prepared 
 to fight both France and Russia, if necessary, in order 
 to maintain their German nationality and German integ- 
 rity. There did not seem to be much complaint. But 
 all Germany is an armed camp — soldiers everywhere; 
 and capital soldiers they are, too. Officers bright and 
 intelligent; soldiers well set-up, alert, and active. Italy 
 is nowhere compared with Germany on this line, and 
 France can not "hold a candle" to her. The Dreyfus 
 case told the tale, and revealed France in all her naked- 
 ness and deformity. Germany is virile, modern, pro- 
 gressive, prosperous, and the German nation a great and 
 rare people. America and Germany ought to be friends, 
 and must not be enemies, the Philippines and Samoa 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 All along the Rhine it is easy to see where our 
 "Pennsylvania Dutch" came from. You see the same 
 houses, the same wagons and farm implements (more 
 antiquated), the same manners and customs, and many 
 of the same names, and think you are home again, in- 
 
 243 
 
European stead of three thousand miles away across the stormy 
 Days and Atlantic. These people and ours in Pennsylvania 
 Ways (Berks, Lebanon, Lancaster, York) are first cousins, 
 if not brothers, speaking the same language and think- 
 ing the same thoughts largely; and would America had 
 more of them! They would make the very "bone and 
 sinew" of any land, and no country of theirs in Europe 
 or America could be otherwise than prosperous. 
 
 244 
 
Chapter XXI 
 
 E left Cologne August 16th, 2.30 P. M., and Amsterdam 
 the same evening reached Amsterdam. It 
 was an afternoon of ill luck, and for the first 
 time we found the railroad officials uncivil 
 and disobliging. We got into the wrong cars at Co- 
 logne, after many inquiries, and just escaped being 
 shunted off at Utrecht, and left there for the night. 
 However, we got into the right cars at last, and duly 
 reached Amsterdam. 
 
 After getting well out of Cologne, it was soon ap- 
 parent we were in a new country and among another 
 people. The whole air of the landscape changed, and 
 Holland seemed to be much behind Germany. The 
 country became flat and the buildings poor and small, 
 one-story brick usually, and the people seemed quite 
 another race, as they really are. Evidently Holland 
 would be a better and greater country if a part of Ger- 
 many, and Germany looks upon her with longing eyes 
 indeed; but the other Powers say nay, and the kaiser will 
 have to be content with this for the present, though Ger- 
 many only bides her time. With Amsterdam, Rotter- 
 dam, and ready access to the sea, Germany would 
 soon make Holland a great and progressive people 
 again, and this is among the possibilities of the twentieth 
 century, though Hollanders do not like to think so. 
 
 245 
 
European Utrecht ("Oude Trecht," or Old Ford) the Trajec- 
 DayS and turn ad Rhenam of the Romans, is one of the most ancient 
 Ways towns in Holland, and a city of one hundred thousand 
 people. The Rhine divides here into two arms, the Old 
 Rhine falling into the North Sea, and the Vecht into 
 the Zuyder Zee. It has an old cathedral (720), and an 
 ancient University (1636), and other interesting things. 
 But we hastened on to Amsterdam, without stopping. 
 In passing, Utrecht seemed to be a nice old place, clean 
 and well kept, and its environs are studded with many 
 beautiful mansions and parks, with long rows of stately 
 trees. Holland abounds in such nice old cities, and, if 
 just a little sleepy, they must be nevertheless very rest- 
 ful and kindly places to live in. 
 
 Holland is the Netherlands or Low Country of Eu- 
 rope, and is so called because so generally below the 
 level of the sea and its own numerous canals. As you 
 ride along in the cars you see vessels of all kinds sailing 
 above you, as if navigating the air, and you wonder what 
 would happen if the sea-dikes were to break or the canal 
 banks give way. In very ancient times the whole region 
 was evidently a swamp, the work of Father Rhine and 
 his numerous branches; but it has been diked and 
 ditched and drained by man's industry and skill until 
 now it is one vast meadow and dairy farm.* It is not 
 much given to grain, though wheat, barley, oats, and 
 other grains grow on the higher levels; but delicious 
 grass is everywhere, and it is the very paradise of horses, 
 cows, sheep, pigs, ducks, and geese. The cows espe- 
 
 *The Rhine has twelve hundred tributaries or feeders ; but loses itself 
 in Holland, and passes into the sea by so many mouths that it is hard to 
 say which is the Rhine really. 
 
 246 
 
daily are beauties — black-and-red-striped Holsteins, in Holland- 
 great numbers, and grazing everywhere in infinite con- UtrGGht 
 tent. We saw more cows, sheep, and pigs grazing at 
 large in the fields, during our first afternoon in Holland, 
 than in all Germany, Switzerland, and Italy previously. 
 The cows were large, sleek, and well cared for, as only 
 Germans and Dutchmen know how to care for cows, and 
 some even were blanketed. Here, also, we saw them 
 yoked to wagons and carriages, as in Germany, and they 
 moved at a pace quite surprising — for cows! 
 
 Of course, there are wagon-roads everywhere, and 
 good ones too, fine specimens of civil engineering. But 
 her canals are Holland's chief highway, with wagon- 
 roads often on their banks, and these serve a double pur- 
 pose; first, as ditches or drains to her marshy and other- 
 wise worthless land, making it invaluable for grazing 
 and hay; and, secondly, as waterways, affording cheap 
 and easy transporation. The canals bisect Holland 
 everywhere, and are really a great triumph over nature. 
 Her surplus water is pumped up into these by multi- 
 tudinous windmills or little stationary engines, and the 
 canals carry it out to sea. These canals literally swarm 
 with all kinds of vessels and barges, propelled by all 
 sorts of power, but chiefly sails and man-power. Men 
 pole them slowly along, mile after mile, or they rig a 
 rude harness to their shoulders and jump ashore and 
 tow them along — sometimes half a dozen together. The 
 women also assist with these vessels and barges, and 
 do their share, if not more than their share, of all kinds 
 of manual labor in Holland. 
 
 Indeed, Holland may well be called the land of canals 
 and windmills. From the time you enter Holland until 
 
 247 
 
European you leave it you are never out of sight of windmills, and 
 Days and these are made not only to pump water, but also to grind 
 ways grain and aid in manufactures generally. Her canals all 
 lead to the sea, and thus make Little Holland one vast 
 seaport and her people one great nation of merchants 
 and sailors, and hence her colossal commerce for cen- 
 turies, as if she were one great metropolis like London 
 or New York. The Dutch have literally conquered their 
 land from the sea and the swamp, and Holland's coat- 
 of-arms might well be the dike and the canal couchant, 
 with the windmill rampant. 
 
 We found Amsterdam to be a city of five hundred 
 thousand, in the midst of marshes and sand-dunes, belted 
 and threaded with canals — a real "Venice of the North," 
 but with a better people than Venice ever had. She has 
 canals everywhere, but has well paved streets also, brick 
 chiefly, with wagons, cabs, and trolley cars. Her build- 
 ings, while not lofty, are solid and substantial. Her 
 enterprise and commerce belt the globe, and her mer- 
 chants and bankers may well claim kinship with those 
 of our New Amsterdam, and neither be ashamed of 
 the other. 
 
 The city lies at the influx or mouth of the Amstel 
 into the Zuyder Zee, which has been dredged into an 
 excellent harbor here. Originally there was a dam 
 across the Amstel here, and hence the name Amsterdam. 
 Rotterdam, Monnikendam, Zaandam, Schiedam, Edam, 
 and other like-named Dutch cities originated in the same 
 way. It is not a very old place — only about 1204 — but 
 has had a great history. Its real importance and pros- 
 perity date from the sixteenth century, when the Spanish 
 had ruined Antwerp, and driven thousands of her mer- 
 
 248 
 
chants, manufacturers, and artists into Holland for a AfflSterdam- 
 new home. During the past century her trade has rap- "VeniGe Of 
 idly increased, thousands of vessels entering and clearing the North" 
 in a single year of late; and as the chief mart for the 
 products of the Dutch Colonies — tobacco, coffee, rice, 
 spices, and diamonds — she is indeed one of the first 
 commercial places in Europe. 
 
 Her situation is not good; her houses have all to be 
 built on piles, and hence the jest of Erasmus that he 
 knew a city "whose inhabitants dwell on the tops of trees 
 like rooks." Her soil is loam and loose sand, upon which 
 no heavy building can be erected, until piles be first 
 driven into the firmer sand beneath, twenty-five to fifty 
 feet; and hence buildings at Amsterdam often cost as 
 much below the ground as above it. Sometimes, indeed, 
 a heavy edifice sinks into the sand and mud, the piles 
 being inadequate to support it and its contents.* Canals 
 of various sizes divide the city into nearly one hundred 
 islands, which are connected by nearly three hundred 
 bridges, like Venice. The water in these canals varies ' 
 from three to five feet, and is kept clean and sweet by 
 constant renewals from the sea. The cost of keeping 
 and maintaining the canals, dikes, and bridges is esti- 
 mated at several thousand florins per day. But the very 
 safety of the city depends on these, and any serious de- 
 fect or break would expose Amsterdam to being put 
 many feet under water. 
 
 Her great North Sea Canal, connecting her with the 
 North Sea, is fifteen miles long, but saves her shipping 
 an exasperating voyage of fifty miles. It is sixty-five 
 
 * In 1822 a great warehouse, built for the Bast India Company, sank 
 into the mud, with thirty- five hundred tons of grain. 
 
 249 
 
European yards wide, by twenty-two feet deep, with great locks 
 Days and capable of accommodating the largest seagoing craft, 
 Ways and with breakwaters, lighthouses, and everything com- 
 plete. The total cost was 35,000,000 florins, of which 
 Amsterdam paid part, the reclaimed land a part, and 
 Holland the rest. But it makes Amsterdam and Holland 
 one vast seaport forever. 
 
 We stopped at the "Bible Hotel," in the heart of the 
 city, where one Jacob Liesveld, in 1542, printed the first 
 Dutch Bible, as said, and had to flee the city because of 
 it. He escaped to Leyden or Antwerp, but was caught 
 by the Inquisition and brought back and burned for his 
 wicked act. Our hotel was erected on the spot where 
 his printing-office stood, and contains a copy of his old 
 Bible. We found it a good place to stop at, and much 
 patronized by Americans. Our only objection was, it 
 was too close to the churches, whose bells rang all night, 
 every quarter of an hour or so — as bad as down in 
 Italy — and thus murdered sleep, "tired nature's sweet 
 restorer, balmy sleep," rather more than we liked. In- 
 deed, they played a short tune every quarter of an hour, 
 and a longer one at the full hours, until their tintinnabu- 
 lation became a tribulation difficult to bear. I know 
 George Herbert wrote 
 
 "Think when the bells do chime, 
 'T is angels' music ;" 
 
 but that was for English lanes, and not the streets of 
 Amsterdam. 
 
 The weather was dull and raw — a great change from 
 the Rhine — but we wandered through the city and saw 
 considerable of it. The architecture is unmistakably 
 
 250 
 
Dutch, but it is good and solid. The old Royal Palace, Amster- 
 the Exchange, the university, the Nieuwe Kerk, the dam — 
 Zoological Garden, and the Jewish Quarter are all places DlltGh Art 
 of interest, and order and cleanliness prevail. The good 
 Dutch housewife is everywhere in evidence, with broom, 
 brush, and cloth, and what she can not accomplish in the 
 way of cleaning or scouring is not worth doing at all. 
 Along many streets are handsome rows of trees and 
 stately residences, and Amsterdam evidently makes the 
 most of her situation. 
 
 The best thing we saw there, however, was the Ryks 
 Museum, in the heart of the city — an imposing building 
 covering an entire block nearly, erected only recently, 
 but representative of all Holland, both ancient and mod- 
 ern. It is in the Early Dutch Renaissance style, with 
 many Gothic and Romanesque features, and adorned 
 with sculpture and mosaics. Here are costumes, armors, 
 weapons, models of ships and machines, illustrating 
 every phase of Dutch history; old Delft ware, porcelain 
 and lacquer work; engravings, coins, manuscripts, 
 books; and a collection of paintings and portraits of all 
 the schools, Italian, French, Spanish, as well as Dutch, 
 that is most creditable to Little Holland. Its portraits 
 of naval heroes and pictures of sea-fights — Admiral Van 
 Tromp, De Ruyter, and others — recall the best days of 
 the Dutch navy, and remind one of the great war paint- 
 ings at Venice even. Here, also, are choice pictures 
 by Jordaens, Teniers, Van der Heist, Franz Hals, Jan 
 Steen, Paul Potter, Van Dyck, Rubens, and the Dutch 
 and Flemish masters generally. Many of these are very 
 fine; but I think one is struck with the convivial air of 
 most of them, as if the chief end of life in those old 
 
 251 
 
European Dutch and Flemish days was eating and drinking. Be- 
 DayS and sides these, there is a whole roomful of Rembrandts, and 
 Ways his great "Night Watch" particularly, his largest and 
 most celebrated work, which of itself is worth a voyage 
 across the Atlantic to see. Why it was called the "'Night 
 Watch" nobody seems to know. It represents a com- 
 pany of arquebusiers coming out of their doelen or 
 guildhouse, and evidently going out to a shooting- 
 match in the daytime. The costumes and weapons of 
 the officers and soldiers are remarkable, and the life and 
 spirit of the flag-bearer and drummer really speaking. 
 Two lively children, one with a cockerel — evidently the 
 prize to be contended for — add to the interest of the 
 scene. The remarkable chiaroscuro of the picture has 
 led some to believe that it was a "Night W r atch;" but 
 the event evidently took place in daylight, and the ex- 
 traordinary lights and shadows of the picture are such 
 as only Rembrandt himself could paint. Altogether it 
 is a most remarkable and dramatic picture, and, ever 
 since its painting, has been enthusiastically admired by 
 all lovers of good art. There are no engravings that do 
 it even scant justice. It was surrounded by a group of 
 admirers the day we were there, and we shall carry it in 
 our memories as a precious recollection forever, like the 
 great picture of "The Assumption" by Titian, at Venice. 
 It is an immense painting, eleven by fourteen feet, tak- 
 ing up the whole side of the "Rembrandt room;" but 
 we would not wish it to be any smaller. If the great 
 Dutch painter had done nothing more than the "Night 
 Watch," his fame would have been secure forever. 
 
 Of course, we went down to Marken, a curious old 
 fishing suburb of Amsterdam, on an island in the Zuyder 
 
 252 
 
Zee. We went by a little steamboat, down a great canal, 
 past Broek in Waterland — said to be the cleanest place 
 in the world — to Monnikendam, and so to Marken. At 
 all of these villages the people wear only wooden shoes, 
 and drop them at the door when they enter their dwell- 
 ing-houses, ready to put on when they come out again. 
 How they ever keep them on their feet is a mystery, 
 they are so big and unwieldy. But they do, and the 
 boys and girls go scurrying along the streets or the 
 towpaths with 
 them on as if they 
 were light as 
 feathers. The 
 streets are paved 
 with brick, with 
 not an ounce of 
 dirt anywhere, 
 and even the very 
 trees look as if 
 they were washed 
 and scoured. The 
 houses also are mainly of brick, with now and then one 
 of frame (very old), and their furnishings are simple 
 and antique. 
 
 At Monnikendam, we saw two dogs harnessed to a 
 little carriage, and drawing too half-grown boys along 
 quite smartly. In the heart of the village we saw a large 
 dog drawing a baker's cart, and the baker also occasion- 
 ally. When it came to an ascent or a hard pull, the 
 baker would jump off and push behind. But he would 
 soon jump on again, and the dog trotted along as if he 
 could pull the load easily. The Dutch believe in making 
 
 253 
 
 Marken 
 
 Main 
 
 Street, 
 
 Marken. 
 
European everybody work, even their cows and dogs, as well as 
 Days and women. In Switzerland and Germany they use only 
 Ways large dogs, and they gear them side by side with the 
 man or woman; but here in Holland they use dogs of 
 any kind, and they hitch them under the cart or wagon, 
 to little singletrees of their own, and, first and last, these 
 thrifty Dutchmen get a prodigious amount of work out 
 of their dogs even. We saw them in use in Amsterdam 
 and everywhere, and often pulling and tugging so hard 
 
 that we could 
 well believe 
 "working like a 
 dog" to be an old 
 Dutch saying. 
 
 At Marken we 
 found everything 
 quaint and curi- 
 ous. There is 
 only a handful of 
 people here, but 
 they seem to have 
 come down from the Middle Ages. Their houses are 
 mere rookeries of logs and boards, though some are of 
 brick, one story, with red-tile roofs and small windows 
 and doors, but clean as wax inside. Instead of beds and 
 bedsteads, they have closets or lockers in the walls, 
 which shut up in the daytime and open at night. Their 
 array of blue crockery-ware — some of it real old Delft — 
 is a sight to see, and the gold and silver head-dresses of 
 the women, and their garments generally, seem more fit 
 for a museum than the nineteenth century. The men, 
 in their baggy trousers and wooden shoes and woolen 
 
 254 
 
 Women 
 
 Carrying 
 
 Hay, 
 
 Marken. 
 
caps, appear to have stepped out of some old Dutch 
 painting, or to be ''comrades true" of Hendrik Hudson 
 and Peter Stuyvesant. We tried to buy some of the 
 blue ware and other quaint articles, but found they were 
 all regarded as heirlooms. These people live by fishing, 
 and many of them have never been off their little sand- 
 spit, not even to Amsterdam. They maintain their an- 
 cient customs and costumes; as did their ancestors, so 
 do they; but they also have a little church and school- 
 house, and a 
 mayor and police 
 officer, and thus 
 doze away the 
 centuries. Out- 
 side of their 
 houses they have 
 great flocks of 
 ducks and geese, 
 paddling about 
 the drains and 
 ditches, as every- 
 where in Holland. But they seldom see a newspaper, 
 and the whole outside world, with its facts and its 
 doings, is as a sealed book to them. They might as well 
 be clams or oysters; and we were glad to quit these 
 "children of nature," and get back to Amsterdam again. 
 
 Marken— 
 Queer People 
 
 Natives, 
 Marken. 
 
 255 
 
Chapter XXII 
 
 mm 
 
 E left Amsterdam, August 18th, at 2.45 
 P. M., and, passing Haarlem and Leyden, 
 arrived at The Hague about 6 P. M. Hol- 
 land is truly "Little Holland," and it does 
 not take long to travel from one of her cities to an- 
 other. En route we had canals and windmills again 
 always in evidence, as before reaching Amsterdam, and 
 the same widespread meadows covered with cows and 
 sheep, ducks and geese. Here and there we encoun- 
 tred sand-dunes and pine-barrens, with long stretches 
 of canals, and now and then hyacinth and tulip farms, 
 with gladiolas and other bulbs also in cultivation. The 
 Hollanders grow and export these all over the world, 
 and indeed make quite an account of their bulb 
 business. 
 
 At The Hague we found the hotels full, but finally 
 secured quarters at the Hotel Vieux Doelen, or "Old 
 Shooting Gallery." This is an old-established house 
 there, dating back to 1382, and said to have been a 
 hotel since 1635. It boasts of having entertained all 
 the American ministers for years, and many of the com- 
 missioners at the great Peace Congress here in 1899. 
 It fronts on one of the chief squares, in the heart of 
 the city; it has a spacious reception-room, dining-room, 
 and parlors; and, after the first day, we had excellent 
 
 256 
 
accommodations there. The tradition is, that the The Hague 
 counts of Holland and their nobles used to go to shoot- 
 ing matches or target-practice here at The Hague 
 (properly S. Graven Hage or den Haag — the Count's 
 Hedge or Inclosure), and when they got through they 
 used this old hotel as their clubhouse or banqueting- 
 hall. It looks old enough and spacious enough for this 
 old story to be true, and we found it crowded with 
 pleasant people. 
 
 The Hague is the capital of Little Holland, and a 
 goodly city of about two hundred thousand people. 
 It is an old historic town, and for centuries has been 
 the favorite residence of the Dutch princes; rich in great 
 memories, but of no industrial or commercial impor- 
 tance. No town in Holland has so many broad and 
 handsome streets, and spacious and imposing buildings 
 and squares; but it has little modern business, except 
 politics. The titled and the wealthy of all Holland 
 have long made it their home, and concentrated their 
 taste and money here; and hence its superior beauty 
 and charm, its wide streets, imposing mansions, and 
 superb trees and parks. In the matter of shade-trees 
 and parks, I know of no American city to equal it, not 
 even Cleveland, with its Euclid Avenue and parks. 
 
 The natural soil at The Hague is loose and sandy; 
 but the Dutch began to plant beeches, chestnuts, and 
 lindens here centuries ago, and have kept it up, along 
 all their streets and canals, and in great parks as well, 
 and have taken loving care of them, mingling mud and 
 muck with their unkindly sand; and as the result they 
 have now one of the most beautiful cities in the world, 
 and they intend to keep it so. 
 i7 257 
 
European Here William the Silent, the George Washington 
 
 Days and of the Netherlands, lived and breathed defiance to 
 Ways Spain and the Inquisition, and gave battle to them both, 
 and whipped them, over three hundred years ago. It 
 is true he was assassinated, like Abraham Lincoln; but 
 his spirit survived and made the Dutch Republic, and 
 still survives in Little Holland. The Hague has two 
 stately statues of him in its public squares — one eques- 
 trian — and several superb portraits in its museums; and 
 as you gaze upon these, you can not help thinking 
 that the great Dutchman would have made an excel- 
 lent American. He had the same humane spirit and 
 generous heart and open-mindedness that Lincoln had, 
 and the same passionate love of civil and religious lib- 
 erty that all Americans boast. But he was three 
 centuries ahead of Abraham Lincoln and William Mc- 
 Kinley. Well may the Hollanders call him "The Father 
 of their Fatherland !" 
 
 The Binnenhof, an irregular pile of buildings, some 
 of them of mediaeval origin, stands near the center of 
 the town, and was once surrounded by a moat. The 
 whole pile has an antiquated air, and one can well be- 
 lieve in its alleged origin — about 1250. In the little 
 square in front of it, John Barneveldt, the Grand Pen- 
 sionary or Prime Minister of Holland, was beheaded 
 in 1 61 9, in his seventy-second year, "for having con- 
 spired to dismember the States of the Netherlands, and 
 greatly troubled God's Church." History is not clear 
 that poor Barneveldt was guilty, but for a like crime 
 in part we allowed Jefferson Davis (certainly guilty) 
 to go "scot free" in 1865, and I judge no American 
 now regrets it, though in old war days we used to sing> 
 
 258 
 
"We '11 hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple-tree !" Just The Hague — 
 beyond is another old building, formerly used by the DlltGh Art 
 Spanish Inquisition; and here they show you the old and Artists 
 dungeons, and an old torture-chamber where they put 
 heretics to starve to death, while beneath was the 
 prison kitchen from which the odors of cooking as- 
 cended to the starving prisoners. What hideous cruelty 
 and diabolical ingenuity those old Spanish priests had, 
 and how can history execrate them sufficiently? No 
 wonder that mysterious power "which makes for right- 
 eousness" afterwards, in due time, broke Spain as "with 
 a rod of iron," and dashed her world-wide empire "in 
 pieces as a potter's vessel !" 
 
 The Town Hall, the Groote Kerk, and the Munic- 
 ipal Museum are well worth seeing, as also the "House 
 in the Wood," the royal villa where the Peace Congress 
 sat. But the best thing at The Hague, it seems to me, 
 after William the Silent and her old Binnenhof, is her 
 National Picture Gallery, just beyond the Binnenhof. 
 Here is Paul Potter's famous "Bull," painted in 1647, 
 that was over to our Centennial in 1876, and which 
 has no superior in Europe. Here also is Rembrandt's 
 celebrated "School of Anatomy," painted for the Am- 
 sterdam guild of surgeons in 1632, and scarcely inferior 
 to his famous "Night Watch." It is a picture of a 
 distinguished anatomist lecturing to a group of sur- 
 geons, while he dissects a corpse on a table before him 
 and explains its anatomy, and nothing could be more 
 real and lifelike. Then there are other Potters and 
 Rembrandts by the score, and masterpieces by Jan 
 Steen, Terburg, Gerard Dow, Teniers, Jordaens, Ruys- 
 dael, Van der Meer, Velasquez, Murillo, and Holbein, 
 
 259 
 
European and Rubenses without number. The Rembrandts and 
 Days and Steens here are numerous and superior, and one can 
 Ways not help enjoying this gallery very much. Jan Steen 
 especially grows upon you the more you see of him, 
 and some of his creations are really wonderful. One 
 of his pictures here is a "Physician Feeling a Young 
 Lady's Pulse," and it is exquisite in its humor. An- 
 other is a "Picture of Life," and contains about twenty 
 persons. While the elders are enjoying their oysters, 
 the children are playing with a dog and cat. Jan Steen 
 himself plays a merry air, while ogling a young woman, 
 and a portly boor is laughing, glass in hand. In the 
 background are card-players and smokers. Another is 
 known as the "Menagerie." It represents a platform, 
 with a brook flowing by it, and an old leafless tree on 
 the right with a peacock on it. Ducks are paddling in 
 the water, and fowls and pigeons picking up grain from 
 the ground. On one of the steps sits a girl with a saucer 
 of milk, feeding a lamb. A baldheaded manservant 
 with a basket of eggs is addressing her, while another 
 standing on the platform with a fowl under his arm 
 looks at her laughingly. Another is a "Portrait of Jan 
 Steen and Family," and consists of eleven persons. 
 The principal place at the table, of course, is occupied 
 by Jan Steen himself — a figure with long hair and a 
 broad hat, laughing and smoking, and about to drink. 
 On his left is his wife, a corpulent lady, filling a pipe, 
 apparently for her own use. In front is Jan's aged 
 mother, dandling a grandchild on her knees; while by 
 the fireside is his father in spectacles, singing from 
 a sheet of music, to the accompaniment of a flute played 
 by Jan's eldest son, a likely lad, almost a man. In the 
 
 260 
 
foreground are a dog, some copper household utensils, Tll6 Hague — 
 a mortar, etc. These scenes are all homely, but most DlltGh Artists 
 lifelike and real, and Jan Steen must have been a great 
 artist in his line after all. His paintings are not large, 
 but they are instinct with life and action, and we en- 
 joyed them greatly. This collection of paintings was 
 begun by the princes of the House of Orange in 1647, 
 and the Dutch rulers have kept it up ever since. The 
 French plundered it in the time of Napoleon I; but 
 after his downfall most of the stolen pictures were re- 
 turned, and the catalogue now numbers several hun- 
 dred paintings, most of them of a high order. But 
 here, as at Amsterdam, we were struck with the social 
 and convivial character of so many of them, as if Dutch- 
 men never tired of drinking and feasting; and there- 
 fore when a Dutch painter sits down to paint he is 
 pretty sure to depict the good things of this life, and 
 especially "the pleasures of the table." How these old 
 Dutch burghers must have liked to eat and drink and 
 smoke! And their descendants are not unworthy of 
 them, judging by what we saw of good Hollanders 
 at home. 
 
 Some three or four miles away, down by the North 
 Sea, lies Scheveningen, the seaside resort of The Hague; 
 and a charming place it is. It is not Newport nor Long 
 Branch, but more like Elberon and Atlantic City. Orig- 
 inally it was an old fishing village, like Seabright, and 
 practices that industry still; but it has blossomed out 
 into a first-class watering-place of twenty thousand in- 
 habitants or more, with a superb Curhaus, splendid 
 hotels; and a magnificent avenue leads down to it 
 from The Hague, laid out centuries ago, with eight 
 
 261 
 
European or ten rows of handsome shade-trees, a tramway in the 
 Days and middle, a carriage drive on one side, and an equestrian 
 W/ayS path on the other, with footwalks on both sides, and 
 a great park much of the way, flanked with beautiful 
 villas. It has the same high sand-dunes as Asbury 
 Park and Spring Lake used to have; but these have 
 been left ungraded, and Scheveningen undulates all 
 over these. A high tide once swallowed up half of 
 the town, leaving its little Gothic church (erected 1472) 
 at the west end of the place, instead of the middle as 
 formerly; but Scheveningen has forgotten all this, and 
 revels in her summer visitors. It has a splendid beach, 
 surpassing even Atlantic City and Cape May, and its 
 bath-houses are on wheels. When a bather enters one 
 of these, a horse is hitched on and trots out into the 
 surf with the bath-house, and wheels around; he is then 
 unhitched and driven ashore, while the bather descends 
 from the rear of the bath-house into the sea. When 
 through with his bath, the horse comes out and draws 
 bath-house and bather back to shore again. 
 
 They have no big ''board walk," but the beach is 
 protected by a solid stone wall, backed with sand, for 
 a long distance, and this is paved, as well as the streets 
 and roads at Scheveningen, with hard red bricks. Brick 
 pavements, indeed, are used extensively at The Hague, 
 and in all the Dutch cities, for roadways, as they have 
 been since the thirteenth century, and they have ad- 
 vantages over asphalt, even, especially in wet or icy 
 weather, horses not slipping so easily. They use them 
 for twenty years, and then take them up as needed, 
 and reverse them and use the other side until worn out. 
 We went down to Scheveningen by what is called 
 262 
 
the New Road, by an electric tramway, that skirted The Hape 
 a canal and half way down crossed it, lined with beau- 
 tiful residences much of the way, and everything clean 
 as a pin. The Hague is even cleaner than Amsterdam; 
 and what more can one say? We returned by the Old 
 Road, on top of horse-cars, through the beautiful avenue 
 and park above spoken of, and enjoyed every foot of the 
 ride. The Hague has fewer canals than Amsterdam, and 
 they are all supplied with sea-water, constantly pumped 
 in and flowing out, and with only occasional boats pass- 
 ing to and fro, propelled chiefly by man-power. 
 
 We were at The Hague several days, detained by 
 the illness of two of our party, and one day went back 
 to Leyden. We found it to be a venerable old place, 
 with only about fifty thousand population, though for- 
 merly it numbered one hundred thousand. It is sit- 
 uated on the Old Rhine, the sluggish waters of which 
 flow through the town in canal-like arms. In the six- 
 teenth century it sustained a terrible siege by the Span- 
 iards, lasting nearly a year, when William of Orange 
 ordered the dikes to be pierced and the sea let in, thus 
 inundating the country and drowning out the Spaniards; 
 a heroic remedy, but it ended the siege. 
 
 Leyden presents many picturesque mediaeval fea- 
 tures, especially its old city gates — the remains of its 
 old fortifications — its old Burg, its old Stadhuis, its 
 old museum, and old university. We took a horse- 
 car ride down its old Breestraat, and could well believe 
 ourselves back in another age. Its Burg is a great 
 circular mound of earth, in the heart of the town, and 
 undoubtedly of very ancient origin, either Roman or 
 Saxon. What a history it has had, and what a tale 
 
 263 
 
European it could tell if it only had a tongue! It has a great 
 Days and well or cistern on top, and has seen many a battle, and 
 ways stood many a siege. We climbed up its sides, and 
 ascended its old brick walls, and had a fine view of 
 Leyden and the surrounding country and distant sea. 
 Its old Stadhuis has a lofty flight of steps in front, 
 surmounted by quaint Dutch lions, upholding the arms 
 of the city, and is a fine example of the Dutch style 
 of the sixteenth century. Its interior is much as it 
 was in the fifteenth century. It has some good carved 
 paneling, very old, and over the side entrance on the 
 north is the following inscription: "When the Black 
 Famine had brought to death nearly six thousand of 
 our people, then God the Lord repented of it, and gave 
 us bread again, as much as we could wish" — referring 
 to the great siege of 1574. Its lofty spire is quaint and 
 picturesque, and adds much to the attractiveness of the 
 venerable old edifice. 
 
 Its museums contain much of interest, and its old 
 university has one thousand students still, and a library 
 of nearly two hundred thousand volumes. It was 
 founded in 1575 by William of Orange, who after the 
 great Spanish siege of 1574 offered to reward Leyden 
 for its gallant conduct either by exempting its citizens 
 from taxes for a certain number of years, or by estab- 
 lishing a university there. The temptation was great, 
 for her losses had been many and heavy. But Leyden 
 chose the better part, and so got her university. Its 
 fame soon extended throughout Europe, and the 
 greatest scholars of their age — Grotius, Scaliger, Boer- 
 haave, Arminius, and others — resided and wrote here. 
 The "Leyden Jar" was first invented here, and Leyden 
 
 . 264 
 
still enjoys a high reputation as a seat of learning, es- Leyden 
 pecially in natural science and medicine. Most of the 
 professors teach at their private residences, some of 
 them still in Latin, though some lecture in the uni- 
 versity halls. . 
 
 Leyden impresses you as a quaint old place, as a 
 true Dutch city of the olden times, with a pensive and 
 melancholy air, but well repays a visit there. We took 
 lunch at an excellent restaurant near the old Stadhuis, 
 and afterwards saw a Dutch regiment marching out to 
 the suburbs for inspection and drill. The men were 
 undersized somewhat, compared with German soldiers, 
 but were clean and well equipped, and moved with an 
 alacrity and spirit that spoke well for their discipline. 
 They seemed to have true "grip and grit," and doubt- 
 less were worthy descendants of their gallant and heroic 
 ancestors. 
 
 Altogether we were in Holland over a week, and, 
 as a whole, it was true Dutch weather. We did not 
 see the sun once while there, but only a dull gray sky 
 from day to day, always threatening to rain, but never 
 raining. The weather was raw and cool, and we al- 
 ways needed thick clothing, and usually an overcoat 
 as well. They told us it was not always that kind of 
 weather in August; but this is what we found, and we 
 were glad to get away, notwithstanding all the great 
 names and heroic past of brave Little Holland. 
 
 26: 
 
Chapter XXIII 
 
 E left The Hague, August 22cl, at 9.30 A. M., 
 and a three hours' ride by railroad brought 
 us to Brussels. We passed Delft, Rotter- 
 dam, and Antwerp en route, but did not stop 
 to see either of them. It was so raw and cool, and 
 we were so tired of Holland weather, that we were 
 eager to get into Belgium. Delft is a quaint old Dutch 
 city of some thirty thousand inhabitants, renowned for 
 its windmills and blue crockery-ware. Like Leyden, it 
 has a "pensive and melancholy air," as if it had seen 
 better days, and the very cows and sheep grazing in 
 the surrounding meadows seemed to be old-fashioned 
 also. Rotterdam and Antwerp are more considerable 
 cities, with two hundred thousand inhabitants each, 
 and of real commercial importance. Rotterdam, of 
 course, is in Holland, and is next after Amsterdam as 
 a place of business, both being great entrepots for the 
 trade and travel of the Rhine Valley, and indeed all 
 Germany. Antwerp is in Belgium, and is its chief sea- 
 port and entrepot, as well as great arsenal and fort. 
 It is heavily fortified on modern principles, and is in- 
 tended as a rendezvous for the Belgian army, if com- 
 pelled to retire before a superior enemy; and they say 
 it would require an army of three hundred thousand 
 men to besiege it effectually, and at least a year to 
 
 266 
 
reduce it by starvation. In 1564 it was the most pros- Antwerp 
 perous and wealthy city in Europe, surpassing even 
 Venice itself. But the Spanish sacked it in 1576, putting 
 seven thousand of its inhabitants to death by fire and 
 sword. Then the Duke of Parma, in 1585, besieged 
 it for over a year, and in 1589 its population had dwin- 
 dled from one hundred and twenty-five thousand to 
 fifty-five thousand, and soon to forty thousand. Now 
 again it has recovered its prosperity, and is an active 
 and growing place. We were sorry to miss its old 
 cathedral and museums, and its great masterpieces by 
 Rubens and others — particularly his famous "Descent 
 from the Cross" — and the Van Dyck Exhibition then 
 open there. But we had seen a good many Van Dycks 
 and Rubenses already, and expected to see more, and 
 must needs hasten on. My chief recollection of Rotter- 
 dam and Antwerp is many canals and boats, and a forest 
 of masts, with rows of warehouses inside and wide- 
 spreading meadows outside, dotted with cattle and 
 horses. It was a real panorama while it lasted, but soon 
 over and gone. 
 
 Belgium lies higher than Holland, and we soon 
 passed from meadow-land to grainfields, and there are 
 no better farmers on the Continent than the Belgians. 
 They had already finished their harvesting, and grain- 
 stacks appeared everywhere, as neat and trim as if made 
 by English or American farmers. We here saw our 
 first reapers and binders, and Belgium knows how both 
 to use and make them. Tittle Belgium is not a very 
 big country, but she literally swarms with cities and 
 towns, and villages are everywhere. We never saw a 
 denser population anywhere. She is a little larger than 
 
 267 
 
European New Jersey; has about eleven thousand square miles 
 Days and to New Jersey's eight thousand; is one hundred and fifty 
 Ways miles long by one hundred and ten wide only; but she 
 contains nearly seven million inhabitants, against New 
 Jersey's one million five hundred thousand, and the 
 Belgians are an active, industrious, and prosperous 
 people. They are a larger and more robust race than 
 the Hollanders, bigger even than the German, and, as 
 a whole, I have never seen finer-looking men and women 
 anywhere. They keep a standing army of fifty thou- 
 sand men, capable of expansion to one hundred and fifty 
 thousand in war times, and pay their king 4,000,000 
 francs a year, or $800,000; and though a pretty good 
 king, as European kings go, yet King Leopold does not 
 begin to compare with President Roosevelt, whom we 
 pay $50,000 a year only ! 
 
 Brussels, the capital of Belgium, is a fine city of 
 about five hundred thousand, her suburbs included. 
 She dates back to the eighth century, when there was 
 a village here called "Broeksele," or Marsh-dwelling. 
 The city consists of the heights and the lower parts; 
 the former occupied by the aristocracy and better 
 classes, the latter by the trading and lower classes. 
 There was always a well-defined difference between 
 the two, and it continues to this day. We found good 
 quarters upon the heights, near the Boulevard Waterloo, 
 and our invalids were soon rejoicing in a warm and 
 genial sunshine again. Indeed, it was a complete change 
 of climate from Holland, and it continued so while 
 we were in Belgium. Brussels has fine streets, and 
 handsome houses, and beautiful parks, and in many 
 respects is indeed Paris in miniature, as her citizens 
 
 268 
 
claim. She leveled her old walls many years ago, and Brussels 
 converted their wide spaces into broad boulevards, with 
 five and six rows of stately trees, encircling the city, 
 reserving only an ancient gate or mediaeval tower here 
 and there. Here are superb walks and drives, with 
 electric lamps blazing at night, making it light as day, 
 and her people are pardonably very proud of their city. 
 Her old gates and towers, still standing and well pre- 
 served, lend interest to the city, and are well worth 
 seeing. It is an old saying in Belgium that "Brussels 
 rejoices in noble men, Antwerp in money, Ghent in 
 halters, Bruges in pretty girls, Louvain in learned men, 
 and Malines in fools;" and you can not pass along her 
 streets and see her citizens without thinking that Brus- 
 sels well maintains her reputation. 
 
 Belgium also is famed for its fine horses, both sad- 
 dle and draught, and we saw more private carriages 
 and horses, and better and faster horses, in Brussels 
 than anywhere else on the Continent. It was a pleas- 
 ure to see them go, and reminded one of home. Here, 
 also, we struck many "automobiles," and they went 
 skimming everywhere along the superb streets and 
 parks. Of course, Brussels has electric tramways, both 
 overhead and underground — one of them literally belt- 
 ing the city — and great omnibuses besides; but no 
 canals worth mentioning, after Amsterdam, Rotterdam, 
 and Antwerp. 
 
 Brussels has old cathedrals and churches (as St. Gud- 
 ule and Notre Dame, A. D. 1204-1302), but they are 
 chiefly remarkable for elaborate wood-carvings and 
 stained-glass windows. An old pulpit in her Notre 
 Dame is curiously carved, with a cow, an ass, a rooster, 
 
 269 
 
European and a whole lot of chubby angels and cherubs. But 
 Days and otherwise the old church is a disappointment. There 
 Ways are no paintings in them worth considering, but the 
 windows are fine, especially in St. Gudule, many of 
 them dating back to the thirteenth century, and with 
 a delicacy of design and a richness of coloring that our 
 modern window-builders can not equal. There are 
 some modern windows here, too; but they are glaring 
 and garish, and one wonders why stained glass has be- 
 come one of the lost arts and can not be recovered. 
 
 Belgium has a magnificent "Palace of Justice" here 
 in Brussels, where her law courts of all kinds are housed. 
 It is a huge and massive pile, adapted from the Assyrian 
 and Grseco-Roman styles, five hundred and ninety feet 
 long by five hundred and sixty feet wide, nearly square, 
 and is said to be "the largest architectural work of the 
 nineteenth century." It is larger than our Capitol at 
 Washington (seven hundred and fifty-two feet by three 
 hundred and forty-seven feet), but cost one-third less. 
 This "Palace of Justice" is on the highest point in Brus- 
 sels, and dominates the whole city and landscape, and 
 it is marvelous that Little Belgium could design and 
 erect such an edifice. It covers more ground than 
 St. Peter's at Rome. It is embellished with colossal 
 figures of Justice, Law, Strength, and Clemency, and 
 also with statues of Demosthenes, Lycurgus, Cicero, 
 Ulpian, and other noted characters, and surprises the 
 passing tourist. Of course, its great dome is sur- 
 mounted b*y a cross and a gilded Belgic Crown, which 
 is not half so nice as our Goddess of Liberty. In effect 
 it is heavy and gloomy; but nevertheless it is a fine 
 modern building, and a credit to Little Belgium. We 
 
 270 
 
went in to see her law courts and judges, and observe 
 how things were conducted over there; but found all 
 adjourned until October. 
 
 Brussels has also her old Hotel de Ville, or City 
 Hall, which dates back to, or was begun, A. D. 1402. 
 It is one hundred and ninety-eight feet long by one hun- 
 dred and sixty-five deep, and incloses a spacious court, 
 thus securing light and air both inside and outside. 
 It is surmounted by an old tower, beautiful and grace- 
 ful beyond de- 
 scription, three 
 hundred and sev- 
 enty feet high, 
 and this is 
 crowned by a 
 gilded statue of 
 the Archangel 
 Michael, sixteen 
 feet in height, 
 though apparently 
 only of man-size, 
 which serves as a weather-vane to the whole city. This 
 old Town Hall is literally covered on the outside with 
 a multitude of statues and carvings of both men and 
 animals; and inside it is rich with tapestries, paintings, 
 portraits, and wood-carvings, that must have cost the 
 city thousands and tens of thousands of dollars — and 
 more. But Brussels has been five hundred years in 
 doing it. Wait until some of our American cities get 
 to be five hundred years older and wiser, and likely 
 we, too, shall then have "Hotels de Ville" worthy of 
 our City Fathers. 
 
 271 
 
 Brussels 
 
 Hotel de 
 Ville, 
 
 Brussels. 
 
European In front of this old Hotel de Ville is the Grande 
 
 Days and Place, or marketplace, one hundred and twenty yards 
 Ways long by seventy-four wide — one of the finest mediaeval 
 squares in Europe, and renowned in the annals of Bel- 
 gium. Here, in 1568, twenty-five great Flemish nobles, 
 including Counts Egmont and Horn, were beheaded 
 by the cruel but "thorough" Duke of Alva, for no other 
 crime than patriotism. It is surrounded by the Halle 
 au Pain, an ancient prison (now a museum), and old 
 Guild Houses; such as the Hall of the Butchers, the 
 Hall of the Archers, the Hall of the Skippers, the Hall 
 of the Carpenters, the Hall of the Tailors, and the public 
 weigh-house, with its ancient scales and weights. All 
 these are antique and grand in their way, not to say 
 gorgeous, and we have nothing like them in the United 
 States. 
 
 In another little square not far away (Petit Sablon) 
 rises the monument of Counts Egmont and Horn, 
 which formerly stood in front of the Hall au Pain, but 
 afterwards was removed here. The lower part is a 
 fountain, above which rise two colossal figures in bronze, 
 representing Egmont and Horn on their way to exe- 
 cution. They are surrounded by ten marble statues 
 of celebrated contemporaries, and the whole is inclosed 
 by an artistic railing, with forty-eight small bronze 
 figures on the pillars, representing the Artistic and In- 
 dustrial Guilds of the sixteenth century. These last 
 are very quaint and ingenious, and well worth one's 
 study. The little square abounds in roses and flower- 
 beds, and it is a lovely little nook to linger in, when 
 tired out with sight-seeing, as one often is. 
 
 Brussels has a fine old park, down in the heart of 
 2 7 2 
 
the city, originally a hunting-ground of the Dukes of Brussels 
 Brabant, adorned with fountains and statues, and much 
 frequented by the people, and a very extensive one 
 (some four hundred and fifty acres) in its suburbs, called 
 the "Bois" or the "Bois de la Cambre." You reach 
 this latter from the Boulevard Waterloo by the broad 
 and handsome Avenue Louise, which is bordered by 
 many elegant new houses, and traversed by a good 
 electric tramway. It is a lovely ride of two miles or 
 so, and the "Bois" itself is charming and delightful of 
 an evening, with music, carriages, and equestrians, as 
 the day we were there. All Brussels seemed to be there 
 that evening, and everybody and his wife to be enjoying 
 themselves. 
 
 Down in the town are the Royal Palace, and the 
 National Palace where the Senate and Deputies meet, 
 and the National Bank, and the Bourse, or Chamber of 
 Commerce; but they did not interest us. The most 
 striking thing we saw down there were the great open- 
 air cafes and restaurants, of an evening, thronged by 
 thousands eating, drinking, and smoking, both male 
 and female. These were something new and un-Ameri- 
 can, and reminded one of Rome, Florence, and Venice. 
 The music was always good, and though beer and wine 
 flowed freely, no drunkenness was observable. There 
 must be something in the climate, as well as in "the 
 custom of the country," to enable people to indulge so 
 freely. 
 
 , The old fire-engine houses we saw down there bore 
 
 the quaint legend, "Succor in Case of Fire," or "Help 
 
 against Fire," though exactly how helpful they might 
 
 prove we had no opportunity of determining; but doubt- 
 
 18 273 
 
European less, Belgium-like, her fire engines would give a good 
 
 Days and account of themselves when called on. 
 
 Ways Of course, we visited her picture galleries, both 
 ancient and modern, and found them very good. They 
 are both free to the public on certain days, with a small 
 charge on other days, and their educating and uplifting 
 influence must be very great. Here everybody can see 
 Rubens, Rembrandt, the Van Eycks, Van der Weyden, 
 Van Broeckhoven, Jan Steen, Teniers, Dow, Gallait, 
 Leys, Jordaens, Robbe, Wauters, Montigny, and the 
 other great Dutch and Flemish masters, as well as Van 
 Dyck, Paul Veronese, and Perugino, and drink in their 
 souls at will. There is a painting there by Gallait of 
 the "Abdication of Charles V" that is a masterpiece 
 of composition, drawing, and coloring. There is an- 
 other by Biefve, "The Compromise or Petition of the 
 Netherland Nobles in 1565," with portraits of Egmont, 
 Horn, William of Orange, Montigny, and others, that 
 it would be hard to beat. There are others by Rubens, 
 his "Adoration of the Magi," "Coronation of the 
 Virgin," "Virgin and Child in an Arbor of Roses," and 
 "Four Moors' Heads," that are very fine. There is a 
 portrait of the Duke of Alva, by More, that looks the 
 great butcher he was. There is one of Philip II of 
 Spain, that looks the cruel bigot and bloody monster 
 he was; one of an "Old Woman Fallen Asleep while 
 Reading," by Nicolaas Maes, that is most real and life- 
 like; o^e of the "Reading of the Bible in Times of the 
 Inquisition," most solemn and impressive; another of 
 the "Last Refuge," or a Protestant saved from the 
 Spaniards by nuns in a convent during the sack of 
 Antwerp; another of a "Protestant Preaching the 
 
 274 
 
Reformation in a House at Antwerp," with light from Brussels 
 the stake shining through a window. All these are 
 good. But it is impossible to particularize where there 
 are so many good and so few poor. Altogether there 
 are nearly a thousand paintings here, both old and new, 
 and I confess I rather liked the modern gallery the 
 better. In conception, drawing, color, pose, and ex- 
 pression, there are many pictures here hard to beat, 
 and I do not see why they do not interpret the thought 
 and feeling of the nineteenth century quite as well as 
 the old masters do the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
 turies. 
 
 Here, also, are sculptures and statuary, and some 
 ancient and modern bronzes, of men, horses, lions, 
 tigers, and bears, that are most interesting and instruct- 
 ive; and, best of all, these handsome galleries are free 
 to everybody, substantially, and so helpful and inspiring 
 to every poor boy and girl. 
 
 We went back another day to take a second look 
 at these galleries and their art treasures, and were still 
 more impressed by them. Surely Brussels may well take 
 pride in them, and no true lover of art and of artistic 
 things can afford to pass them by. 
 
 But Brussels has one gallery (Wiertz's) that is 
 unique, and not likely to be paralleled soon. The pic- 
 tures are all the work of one artist, and the product 
 of his lifetime. He would not sell to anybody while 
 living, but painted and painted, and gave them all to 
 his native city. He was not without genius, but seems 
 to have been unhinged, if not insane. His subjects 
 are all (or nearly all) of the grotesque, the ghastly, and 
 the horrible. One is the great one-eyed "Polyphemus" 
 
 275 
 
European devouring the companions of Ulysses. He is portrayed 
 Days and as a colossal cannibal, literally eating one poor fellow, 
 Ways and grabbing with his great claw of a hand for two 
 or three others, while Ulysses himself, with hand on 
 sword, looks helplessly on. Another is the "Revolt of 
 Hell," with Satan as the old serpent, and his horrid 
 angels breathing fire and smoke as they assault the 
 cross, while a particularly ambitious fiend, with great 
 flapping wings, attempts to crush it with a rock. An- 
 other is an old witch teaching a young witch how to 
 begin — by riding a broomstick. Another is of a hor- 
 rified mother, returning from market and finding her 
 beautiful child burned to death during her absence. 
 Another is of a man buried alive, and afterwards com- 
 ing to himself and striving to burst from his coffin. 
 Another, entitled "Famine, Madness, and Crime," is 
 of a mother who has killed her child and cut off its 
 chubby little leg, and is now boiling this in a pot over 
 the fire for dinner. Another is of "Napoleon in Hell," 
 with amputated arms and legs flying at him, and dis- 
 severed heads scowling at him, and widows and 
 orphans howling and shrieking at him, brandishing 
 their fists and cursing him, while infernal fires are al- 
 ready gnawing into his vitals and getting ready to 
 consume him. Another is "Visions of a Man Beheaded," 
 after his head has been cut off, with his bleeding stump 
 lying on one side of the block, and his bloody head with 
 staring eyes on the other. 
 
 There are some good things, such as "The Greeks 
 Contending over the Body of Patroclus;" a "Chained 
 Dog," a fine piece of work; "A Belgian Lady Defend- 
 ing Her Honor," by pistoling a French soldier who 
 
 276 
 
assaults her; "Venus at the Forge of Vulcan;" the Brussels 
 "Education of the Virgin;" the "Rosebud," a charm- 
 ing young woman, and some others of exquisite draw- 
 ing and coloring. But the general effect of the collec- 
 tion is of the ghastly and the horrible. This violates 
 the first rule of Greek art, which always held that noth- 
 ing is worthy of the painter or sculptor that does not tend 
 to refine and elevate and uplift the mind and soul of 
 the beholder. I am sure neither Phidias nor Praxiteles 
 would have ventured upon such subjects; and if they 
 had, Athens would have rejected or suppressed them. 
 
 Here in Belgium is the home of the "Belgian block," 
 and they put it to good use everywhere; not only for 
 paving streets, but also for sidewalks, as in Brussels 
 and other places. They cut the blocks uniform, and 
 put them down on a good foundation of sand and gravel, 
 with the joints well connected, and the whole makes 
 a smooth and substantial pavement, hard to beat. Of 
 course, it is not so clean and noiseless as asphalt or 
 brick; but it is more durable than either, and costs con- 
 siderably less. They also pave their main country roads 
 with these "Belgian blocks," and have done so for a 
 century or two, to a width of eight or ten feet only, 
 with a dirt road on either side. The main road through 
 the battlefield of Waterloo is so paved, and others that 
 we saw, and the old Roman roads could not have been 
 much more serviceable. 
 
 Here in Brussels, also, we saw many dogs harnessed 
 up with men and women, as in Holland and Germany, 
 and "working like dogs." They were mostly under- 
 sized, and mongrel curs of all kinds; but they did a 
 great deal of hard work, and led one to pity them oft- 
 
 277 
 
European times. So, too, we saw women engaged in all kinds 
 Days and of hard manual labor the same as men, and one day 
 Ways at the railroad station at Brussels we saw a woman 
 cleaning and blacking a man's shoes. She was a deli- 
 cate creature, and he a great hulk of a man, and it 
 seemed as if the business should have been reversed. 
 I so expressed myself to a Belgian, but he answered: 
 "Well, it is better than nothing. She is probably very 
 poor. It helps her to make a living. And it is disagree- 
 able to starve!" The truth is, that in all those Euro- 
 pean countries the rich are very rich, and the poor very 
 poor, with no hope of passing from one class to an- 
 other; and that is the misery of the whole business. 
 A great gulf yawns forever between "the classes" and 
 "the masses;" and it must madden men sometimes to 
 think that, no matter what they do, they and their chil- 
 dren and their children's children must be groundlings 
 forever. Hence the Nihilist and the Socialist, who, 
 in America at least, really have no raison d'etre, thank 
 Heaven ! 
 
 We spent a Sunday in both The Hague and at Brus- 
 sels, and went to the English church both times. The 
 congregations were fair, but the sermons intolerable. 
 They had no pews, only rush or split-bottomed chairs, 
 tied together with ropes, and most uncomfortable. At 
 Brussels there was a sexton, in a quaint old costume, 
 who preceded the rector up the aisle, and the congre- 
 gation did not exceed fifty, in a church capable of hold- 
 ing four or five hundred. The service was Eow Church. 
 The music was fine, but the preaching abominable. 
 The minister alternately shrieked and mumbled, and 
 mouthed his English so intolerably that it was all Bel- 
 
 278 
 
gian or Greek to us, and after standing it for an hour Brussels 
 or so we departed without edification. There were two 
 English young ladies, however, stopping at our pension 
 who declared the sermon "beautiful," and it may be 
 we were at fault more than the preacher. It is well to 
 remember good George Herbert: 
 
 "Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy judge ; 
 The worst speak something good ; if all want sense, 
 God takes a text, and preacheth Patience." 
 
 England deserves credit for one thing — she plants 
 a Protestant Church wherever Englishmen go, and 
 maintains it there, whether the natives come in or not. 
 Englishmen and Americans at least will worship there, 
 and maintain "the faith once delivered to the saints ;" 
 and that is great gain. 
 
 279 
 
Chapter XXIV 
 
 [jF course, being at Brussels, we went out to 
 Waterloo. This is only twelve miles to the 
 southward, en route to Paris, and well re- 
 pays a visit. If "there is n't anything there 
 worth seeing," as a person who had been there before 
 us said, it is because one has not got the right kind 
 of eyes to see. Here Wellington stood against Napo- 
 leon, and whipped him, and drove him back into France, 
 and out of Europe, and established the power and 
 authority of the Anglo-Saxon race over the whole earth 
 for a century nearly now. I think that was some- 
 thing to do; and you can see it all here at Waterloo, 
 if you have only the right kind of eyes to see. 
 
 Waterloo itself is only a little typical Belgian vil- 
 lage, of a few hundred inhabitants, strung along the 
 Brussels and Charleroi road for a mile or two. It is 
 three miles or more from the battlefield, and the great 
 battle only happened to be so called, because Welling- 
 ton wrote his first dispatch home from there. It took 
 him three days to get the news to London; he could 
 do it now in three minutes. But it soon set all England 
 wild, and Europe as well. The French call it the battle 
 of Mont St. Jean, because it really occurred there. But 
 it got the name of Waterloo, and, though erroneous, 
 will so pass down the centuries. 
 
 280 
 
To understand Waterloo, one must go back to the Waterloo 
 beginning of the campaign; only a few days before, 
 really. Napoleon had returned from Elba only three 
 months before, and all Europe was up in arms against 
 him, nearly a million of soldiers preparing to invade 
 France. Quickly he recruited a great army again; but 
 where to strike first puzzled him. Finally he decided 
 to move on Belgium, where the English and Prussians 
 lay, ready to march on Paris, and to separate and whip 
 them in detail, if possible, before turning his attention 
 elsewhere. To do this, he must needs move quickly 
 and secretly, and accordingly he ordered his army to 
 assemble at Charleroi, Belgium, on the road to Brus- 
 sels — about thirty miles from there — as speedily as pos- 
 sible. Here he himself joined, June 15th, while the 
 English were assembling at Quatrebras, and the Prus- 
 sians at Ligny, twenty-one and twenty-eight miles 
 from Brussels respectively, to safe-guard the two main 
 roads to Brussels. In round numbers he had one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five thousand men, the Prussians one 
 hundred and twenty-one thousand, and the English, or 
 allies, ninety-four thousand. He ordered Ney to 
 Quatrebras, eight or ten miles away, with forty-three 
 thousand men, to watch Wellington and stand the Eng- 
 lish off, while he himself attacked Blucher and his Prus- 
 sians, June 1 6th, at Ligny, also eight or ten miles dis- 
 tant, and whipped them well ; but without routing them, 
 however. He supposed they were going to fall back 
 on Namur and Liege, and possibly to the Rhine (at 
 right angles nearly to the Brussels road, and thus sep- 
 arating themselves more and more from Wellington), 
 and left Grouchy, with thirty-three thousand men, to 
 
 281 
 
European observe and handle them, while he himself, with the 
 Days and rest of his army, joined Ney at Quatrebras, June 17th. 
 Ways Ney had been slow in getting there on the 16th, or he 
 would have overwhelmed the allies, who were only partly 
 concentrated, and Wellington himself only just escaped 
 capture after some desperate fighting there. The duke 
 now withdrew everything to Waterloo, and decided to 
 stand and fight there, if Blucher would re-enforce him 
 with "a single army corps." His reply was that he 
 would come with his whole army; "upon this under- 
 standing, however, that if the French do not attack 
 us on the 18th, we shall attack them on the 19th." 
 With this understanding, then, Wellington halted at 
 Waterloo, and prepared for action. 
 
 In many respects Waterloo is indeed an ideal battle- 
 field, and not unlike our own Gettysburg. It is easy 
 to see why Wellington won, when one rides over the 
 field. I never understood it before going there, and 
 let me see if I can now make it plain to others. 
 
 The English had much the advantage of position, 
 just as Meade had at Gettysburg. Wellington had 
 marked it with his eagle eye and nose, over a year be- 
 fore, as a good place to fight, and his engineers had it 
 well mapped out and ready for battle before Napoleon 
 arrived there. The half-paved highways from Nivelles 
 and Genappe, up which the French were advancing, 
 unite at the village of Mont St. Jean, a little hill only, 
 whence the main road leads to Brussels. The whole 
 country there is not a dead level, like so much of Bel- 
 gium, but a series of waves and swells, with rocky crests 
 and detached hills, especially on Wellington's side, af- 
 fording every facility for concealing and protecting 
 
 282 
 
troops. Here, on the crest or ridge of a long swell, Waterloo 
 extending from La Hougomont (Hugo's Mont or 
 Hill) on the right to Mont St. Jean on the left, a dis- 
 tance of two and a half miles or so, Wellington posted 
 the English army. Opposite, a mile or so away, on 
 a much lower swell, Napoleon posted the French army. 
 This was not unlike Meade and Lee at Gettysburg, on 
 Cemetery Ridge and Seminary Ridge, respectively. Be- 
 tween was a considerable intervale, and, as Napoleon 
 attacked, the French had first to march down and across, 
 and then charge up, much as Lee had to do; and Wel- 
 lington had only to stand still and hold fast, as Meade 
 did, with La Hougomont and Mont St. Jean to help 
 him, as Meade had Kulp's Hill and Little Round Top 
 to help him. Mont St. Jean did not count for so much 
 as Little Round Top, but La Hougomont proved an- 
 other Kulp's Hill, and more, and one could well under- 
 stand this when he saw what it was and is. 
 
 La Hougomont is a solid and massive old chateau 
 of brick and stone, built in the sixteenth or seventeenth 
 century for defense, with numerous outbuildings, and a 
 large yard and extensive garden, all inclosed by a high 
 and substantial brick wall. There were more buildings 
 there then than now, and more places for shelter and de- 
 fense. There is a high hedgerow before it now; but 
 then there was also a considerable grove, since cut 
 down. It has heavy wooden gates, secured by strong 
 iron bars, that show marks of age and battle, but look 
 good for another century or two. Inside is a great 
 Belgian barn, of stone and brick, that is a real fortress 
 of itself on a moderate scale. This was filled with sleek- 
 looking horses and cows the day we were there, while 
 
 283 
 
European outside were antique plows, harrows, carts, farm-wagons, 
 Days and etc. Also inside, just beyond the main entrance, is a 
 Ways little brick chapel, with a rude altar at the farther end, 
 surmounted by a carved wooden statue of St. Anne, with 
 the child Christ in her arms. A ball knocked off his 
 head during the battle, and his feet were charred by fire, 
 but here the flames stopped. "A miracle," the Belgian 
 peasants say; but no mass has been said there since, 
 several soldiers having been killed in the chapel. 
 
 Here Wellington rested his right wing, as well he 
 might — it was a miniature fort — after carefully loop- 
 holing all its walls, and scaffolding them, so as to fire 
 from the top as well as underneath — a double line of 
 fire — and barricading every door and gate with wagons 
 and carts. He posted four companies of his English 
 Guards here, the best troops he had, under splendid 
 officers, re-enforcing them from time to time as needed, 
 and planted artillery to command all the approaches and 
 also to command the place itself if surrounded by the 
 enemy. It seems incredible, but this little English gar- 
 rison — never over a thousand strong, if so many — here 
 resisted the whole of Reille's corps, some twelve thou- 
 sand strong, beating it back again and again, and hold- 
 ing La Hougomont to the last. The French did not 
 know what it was. They thought it only a piece of 
 woods, with a house or so in it, and butted their brains 
 out against its massive brick and stone walls in vain. 
 They attacked it furiously, brigade after brigade, but 
 did it by piecemeal, and gained nothing. Prodigies of 
 valor were performed here on both sides; the French 
 climbing over the walls, only to be shot or bayoneted 
 as they leaped down on the inside, and the English fight- 
 
 284 
 
ing like bulldogs amidst fire and smoke, against over- Waterloo 
 whelming odds. The French early set fire to it; but 
 the English fought the flames and the French both. 
 When the French swarmed around it too much, the 
 English howitzers on the ridge above shelled and scat- 
 tered them like chaff, and all day long the English never 
 let go their bulldog grip here. Why the French did not 
 bring up some of their splendid batteries and knock it 
 to pieces, or make powder-bags and blow down its walls, 
 is very surprising. But here was a fatality that, of itself, 
 cost Napoleon the field; and there were others. 
 
 Farther down the English line, near the center of it, 
 but somewhat to the front, is La Haye Sainte, a brick 
 and stone farmhouse, with barns and outbuildings also, 
 but with nothing like the strength of La Hougomont. 
 Here Wellington also posted some good troops (King's 
 German Legion), but the place was too far front for 
 re-enforcing or supplying with ammunition, and, though 
 gallantly defended, the French finally took and held it. 
 Why they did not then bring up their artillery here and 
 enfilade the British lines, raking them east and west to 
 St. Jean and Hougomont, is another mystery, and must 
 be counted as another fatality. One would suppose it 
 would have been the first thing Napoleon would have 
 thought of; but his mind may have been too much en- 
 grossed just then with the approach of Blucher, and 
 Ney overlooked or neglected it, as he did other things 
 in that campaign. 
 
 The two armies were pretty well matched as to num- 
 bers actually present on the field — Wellington 67,661 
 men, Napoleon 71,947. But Napoleon had two hundred 
 and forty-six guns to Wellington's only one hundred 
 
 285 
 
European and fifty-six, and his cavalry was also superior. But, 
 Days and worst of all, Wellington had a heterogeneous army of 
 Ways English, Belgians, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, Ger- 
 mans, Nassauers, and Dutch, part of whom were dis- 
 affected, because formerly under Napoleon, and part pol- 
 troons. Of course his English troops were good, though 
 in part raw recruits, his veterans of the Peninsula being 
 absent in America, paying their respects to Andrew 
 Jackson at New Orleans. But of his army as a whole, 
 Wellington afterwards said, "It was the worst I ever 
 commanded." No reliance could be placed on his Neth- 
 erlanders, especially the Belgians. Early in the battle 
 they broke and fled from the field, amidst the jeers and 
 execrations of their English allies, and never returned, 
 reporting at Brussels that the day was lost. Practically, 
 therefore, Wellington was reduced to fifty thousand men, 
 composed of four or five different nationalities, of whom 
 only about thirty thousand were really British. His gen- 
 erals, however, were good officers, many of them trained 
 under his own eye, veterans of the Peninsula and India; 
 and he himself was in his military prime (forty-six years), 
 confident of himself and eager to fight Napoleon. Pie 
 had fought his best marshals in Spain and Portugal, and 
 whipped them, and now was ready to tackle their chief 
 also. On June 15th he had been at the famous ball of 
 the Duchess of Richmond at Brussels, and there re- 
 ceived his first news of Napoleon's advance on Belgium. 
 "Bony has humbugged me and gained twenty-four 
 hours march on me !" he said to the Duke of Rich- 
 mond. But he immediately went to bed and slept six 
 hours, and then mounted his horse and rode at speed 
 to Quatrebras (twenty miles), where he arrived at 3 
 
 286 
 
A. M., June 16th, and at daylight was at Blucher' s head- Waterloo 
 quarters several more miles away, where he advised old 
 "Marshal Forwarts" (he was seventy-two, and had been 
 fifty years a soldier) to make some changes in his dis- 
 positions; but he would not, and got well drubbed by 
 Napoleon that day at Ligny accordingly. Wellington 
 intended to concentrate at Quatrebras, but found it too 
 late, and so ordered everything back to Waterloo, or 
 Mont St. Jean; and here now he stood ready to receive 
 battle, and to fight as man never fought before for "God 
 and native land." Of course, he expected Blucher to 
 re-enforce him; but until Blucher came, or whether 
 Blucher came or not, he resolved to stand and fight it 
 out, like the intrepid Englishman and heroic soul he was. 
 On the other hand, the French army was homo- 
 geneous, all Frenchmen, and composed mainly of old 
 and well-disciplined soldiers, accustomed to act together 
 and habituated to victory. They were Napoleon's vet- 
 erans, the victors on a hundred battlefields. Over two 
 hundred thousand French soldiers had got home from 
 foreign prisons not long before, and here were Napo- 
 leon's pick of them, thirsting for revenge and glory again. 
 His officers, also, were good, though his old marshals 
 were mainly absent, only Soult and Ney present; Soult 
 as chief of staff, and Ney second in command. Grouchy 
 was also along, but detached to watch the Prussians, 
 with thirty-three thousand men, not included above, and 
 never reached Waterloo. But Napoleon depended upon 
 him, and had he divined Grouchy would never reach the 
 field, evidently he would have fought the battle very 
 differently, or not fought it at all. His old marshals had 
 tired of fighting, and either remained at home or had 
 
 287 
 
European taken "French leave," and gone abroad. Napoleon him- 
 DflyS and self was then forty-five, and though claimed not to be 
 Ways himself as formerly, neither physically nor mentally, yet 
 clearly he showed no evidence of this in the pending- 
 campaign and battle. Both were admirably planned, and 
 they worked out like clock-work up to certain points, 
 and then went absolutely to pieces, as if struck by des- 
 tiny. He left Paris June 12th, at 3.30 A. M., and rode 
 day and night in his military carriage, until the evening 
 of the 14th, when he neared Charleroi. On the 15th he 
 mounted his horse, and rode from 3 A. M. to 9 P. M., 
 and then ate and slept until midnight, when he mounted 
 again and rode along his lines, closely inspecting the 
 enemy both on horseback and afoot without his staff (as 
 was his custom, declining to endanger his staff officers 
 unnecessarily), and that day fought the Prussians at 
 Ligny, winning a real victory, and effectually separating 
 them from Wellington, as he supposed. He was in the 
 saddle again all that day (16th), and that night slept hard 
 and late. On the 17th, it rained hard; but he duly 
 mounted and rode eight or ten miles to La Belle Alli- 
 ance, a little country tavern only, and here he estab- 
 lished his headquarters, ready for battle next day at 
 Waterloo. It rained hard all that afternoon and night, 
 with much thunder and lightning, but at 1 A. M. 
 (18th) he mounted and rode to the front, and rode and 
 walked all along his picket-lines, as was his custom be- 
 fore battle, to assure himself that everything was in order 
 and the enemy still there. At 2.30 A. M. he was near 
 the wood of Hougomont, and then returned to La Belle 
 Alliance. Soon afterwards a report reached him that 
 the English were retiring, and he again mounted and 
 
 288 
 
rode two miles and a half through the rain and mud Waterloo 
 with one of his corps commanders (d'Erlon), intending 
 to order instant pursuit if the report proved true, but a 
 close inspection on foot showed they were still there, 
 grouped about their camp-fires. At 8 A. M. he mounted 
 again and rode along his lines, and issued orders for his 
 army to draw up in three lines ready for battle, but it 
 did not cease raining until 9 A. M. It was 10.30 A. M. 
 before his formation was completed, with bands playing, 
 colors flying, and shouts of "Vive TEnipereur" from all 
 parts of the field, in plain view of the English from their 
 higher ground, and then (fatally) he still delayed his 
 attack until 1 P. M., because of the softness of the 
 ground. Above all else he was an artillery officer. He 
 believed in cannon. He had won Austerlitz, Jena, Ma- 
 rengo, and his great victories elsewhere, chiefly by can- 
 non, and he did not want to go into action until he was 
 sure of his guns. All this goes to prove that Napoleon 
 was really himself at Waterloo, alert and vigorous as 
 usual, though older and fatter, and suffering at times 
 from some bladder trouble. He believed his army su- 
 perior to the English in both numbers and fighting 
 capacity, and was confident of beating them, as he had 
 beaten the Prussians at Eigny. He thought Grouchy 
 would head off or stand off the Prussians, as Ney had 
 stood off the English at Quatrebras June 16th, and he 
 meant to make quick work of Wellington, now that he 
 had him at bay. He told Soult on the morning of the 
 battle, that his chances were at least ninety out of one 
 hundred; that the duke was only "a Sepoy general," 
 after all — referring to his campaigns in India — and that 
 "this English general would have to have his lesson, 
 19 289 
 
European as others had done, and he would give it to him before 
 
 Days and the day was over !" And so he boasted, French-Corsi- 
 
 WayS can-like, while Wellington grimly sat still and bided his 
 
 time; his men well under cover, while the French were 
 
 in plain view. 
 
 The field has been described pretty well already, but 
 it may help to a clearer understanding of it if I say that 
 it is well represented by the letter V, or better by an in- 
 verted letter A, thus u y." The right-hand stroke is the 
 Nivelles road; the left the Genappe road. At the in- 
 verted apex is Mont St. Jean; Wellington is there. At 
 the right foot is La Hougomont; Reille's corps is there, 
 with Jerome Bonaparte commanding one of his di- 
 visions. At the left is La Belle Alliance; Napoleon is 
 there. The cross-bar would be Wellington's line of bat- 
 tle substantially, with La Haye Sainte near the center, 
 but somewhat in front. The triangle below the cross- 
 bar would be the plateau of Mont St. Jean, commanding 
 the road to Brussels, for which was the whole struggle. 
 Whoever occupied and held that was sure to have Brus- 
 sels, and so Belgium, and so perhaps Europe; and hence 
 the great combat. 
 
 It was Sunday, and all the instincts of Wellington 
 were against fighting on that day; but there was no help 
 for him. It was now well on towards noon, if not after 
 (accounts differ as to the exact time, though the attack 
 was ordered for i P. M.), when the battle opened by the 
 advance of a part of Reille's corps (French left wing) 
 under Jerome Bonaparte, a brother of Napoleon. Its 
 skirmishers advanced rapidly and attacked furiously, ex- 
 pecting to take La Hougomont by storm, but were 
 bloodily repulsed. They soon returned to the assault 
 
 290 
 
with redoubled fury, and speedily forced their way up Waterloo 
 to and over the old brick walls in some instances; but 
 the British infantry and howitzers soon drove them out, 
 or bayoneted them, and again they were compelled to re- 
 treat. This was only the beginning of reiterated assaults 
 lasting all the afternoon, in which the French infantry 
 literally swarmed about and over and through La Hou- 
 gomont, but they could never take and permanently hold 
 it. They battered down its gates and doors. They set 
 fire to it. They drove its defenders from wall to wall, 
 and room to room. They bespattered it with blood, 
 and filled it with the dead and dying. But somehow 
 Wellington always re-enforced it at the right moment, 
 and his men held on with a dogged pluck and resolution 
 characteristic of the race. Had the French once gained 
 it, they would likely have gained the day also. But 
 destiny or Providence ordered otherwise. It was not 
 unlike our first day at Gettysburg indeed. 
 
 But this attack on La Hougomont was only meant 
 as a feint. Napoleon never supposed it would take more 
 than an hour or so, and would draw Wellington's atten- 
 tion away from his main attack. This was to be against 
 the British left and center, at Mont St. Jean and La Haye 
 Sainte, and was meant to carry the plateau and seize 
 the main road to Brussels there. It was well planned, 
 but indifferently executed, and only partially successful; 
 not unlike our second day at Gettysburg. It was or- 
 dered for i P. M., but did not begin until about 2 P. M. 
 It was placed in charge of d'Erlon, his best corps com- 
 mander, and aimed straight at the key of the English 
 position there. • He moved out with upwards of twenty 
 thousand men, including cavalry, supported by seventy- 
 
 291 
 
European eight guns, many of them twelve-pounders; and it must 
 Days and have been a "braw" sight and a "bonnie" spectacle, as 
 ways the Scotch say. It was only six hundred yards or so to 
 the English lines. The French artillery fired over their 
 heads, as they crossed the intervale and began the ascent, 
 and then ceased for fear of hitting their own men. The 
 four divisions moved in four columns en echelon, with 
 a front of about two hundred men each in forty ranks, 
 five paces apart (practically a solid column), and prom- 
 ised great things, but proved unwieldy and lacked mo- 
 bility. When they got to the crest of the ridge the 
 British, or allies, rose suddenly and attacked furiously 
 at short range, with both infantry and artillery, as well 
 as cavalry, and though a part of their line gave way 
 (Netherlanders), yet the rest fought with great gallantry 
 and intense fierceness. The charge of the British was 
 irresistible, and soon the French were driven hotly back, 
 with the loss of two eagles, fifteen guns, and thousands 
 of prisoners, besides the killed and wounded. The three 
 left columns, indeed, were forced back in great disorder, 
 and the whole attack failed, though at one time it prom- 
 ised success. It broke the Dutch-Belgians, and indeed 
 looked so promising for awhile that Napoleon, watching 
 it through his glass from La Belle Alliance, concluded 
 it had succeeded, and at once dispatched a courier to 
 Paris to announce his victory. But he did not know 
 Wellington; and Bliicher also was to be reckoned with. 
 Shortly after d'Erlon moved out to his grand attack, 
 a column of troops appeared on the heights of St. Lam- 
 bert, far off on the French right. Soult thought them 
 only a cloud at first. Napoleon took them for Grouchy, 
 hastening to his assistance, after fending off Bliicher, 
 
 292 
 
but soon discovered they were Prussians instead. They Waterloo 
 had to be looked to, as they menaced his right and rear, 
 and so his communications, and he ordered the Sixteenth 
 Corps to attend to them — about ten thousand men — 
 and re-enforced them with six thousand more after- 
 wards. He gave his own attention to this, as the most 
 important item pending, and turned the battle in front 
 over to Ney, as second in command. This was between 
 3 and 4 P. M. Here was another fatality; for though 
 Ney was called ''the bravest of the brave" — -had four 
 horses shot under him at Waterloo — yet he seemed dis- 
 affected or disobedient at Ouatrebras, or incompetent, 
 was too slow in getting up, and was never, indeed, ac- 
 counted a great general; lacked coolness and judgment. 
 He was a cavalry officer per se, — brave but reckless, as 
 Napoleon was an artillery officer; and he decided now to 
 put in his cavalry and show the infantry how to do it. 
 He did not order all in, but one division he meant to 
 hold (Guyot's) went in with the rest, without orders, 
 leaving him no reserves, and here was another fa- 
 tality. 
 
 He formed his four divisions — about four thousand 
 men — into twenty-six squadrons, over half a mile long, 
 and launched them as a solid column again against the 
 English center and left, hoping to crush Wellington with 
 the mere weight of his attack. It promised well. His 
 artillery again opened fire over the heads of his advanc- 
 ing cavalry, and pounded the English lines savagely; 
 but they had to cease firing as his cavalry ascended the 
 slope, and here Wellington formed his infantry into 
 squares, three lines deep; front line kneeling with fixed 
 bayonets, and the other two firing over their heads, with 
 
 293 
 
European his artillery in the center, firing from time to time, as 
 Days and the infantry opened ranks or lay down.* His artillery 
 Ways tore great gaps through the French cavalry; but still 
 they advanced, and galloped round and round these 
 British squares, hacking at the men with their sabers, 
 and firing off their pistols and hurling them in their 
 faces. But they did not break a single square; and 
 presently Wellington's cavalry, or what was left of it, 
 charged them fiercely, and again the French were driven 
 down the slope, and retired to their own side of the val- 
 ley. Presently they tried it again with reiterated assaults 
 and increased fury, and it seemed as if those English 
 squares must break and crumble to pieces. But they did 
 not. They took La Haye Sainte, indeed (the English 
 never recovered it), when its ammunition was exhausted 
 and defenders all slain, fighting with clubbed muskets 
 and bayonets to the last. But the Iron Duke still held 
 fast. What was Ney to do now? His infantry and cav- 
 alry were both used up, had been recklessly wasted 
 against Wellington's invulnerable lines, and he had no 
 reserves left to fall back upon. At one time he had 
 gained nearly half a mile of the English line, west of the 
 Brussels pike; but Wellington had promptly brought up 
 fresh troops, and restored it again. All day long the 
 duke seemed gifted with ubiquity. He always appeared 
 on the field at the right moment, wherever he was most 
 needed, and his presence — cool, confident, determined — 
 always turned the tide of battle. He never lost his head, 
 
 *Some of his artillery, indeed, remained outside his squares, and 
 pounded the French as they advanced or retired, the gunners taking- refuge 
 within the squares, as necessary. But why the French did not spike or 
 otherwise disable these outside guns, I do n't know. 
 
 294 
 
and appeared everywhere as the incarnation of English Waterloo 
 common sense and English bulldog courage — game all 
 through. 
 
 It was now well on to 7 P. M. Napoleon thought 
 the Prussians' advance substantially checked, and turned 
 his attention to Wellington again. The battle mean- 
 while had lulled since the repulse of the cavalry. He 
 soon discovered Ney's plight, with his cavalry used up 
 and gone by being launched obstinately and blindly 
 against the British squares, and decided that the only 
 thing left to do was to put in his Imperial Guard. Had 
 he not had the Prussians to look after, he would have 
 had sixteen thousand fresh troops to attack the British 
 left, and Wellington would have been hard pressed in- 
 deed, if not beaten. As it was, he was pretty well used 
 up, too; but he had some fresh troops left, both cavalry 
 and artillery, and above all was himself still plucky and 
 resolute. Of course, he was eager for Blucher to get 
 up. But he meant to fight it out, whether Blucher got 
 up or not. The old story of his exclaiming, "Blucher or 
 night," is likely apocryphal, as he was too good a soldier 
 to allow such words to escape him on the battlefield. 
 More likely he said, "Well, Bony, we '11 see which can 
 pound the longest!" 
 
 So Napoleon now ordered his Imperial Guard for- 
 ward, as a dernier ressort, as Lee launched Pickett's Di- 
 vision the last day at Gettysburg. He had kept most of 
 it in reserve all day, back of Ea Belle Alliance, out of 
 fire; Ney not being allowed to use it. But he now or- 
 dered the whole of it forward, and as it passed his head- 
 quarters with shouts of "Vive l'Empereur !" bands play- 
 ing and colors flying, he placed himself at its head, and 
 
 295 
 
European led it down to where Ney was — just in front and south 
 Days and of La Haye Sainte — and after addressing it briefly 
 Ways turned it over to him. It consisted of infantry and ar- 
 tillery, about five thousand men, and was indeed the very 
 flower of the French army, picked men, veterans of many 
 a battlefield. In order to encourage them, he also or- 
 dered a report to be spread that Grouchy had arrived 
 over on the right. Ney at once assumed command, and, 
 placing himself at its head, marched straight for the 
 British right center, between La Haye Sainte and La 
 Hougomont. He had tried the left twice and the right 
 repeatedly, and now essayed the right center, hoping for 
 better fortune, not knowing Wellington had his reserves 
 there. The column moved en echelon again, with a two 
 company front, with ranks five paces apart, as before, 
 with two batteries of horse-artillery covering its left 
 flank, while d'Erlon's corps, or what was left of it, cov- 
 ered its right flank. It moved diagonally across the 
 field, at the pas de charge, bands playing and colors fly- 
 ing, with their huge bearskin caps, arms a-port, and 
 officers in front waving their swords, while the French 
 cannon again fired over their heads and pounded the 
 English lines. The English artillery replied, plowing 
 great lanes through the French ranks as they got nearer; 
 but still the column advanced. Soon Ney's horse was 
 shot under him, and he was given another, and that also 
 was shot, and then he advanced on foot, encouraging his 
 men at every step; and, notwithstanding death and de- 
 struction all about them, the Guards actually gained the 
 slope and advanced to the last ridge where the English 
 lay concealed by growing wheat. The whole battlefield, 
 indeed, was covered with wheat, rye, barley, and oats. 
 
 296 
 
Here Wellington commanded in person, and when the Waterloo 
 head of the column was within fifty or sixty paces he 
 suddenly opened on them with grape and cannister, 
 while his whole line rose and poured their musketry fire 
 into their very faces. The Guards halted instinctively, 
 it was all so sudden, and the head of the column wavered 
 and staggered, as if struck by a great flail. Then the 
 rear ranks attempted to deploy into line, seeing the folly 
 of their attack in column when every bullet killed half 
 a dozen men and every cannon ball half a hundred, but 
 only confusion resulted, of course. Then some unknown 
 British officer, rising to the occasion, shouted out: 
 "Now 's the time, boys, charge !" and the whole British 
 line swept forward, pouring it into them both front and 
 flank, and in spite of all Ney and his gallant officers could 
 do, soon the Guards, outnumbered and dazed, recoiled, 
 and then sullenly retreated, and presently crumbled to 
 pieces — half panic-stricken or worse — leaving the 
 ground heaped with their dead and dying. In trying 
 to deploy, the French masked their own batteries — they 
 could n't fire without hitting their own men — and so 
 their protecting cannon were of no use to them. Ney 
 tried to rally his men, as they drifted back, but failed; 
 and then, hatless, with waving sword, covered with mud 
 and sweat and blood, he shouted out to d'Erlon, as he 
 passed by: "Where are you going? Come and see how 
 a marshal of France dies on the field of battle !" But he 
 did not die there. His men pushed him into a square, to 
 escape the British cavalry now in hot pursuit, and so he 
 was swept off the battlefield, to be shot afterwards by 
 the Bourbons, more shame to them. This was about 
 8 P. M.; and now the whole of the allied line rose up 
 
 297 
 
European by Wellington's orders, "Up, Guards, and advance!" 
 Days and and, with himself among the foremost, charged down 
 Ways the heights, and across the intervale, and up the French 
 slope, even to La Belle Alliance, sweeping all before 
 them — as Meade should have done the last day at Gettys- 
 burg. It must have been a magnificent sight. But O, 
 how tragic and pitiful ! 
 
 Meanwhile the Prussians, instead of being checked 
 as Napoleon supposed, massed more and more on the 
 French right, and about 7.30 P. M. (they had been slow 
 in getting up), turned it, and began to open on their 
 rear with forty-eight guns, the balls of which soon 
 reached the Genappe road, Napoleon's main line of com- 
 munications, spreading terror and confusion there. A 
 few of the Prussians, indeed, made the English left, and 
 re-enforced it, where they were badly needed. Though 
 stoutly resisted by the French, the Prussians neverthe- 
 less continued to advance, and when Napoleon saw the 
 Imperial Guards repulsed and wrecked, he quickly com- 
 prehended all was over with him. His final order was, 
 "Tout est perdu! Sauve qui pent!" — "All is lost! Save 
 himself who can !" — and, placing himself in a passing 
 square, he also was borne from the battlefield. The pur- 
 suit continued for five or six miles — the retreat degen- 
 erating into a rout — the French losing all semblance of 
 an army even, and rushing pellmell back on Genappe, 
 where the road crossed the river Dyle by a single bridge. 
 This soon became choked with wagons and artillery, 
 and here alone a hundred pieces of cannon were aban- 
 doned, together with Napoleon's military carriage, con- 
 taining his maps, order-books, and correspondence. 
 The next day Napoleon secured a horse, and with this 
 
 298 
 
rode on to Paris, whither the debris of his Grand Army Waterloo 
 presently followed him. The British were so exhausted 
 they could not press the pursuit; but the Prussians were 
 comparatively fresh, and Blucher now took pleasure in 
 getting even with Napoleon for worsting him at Ligny. 
 Napoleon, in his Official Report, claimed that he "had 
 gained the battle;" that Wellington, of course, did not 
 know when he was whipped; that "we occupied all the 
 positions which the enemy occupied at the outset of the 
 battle;" that "the army saw with joy the battle gained 
 and the field of battle in our power;" and that after- 
 wards, without due cause, "a complete panic at once 
 spread itself throughout the whole field of battle," and 
 hence the unfortunate "issue of the battle of Mont St. 
 Jean, glorious for the French armies, and yet so fatal." 
 Of course, he knew better, but instinctively fibbed, after 
 the Bonaparte nature. 
 
 Now came "the Butcher's bill," and of course it was 
 enormous — over fifty thousand men hors de combat. The 
 total French loss was probably thirty thousand, besides 
 two hundred and twenty-seven guns; the English and 
 Prussians twenty-three thousand one hundred and 
 eighty-five. At Gettysburg Lee lost twenty-seven thou- 
 sand five hundred and twenty-five, and Meade twenty- 
 three thousand and three. Their armies were about the 
 same as Napoleon's and Wellington's respectively; so 
 that the two battles were not unlike generally, and 
 they were both soldiers' battles more than generals' 
 battles. 
 
 Afterwards Wellington and Blucher marched on to 
 Paris at their leisure, and when they got there Blucher 
 wanted to hang or shoot Napoleon as an outlaw and 
 
 299 
 
European monster. But Wellington said, No; they were con- 
 DayS and querors, not executioners; and it would not sound well 
 Ways in history to dispose of him in that way, after triumphing 
 at Waterloo. So Napoleon was sent to St. Helena in- 
 stead, and he was left to fret his heart out in that island 
 prison, the Nineteenth Century not knowing what bet- 
 ter to do with the greatest prodigy our race has pro- 
 duced, after Alexander and Caesar. Unquestionably he 
 had more genius than Wellington; but Wellington ex- 
 celled him in common sense and "clear grit," and so 
 conquered at Waterloo. 
 
 Napoleon himself was guilty of grave errors in the 
 conduct of the battle, and, besides, seems to have been 
 dogged by ill-luck or fatalities. The heavy rain that 
 morning, and the night and day before, was against him; 
 he could not move his artillery. He went into action too 
 late; he should have attacked at 9 A. M. instead of 
 1 P. M.; and then Bliicher would not have got up in 
 time to trouble him. He trusted too much to Ney, and 
 allowed him to waste both infantry and cavalry in reck- 
 less charges. He did not take sufficiently into account 
 the steadiness and pluck of English soldiers. And then 
 there was Hougomont besides. And he ought to have 
 been himself at La Haye Sainte. Certainly he was rashly 
 overconfident; and Grouchy failed him miserably. Had 
 Grouchy done his duty, all might have resulted differ- 
 ently. His orders after Ligny were to follow up and 
 watch the Prussians, Napoleon judging they would fall 
 back on Namur and Liege, away from Waterloo; but 
 when he found they were marching on Brussels, aiming 
 to reach Waterloo, he should at once have "cut across 
 lots," and got there first. Instead, he continued "to 
 
 300 
 
follow" them, and fought a useless rear action at Wavre, Waterloo 
 when he should have marched to the sound of Napo- 
 leon's cannon. His second in command, Gerard, urged 
 this upon him at 12.30 P. M., soon after Waterloo 
 opened; but, with blind obedience to his orders, he kept 
 hammering away at the Prussian rear. At 1 P. M. Soult 
 wrote him : "You will maneuver in our direction. . . . 
 Be at hand to fall upon and destroy any enemy that may 
 attempt to attack our right. . . . Maneuver to join our 
 right, without loss of time." Precisely what he ought 
 to have done without orders; but he did not get Soult' s 
 order until 7 P. M., and it was then too late. Waterloo 
 was practically over, and Grouchy, with thirty-three 
 thousand men, twelve or fifteen miles away. Unques- 
 tionably he was either indifferent or incompetent; per- 
 haps both. If it be said Napoleon erred in not giving 
 him more precise orders, and that he should have kept 
 him better informed as to what was happening at Water- 
 loo, the answer is, he trusted to his good sense and sound 
 military judgment, as he had a right to do, if fit for such 
 a weighty command. 
 
 Wellington was at fault in not concentrating at Qua- 
 trebras in time; he was caught napping, and barely es- 
 caped ruin there. But this was his last mistake. His 
 dispositions and conduct at Waterloo were faultless. If 
 it be said that he erred in losing La Haye Sainte, the 
 answer is, he could not hold it; and also, that he ought 
 to have retaken it, the like answer is, he was not able 
 to do so. He had a "big job of work" on hand as it was, 
 and it taxed him to the utmost. He was wary and cool 
 from the outset, and, of course, he knew every hour's 
 delay by Napoleon was in his favor, as it increased the 
 
 301 
 
European chances of the Prussians getting up. They were cer- 
 Days and tainly dilatory; but they felt a little cross at Wellington 
 Ways for not coming to their help at Ligny, not knowing he 
 could not, the French having intervened; and, besides, 
 the roads were so soft and miry it was almost impossible 
 to march at all. The soldiers were continually wanting 
 to halt. But Bliicher's constant order was : "Forward I 
 I have given my word to Wellington, and you must help 
 me keep it !" It was 4.30 P. M. when the first Prussian 
 battery opened its fire. By 6 P. M. they had forty-eight 
 guns in action. By 7 P. M. they were heavily engaged, 
 and undoubtedly did much to save the day. In his offi- 
 cial report, Wellington says he "attributed the success- 
 ful issue of the battle to the cordial and timely assistance 
 of the Prussians," so that they are entitled to their fair 
 share of credit. But unquestionably it was the English 
 (and their allies) who did the heavy righting, and I am 
 inclined to think that Wellington would have whipped, 
 anyhow, without the Prussians. He had eighteen thou- 
 sand good soldiers back at Hal and Tubize — not far from 
 Waterloo, some nine or ten miles — whom he never 
 brought up, holding them in reserve in case Napoleon 
 took La Hougomont and turned his right, and this does 
 not look as if he needed Blucher at all. Of course, it 
 was very nice to have Blucher handy; but it looks as if 
 Wellington went in to win, with or without the Prus- 
 sians. There is a story, told with great circumstantiality 
 of Wellington's riding secretly over to Wavre, with a 
 single orderly, the night before the battle, to see Blucher 
 again, and make sure of his co-operation; but the duke 
 always laughingly denied it. 
 
 There does not seem to be much in Victor Hugo's 
 302 
 
elaborate account in "Les Miserables" of a sunken road Waterloo 
 near the English line, concealed from the French cav- 
 alry, and into which they rode helter-skelter, like West- 
 ern buffaloes, one rank riding over another, until it was 
 filled up with the dead and dying. Certainly there is no 
 such road there now that amounts to much, and it does 
 not seem as if there ever was. It is pure imagination 
 of the great French poet and novelist mainly. 
 
 But Hugo is right when he says that Waterloo turned 
 largely upon accidents and fatalities; that they were all 
 against Napoleon; that he had "vexed God," and his 
 time had come. "Waterloo," he says, "is not a battle; 
 it is the change of front of the universe." The nine- 
 teenth century was above the horizon, and its whole 
 stream and tendency were against the Idee Napoleon. "It 
 was not Wellington who won at Waterloo," he says, 
 "but England and English soldiers." 
 
 Unlike Gettysburg, however, Waterloo has no Na- 
 tional Cemetery or monuments worthy of the place. It 
 has a great clumsy mound of earth (because the Greeks 
 had a mound at Marathon, I suppose), five acres in area 
 and two hundred feet high in the center, but that is 
 about all. This is surmounted by a colossal Belgic lion, 
 facing southward defiantly towards France, cast from 
 captured French cannon, the whole erected by the allies, 
 and maintained by Belgium. The French in 1832, on 
 their march to Antwerp, hacked off a part of the tail, 
 but the rest was too big and bulky for such vandalism. 
 Holland and Hanover have also each erected a grave- 
 yard obelisk or pillar, unworthy of them and their sol- 
 diers. In a little church at Waterloo is a bust of Wel- 
 lington, and some memorial tablets to English and 
 
 303 
 
European Dutch officers. In a garden a few yards from the church 
 Days and is a monument to the leg of Lord Uxbridge (afterwards 
 Ways Marquis of Anglesea), who commanded the English cav- 
 alry, and had a leg shattered in the battle and amputated 
 on the field ! This monument bears a fitting epitaph, 
 and is shaded by a weeping willow! At Hougomont 
 there are a few tablets and gravestones to officers who 
 fell there, and at La Haye Sainte, and also back at Brus- 
 sels, to those who died in the hospital; but there are no 
 such magnificent and multiplied monuments, and no 
 such great National Cemeteries, as we have at Gettys- 
 burg, Arlington, Chickamauga, and Chattanooga, and 
 scant respect has been shown to the memory of the thou- 
 sands of private soldiers who fell here. Of course, the 
 French were buried indiscriminately where they fell, and 
 no record kept of their names and graves, and the rank 
 and file of the allies do not seem to have fared much 
 better. Our guide said that three hundred English sol- 
 diers were disposed of by casting them into an old well 
 at La Hougomont, as a handy grave ready-made, and 
 he showed us the well — disused since then — and added, 
 "Some were not dead when cast in, but their sighs and 
 groans were heard for hours afterwards." But we re- 
 fused to credit this gruesome story. 
 
 But certainly these European monarchies have cared 
 little for their rank and file, while they have glorified and 
 enriched their commanding officers. Belgium alone 
 gave Wellington three thousand acres of valuable land 
 not far from Waterloo, and made him the largest land- 
 holder in Belgium, while England heaped honors and 
 riches upon him untold. Only a Republic knows how 
 to treat men as men, whether alive or dead, and we 
 
 304 
 
should be infinitely glad we are Americans. As Burns Waterloo 
 well said : 
 
 "The rank is but the guinea stamp — 
 The man 's the gowd for a' that." 
 
 All this we saw at Waterloo, and more; and you may 
 see the same, if you care to see, and have eyes to see 
 with. 
 
 20 3O5 
 
Chapter XXV 
 
 E were at Brussels just a week, and left there 
 August 28th, about 1 P. M., and arrived in 
 Paris about 6 P. M. the same day. In our 
 ride through Belgium again we could not 
 help being struck with her industry, her energy, and her 
 prosperity, — fine farms everywhere, excellently well- 
 tilled; swarming villages, with substantial cottages; and 
 large towns and cities, with multitudinous founderies, 
 factories, and smokestacks. Belgium has both coal and 
 iron; but, above all, the Belgians know how to utilize 
 her natural resources, and so out of their little kingdom 
 have already made a great State. One of these days she 
 will be a republic, and worthy of the name. We met 
 Belgians who were already talking on this wise, and to 
 whom the very name of America was dear and reverend. 
 At Feignies we passed the frontier (and the custom 
 officers), and entered France. Soon we noticed we had 
 struck another country and a different people. The 
 houses were smaller and ruder — usually only one story, 
 with red-tiled roofs; the farms were poorer, and not so 
 well tilled; the towns and villages were fewer and more 
 antiquated; no new houses or factories, no smokestacks, 
 as a rule; and a general air of neglect, not to say deca- 
 dence. And when we struck the Seine — a little river 
 not half so large as the Delaware apparently — instead of 
 
 306 
 
swarming with trade and travel, like the Rhine, we found Paris 
 only a few canal-boats and barges crawling along. If 
 Belgium owned it, she would deepen and widen it to the 
 sea, and soon make Paris practically a first-class seaport, 
 as Manchester has done, thus doubling her business and 
 commerce. This is what Napoleon recommended a cen- 
 tury ago, and France has been talking about it ever 
 since, and one of these days she will do it, when she gets 
 over the nonsense of "militarism," with its barbarism 
 and waste, and turns her attention to higher and better 
 things — if she ever does. 
 
 And so at last we were in Paris — an old, old city, 
 too — old in the days of Julius Caesar, though then sur- 
 rounded by forests and marshes. It was then called 
 Lutetia Parisiorum, the Parisii being a Gallic tribe occu- 
 pying both banks of the Sequana or Seine. But about 
 the year 360 its name was changed to Paris, and political 
 franchises conferred upon it. It is now a city well on to 
 three million inhabitants, and growing steadily, but not 
 rapidly. We found good quarters on the Rue St. 
 Honore, at the Hotel De Lille et d'Albion, near the 
 heart of the city, and settled down to see and enjoy La 
 Belle Paris. It was in the midst of the Dreyfus trial at 
 Rennes, when all Europe, and indeed the whole world, 
 was bubbling over with excitement, and many tourists 
 avoided Paris. But we "took heart of grace," and ven- 
 tured there, and came away safe and sound. 
 
 Of course, there are many things we did not see. 
 But we saw enough to know that Paris is a great city; 
 great in population and business; great in art, and sci- 
 ence, and literature; great in architecture; great in her 
 avenues and streets; great in her galleries and churches; 
 
 307 
 
European and abounding in great men still, notwithstanding the 
 Days and Dreyfus case, which was a reproach to all France. 
 
 Ways Of course, I can not tell the tithe of what we saw, 
 
 and can not hope to particularize much. But let me 
 speak generally, and say how things impressed us as a 
 whole. We went first to the Louvre, and went back 
 again and again, as we had leisure. When we had an 
 hour or two to spare, and nothing else to see, we put it 
 in at the Louvre, as the best thing we could do. For- 
 merly an old hunting-chateau, in the midst of a forest 
 infested by wolves, and hence called the Lupara or 
 Louverie, it is now the most important building in Paris, 
 both architecturally and artistically; indeed, a vast palace 
 of art and antiquities, extending from the Rue de Rivoli 
 to the Seine. The original chateau long since disap- 
 peared, and the present palace was erected by Francis I, 
 about 1 541, and afterwards extended and beautified by 
 Henry II, Louis XIV, the two Napoleons, and other 
 splendor-loving monarchs. With the ruins of the Tuil- 
 eries ("tile kilns" originally) it now covers an area of 
 about fifty acres, and impresses you as one of the most 
 magnificent palaces in the world, notwithstanding all 
 we had seen in Italy and elsewhere. As we entered its 
 vast corridors and gazed about us, we were simply dazed, 
 and much we had seen elsewhere seemed to dwindle into 
 insignificance. 
 
 This was especially so as we walked down the first 
 corridor and ascended to the landing where stands the 
 Nike of Samothrace or the colossal winged statue of 
 Victory found there in 1863. It is believed to have been 
 executed to commemorate a great naval victory off 
 Salamis, B. C. 306, and to be the most important relic 
 
 308 
 
of early Hellenic art. It is headless, but instinct with Paris 
 grace and life and action, and really seems as if about to 
 fly and hurrah. Instinctively we took off our hats and 
 stood reverent before it, as the finest thing in the way 
 of ancient sculpture we had yet seen anywhere. What 
 must she not have been originally, with an appropriate 
 head on her glorious shoulders, with a staff in one hand, 
 and a trumpet in the other held to her lips, blowing a 
 blast of patriotic triumph, as thought to have been? We 
 had seen plenty of "Victories" elsewhere, both marble 
 and bronze, but nothing to equal this one in breadth of 
 conception, in dignity and grace of form and energy of 
 movement, as well as artistic treatment of her flowing 
 robes. It must have been a great artist that conceived 
 and executed this glorious statue. 
 
 Next we passed into a great hall or saloon, where 
 the royal and imperial crowns and jewels of France, and 
 other objects of vertu, are exhibited in glass cases — 
 beautiful and costly beyond description. Here is one 
 diamond (the Regent) valued at 12,000,000 francs, and 
 a sword of Napoleon First that cost 2,000,000 francs, 
 besides other diamonds, rubies, pearls, rock-crystals, 
 vases, and enamels, too numerous and valuable to 
 mention. 
 
 Next we came to another great saloon and vast cor- 
 ridor filled with exquisite paintings, unsurpassed in this 
 world. Altogether there are over three thousand pic- 
 tures here, many of them masterpieces of all the schools, 
 and they cover acres if not miles of space. Here are 
 more Raphaels, Titians, and da Vincis, it is said, than 
 in any other gallery in Europe. Here is Murillo's "Im- 
 maculate Conception," the best thing he ever painted, 
 
 309 
 
European with the Virgin clothed with the sun, the moon under 
 Days and her feet, and her head crowned with stars. It was 
 Ways brought from Spain by Marshal Soult during the Na- 
 poleonic wars, and sold to the Louvre for 600,000 francs 
 or $120,000. Here are Rembrandts, Correggios, Veron- 
 eses, del Sartos, Van Dycks, Jan Steens, Paul Potters, 
 Lorraines, Poussins, Lebruns, Davids, Vernets, Ary 
 Scheffers, Millets, Delacroix, and other great masters, 
 both ancient and modern, without end. There is one 
 whole saloon of Rubenses — more than all we had seen 
 before — many of them superb in conception, drawing, 
 and coloring, as his scenes in the life of Marie de 
 Medicis, a score or more, every one a gem of its kind. 
 We wandered of! from this into side galleries, crowded 
 also with handsome pictures, and went home to lunch 
 leg-weary and brain-dazed with the extent and variety 
 of what we had already seen, as well as their general 
 excellence. 
 
 Another day we tried it again, stopping only at the 
 best, or what we liked best, and then descended to the 
 ground-floor to see the collection of ancient sculptures. 
 Here are marbles from Greece, Rome, Carthage, and 
 Phoenicia, with statues and busts of Homer, Hercules, 
 Trajan, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, Julius Caesar, and 
 others, and of gods and goddesses innumerable. Here 
 especially, in a room by itself, is the famous Venus of 
 Milo, the most celebrated of the treasures of the Louvre, 
 and exquisite beyond description. This is the only 
 statue of Aphrodite extant, which represents her not 
 merely as a beautiful woman, but also as a divine god- 
 dess. Her torso is not complete — part broken and 
 lost — but what is left of it is noble and majestic, and the 
 
 310 
 
whole statue is alive with an indescribable charm of im- PdHS — 
 mortal youth and beauty. The pure and noble expres- The L0UVF6 
 sion of her head indicates the goddess's independence 
 of all human conditions and the self-sufficiency of her 
 own divine character. It stands in the middle of a cir- 
 cular room, a piece of pure white marble, against a back- 
 ground of maroon hangings, and was constantly sur- 
 rounded by a coterie of admirers, male and female, sit- 
 ting or standing and criticising it, the day we were 
 there. This statue was found in 1820 by a peasant in 
 the island of Milo, at the entrance of the Greek Archi- 
 pelago, and undoubtedly dates back to the time of 
 Phidias and Praxiteles, and well suggests what marvels 
 the masterpieces of antiquity must have been. 
 
 On the same floor, across a great court, are the 
 Egyptian and the Asiatic Museums, with their wonder- 
 ful statues and sarcophagi from Memphis and Thebes, 
 and colossal winged bulls from Assyria and Nineveh. 
 Then there is a collection of mediaeval and Renaissance 
 sculptures; a Marine Museum, with models of ships and 
 galleys; an Ethnographical Museum, a Chinese Mu- 
 seum, and a thousand other things I have no room to 
 mention. Suffice to say, that the Louvre is so vast and 
 its saloons and corridors so extensive that it would take 
 a man half a day, nearly, merely to walk through them 
 without stopping to examine anything. To study it 
 properly would take a lifetime and more. But one can 
 see a good deal in a week, if he has read up in advance, 
 and that is the only way to do a great gallery really. 
 One knows then pretty much what he wants to see, and 
 proceeds to see it, if he has eyes to see. 
 
 But I must stop particularizing, must condense and 
 
 3ii 
 
European abbreviate, or we will never get out of Paris. Of course, 
 Days and we went to the Luxembourg Gallery, with its splendid 
 Ways collection of modern paintings, by Rosa Bonheur, Cab- 
 anel, Meissonier, and others, and to its beautiful palace 
 and garden; also to the Cluny Hotel and Museum, with 
 its wonderful collection of antiquities, weapons, cos- 
 tumes, tapestries, laces, and faience; also to the Palace 
 of Justice and the old Sainte Chapelle adjoining, "a per- 
 fect gem of Gothic architecture," rich in costly carvings 
 
 and exquisite 
 stained-glass win- 
 dows — nothing 
 better in all Eu- 
 rope; also to the 
 new Hotel de 
 Ville, or City Hall, 
 massive and beau- 
 tiful, both outside 
 and inside (the 
 old one was 
 burned down by 
 Place de la the Commune in 1871); also to the Grand Opera-house, 
 Paris' t ^ ie ^ ar ^ est i* 1 tne world, costing over $10,000,000, and 
 a miracle of beauty and splendor; also to the Gobelin 
 factories, with their marvelous tapestries, equal almost 
 to oil-paintings; also to the Hotel des Invalides, with 
 the magnificent tomb of Napoleon beneath its great 
 dome; also to the Arc de Triomphe, the largest arch 
 in existence, with twelve great avenues radiating from 
 it; also to Pere-la-Chaise, the great cemetery of Paris 
 — over one hundred acres — with big and little tombs 
 mostly above ground; also to the Place de la Concorde, 
 
 312 
 
the largest "Place" or square in Paris, the home of the 
 guillotine in other days (nearly three thousand persons 
 lost their heads here, 1793 to 1795), but now spacious 
 and beautiful with fountains and flowers, and the match- 
 less obelisk of Luxor; also to the Place de la Bastille, 
 the ancient prison-house of the French tyrant-kings, but 
 smashed forever by the liberty-loving Revolution; also to 
 the Place Vendome, with its Column Vendome (an imi- 
 tation of Trajan's at Rome), with its spiral panorama in 
 bronze of Napo- 
 leonic victories, 
 made from 1,200 
 Austrian and 
 Russian captured 
 cannon, with the 
 Great Napoleon 
 standing guard 
 over it; also to 
 the Eiffel Tower, 
 the highest work 
 of men's hands on 
 the earth, nine hundred and eighty-four feet, or nearly 
 twice the height of our Washington Monument, though 
 not so stately and impressive; also to the Tuileries Gar- 
 dens, with their wonderful fountains and flowers, the 
 Palace destroyed by the Commune, 1871, and not yet 
 rebuilt; also to the Trocadero, the Pantheon, the Made- 
 leine, Notre Dame, the Champs Elysees, Versailles, 
 Sevres, and Saint Cloud. All these we saw, and more, 
 with their wealth of architecture and art, both ancient 
 and modern; and there is no denying that the French 
 have both genius and taste. They not only have a 
 
 313 
 
 Paris- 
 Art Works 
 
 Paris, The 
 Seine, etc. 
 
European love of art, as do the Germans also, but an artistic in- 
 DflVS and stinct hardly inferior to the Italians or Greeks them- 
 Ways selves, and much superior to the Germans. This is 
 visible, not only in their museums and galleries, but 
 also in their buildings and furniture and everyday life 
 as well, though I confess we grew tired of their ever- 
 lasting worship of the nude. Of course, the human 
 figure is divine; but the French seem to forget that a 
 little drapery is sometimes in order — if only a figleaf 
 or two. 
 
 The Louvre is certainly grand and glorious, with its 
 wealth of pictures and statuary. Napoleon's tomb is 
 worthy of their great soldier — one of the greatest sol- 
 diers of all time — and of the French people of his day. 
 The Pantheon, once a church — dedicated to St. Gene- 
 vieve, the patron saint of Paris — is now a magnificent 
 Hall of Fame, with Mirabeau, Victor Hugo, Marshal 
 Lannes, Baudin, La Tour d'Auvergne — "the first gren- 
 adier of France" — and other great Frenchmen buried 
 here. Notre Dame is a venerable and majestic pile, 
 carrying you back to the Middle Ages. (I dropped my 
 umbrella here, enraptured with her glorious windows, 
 but an unknown Teuton tourist picked it up and re- 
 stored it — all honor to his honest race !) The Madeleine 
 is a gem of church architecture, stately and sublime. 
 The Trocadero is an Oriental-Spanish-French dream, 
 of our modern era. The Champs-Elysees, gently as- 
 cending from the Place de la Concorde to the Place 
 de l'Etoile, lined with elms and lime-trees, and with 
 the great Arc de Triomphe breaking the sky-line at 
 the far end of it, a mile and a half away, is a superb 
 and magnificent avenue, unsurpassed upon the earth. 
 
 3H 
 
There is nothing like it in Europe, and nothing in Versailles 
 America, except Pennsylvania Avenue, with our own 
 matchless National Capitol breaking the sky-line there. 
 It is superb by day, with its throngs of people, cabs, 
 and carriages; but at night, when aglow with electricity 
 and gaslight, it is as ravishing and bewildering as a 
 dream of Aladdin. 
 
 Versailles — it is fourteen miles out to Versailles, 
 and we went there by railroad. We returned by electric 
 tram-cars, on top 
 of them, via 
 Sevres, St. Cloud, 
 and the valley 
 of the Seine, 
 through the heart 
 of Old Paris, by 
 its old walls and 
 gates. Versailles 
 itself is wonder- 
 ful, its facade 
 alone over a quar- 
 ter of a mile in length, and the rest of the great palace Versailles. 
 in proportion. Here are magnificent halls and saloons 
 crowded with great war-pictures by David, Vernet, 
 Delacroix, Gerard, Yvon, Gerome, and others, cover- 
 ing the walls by the acre and mile nearly; not daubs, 
 but superb works of art, that can not but interest and 
 delight every one who has a drop of fighting blood in 
 his veins. Here also is the great Hall of Mirrors, where 
 King William of Prussia was proclaimed Emperor of 
 Germany in 1871, while Von Moltke and Bismarck 
 looked on, and doubtless smiled grimly; and outside 
 
 315 
 
European and on all sides are the wonderful fountains and walks 
 Days and and wooded alleys that are the despair of modern land- 
 WayS scape gardeners. Indeed, Versailles strikes you as one 
 vast miracle of art and prodigy of expense. It cost 
 Louis XIV two thousand millions of dollars, and the 
 labor of six thousand horses and thirty-six thousand 
 men for years, on the buildings and grounds alone, 
 without its matchless paintings, furnishings, and faience. 
 Voltaire, with characteristic French wit, called it "the 
 
 abyss of ex- 
 penses," or the 
 Hell of Finances. 
 And all this from 
 the common peo- 
 ple — "the third 
 estate" — while 
 the nobility and 
 clergy, forsooth, 
 were exempt 
 from taxation ! 
 No wonder they 
 had the French Revolution over there. It cleaned 
 France (and Europe) pretty well, and tore up by the 
 roots a thousand old abuses, and tempered despotism, 
 and taught kings and emperors everywhere a lesson 
 they have not yet forgotten, and will not soon forget. 
 And so, I think, it had "extenuating circumstances," 
 as the French lawyers say, and that there was some 
 excuse, for it, after all. 
 
 We did not go to the Bois de Boulogne, her great 
 park of two thousand two hundred and fifty acres, 
 largely virgin forest; nor to her great university; nor 
 
 316 
 
 Fountain 
 
 AND 
 
 Gardens, 
 Versailles. 
 
to her National Library, over three million volumes, Paris — 
 thirty-seven miles long if in a row — largest in the The Streets 
 world; nor to St. Denis, because we lacked time, and 
 wanted to see other things first, and so did not get 
 there at all, much to our regret. 
 
 Of course, Americans like Paris, and it is an old 
 saying that "all good Americans expect to go to Paris 
 when they die !" She is not unlike New York and 
 Chicago, though not so young and gushing, of course. 
 But she has the same air of ease and abandon, as if 
 confident of her own equilibrium, and wanting the 
 whole world to see and note it. One is struck imme- 
 diately with the vastness of her street travel and traffic. 
 Multitudes of people, multitudes of cabs and o.mni- 
 busses, multitudes of tram-cars everywhere. Where do 
 the Parisians all come from? Where are they all going 
 to? How do they all live? The street cafes and res- 
 taurants account for many of them; but how about the 
 remainder? And then, at night, the street-lights and 
 street-scenes are marvelous and vast. Not Aladdin, 
 with his wonderful lamp, ever conceived of such beauty 
 and splendor. 
 
 One evening, after dinner, we took a carriage, and 
 rode up the Champs Elysees, and down the Boulevard 
 des Italiens, the Boulevard de la Madeleine, the Rue 
 Lafayette, the Rue St. Honore, the Rue Rivoli, and 
 the whole city seemed exquisite and gorgeous. 
 
 I think Paris as a whole gives one the impression 
 of antiquity and beauty, as well as modernity. She 
 has no such "sky-scrapers" as Chicago and New York 
 (they are not allowed by French law) ; but her buildings 
 are more uniform and artistic, both old and new. Many 
 
 317 
 
Europedll are only rough brick and stone, but stuccoed as in 
 Days and Italy. Others are from a peculiar building-stone found 
 Ways there, that is soft when first quarried, but hardens on 
 exposure. This is put up rough, and afterwards dressed 
 and chiseled into shape, often with elaborate ornamenta- 
 tion, which accounts for many of her handsome edifices, 
 that would be impossible elsewhere. One peculiarity 
 is sure to strike you, and that is the multitude of her 
 chimney-pots, row upon row, breaking all the sky-line, 
 especially in the old quarters; such as the Faubourgs 
 St. Martin, St. Antoine, and the Latin Quarter. I do 
 not know what is the reason for this, unless it is be- 
 cause every room has its own flue, and every flue its 
 own chimney-pot. But why Paris should build this 
 way, more than other cities, seems strange and uncanny. 
 So, also, you are struck by the multitude of her book- 
 stores and bookstalls; books for sale along all her old 
 streets; on the quays of the Seine; in the shadow of 
 Notre Dame; around the Louvre — everywhere nearly — 
 both old and new, and, as a rule, very cheap. She cer- 
 tainly must be a reading city, if nothing else. Her 
 streets are well-paved — chiefly asphalt and wood — and 
 cleaned every night, and her cabs and carriages go at 
 a speed unlawful elsewhere usually. The rule is for 
 pedestrians to look out for them, and not for them to 
 look out for pedestrians; and, if you get run down, 
 you are liable to be fined for obstructing public travel, 
 instead of being paid damages. Her great omnibuses 
 — "double-deckers" — do not halt for passengers to get 
 on or off, except at fixed stations; but you have to 
 scramble in and out the best you can, which is some- 
 times the worst for you, especially if aged or ladies. 
 
 318 
 
Several times we had to jump for them, and once I Paris — 
 missed my footing, and came near being dragged down The People 
 and run over in the multitude of vehicles. 
 
 Paris did not impress us with the traditional polite- 
 ness and courtesy that we had read and heard so much 
 about. The Italian is polite all through, and you can 
 not but see and feel it. Instinctively he wants to help 
 and serve you, regardless of reward. But the French- 
 man has only a surface politeness, mere bows and 
 grimaces, while at heart he is selfish and mercenary. 
 We noticed this everywhere, but particularly on the 
 street, and in the shops and galleries, where nobody 
 wanted to serve one in any way, without being lib- 
 erally "tipped." We saw but few well-dressed people, 
 as a rule, to our real astonishment. The "blue blouse" 
 was not much in evidence, evidently disappearing as 
 a badge of labor and poverty. The lower classes, as a 
 rule, were fairly well-clad and comfortable. But the 
 better classes all seemed to go to derby and slouch 
 hats, and sack coats, instead of "stovepipes" and Prince 
 Alberts, as we expected. So, too, there were no "Grand 
 Dames" in Paris then, or at least we saw but few of 
 them. They may have been at the seaside or in the 
 mountains, as it was still August; but, at all events, if 
 we noticed a well-dressed lady, on the streets or else- 
 where, she was pretty sure to be an American on her 
 travels. The type was unmistakable, and we rejoiced 
 in our fair countrywomen. The galleries and museums, 
 as well as Worth's and the Bon Marche, were alive 
 with them, though the "Bon Marche" does not sur- 
 pass (if it equals) our John Wanamaker's. 
 
 It is true that Paris is living somewhat upon her 
 319 
 
European past glories, perhaps, but one can not help observing 
 Days and that she still abounds in art and science, in architecture 
 Ways and talent. It is true we did not see many new build- 
 ings (no churches) going up on her streets generally; 
 but this was because she was bending all her energies 
 to getting ready for her great Exposition of 1900. She 
 had torn up many of her streets, and was repairing 
 and repaying them; was building tramways for electric 
 cars, both surface and underground, to get rid of her 
 multitudinous cabs and omnibuses; and down along 
 the Seine she was erecting colossal Exposition Build- 
 ings that in 1900 were the wonder of the world. She 
 must have great engineers and architects and artists 
 still, as well as intelligent and skilled workingmen, or 
 she could never do all this. So, also, her new Hotel 
 de Ville, Trocadero, and Eiffel Tower are marvels of 
 architecture and art, and evidently France has not lost 
 her head yet, if her heart has gone wrong in some ways 
 and things. 
 
 The Dreyfus case, that hideous French nightmare, 
 was still on while we were in Paris, and everything 
 there seemed on the edge of a volcano. M. Guerin was 
 still besieged in Fort Chabrol, as his printing-house 
 was called, and nobody could tell what a day would 
 bring forth. Many Americans we met in Holland and 
 Belgium would not go to France at all, and others we 
 met in Paris were hastening away; and they were not 
 to be blamed; for revolutions are ugly things, especially 
 French revolutions. We had more faith in the Re- 
 public and so ventured on, as I have already said. It 
 was curious and instructive to watch the Parisians and 
 to talk to them. There was no real disorder anywhere, 
 
 320 
 
except Fort Chabrol, but intense excitement every- Paris — 
 where. Dreyfus was on every tongue, and everybody The DreyfllS 
 
 was for or against him. But prudent Parisians disliked Affair 
 to talk. Evidently they did not want to be quoted, 
 if things went wrong, and nobody knew what was 
 right or wrong just then, nor which side was going 
 to win. Only President Loubet and Gallifet, his war 
 minister, seemed to know their own minds, and they 
 were resolved that the new trial should go on, come 
 what may and cost what it would. But there was to 
 be no disorder in Paris or the provinces, and the law 
 was to triumph, whichever side won. We went up 
 to Fort Chabrol one day, and inspected it as closely 
 as allowed, and I thought they made a mistake in not 
 snuffing Guerin out at once; a squad of gendarmes or 
 a handful of soldiers could have done it, as it afterwards 
 proved. But it might have cost bloodshed, and evi- 
 dently Loubet wanted none of that till the Dreyfus 
 affair was over and ended. 
 
 Indeed, it was all very Frenchy, and to say that is 
 to size up the whole situation. It was every party 
 against the Republic, and yet the Republic endured 
 and endures. On the one side were the Imperialists, the 
 Monarchists, the Clericals, and the Jew-haters, all 
 shouting for "the honor of the army," but really mean- 
 ing, "Death to the Republic!" With them stood the 
 lower orders, ignorant and bigoted, led by the priests, 
 really patriotic, and believing in the army as their - 
 weapon of revenge. On the the other side stood Drey- 
 fus, with Loubet, Gallifet, Picquart, Zola, Labori, and 
 the real intellect and conscience of France, with the 
 best men in France — nearly all her Protestant people — 
 21 321 
 
European battling for the right and resolved on justice, cost what 
 Days and it might. It was a great battle a Voutrance, with the 
 Ways whole world looking on. Clearly, President Loubet 
 deserves infinite credit for managing things even as well 
 as he did. Anyhow, he steered the Republic safely 
 through, and sent Dreyfus home to his wife and chil- 
 dren, amid the applause of Christendom. It must be 
 remembered that it was not America nor England, 
 nor even Germany, that he had to deal with, but France 
 — La Belle France, indeed, but mercurial, irrepressible, 
 exceptional, revolutionary France — and he certainly 
 saved her from a sanguinary and destructive civil war. 
 On all her public buildings, and over many of her 
 churches even, France has engraved or painted her 
 great national motto, "Liberty, Equality, and Fra- 
 ternity." It stares at you everywhere in Paris, but often 
 seems like a mockery and a sham. Evidently, France 
 does not mean it nor comprehend it, and she will have 
 to go to school to George Washington and William 
 McKinley a good many years before she does. For the 
 essence of it is justice to every human being, however 
 humble or however great, and she has not even begun 
 to learn this yet. She is polite on the surface, as goes 
 without saying; but she is not honest, she is not moral, 
 she is not sincere, nor truly religious. Her heart has 
 been eaten out of her by the Roman Catholic Church, 
 which has made her a nation of devotees and atheists, 
 and exposed her to the scorn and contempt of the civ- 
 ilized world. Of course, the Church was against the 
 Republic, and had never a word of sympathy or pity 
 for poor Dreyfus — more shame to her and to her irrep- 
 arable damage ! 
 
 322 
 
French vanity and conceit are beyond conception. Paris — 
 In the great picture-galleries of Versailles, among acres The Army 
 of other superb war-paintings, is one of ''General Roch- 
 ambeau and Washington at the Siege of Yorcktown" 
 (so spelled), with little Rochambeau in the foreground 
 and great Washington in the rear, as if the Gallic 
 bantam did all the business there! And so it is every- 
 where, until one gets everlastingly tired of French 
 braggadocio and French gasconade. 
 
 Her army is moth-eaten and honeycombed by cor- 
 ruption and fraud, by imbecility and cowardice. Her 
 army chiefs (Mercier, Roget, Boisdeffre, Gonse, and 
 the rest) have sunk beneath contempt, as liars, per- 
 jurers, and forgers, or suborners thereof — ought all to 
 be sent to Devil's Island for conspiring to send poor 
 Dreyfus there — and the rank and file are worthy of 
 such chiefs. It was Aristotle who said, "An army of 
 stags led by a lion is better than an army of lions led 
 by a stag." I never saw such undersized, ill-kempt, 
 slouchy-looking officers and soldiers as everywhere in 
 Paris, and I do not wonder at their insubordination 
 and mutiny and murder of superior officers in Africa. 
 Of course, the Germans would walk right over them 
 again, and the English would give them another Water- 
 loo on every battlefield. They could not stand an hour 
 against Sherman's "bummers" or Roosevelt's "Rough 
 Riders." It will take a generation of hard work, of 
 drill and discipline, to put the French army again upon 
 its feet. And meanwhile Germany will "wax fat and 
 kick," and laugh poor France still further to scorn. 
 
 Unquestionably, France is in a bad way. Like 
 Spain and the other Latin nations, she seems to have 
 
 3*3 
 
European become degenerate and decadent. Only the spelling- 
 Days and book and the Bible can save her. She has gifts and 
 Ways graces still, as evidenced by her still holding on to the 
 Republic. But any day she is liable to "shoot Niagara," 
 and then woe to the French people ! Of course, Rennes 
 was worse than Sedan or Waterloo. They were only 
 physical defeats; but the verdict at Rennes was the 
 abdication of faith, the triumph of unreason, a mockery 
 of right and justice, a brutal defiance of both morals 
 and religion, and no nation can do that and live, unless 
 she repents in sackcloth and ashes, and "brings forth 
 works meet for repentance." 
 
 We spent a Sunday also in Paris, and went to the 
 English church not far away from our hotel. It was 
 a goodly edifice, with a capacity of five or six hundred 
 people, and comfortably filled, mostly English and 
 Americans. The sermon was wholesome, and the serv- 
 ice, on the whole, uplifting and edifying. Afterwards, 
 on our way home, we stopped in at the Madeleine, and 
 found a congregation of only about half the size, lost 
 in its vast spaces. It is a great Grecian temple, with 
 no windows, except three circular ones in the roof, and 
 these flood it with light; a very grand and stately build- 
 ing, reminding you somewhat of the old Pantheon at 
 Rome. In the evening we took a stroll through the 
 Garden of the Tuileries, across the Place de la Con- 
 corde, and so up the Champes Elysees, which was black 
 with people and crowded with cabs, carriages, and 
 coaches, returning from the Bois de Boulogne and the 
 Eongchamp races. It had been an ideal Sunday, a 
 
 " Sweet day : so cool, so calm, so bright, 
 The bridal of the earth and sky," 
 
 3 2 4 
 
as old George Herbert wrote, and the Parisians were Paris — 
 out enjoying it to the full. Our general weather in Sabbath 
 Paris had been overcast and cool, somewhat resembling Keeping 
 Holland, but this particular Sunday made up for our 
 other days there. There was no disorder, but a good 
 deal of hilarity, as would be expected in men returning 
 from the races. We saw no Grand Dames nor French 
 gentlemen here either — only a good-natured, big Pari- 
 sian crowd. Of course, there was no general observance 
 of the Sabbath — that would not have been Frenchlike — 
 but I confess there was more observance of it than we 
 expected. On the Rue St. Honore, Rue Rivoli, and 
 the other streets we passed through, there was no gen- 
 eral work or business going on. Most of the shops 
 and stores, indeed, were closed all day, and all in the 
 afternoon and evening, and labor generally suspended. 
 In our own hotel, masons and carpenters were at work 
 all day; but this was to complete repairs and altera- 
 tions urgently needed there, and might have happened 
 in America under like circumstances. On the great 
 Exposition buildings nothing was being done, the Gov- 
 ernment having ordered due Sabbath observance there 
 — all honor to the Republic ! Of course, the cafes and 
 restaurants were all open, or gay Paris would starve. 
 The above observations may not accord with others. 
 But I think Ta Belle Paris (the Beautiful, the Mag- 
 nificent, the Artistic, the Pleasure-loving, and Half- 
 Pagan Paris, so called) should have the benefit of the 
 same, nevertheless. 
 
 325 
 
Chapter XXVI 
 
 E left Paris, September 4th, at 10 A. M., 
 and reached London about 7 P. M. We 
 went by way of Dieppe, and crossed the 
 Channel to Beachy Head and New Haven, 
 and thence by rail to London. Our route lay first down 
 the valley of the Seine, and thence by Rouen to Dieppe, 
 and the ride was altogether charming. The quaint 
 French landscape was everywhere idyllic, and Rouen 
 antique and interesting. Dieppe is not much of a place, 
 and we found the Channel as placid as a millpond. Our 
 little steamer, the Sussex, was crowded with English 
 and Americans returning from the Continent, but no- 
 body was seasick. The smell of the salt sea air was wel- 
 come again, and everybody seemed glad to be rid of 
 France and all French ways. It took us three hours to 
 make the run from Dieppe to New Haven, and we were 
 truly glad to reach there, and to feel ourselves once more 
 in "God's country," or something akin to it. Certainly 
 Old England seemed to be our own country, or some- 
 thing very like it, with some differences. It was de- 
 lightful once more to hear the English tongue, and 
 to speak and be spoken to by everybody, about every- 
 thing, everywhere. It is true the English do not speak 
 "American" exactly. They differ in intonation and 
 emphasis, and speak more down in their throats than 
 
 326 
 
we Americans do. But, then, you can make out to England 
 understand what they say, as a rule, even at their worst, 
 which is sometimes really barbarous; and this is great 
 gain surely, after hobbling through Italian, German, 
 Dutch, and French for three months or more, as we 
 had been doing. The very signboards and handbills 
 were interesting. Everybody seemed talking all the 
 time, and the flavor of the old speech was never so 
 charming. 
 
 We passed up through Sussex and Surrey — two 
 beautiful English counties, not unlike our own Sussex 
 County, N. J., named after the old English county. 
 The country was mostly flat and monotonous; not so 
 rolling as our New Jersey Sussex, and without its lovely 
 "ponds" or lakes, but with large grainfields and broad 
 pastures, alive with horses, cattle, and sheep; not much 
 woodland, indeed, but abundance of handsome trees 
 everywhere — oaks, elms, and beeches along all the 
 division lines, and scattered in clumps or singly through 
 the fields, much more than in America; no fences, as 
 a rule, but hedges and ditches everywhere, but these 
 less well-kept than we expected. We had expected 
 to see the English hedge the perfection of every- 
 thing in that line; but there are hedges in New Jersey 
 and Eastern Pennsylvania better than the average 
 Sussex and Surrey hedge. There were no great man- 
 sions or castles, but plenty of unpretending farmhouses 
 of brick or stone, covered with red tiles or gray slate, 
 and few barns of much size — nothing like those in 
 Switzerland and America. The English stack their 
 grain near their farm-buildings — too near for safety 
 from fire — and thresh at their convenience, as a rule. 
 
 3^7 
 
European They have many potato and turnip fields, wide acres 
 Days and in extent — more so than in America. As you get up 
 Ways into Surrey, there is some rolling country, with distant 
 hills and nice landscapes; but the approach to London- 
 is flatter than about Trenton and Philadelphia. The 
 Thames seems small — not much larger than the Dela- 
 ware at Trenton, if any, but deeper, and covered with 
 a forest of masts, and lined with a wilderness of smoke- 
 stacks. 
 
 And so we entered London, landing at Victoria Sta- 
 tion. Here we spent the next two days only, and then 
 hastened north, hoping to see something of Scotland 
 also before bad weather set in. We had planned to 
 "do" the Scotch Lakes and Trosachs, at least, and 
 wanted to see Edinburgh and Glasgow anyhow. We 
 went north by way of Cambridge and Ely, but did 
 not see much of either, except their distant towers and 
 spires from the railroad. We halted at Lincoln, York, 
 and Durham, and saw each of the great cathedrals 
 there, and were amazed at their size and solidity, and 
 charmed with their beauty and religiousness. They are 
 all superb specimens of Norman and Norman-Gothic 
 architecture, and are all of dark-gray stone, with lofty 
 towers and battlements, and 
 
 "Storied windows richly dight, 
 Casting a dim religious light ; 
 
 frozen music, poems in stone; not lyrics, but grand 
 epics rather. Their interior decorations amount to lit- 
 tle, compared with Italian cathedrals; but in dignity, 
 sublimity, and religiousness they are unsurpassed, and 
 indeed seem unsurpassable. There is nothing tawdry 
 
 328 
 
or petty about them — no gimcracks and tinsel — like English 
 some of the Continental cathedrals; but they are vast, CflthedFdlS 
 uplifting, and sublime, with a sober dignity and grandeur 
 and solemn impressiveness all their own. They date 
 from the eleventh and twelfth centuries; were all built 
 three centuries or more before Columbus discovered 
 America; and how England then possessed the artistic 
 taste and mechanic skill to erect such vast and glorious 
 edifices, and the money to pay for them, excites one's 
 wonder and surprise. They each cost millions of dol- 
 lars and years of labor. Where did the money come 
 from in those days of small things? It is certain Eng- 
 land is building no such cathedrals to-day;* hasn't the 
 money and labor to spare, though she is taking reverent 
 and loving care of these ancient ones. 
 
 An English canon we met, of Durham Cathedral — 
 a very learned and scholarly man — told me he did not 
 know how England did it, but he ventured this opinion. 
 He said in those days they had no army or navy to 
 provide for; no railroads, canals, telegraphs; no banks 
 and big manufacturing plants to put their money into; 
 no colonies, no steamship lines; and, consequently, all 
 their surplus cash went into their cathedrals. More- 
 over, there was only one Church then, and everybody 
 believed he had a soul to save, and if he had sinned, the 
 best way to repent was to help the Church. Hence, 
 some built a tower, others an altar, others a window, 
 and so on, as a means of grace. The architects and 
 skilled mechanics worked for small pay, and the com- 
 mon laborers for only their victuals and clothes, believ- 
 
 * The Catholics, however, now building one in London, and the Meth- 
 odists contemplating - another there. 
 
 329 
 
European 
 Days and 
 , Ways 
 
 Lincoln 
 Cathedral. 
 
 ing they were doing God's work. So the great cathe- 
 drals went up, slowly but surely, and costing but little 
 real cash after all. And as for the artistic skill, this was 
 a characteristic of that age, and extended all over Eu- 
 rope. We had seen it in Germany, Holland, Belgium, 
 and France, and here it was flamboyant again in Eng- 
 land. His surmise seemed chock-full of sense, and I 
 give it here accordingly; though the common people 
 in England used to believe that these great edifices 
 
 were chiefly the 
 work of angels 
 and demons, par- 
 ticularly when 
 they saw no more 
 being built. The 
 Lincoln Cathedral 
 crowns a high hill, 
 and is said to be 
 "the finest church 
 in Great Britain," 
 in respect to size, 
 delicacy of detail, good preservation, and grandeur of 
 position. It is four hundred and eighty feet long by 
 eighty feet wide (two hundred and twenty across the 
 transepts), and eighty-two feet high, with towers two 
 hundred and sixty-two and two hundred feet high, re- 
 spectively, and greatly impresses one. It dates back 
 to about the year noo. 
 
 Lincoln itself is an old place, dating back to old 
 Roman days, when it was one of the nine privileged 
 Roman colonies in England. It is now a town of forty- 
 two thousand inhabitants, the county-seat of Eincoln- 
 
 330 
 
shire, and is chiefly occupied with the manufacture of 
 agricultural implements. They show you here the re- 
 mains of an old Roman basilica, and also an old Roman 
 city-gate (Newport), said to date back to B. C. 50, or 
 about that time. The old Roman Road (Watling Street 
 or Ermine Street) from London went directly through 
 Lincoln, straight as an arrow for miles, north to Hull, 
 and so to York and Durham. 
 
 The York Cathedral or Minster is also on rising 
 ground, and is 
 one of the largest 
 and grandest in 
 England. It is 
 live hundred and 
 twenty-five feet 
 long by one hun- 
 dred and ten feet 
 wide (two hun- 
 dred and fifty feet 
 across the tran- 
 septs), and one 
 hundred feet high, with towers two hundred and thir- 
 teen and two hundred and two feet high, respectively. 
 It is built of magnesian limestone, on the site of an 
 old wooden church, erected about the year 62J. This 
 was succeeded by a stone basilica, which was burned 
 down in the eighth century. A third church was erected 
 here, and burned down in 1069 by William the Con- 
 queror, and a fourth followed. The present edifice was 
 begun in n 54, and not finished until 1472. It is the 
 finest example of the decorated style in England, with 
 elaborate carving everywhere, both inside and outside, 
 
 33i 
 
 York 
 Minster 
 
 York 
 
 Minster. 
 
European yet there is a symmetry of design and simplicity about 
 Days and the whole peculiarly pleasing. In original stained glass 
 Ways it excels all other English cathedrals, the "Jesse Win- 
 dow," the "Marigold Window," and the great "East 
 Window" (seventy-eight by thirty-three feet), being 
 particularly fine. The Chapter-house is considered the 
 most beautiful in England, and bears the handsome 
 Latin inscription, "Ut rosa Hos iiorwn, sic est domns ista 
 domorum." 
 
 York also is an old place — the Eboracum of the 
 Romans — situated on the little River Ouse. It is now a 
 town of about seventy thousand inhabitants, the county- 
 seat of Yorkshire, with few signs of industry or growth, 
 living chiefly upon its past glories. In the second cen- 
 tury it was the capital of Britain under the Romans, 
 and their chief station, the headquarters of the Sixth 
 Legion, and the frequent residence of their emperors. 
 Severus died and was buried here in 211, and Constan- 
 tine the Great was proclaimed emperor here in 306. 
 Doubtless, Julius Caesar and Agricola were both here 
 at times. It retained its importance in the Saxon 
 period, and was the center from which Christianity 
 spread throughout the north of England. The title 
 Duke of York is borne by one of the royal family only, 
 and the mayors of York share with those of London 
 and Dublin the right to prefix "Lord" to their official 
 names. The old city walls still stand, and greatly in- 
 terest one. These were built about the middle of the 
 fourteenth century, on the line of the old Roman walls 
 in part, and the view from these is picturesque and pleas- 
 ing. We ascended the walls by old stone steps, and 
 walked along them for a mile or two, and then descended 
 
 332 
 
by an old Roman tower to the Minster, and afterwards Durham 
 rambled about some old and narrow streets, with tim- Cathedral 
 bered and overhanging houses that reminded one of 
 Florence and Nuremberg. We got a poor lunch here, 
 and went on to Durham the same afternoon. 
 
 The Durham Cathedral, or "Abbey," as called lo- 
 cally, is not so large as Lincoln or York, but is said to 
 be "the grandest Norman building in England." It 
 also is situated on a rocky bluff or hill, and in many 
 respects is of surpassing interest. It is five hundred 
 and ten feet long by eighty feet wide (one hundred and 
 seventy across the transepts), and seventy feet high, 
 with towers two hundred and fourteen and one hundred 
 and thirty-eight feet high, respectively. The first church 
 here was built about 995, when the body of St. Cuth- 
 bert was brought and deposited here by the monks of 
 Tindisfarne, after wandering about with it almost all 
 over the north of England. The present cathedral fol- 
 lowed about 1 100, but was not completed until 1480. 
 On entering the nave you get a full-length view of the 
 whole edifice, and are struck with its grandeur and 
 solemnity. Dr. Johnson describes it as giving him an 
 impression of "rocky solidity and indeterminate dura- 
 tion," and this sums it up pretty well. Its massive walls 
 and enormous columns — richly but simply carved — 
 and vaulted ceilings, and superb windows, greatly im- 
 press one, and it seems indeed as solid as a mountain 
 and as lasting as eternity. It contains a shrine to the 
 Venerable Bede, and his remains are believed to be 
 interred here; also an old oaken chest, containing the 
 bones of St. Cuthbert, or what is left of them. On the 
 outside are grotesque corbels and gargoyles, and a 
 
 333 
 
European quaint old door-knocker, and also the sculptured figure 
 
 Days and of a cow, commemorating the legend that the monks 
 
 Ways of Lindisfarne were led by a dun cow to bring the 
 
 relics of St. Cuthbert to this spot, and so locate the 
 
 great cathedral here. 
 
 Durham itself is the county-town of a shire of that 
 name, and a city of 16,000 inhabitants only. It lies in a 
 horseshoe loop or bend of the little River Wear, and the 
 Bishop of Durham was formerly a formidable prelate, 
 
 being lord mili- 
 tary and civil, as 
 well as ecclesi- 
 astical of all that 
 region, with vast 
 revenues. His old 
 castle still stands, 
 on the neck of the 
 peninsula caused 
 by the bend of the 
 Wear — erected 
 by William the 
 Conqueror in 1072 — but is now in better use as Durham 
 University. In Cromwell's time, "Old Noll" abolished 
 the episcopacy here, and ordered the castle turned into 
 a college or university. But it did not materialize until 
 1833. We spent a day here, exploring the cathedral 
 and the old castle or university, and were well repaid 
 by what we saw. The kings and queens of England 
 and Scotland used to stop here in journeying to and 
 from England and London, and we were shown their 
 great banqueting hall and royal apartments, full of 
 antique cabinets, bedsteads, chairs, and hangings, in- 
 
 334 
 
 The Nave, 
 
 Durham 
 
 Cathedral. 
 
eluding a bed of Charles I, a table and desk of Judge The East 
 Jeffreys, and other curiosities. COQSt 
 
 Our route lay up the east coast of England, and we 
 found the country mainly flat or only gently rolling, 
 like Western New York or Northern Illinois. The 
 east coast especially much resembles Holland and Bel- 
 gium, with ditches, drains, canals, and windmills every- 
 where. It was originally fens and marshes bordering 
 on the North Sea, the whole region indeed called the 
 "Fen Country," but is now drained and the sea diked 
 out, and magnificent meadows and succulent pastures 
 make it the very paradise of flocks and herds. Only 
 geese and fisher- folks were there formerly, and men 
 moving about on high stilts and in small boats; but now 
 horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs are everywhere. Indeed, 
 the east coast is often called the Holland of England, 
 with vessels sailing along in the air the same as on 
 the Dutch canals; and many of the people there are 
 descendants of the Dutch, who came over from Hol- 
 land with William III, in 1688. They saw the future 
 that lay in the fens when diked and drained, and settled 
 there in considerable numbers. But when they got well 
 to work the primitive inhabitants rose and drove them 
 out, as "carpet-baggers" and intruders, burning their 
 houses and ricks and destroying their dikes and canals, 
 because interfering with their old and established in- 
 dustries; to wit, goose-breeding and fishing. But it 
 is pretty hard to exterminate such amphibious crea- 
 tures as Dutchmen; and so, in time, the Hollanders 
 got established there — at least some of them — and they 
 still survive in the language, names, and customs now 
 existing there. 
 
 335 
 
European We entered Scotland at Berwick-on-Tweed, and 
 
 Days and passing Dunbar (where Cromwell once smote the 
 ways Scots hip and thigh, for their good, as it turned out), 
 rode thence to Edinburgh along a bluff and rocky coast, 
 with far-stretching views of the North Sea most of the 
 way. It was like a ride along the New England coast, 
 with the Atlantic fretting and foaming at one's feet, 
 and we enjoyed every mile of it. It is a fine farming 
 country, with noble farms running quite down to the 
 sea nearly everywhere. The farmers were just through 
 with their grain-harvesting, and their fine barns were 
 surrounded with great stackyards, that spoke well for 
 Scotland and Scotch farmers. No sickles and scythes 
 are in use here, as in Italy and Germany; but patent 
 mowers, and reapers and binders, and steam-threshers 
 everywhere. There are no fences, either, and not many 
 hedges, but solid stone walls along the roads and 
 through the fields, the first cost of which, of course, 
 was large, but they were there to stay, generation after 
 generation. Many sheep were also in evidence, but not 
 so many as in England. Large fields of turnips and 
 potatoes also abounded. 
 
 Edinburgh, I confess, was something of a disap- 
 pointment; not so large, nor so business-like, as we 
 anticipated (having only about two hundred and fifty 
 thousand population); but "beautiful for situation," 
 with Arthur's Seat towering above it, and worthy of 
 romantic and canny Scotland. Edinburgh dates back 
 only to about 617, when King Edwin of Northumbria 
 established a fortress on the castle-rock here, around 
 which a little town soon grew up, called "Edwin's 
 Burgh" or "Edwin's Town." The history of the city 
 
 336 
 
is practically the history of the old castle, which has Edinburgh 
 been besieged and burnt and retaken a dozen times 
 or more, by Cromwell and others, but has always re- 
 mained the eye and heart of Scotland. The old rock 
 slopes gradually to Holyrood on the east, and a good 
 road ascends thence to the top; but on the other three 
 sides it descends almost perpendicularly, and is prac- 
 tically impregnable. 
 
 . We took a carriage and drove up to the castle 
 gate. Here we alighted, and, crossing the ancient draw- 
 bridge and moat, passed under the old portcullis, and 
 so into the castle proper. Here we were shown the 
 Crown Room, containing the ancient Scottish regalia; 
 Queen Mary's Room, in which James I of England 
 was born in 1566; the old Parliament Hall, now a mu- 
 seum and armory; and St. Margaret's Chapel, the oldest 
 building in Edinburgh, dating back to 1100, and with 
 its rude doors and quaint little windows looking quite 
 that old. In front of the chapel is a huge cannon, 
 called "Mons Meg," formerly believed to have been 
 cast at Mons in Belgium, but now ascribed to Scottish 
 skill. It quite overlooks the town and country, and 
 could make a big noise and do much damage, if equal 
 to its size and caliber. The whole summit is crowned 
 by batteries, and a magnificent view of the city and the 
 Firth of Forth, and of the Pentland Hills in the back- 
 ground, is had from the Bomb Battery and other points. 
 The garrison was composed of Scotch Highlanders, in 
 their picturesque but absurd dress for actual service, 
 their knees and legs quite bare; and we were a good deal 
 interested in talking with their officers and men. It was 
 a raw cold day, but they protested their uniforms were 
 22 337 
 
European all right, and they were certainly a healthy-looking and 
 
 Days and trim, well-set-up lot of soldiers. 
 
 Ways Next we drove to Holyrood Palace, the old residence 
 of the Scottish kings, and saw the ill-fated rooms of Mary 
 Queen of Scots, with the stain on the floor caused by 
 the blood of her favorite Rizzio when he was justly 
 assassinated. Here, also, is a great collection of por- 
 traits of Scottish kings, that seem all to have been 
 brothers, or all to have been painted by the same artist, 
 chiefly out of his imagination. This old palace was once 
 Holyrood Abbey, and the ruins of the old Holyrood 
 Chapel adjoining are still vast and imposing. One 
 would think Scotland would have preserved this beau- 
 tiful chapel in some way, and not suffered it thus to fall 
 into decay and ruin. It might yet be restored, and ought 
 to be, for the sake of "auld lang syne." 
 
 Next we went to Old St. Giles, where John Knox, 
 the uncrowned king of Scotland, used to thunder against 
 Queen Mary and her corrupt court from Sunday to Sun- 
 day; and then down to John Knox's house, where he 
 used to live and pray, "Give me Scotland or I die," and 
 from the window of which he preached to the people in 
 the open square. It is only a little window, but he knew 
 how to preach great sermons from it, and to make Mary 
 and all Scotland, and sometimes England as well, trem- 
 ble at his words. We sat in his old chair, and saw the 
 table on which he wrote, and the bed in which he slept, 
 and were filled and thrilled with the spirit of the great 
 preacher. Here also we saw an exquisite little picture 
 of Mary Queen of Scots, and could well realize what a 
 witchery and charm she exercised over the men of her 
 age and time. No wonder Queen Elizabeth cut off her 
 
 338 
 
head. If she had not done it, Mary would have beheaded Edinburgh 
 or dethroned her. 
 
 Not far away, in an open square near St. Giles, for- 
 merly a churchyard, is a rude stone in the street pave- 
 ment, marked "I. K. 1572," and here is the grave of 
 John Knox, exposed to every passer-by. One would 
 have supposed that Scotland would have done better 
 than this by John Knox, her greatest son, and of course 
 she has elsewhere. But he should have a more fitting 
 memorial here. On the other side of the old church, 
 also in the street pavement, is the figure of a great heart, 
 marking the site of the old Tolbooth or city prison, and 
 known as the "Heart of Midlothian." Here at St. Giles, 
 and in its surroundings, we are on Scotch historic 
 ground, and every good Scotchman lifts his hat and 
 breathes a prayer for "bonnie Scotland." 
 
 Afterwards we drove to the elaborate (too elaborate) 
 monument of Sir Walter Scott, near the Waverly Hotel 
 and Station; to the Wellington Statue; the Nelson 
 Statue; through Princes, George, and Queen Streets — 
 three as handsome streets, perhaps, as there are in Eu- 
 rope; but otherwise Edinburgh did not impress us favor- 
 ably. Its buildings are tall and streets narrow, except 
 in the newer portions, and it seemed well to deserve the 
 name of "Auld Reekie!" A cloud of coal-smoke hov- 
 ered ominously over it. Its tall houses reeked with dirt 
 and grime. Scotch whisky and gin mills abounded 
 everywhere, with some "Temperance Hotels" however. 
 Its streets were muddy and dripping. A "Scotch mist" 
 prevailed daily, that usually thickened into rain. The 
 weather grew cold and "beastly" (that 's good English), 
 and we resolved to "about face" and get back to "Merrie 
 
 339 
 
European England." We were sorry to give up the Scotch lakes, 
 Days and and the Trosachs, and Glasgow; but we had already 
 Ways taken heavy colds, and feared to venture farther into 
 "the land of cakes and ale" in September. 
 
 The Scots did not seem to mind the weather, how- 
 ever. They tramped about the streets with thick shoes 
 and woolen clothing, and went off on excursions to 
 Arthur's Seat, the Firth of Forth Bridge, Abbotsford, 
 and the like attractive points, on tops of omnibuses, 
 chatting gayly, both men and women, though some did 
 condescend to carry umbrellas and lap-robes. The next 
 week the London papers reported snow north of the 
 Tweed, and an English friend told us confidentially, that 
 the Scotch climate was "always beastly; nine months 
 w-inter and three months bad weather, do n't you know !" 
 
 34° 
 

 Chapter XXVII 
 
 ETURNING to England, we penetrated into WintertOH 
 Lincolnshire, to see Winterton, the little 
 place my grandparents came from in 1795 — 
 James Rusling and Mary Fowler, after both 
 of whom I was named. We found it to be a typical 
 English village, of twelve hundred inhabitants or so, 
 about four miles from everywhere; no railroad there, 
 and the nearest station (Appleby) about four miles dis- 
 tant. But it is in the heart of Lincolnshire, in the midst 
 of a beautiful and fertile district, and it would seem one 
 could doze his life away there forever. The country is 
 as level as Delaware, but with the Yorkshire hills in the 
 distance, and thoroughly cultivated — no finer farming* 
 anywhere. There were great fields of turnips and pota- 
 toes everywhere, and the whole country-side was liter- 
 ally swarming with grainstacks, as trim and precise as 
 a New England Quaker. These Lincolnshire farmers 
 pride themselves on their grainstacking, and they cer- 
 tainly have reduced it to a fine art. 
 
 The village itself lies at the junction of five fine 
 roads, with the old Crosskeys Inn at their intersection, 
 as if the key to unlock them all, and with true English 
 one-story brick or stone houses, flush with the street, 
 straggling along them all. It contains one or two large 
 mansions, surrounded by extensive grounds, inclosed 
 
 341 
 
European by high brick walls; but the rest are simply English cot- 
 DayS and tages and village residences, homelike and cheerful with 
 Ways roses, geraniums, and marigolds, and bubbling over with 
 chubby-faced English children. 
 
 A goodly Wesleyan chapel of red brick — not am- 
 bitious to be called a church yet, but squinting that 
 way — adorns the lower part of the village, and the farm- 
 ers and humbler folk thronged this the Sunday we were 
 there. On the rising ground, crowning the town and 
 well overlooking it and the surrounding country, stands 
 the old parish church, "All Saints," a solid stone edifice, 
 erected about i ioo, and apparently indestructible. This, 
 also, was well filled the Sabbath we were there, but by 
 the gentry and better classes apparently. It has a square 
 stone tower, after the style of most English country 
 churches, surmounted by a cock and cross, and contains 
 a fine chime of bells, said to be five hundred years old. 
 In the church porch is a little oaken door (a door in a 
 door), on old iron hinges, black with age, and savoring 
 of antiquity. Inside is a quaint old stone baptismal font, 
 with the inscription, "With the Holy Ghost He shall 
 Baptize you," and the date 1663. The aisles and floor 
 are all stone, of course, and the seats old English oak. 
 Over the chancel is the Scripture motto, "I love them 
 that love me, and those that seek me early shall find 
 me," and on either side are the Ten Commandments 
 and the Creed in old English text of blue and gold. 
 The roof, of course, is vaulted oak. The effect of it all 
 is severe simplicity, and churchly good taste, and I never 
 saw a more devout congregation of worshipers. Every- 
 body participated in the service, both in the hymns and 
 prayers, and all seemed to be edified thereby. The ser- 
 
 342 
 
moiis were of a high order, especially in the evening, WinteitOIl 
 when Rev. Dr. Fowler, a kinsman of mine, preached. 
 Here we found the record of my grandmother's birth 
 in 1 766, and of her marriage in 1 787, and the old family 
 records back to Cromwell's time nearly. Outside, in the 
 surrounding graveyard, we found our old family graves 
 for a century and more, and heard the same old bells ring 
 that have been ringing there at their marriages and 
 funerals for centuries at least. 
 
 Down the street, a few hundred yards away, is the 
 old stone house in which my grandmother was born, 
 and her people before her and since, for one hundred 
 and fifty years or more. Her grand-nephew now owns 
 and occupies it — Rev. Joseph T. Fowler, D. C. h., afore- 
 said, canon of Durham Cathedral and professor in the 
 university there — a man of parts and character. For 
 the next week and more he devoted himself to his Amer- 
 ican cousins, and gave us an insight into English life 
 and character that we would otherwise have missed. He 
 was a bachelor, and his home consisted only of himself 
 and spinster sister. But it was a typical English home, 
 and perfect of its kind, with solid ease and comfort, cul- 
 ture and refinement. We soon became "chummy," and, 
 it goes without saying, talked all day and half the night, 
 and parted at last with unaffected regret and real reluct- 
 ance on both sides. 
 
 Together we explored Winterton and the country- 
 side there, and rambled far and near. One day we drove 
 up to Wintringham, a little village four miles north, 
 where my grandfather first learned storekeeping over a 
 century ago, and went into business for himself after 
 marrying; a quaint old, place, not half the size of Winter- 
 
 343 
 
European ton, but with a fine old parish church and rectory, situate 
 Days and on the old Roman road from Lincoln to Hull. In the 
 Ways church is a tablet to the poet Henry Kirke White, born 
 here and much beloved, and an old marble effigy of a 
 knight in armor, with his feet resting on a lion, so old 
 nobody knows who he is. It was formerly near the 
 altar, but was removed as Roman Catholic or heathen- 
 ish, and now reposes in an obscure corner — a sign of 
 the Low Church tendency of the times. Outside, in the 
 old churchyard, are some superb elms and walnuts, and 
 gravestones innumerable. The old church and rectory 
 are both exquisite in their way, and seem to have grown 
 up unconsciously, as a part and parcel of the noble old 
 Lincolnshire landscape there. 
 
 Another day we went over to Epworth — the birth- 
 place of John and Charles Wesley — only a few miles 
 from Winterton, but hard to get at, because off the chief 
 lines of railway. Like Winterton, it is a few miles from 
 everywhere — three and one-half miles from the river 
 Trent; four and one-half from Haxey; five and one-half 
 from Crowle; thirteen from Bantrey; twelve from Gains- 
 borough; sixteen from Doncaster; thirty from Lincoln; 
 and one hundred and sixty-five from London. It is a 
 little town of some two thousand inhabitants, and the 
 center and capital of the "Isle of Axholme," a section 
 of Lincolnshire surrounded by Rivers Trent, Idle, and 
 Don; and hence so called. 
 
 The chief things there, of course, are the old Ep- 
 worth rectory and church, and both are indeed admi- 
 rable. We went first to the rectory, the home of the 
 Wesleys — where Samuel and Susannah Wesley bred 
 nineteen children, ten of whom grew to maturity — and 
 
 344 
 
passed thence through the handsome old garden with EpWOFth 
 its apple-trees and flowers, its dahlias, marigolds, chrys- 
 anthemums, and cabbages, and down the old street to 
 the gracious old church, where both Samuel and John 
 Wesley preached. Near the side door is the flat grave- 
 stone of Samuel Wesley, upon which John stood and 
 preached when no longer allowed to occupy his fathers 
 pulpit, though still a clergyman of the English Church. 
 Little did the narrow-minded bigots of his day compre- 
 hend him and his mission, or foresee his great future. 
 The old parish church is severely simple, but truly Eng- 
 lish, and the ancient churchyard outside, with its flagged 
 walks and stately trees and crowded graves, most solemn 
 and impressive. We went, partly by railroad and partly 
 by carriage, through lovely English roads and lanes, and 
 were so busy talking we missed the way on our return, 
 and did not reach Winterton until after dark. It was a 
 dismal day overhead, with drizzling rain now and then, 
 true North-of-England weather in September; but with 
 our umbrellas and lap-robes we got through all right, 
 and made our due "Pilgrimage to Epworth" neverthe- 
 less. Our rig was an English two-wheeled "trap" — 
 without cover, of course — with a fine gray mare, that 
 never broke a trot, and my only trouble in driving was, 
 that, on meeting others, I was constantly turning out to 
 the right, after our American rule, whereas the English 
 rule is to keep to the left. Dr. Fowler's constant in- 
 junction was, "Keep to the left, man ! Keep to the left !'" 
 And then he repeated the old English road caution: "If 
 you keep to the left, you will be sure to be right; but 
 if you keep to the right you will always be wrong !" All 
 along the road, and all through England, we met these 
 
 345 
 
European two-wheel "traps," driven by both gentlemen and ladies, 
 Days and and four-wheelers indeed are the exception, except as 
 Ways family coaches. 
 
 Dr. Fowler's grandfather, William Fowler, an emi- 
 nent archaeologist and antiquary in his day (brother of 
 my grandmother, Mary Fowler Rusling), was an early 
 disciple of John Wesley, and a trustee and class-leader 
 of the Wesleyan Chapel in Winterton, but continued a 
 member of the Established Church, and now lies buried 
 near the porch of old All Saints in Winterton. On one 
 of Dr. Fowler's houses in Winterton, in the main street, 
 is a marble slab, erected by the Doctor, with the modest 
 inscription, "Here Mr. Wesley first preached in Winter- 
 ton." Evidently he stood in the doorway, and preached 
 to a street congregation — the street rising slightly there. 
 It is a tradition in the family that Mr. Wesley was often 
 their guest, but the Fowlers did not leave the Estab- 
 lished Church, three of the present generation being 
 clergymen in it. The Ruslings, however, became Meth- 
 odists, and emigrating to America continued in that 
 communion, as a rule. There are some of that name still 
 in Lincolnshire; but we could trace no relationship, and 
 our own branch seemed extinct. 
 
 Here at Winterton, and all through Lincolnshire in- 
 deed, are the remains of old Roman camps in the shape 
 of Roman tiles and tesselated pavements, and unques- 
 tionably the Romans were here in force in ancient days. 
 A century ago, Mr. William Fowler, aforesaid, became 
 greatly interested in these, and in ancient stained-glass 
 windows at Lincoln, York, and elsewhere, and devoted 
 his latter years to making drawings and colored engrav- 
 ings of them. These brought him to the notice of Sir 
 
 346 
 
Walter Scott, Sir Joseph Banks, the Royal Family, WinteitOIl 
 Archbishop of York, Bishops of Oxford and Ely, the 
 Duke of Wellington, and others, and his published vol- 
 umes of them are still reckoned among the art treasures 
 of England. Dr. Fowler kindly favored us with a full 
 set of these, which we prize very highly — the only set in 
 America. But our sojourn at Winterton was full of 
 other pleasures also — sweet recollections, fragrant remi- 
 niscences, halcyon clays, and "Attic nights," as Cowley 
 says — and these, or their delicious memories, will abide 
 with us forever. I never did take much "stock" in gene- 
 alogy or pedigree; but it is as good to be well-born as 
 ill-born; and it was pleasant to know that our Kin Be- 
 yond Sea were still of some "pith and moment." 
 
 The weather at Winterton was raw and misty, and 
 drizzling; not so bad as Scotland indeed, but we seldom 
 had a half or quarter clay even really fine. The sun 
 would rise in the morning clear and beautiful, but by 
 nine o'clock it would be overcast and drizzling; by noon 
 it would clear up, and the sun come out, not like our 
 American sun, but more like a boiled turnip or pump- 
 kin. By three after noon it would be misty and drizzling 
 again. And so we often had a half dozen different kinds 
 of weather the same day. The Wintertonians called it 
 fine weather, and said they had had a lovely autumn. 
 But they know nothing of our American autumns in 
 England, and least of all of our glorious Indian summer. 
 Indeed, it seemed more like our November than Sep- 
 tember. 
 
 347 
 
Chapter XXVIII 
 
 E left Winterton September 19th, and 
 reached Peterborough, about one hundred 
 miles south, in time for lunch. This is an 
 interesting old town of about twenty-five 
 thousand people, with quaint houses and crooked streets, 
 and a fine old Norman cathedral (four hundred and sev- 
 enty-one feet long by eighty-one feet wide, and a tower 
 one hundred and eighty-eight feet high), dating back 
 to the eleventh century or farther. It was covered with 
 scaffoldings both inside and outside, restorations going 
 on; but enough was visible to indicate what a superb old 
 edifice it is. Its roof is one of the best specimens of fan- 
 vaulting in all England. Its spires, and pinnacles, and 
 turrets are all very beautiful. But it suffered severely 
 from the Puritans in Cromwell's time, who, in their mad 
 iconoclasm, smashed the fine stained-glass windows, lev- 
 eled the altar and screen, destroyed most of the brasses 
 and monuments, and demolished the cloisters. Sad 
 work all this for God-fearing and sober-minded English- 
 men. But, as the French say, there were "extenuating 
 circumstances." The Church had abused her rights and 
 privileges, and they were trying blindly to "get even" 
 with her! Here Catharine of Aragon and Mary Queen 
 of Scots were both buried. Fotheringay, where Mary 
 was beheaded, is only a few miles away, and she was 
 
 348 
 
brought here for interment. But subsequently her re- Pet6F- 
 mains, by order of James I of England, her son, were bOFOUjh 
 removed to Westminster Abbey, and a tomb erected 
 over them there. To the north of the west door is a 
 portrait of Old Scarlett, the sexton who buried both 
 Catharine and Mary, with a quaint epitaph to the old 
 gravedigger. 
 
 Next we passed by Rugby, the scene of "Tom 
 Brown's School-days," a sleepy town of twelve thousand 
 inhabitants, with its famous school, founded by Law- 
 rence Sheriff e in 1567, with endowments that now yield 
 over $35,000 a year and provide for over five hundred 
 boys. The great English educator, Thomas Arnold, 
 father of Matthew Arnold, was head-master here, 1828 
 to 1842, and lies buried in the beautiful chapel. 
 
 We reached Leamington the same evening, and 
 stopped there overnight; a town of twenty-five thou- 
 sand inhabitants, situated on the Learn, a tributary of 
 the Avon, reminding one of our Saratoga. A century 
 ago it was only a small village. But chalybeate, saline, 
 and sulphurous springs were discovered there, that the 
 doctors said were good for the stomach and liver, and 
 so it grew into a famous health resort, and continues so. 
 It has springs, baths, and many good hotels, and alto- 
 gether is quite a charming country place. 
 
 Only a few miles distant is Sulgrave, the ancestral 
 home of the English Washingtons. The manor-house 
 was built by a Lawrence Washington about 1550, and 
 bears the Washington coat-of-arms. But whether this 
 was our "Lawrence Washington," or George Washing- 
 ton was descended from these Sulgrave Washingtons, 
 has not been conclusively proved. It looks as if he was; 
 
 349 
 
European and George Washington was a good deal of an English 
 
 Days and country gentleman, much more so than a typical Amer- 
 
 WayS ican. But we can not yield him to Sulgrave just yet. 
 
 Next morning — a beautiful English morning — we 
 took the horse-cars, and rode to Warwick, about two 
 and one-half miles from Leamington. It is a continu- 
 ous village all the way, through a charming bit of coun- 
 try, and one would think they would have an electric 
 road there. Warwick is a quaint old town, of twelve 
 
 thousand people, 
 and the seat of 
 Warwick Castle; 
 and a fine old cas- 
 tle it is. It is one 
 of the oldest and 
 most picturesque 
 feudal residences 
 in England, and 
 dates from Saxon 
 times. It is still 
 in a good state of 
 preservation, and occupied by a descendant of Guy, the 
 great Earl of Warwick, "king-maker" of England cen- 
 turies ago. The oldest portion is Caesar's Tower, one 
 hundred and fifty feet high, built soon after the Norman 
 conquest — a huge fortress and lock-up, with gruesome 
 dungeons beneath it. The Normans seem to have been 
 great soldiers and engineers, as well as architects, and 
 to have located their castles excellently everywhere, as 
 here, so as to control and command the surrounding 
 country. The old castle stands on a high hill overlook- 
 ing the beautiful Avon, dominating all the landscape, 
 
 350 
 
 Old English 
 
 Inn near 
 
 Warwick. 
 
and the views from its towers and windows are exquisite Warwick 
 beyond description. You enter by a sunken road, cut 
 through the hillside, and, passing the ancient moat and 
 gate, come out on a superb lawn, with stately oaks and 
 beeches flanking it, and gorgeous peacocks wandering 
 here and there. Inside is a fine collection of paintings, 
 and ancient armor, and antique furniture, valued at a 
 million of dollars or more. There is a whole roomful 
 of Van Dycks, and among them Charles I on horseback, 
 his best portrait extant, and of which we had seen copies 
 at The Hague and elsewhere; a smooth-faced, long- 
 haired, pointed-bearded, princely personage, not with- 
 out some gifts and graces; but it is an insincere and 
 treacherous face, and, unless all history is false, he de- 
 served to have his head cut off half a dozen times over. 
 
 There is an inlaid marble table there, deftly and curi- 
 ously wrought, that is valued at forty thousand dollars 
 alone. Also an ancient bed, in which Queens Anne, 
 Elizabeth, Victoria, and others, have all slept. Also 
 Warwick's ancient mace and Oliver Cromwell's battle- 
 helmet; doubtless the one he wore at Dunbar, and at 
 Naseby, and Marston Moor. Also an old arm-chair, 
 made from the good ship Golden Hind, in which that 
 doughty old sea-dog Sir Francis Drake first sailed 
 around the globe. As an old soldier, I was permitted 
 to take Warwick's mace (evidently an old battle-club) 
 in my hands, and to place Cromwell's helmet on my 
 head; a courtesy and honor duly appreciated, and which 
 may account for my greater combativeness ever after- 
 wards ! 
 
 Warwick itself is an old, old town, having been orig- 
 inally a British settlement, and afterwards occupied by 
 
 35i 
 
European the Romans. Its present name is Saxon, and it is said 
 Days and to have been founded in the year i. Many of its houses 
 Ways retain their mediaeval features, and its old east and west 
 gates are still standing, though its walls have disap- 
 peared. We strolled through its picturesque, ivy-clad 
 streets, and down by the old bridge over the Avon, con- 
 juring up its romantic past, and peopling the old town 
 and castle again with knightly men and ladies fair; but 
 were quickly brought back to modern life by a flock of 
 sheep and a frightened cow and calf, that a pair of sturdy 
 English boys were driving to market or pasture. These 
 galloped wildly about the ancient streets, helter-skelter, 
 and we had to take refuge in the nearest convenient 
 store or "shop," as John Bull calls it, to escape their mad 
 rush. 
 
 It is only five miles from Warwick to Kenilworth 
 and Kenilworth Castle, another fine old baronial man- 
 sion, but now largely in ruins. It was a great place in 
 its day, but sacked and ruined in Cromwell's time, and 
 never restored. We had not time to visit it, much to 
 our regret; but the same afternoon we went on to 
 Stratford-on-Avon, only ten or twelve miles distant, and 
 took in Shakespeare, with Anne Hathaway, his home, 
 grave, and other attractions. A very interesting old 
 place this, a typical English town of eight or nine thou- 
 sand inhabitants, but with some modern traits or appur- 
 tenances. As our train ran in, on the banks of the classic 
 Avon, we saw a Stratford "team" playing football, and 
 they played well. A little farther on we struck the city 
 "Gasworks;" lanterns and tallow-dips no longer in use 
 there. At the station we found three lively cabs, but one 
 of these sufficed to carry us to Shakespeare's house, a 
 
 352 
 
quaint old English, half-timbered dwelling, rather better Stratford-Oil- 
 than its neighbors. We sat in his ingleside, or chimney- Avon 
 nook. We rested in his old arm-chair — said to be his. 
 W T e saw the best portraits of him extant. We gazed 
 upon his old flower-garden, but nobody is allowed to 
 enter it; too tempting for souvenirs. Then we rode by 
 John Harvard's house (or his mother's), father of Har- 
 vard University, to beautiful old Trinity Church, and 
 stood with lifted hat by Shakespeare's grave, and walked 
 through the ancient graveyard, and by the side of the 
 lovely Avon, where Shakespeare used to walk and fish 
 and ponder. And came away better Shakespearians 
 than ever. 
 
 Of course, we were interested in Shakespeare's grave, 
 and touched by his well-known epitaph : 
 
 " Good frend for Jesus sake forbeare, 
 To digg the dust enclosed heare; 
 Bleste be y e man yt spares thes stones, 
 And curst be hey 1 moves my bones!" 
 
 What did he mean by this ? I venture this explanation. 
 Old Trinity is a fifteenth-century edifice, and literally 
 full of graves and tombs — chancel, aisles, and walls, all 
 occupied. In old times, everybody that was anybody 
 wanted to be buried inside a church, and when this be- 
 came full it was the custom to empty the graves, and 
 cast the bones indiscriminately into a near-by charnel- 
 house, and consume them with quicklime. There is 
 such a charnel-house now at Trinity Church, but no 
 longer in use; it was walled up a century or more ago, 
 because of the growing refinement and reverence of the 
 age and increased sanitary knowledge. Naturally, 
 23 353 
 
European Shakespeare did not want his body dug up, and cast into 
 
 Days and the hideous old charnel-house, and disposed of in this 
 
 ways way, and hence his ominous curse on the man "y t moves 
 
 my bones !" His curse has held good all these years. 
 
 His grave has never been opened. But is not this a 
 
 rational explanation of it? 
 
 Anne Hathaway's cottage lies a mile or so away by 
 the road, but only about half that distance by an old 
 footpath, a "short-cut" across the fields. It is in pretty 
 much the same condition as when Shakespeare courted 
 her here, with an old settle on which likely they both sat 
 and chatted, an old bedstead, old chairs, and other old 
 relics of three hundred years ago, and in front is a tiny 
 garden, gay with old-fashioned flowers. 
 
 Altogether Stratford is a beautiful spot, and makes 
 the most of her great dramatist. "I am sure, sir," said a 
 worthy Stratfordian, "we ought to be very much obliged 
 to Mr. Shakespeare for being born here; for I don't know 
 what we should have done without him." The annual 
 pilgrimage there is about twenty-five thousand, of whom 
 over one-fourth are Americans, and this patronage does 
 much to keep the town alive. It is the heart of Warwick 
 County, the heart of the heart of "Merrie England." 
 And I do n't wonder it produced Will Shakespeare. It 
 is just the kind of a place in which Shakespeare should 
 have been born — so beautiful, so idyllic, so "Far from 
 the Madding Crowd." And if the world had more such 
 charming places as Stratford-on-Avon, there would be 
 more William Shakespeares. 
 
 Returning to Leamington, we went next to Oxford, 
 and, I need scarcely say, fell in love with that beautiful 
 old place, the great university town of England, with 
 
 354 
 
twenty-three colleges and over three thousand students. Oxford 
 The whole constitute Oxford University, and are super- 
 vised and governed by it. Here England nurses her 
 great men, and produces her great soldiers and states- 
 men, philosophers, and thinkers. Cambridge also is a 
 great university town, as Rugby and Eton are great 
 preparatory schools; but Oxford surpasses her. As a 
 seat of learning Oxford seems unrivaled, and it certainly 
 is the very paradise of scholars and thinkers. Each 
 college has its 
 own buildings, 
 grounds, and 
 chapel, and many 
 are gems of archi- 
 tecture and good 
 taste; as Christ 
 Church, Trinity, 
 Magdalen, Wad- 
 ham, Balliol, Mer- 
 ton, New College, 
 Lincoln; their 
 
 gardens, quadrangles, and towers being beautiful as a 
 poet's dream or a scholar's fancy. The Magdalen 
 Tower, especially, with its Addison's Walk along the 
 Cherwell — there is nothing more exquisite anywhere. 
 Well might Hawthorne say : "The world, surely, has not 
 another place like Oxford. It is a despair to see such a 
 place, or ever to leave it; for it would take a lifetime, 
 and more, to comprehend and enjoy it satisfactorily." 
 We strolled from college to college and library to li- 
 brary—Bodleian, Radcliffe, and all — artistic, ivy-clad, 
 and classic, with their quaint carvings, old oaks, elms, 
 
 355 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 k 
 
 
 
 
 JN 1 ' - -^SfoMHM 
 
 
 
 
 f- "*&£ 
 
 
 
 " 
 
 
 ' •• • 
 
 %;,-■:. ' ' * - •■'• % 
 
 Magdalen 
 
 College, 
 
 Oxford. 
 
European beeches, apple-trees, and cedars of Lebanon, and were 
 Days and intensely interested everywhere. We had seen Harvard, 
 Ways Yale, Princeton, Dickinson, and others at home, and 
 enjoyed their college sights and atmosphere; but Oxford 
 was founded by Alfred a thousand years ago, and seems 
 in a hundred ways to be the heir of all the centuries. 
 It was vacation time, and only a few of the university 
 dons and students were still there. These seemed to be 
 chiefly mousing about the libraries, and among them 
 were several Americans. In the Bodleian we struck a 
 bright young fellow from Washington, D. C, who had 
 graduated at Johns Hopkins, and had then come over to 
 Oxford to read a little more. He thought Oxford a 
 fine place, of course; but, when questioned closely, 
 doubted whether life there, on the whole, was preferable 
 to our American colleges for our average Young Amer- 
 icans. He said the expense was much greater, and, 
 moreover, there was danger of their becoming saturated 
 with English ideas and ideals, which they would have to 
 abjure when they got home. Still he liked Oxford, and 
 was enjoying its life and libraries immensely. 
 
 Here, also, at Oxford, we were shown the spot where 
 Ridley and Latimer were burned at the stake, because of 
 their Protestant faith, by " Bloody Mary" — only three 
 centuries ago. It was a bloody but heroic age. Said 
 Latimer to his brother martyr, as the torch was being 
 applied, "Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play 
 the man; and we shall this day light such a candle, by 
 God's grace, in England, as shall never be put out!" 
 And they did both "play the man," and so saved old 
 England to the Protestant religion and modern civil- 
 ization, as it seems, forever. 
 
 356 
 
Here, also, we saw the dormitory and study of John Oxford 
 Wesley, when he was a fellow of Lincoln College at 
 Oxford. Here is the pulpit in which he preached for 
 six years as chaplain to the college; I ascended and stood 
 in it. Here is the room in which his "Holy Club" met 
 for meditation and prayer, daily, according to method, 
 and hence they were nicknamed "Methodists" — a mere 
 handful then, only a century and a half ago; but to-day 
 his Methodists number nearly ten millions scattered 
 around the globe. A week previously I had visited his 
 birthplace at Epworth, Lincolnshire. The next week 
 I saw the memorial tablet to John and Charles Wesley 
 in Westminster Abbey, among England's greatest 
 worthies, with John's three great sayings : "The best of 
 all is, God is with us;" "The world is my parish;" "God 
 buries his workmen, but carries on his work." A week 
 afterwards I stood by his modest grave, back of City 
 Road Chapel, London, with uplifted hat and bowed 
 head, and reverenced him more than ever. A truly great 
 man was John Wesley, a great lover of his country and 
 his kind; one of God Almighty's "picked men," whose 
 name and fame will broaden with the centuries and en- 
 dure forever. 
 
 Oxford itself is a town, of some fifty thousand inhab- 
 itants, situated at the junction of the Thames and Cher- 
 well, with an amphitheater of gentle hills surrounding 
 it, and is the county-town of Oxfordshire. It dates back 
 to the year 900, and strikes one as superlatively an old 
 college town, and not much else. Its citizens are proud 
 of the great university, and the university men feel 
 kindly toward the old city. The old riots of "Town and 
 Gown" are practically a thing of the past, abolished by 
 
 357 
 
European modern athletics absorbing the surplus energy of the 
 Days and students. The Thames is only a small river at Oxford, 
 Ways but it affords good rowing grounds, which the students 
 improve to the utmost. 
 
 From Oxford we hastened on to London, and were 
 glad to get back to that great metropolis once more. 
 The ride from Oxford is but an hour or so, and the 
 whole route, down the valley of the Thames, abounds in 
 interest and beauty. We passed Windsor en route, but 
 returned there afterwards. 
 
 358 
 
Chapter XXIX 
 
 |IRST and last, we were a fortnight in Lon- London 
 don, and saw a good deal of it. It is surely 
 a great city, the greatest on the earth, or 
 that ever was on the earth. It is the me- 
 tropolis of England, and the center of the British Em- 
 pire. It extends fifteen miles east and west, by ten miles 
 north and south, and is still growing steadily and rapidly. 
 With its suburbs, it embraces six millions of people, or 
 it is about twice the size of Greater New York; and un- 
 questionably it is the richest city on the globe, or that 
 ever was on the globe. This is only a general way of 
 describing London. But it will do for a preface. 
 
 Its name is from the Latin Londinium, as Tacitus 
 calls it, and this is only a Romanizing of the ancient 
 British name, Llyn or Lin, a "pool," and din or dun, 
 which means a "hill," or "hill-fortress." The "pool" was 
 the widening of the Thames here, where it makes a bend 
 or sweep, and affords a good place for docks and ship- 
 ping. The "dun" or the hill was likely the high ground 
 by Ludgate Hill, where St. Paul's now stands, or Corn- 
 hill near the Mansion House and Bank of England, or 
 probably both. In the days of the ancient Britons Lon- 
 don was probably only a collection of rude huts, on these 
 two hills, encompassed by a rampart and water-ditch, 
 while the rest was woods and marshes. 
 
 359 
 
European When the Romans arrived there, early in the Chris- 
 
 DayS and tian era or somewhat before, London rapidly grew into 
 Ways importance. Those old masters of the arts of war and 
 trade soon made it a resort of merchants and mariners, 
 the Thames affording a ready access to the sea. But it 
 was never raised to the dignity of a municipium, like St. 
 Albans, the most important city in Southern England 
 during the Roman period, nor regarded as the capital of 
 Roman Britain, like York. Roman relics are often found 
 in digging for London foundations now, or in dredging 
 in the Thames, and fragments of the old Roman walls 
 are still discernible. They seem to have been nine or 
 ten feet thick by twenty feet high, and to have consisted 
 of a core of rubble, with facings of stone and brick, like 
 the old city walls down in Italy and elsewhere on the 
 Continent. Wherever Rome went she carried her build- 
 ing instinct and skill, and left evidences of her might and 
 power. It must have been a great thing to be a Roman 
 in those days. 
 
 These old walls were built by Constantine the Great 
 in the fourth century, and their gates were Newgate, 
 Bishopsgate, Ludgate, Aldgate, Billingsgate, etc. — 
 names still commemorated in streets and localities there. 
 Roman London was about a mile long by half a mile 
 wide, from the Tower to Ludgate, and from the Thames 
 to London wall. Its remains are still found, at about 
 eighteen feet below the present surface at Cheapside 
 and the Bank. The Saxons, who followed the Romans, 
 either destroyed their great works, or allowed them to 
 fall into decay — walls, roads, bridges, villas, baths, tem- 
 ples, and statuary — as they did all over England. It 
 is amazing how quickly the great Roman civilization, 
 
 360 
 
that had endured for four and a half centuries, disin- London 
 tegrated and fell to pieces after the Romans left. How 
 could it have happened that way, when Rome was a 
 blessing and benediction to the land, far surpassing what 
 England had ever seen before? But King Alfred, great 
 and wise ruler that he was — far in advance of his age 
 and time — reformed London, and rebuilt her walls 
 (A. D. 886), as a rampart against the piratical Danes, 
 and, though they often attacked, they never took it 
 afterwards. Then came William the Conqueror, who 
 gave London a charter, and engaged to maintain the 
 rights and privileges of its citizens, but at the same 
 time he erected the White Tower to overawe them. 
 His charter read: "William king greets William bishop 
 and Gosfrith portreeve, and all the burghers within 
 London, French and English, friendly; and I do you 
 to wit that I will, that ye be all lawworthy. And I will 
 that every child be his father's heir after his father's 
 day, and I will not endure that any man offer any wrong 
 to you. God keep you." At this time, about A. D. 
 1066, London probably contained about thirty or forty 
 thousand inhabitants, and was a great city for its day. 
 But what would William and his Normans think of 
 London now? 
 
 I think the first impression London gives one is that 
 of hugeness, vastness, multitudinousness; and this grows 
 upon you. Its streets are mostly narrow, like old New 
 York, Philadelphia, and Boston. Its buildings are not 
 lofty, seldom exceeding four or five stories; but the rush 
 and roar of its omnibuses, cabs, carriages, wagons, 
 and people, crowding and choking its multitudes of 
 streets and alleys, must be seen to be appreciated. In 
 
 361 
 
European the heart of the city "street-blocks" are of constant 
 Days and occurrence, long lines of vehicles choking the thorough- 
 WayS fares to a standstill; and in many places it seems worth 
 a man's life to cross a street, as in the Strand, or Cheap- 
 side, or Piccadilly. "Places of Refuge" are provided 
 in the middle of the worst streets, a foot or so above 
 the ordinary level, and here aged and timid persons 
 rush and wait until the traffic rolls by or a courteous 
 policeman escorts them safely across. London has also 
 underground railroads and electric tramways; but these 
 are chiefly for her suburbs, believing her streets too 
 narrow and her traffic too great for surface roads. Her 
 cabs are cheap and excellent. But the omnibus pre- 
 dominates everywhere and is the chief feature of London 
 streets; a huge double-decker, with two rows of seats 
 on top, at right angles with the vehicle, and these top 
 seats are always full. Here men read, smoke, talk, and 
 discuss the news of the day; and sensible women, also, 
 are much in evidence. Londoners do not seem to mind 
 the drizzle and rain that occur every day here, nearly, 
 though water-proof lap-robes are provided against the 
 worst days. They use umbrellas also somewhat, of 
 course, but provide these themselves. 
 
 It is a fine thing to climb to the top of one of these 
 great omnibuses, and go sailing through the streets 
 of London. There is no better place to study English 
 life and character, and to see great London. We rode 
 on them for miles some days, changing from one line 
 to another, and always saw something new and inter- 
 esting. As a rule, the horses are first-class, and the 
 drivers obliging and intelligent. I made it my busi- 
 ness to talk with the drivers everywhere, and met many 
 
 362 
 
a "Sam Weller," bright and chipper as the day is long. London 
 And "Mr. Pickwick" was there, too, occasionally, 
 though not so much in evidence. 
 
 Thus we navigated the Strand, Fleet Street, Cheap- 
 side, Poultry, Piccadilly, Pall Mall, Oxford Street, 
 High Holborn, Tottenham Court Road, Bedford Street, 
 Montague Street, Kensington Street, Victoria Street, 
 and saw Whitehall, the Horse Guards, Charing Cross, 
 Trafalgar Square, Nelson's Monument, Landseers 
 Lions, the Na- 
 t i o n a 1 Gallery, 
 W e 1 1 i n g t o n's 
 Monument, the 
 Royal Exchange, 
 the Law Courts, 
 the old Bailey, 
 and Newgate. We 
 went to Hyde 
 Park, and saw 
 Rotten Row, with 
 all "the pride, 
 
 pomp, and circumstance" of its wealth, rank, and 
 fashion. We visited Buckingham Palace and the Albert 
 Memorial, one of the finest monuments in all Europe, 
 though in the procession of great men of all ages 
 chiseled upon it no American appears, not even George 
 Washington or Abraham Lincoln. We went to the 
 Houses of Parliament (do n't compare with our Capitol 
 at Washington), and heard "Big Ben" striking the 
 hours for all London; and the Thames Embankment, 
 with its Egyptian obelisk, twin to ours in New York 
 at Central Park. We crossed Waterloo Bridge and re- 
 
 363 
 
 T*b5""" 
 
 
 gjjM 
 
 
 
 l WM EH 
 
 s 
 
 
 
 
 
 - % , 
 
 The Strand, 
 London. 
 
European 
 
 Days and 
 
 Ways 
 
 turned over old London Bridge, choked with traffic; 
 probably on the site of the original Roman Bridge here. 
 We visited the Tower of London, with its wonderful 
 collection of ancient arms and armor, both for men 
 and horses — the finest in Europe — and saw the Brit- 
 ish crowns and jewels and royal regalia, and talked 
 with the yeomen of the guard, or "Beef-eaters." We 
 explored Whitechapel and the East End, with its 
 misery and crimes, though with some redeeming 
 
 Homes and 
 schools, that 
 promise much for 
 the future. We 
 went to the Na- 
 t i o n a 1 Gallery, 
 the South Ken- 
 sington Museum, 
 and the British 
 Museum — the 
 second greatest 
 library in the 
 world — and stud- 
 
 houses of 
 Parliament, 
 West- 
 minster. 
 
 ied the Elgin Marbles, the Egyptian, Assyrian, and 
 American Galleries, and saw the genuine signatures 
 of England's kings and queens, and of George 
 Washington and others, on old letters and proclama- 
 tions. At the British Museum they told us they had 
 a copy of every modern book printed, and verified it 
 by producing two of my own. We went to Madame 
 Tussaud's, and saw her wonderful collection of wax- 
 figures of the great men and women of many centuries 
 and celebrated characters of our own times. We vis- 
 
 364 
 
ited the ancient Guild Hall or old City Hall of London, London 
 with its curious old statues of Gog and Magog; the 
 Bank of England, with its vast treasures and quaint old 
 watchmen, where eleven streets come together, with 
 three thousand omnibuses and over one million people 
 passing daily, with the equestrian statue of Wellington 
 standing guard over all; Lincoln's Inn Fields, Crosby 
 Hall, Dickens's "Old Curiosity Shop" (now a waste- 
 paper store), the Mansion House or mayor's residence, 
 City Road Chapel, 
 Smithfield Mar- 
 ket, where John 
 Rogers "and other 
 servants of God 
 suffered death by 
 fire for the faith 
 of Christ, in the 
 
 years 1555-56-57-" 
 How familiar all 
 these names and 
 places seemed. We 
 had read about 
 them all our lives. 
 But here they were, present to the bodily senses, and The Royal 
 London seemed not a foreign land, but like home. AND THE 
 
 And then, when Sunday came, we worshiped in bank of 
 St. Paul's in the morning, with a goodly congregation England. 
 of devout souls; in Westminster Abbey in the after- 
 noon, with a still larger congregation, a good sermon, 
 and exquisite music; and heard Hugh Price Hughes 
 at St. James Hall in the evening — London's greatest 
 preacher, not unlike Henry Ward Beecher, but more 
 
 365 
 
European religious — with an audience that crowded the hall to 
 Days and the doors, and more. Hundreds were turned away, and 
 Ways I myself only succeeded in getting in by pleading my 
 privilege as an American. That same afternoon, on my 
 way home from the Abbey, I encountered a great mass- 
 meeting in Trafalgar Square, where fifty thousand 
 Englishmen were assembled to discuss the South Afri- 
 can question, and saw the London police handle it so 
 skillfully and firmly that there was no disorder or vio- 
 lence, though the meeting was called by the peace 
 advocates and captured by the war advocates. When- 
 ever the peace orators attempted to speak, the crowd 
 sang them down with "God Save the Queen," "Rule 
 Britannia," "Sherman marching through Georgia," and 
 other patriotic songs; but it was all good-natured, and 
 jolly even. And England was then on the verge of 
 the Boer War, too, and her very atmosphere electric 
 with patriotism and battle. 
 
 The police were certainly a fine body of men, both 
 on foot and mounted, and I never saw a crowd han- 
 dled better. When the meeting ended, they formed 
 a wedge, and putting the speakers in the middle 
 marched them quickly out of the crowd and into a 
 neighboring hotel, whence they disappeared to their 
 several homes. The London police, indeed, are an 
 honor and a credit to the city. One finds them every- 
 where, a body of bright and stalwart men, of more than 
 ordinary intelligence, and eager to serve and oblige 
 the passing traveler. We never hesitated to call upon 
 them for any information or assistance needed, and 
 never failed to get it. 
 
 St. Paul's is a noble Romanesque edifice, with a 
 
 3 66 
 
magnificent dome, and reminds one of St. Peter's at London — 
 Rome, though, of course, inferior. It is the fourth St. Paul's 
 largest church in the world, being surpassed only by 
 St. Peter's at Rome, the cathedral of Seville, and the 
 cathedral of Milan. Its location is not good, being so 
 hemmed in by narrow streets and houses that its colossal 
 proportions can not be realized. If it had any such 
 superb site as St. Peter's, or noble square as the Duomo 
 at Milan, it would appear much grander. The best view 
 of it is from the Thames, below Blackfriars Bridge, 
 though it looms lofty and imposing from all approaches 
 to London. It is in the form of a Latin cross, and is five 
 hundred feet long by one hundred and eighteen broad, 
 with a transept two hundred and fifty feet wide and a 
 dome rising three hundred and sixty-four feet from the 
 pavement to the top of the cross. It was begun in 1675, 
 and completed in 1710, by Sir Christopher Wren, who 
 lies buried here, with his memorable epitaph, "If you 
 would see my monument, look around you." It cost 
 nearly $4,000,000, and was paid for chiefly by a tax on 
 coal. 
 
 Its site has had a curious history. It is supposed 
 an old pagan, temple was here originally, judging from 
 the cinerary urns and other vessels discovered in dig- 
 ging the foundation for St. Paul's. A Christian Church 
 followed this in early Roman days; but this was demol- 
 ished by the pagan Saxons when the Romans retired. 
 Ethelbert, King of Kent, is said to have restored this 
 about 610. This church was burned down in 961, but 
 rebuilt within a year. It was destroyed by fire again 
 in 1087, but a new church was at once begun, though 
 not finished for two hundred years. This church, old 
 
 3fy 
 
European St. Paul's, was five hundred and ninety feet long, nearly 
 Days and one hundred feet larger than the present cathedral, and 
 Ways in 131 5 was equipped with a modern spire covered 
 with lead, five hundred and twenty feet high — eight feet 
 higher than the cathedral at Cologne. This spire was 
 struck by lightning in 1445, but not restored until 1561, 
 when it fell a prey to the flames, the church also being 
 badly damaged by this fire. This seems to have been 
 the history of all the old churches abroad — to have been 
 burned down and built up again half a dozen times over. 
 The underground parts of the ruined church were used 
 as workshops and wine-cellars for a long while. The 
 nave was turned into a public promenade — the once 
 famous "Paul's Walk." The stones were taken to build 
 Somerset House, and other public and private edifices. 
 Then came Charles I, who resolved on its restoration, 
 but the Civil War stopped this. And then came the 
 great fire of 1666, which destroyed one-third of London, 
 and wiped the old church out of existence. Hard by 
 once stood the celebrated Cross of St. Paul ("Powle's 
 Cross"), where sermons were preached, papal bulls pro- 
 mulgated, heretics made to recant or burn, and witches 
 to confess, and where the pope's condemnation of Luther 
 was proclaimed in the presence of Cardinal Wolsey. 
 The platform on which this cross stood was discovered 
 in 1879, at a depth of about six feet, when they came 
 to lay out the pretty little garden on the northeast side 
 of the present cathedral. 
 
 Inside, St. Paul's is crowded with tombs and monu- 
 ments, chiefly of military and naval personages, more 
 or less eminent. Wellington is there, as he should be, 
 and Nelson, and Rodney, and Napier, and Gordon, and 
 
 368 
 
Picton, and Sir John Moore; but Cornwallis, Howe, and London — 
 a lot of other nobodies also. So, also, Dr. Samuel John- Westminster 
 son is there, and Bishop Heber, and Dean Milman, and Abbey 
 John Howard, and Sir William Jones — not unworthy 
 of the place. In the crypt is the hearse used at Wel- 
 lington's funeral, cast from guns captured in his battles, 
 and also memorial slabs of famous artists and others; 
 such as John Rennie, builder of the great Waterloo 
 Bridge; Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Edwin Landseer, Sir 
 Astley Cooper, Sir Christopher Wren and wife, Sir 
 Bartle Frere, and Benjamin West, the great American 
 painter a century ago, the only American yet here. St. 
 Paul's is a good place to visit. One is always impressed 
 with its grandeur and sublimity; and you come away 
 with a deep sense of England's greatness and majesty. 
 Westminster Abbey, or "the Abbey," as Londoners 
 call it for short, is a venerable pile on the left bank 
 of the Thames, on a spot once overgrown with thorns 
 and surrounded by water, and hence called "Thorny 
 Isle." There was an old church here so long ago as 
 6 1 6, in honor of St. Peter, with a Benedictine mon- 
 astery connected with it, to the west of the Cistercian 
 Abbey of St. Mary of the Graces (Eastminster), and 
 so the whole came to be called Westminster Abbey. 
 This church was destroyed by the pagan Danes, but re- 
 erected by King Edgar in 985. The whole Abbey, 
 however, may be ascribed to Edward the Confessor 
 about 1050. In the latter half of the thirteenth century 
 it was entirely rebuilt by Henry III and Edward I, and 
 it stands now substantially as then, though there have 
 been alterations and additions since. Like St. Paul's, 
 it is in the form of a Latin cross, and chiefly in the 
 24 369 
 
European perpendicular and early English styles, with Norman 
 Days and touches here and there. It is five hundred and thirteen 
 Ways feet long by two hundred feet broad, and one hundred 
 and two feet high, with towers two hundred and twenty- 
 five feet high. It seems a great deal older than St. 
 Paul's, and impresses one every way. With its royal 
 
 burial vaults and multitude 
 of tombs and monuments 
 to celebrated men, it is not 
 unreasonably regarded by 
 Englishmen as their na- 
 tional Walhalla or Temple 
 of Fame, and interment 
 within its ancient walls is 
 held to be the highest honor 
 England can bestow. They 
 show you the old stone 
 chair here, on which the 
 kings and queens of Eng- 
 land have been crowned, 
 and of Scotland before 
 them, back to the time 
 "whereof the memory of 
 man runneth not to the 
 contrary," and the tombs of kings, queens, princes, and 
 nobles, without end; as Edward I, Henry VII, Charles 
 II, William III, George II, Eleanor, Elizabeth, Mary, 
 Anne, Mary Queen of Scots, the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, Duke of Richmond, and Earl of Exeter. Also, 
 monuments of Pitt, Peel, Palmerston, Beaconsfield, 
 Warren Hastings, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord Mansfield, 
 Charles Darwin, General Wolfe, Sir James Outram, 
 
 37o 
 
 
 
 ^■i ^ *?l - *J|fl|ffilL. -Mc\ 3 
 
 
 1 
 
 Wftfc; . \ 
 -— — - ' nil 
 
 £Z.' ' -\ 
 
 <S. 
 
 H 
 
 ^"fiPHSi MMhkH' 
 
 West- 
 minster 
 Abbey. 
 
General Havelock, Macaulay, John and Charles Wesley, London — 
 and a host of others, who have made England what she National 
 is, and keep her so to-day. Over in the "Poets' Corner" Gallery 
 are tombs or tablets to Shakespeare, Milton, Chaucer, 
 Spenser, Ben Jonson ("O rare Ben Jonson!"), Gold- 
 smith, Campbell, Southey, Browning, Tennyson, and 
 others, and also one to our own Longfellow. It would 
 seem they might have included Bryant and Whittier 
 also. Of course, there is a great multitude of nobodies 
 here, also, as in St. Paul's; and it would be a good thing 
 to clean out many of the tombs and monuments, as 
 undeserved or in bad taste. But the spaciousness and 
 age of the old Abbey produce a profound impression 
 upon you, and you walk cautiously and softly about, 
 as if fearful of disturbing the reverence and silence of 
 the place. As Washington Irving said, "You feel that 
 you are surrounded by the great men of past times, 
 who have filled history with their deeds and the earth 
 with their renown." One of these days, America also 
 will have her Pantheon or Westminster Abbey, and 
 will find names to record there not unworthy of the 
 Republic. 
 
 The National Gallery on Trafalgar Square is a great 
 building, but without much architectural merit. It 
 contains many fine pictures from all the schools, par- 
 ticularly some Raphaels, Rembrandts, Vandycks, and 
 Veroneses, that it would be hard to surpass anywhere. 
 Its Reynoldses, Gainsboroughs, Hogarths, and Land- 
 seers are not equaled elsewhere, and there is a robust- 
 ness, naturalness, and common sense about English art 
 characteristic of the race. Her artists may lack the 
 fineness and subtlety of other schools; but they know 
 
 37* 
 
European British character and British landscapes, and average 
 Days and human nature, and paint all excellently well. One day 
 Ways while there (September 6th) we were treated to a ter- 
 rific thunder and lightning storm, worthy of New York, 
 or worse. The sky grew yellow and then black, and 
 the rain came down in torrents. The whole city seemed 
 enveloped in a true London mist or fog. The street 
 and shop lamps were lighted at mid-day, and the ushers 
 drove us all out of the galleries into the entrance, lest 
 we might get lost there, or possibly something else 
 get lost. 
 
 And out of all that we thus saw in and about London 
 we gained the impression of great London — great in 
 population, great in wealth, great in power, great in art 
 and science and literature, great in intelligence and re- 
 ligion, the greatest product and proudest monument of 
 civilization and Christianity to-day upon the earth, or 
 that was ever upon the earth. And London was never 
 more prosperous and potent than to-day; and English- 
 men made and keep her so; for London is essentially an 
 English city. Other nationalities there are, of course — 
 Scotch, Irish, French, German, etc. — but the English 
 overwhelmingly predominates. What an honor and a 
 glory London is to the Anglo-Saxon race ! It has taken 
 two thousand years to do it. But they have done it; 
 and there she stands, on the banks of the Thames she 
 loves, and in the heart of England she reveres. One 
 of these days New York will surpass her. It is written 
 in the book of fate, predestined by our location and peo- 
 ple; but we may go to London and learn many things 
 yet, if we will; and it is only the inquiring and the 
 teachable than can become truly great and wise. 
 
 ?>72 
 
London, it is but right to say, keeps the Sabbath London — 
 and goes to Church on Sunday, and is not ashamed The Sabbath 
 of it. Her multitudinous shops are all closed on that 
 day, her vast business suspended, and nothing is open 
 but her restaurants and tobacco-shops. Her patron 
 saint is St. Paul, carved upon her city-seal, and her 
 great cathedral named after him; and her city motto, 
 blazoned over her Guild Hall and other public build- 
 ings is "Domine, dirige nos" (O Lord, direct us!") 
 So, at Oxford, 
 the chief motto is, 
 "Dominus illu- 
 minatio me a;" 
 and you will see 
 the same or like 
 mottoes all over 
 London and Eng- 
 land. Evidently 
 they are a rev- 
 erent and God- 
 fearing race over 
 
 there, as the French are only a pleasure-loving race, The Thames 
 and this, more than all else, has made England what 
 she is, and keeps her so to-day. 
 
 London and New York are the two largest cities in 
 the world — the one having about six million inhab- 
 itants and the other about three million five hundred 
 thousand — each being the greatest seaport in its own 
 half of the world. London, with six million people, 
 spends about $12,000,000 a year on popular education. 
 New York, with three million five hundred thousand, 
 spends about $15,000,000. London, with six million 
 
 373 
 
 Richmond 
 Bridge. 
 
European inhabitants, spends about $8,000,000 a year for police 
 Days and service, while New York, with three million five hun- 
 WayS dred thousand, spends about $12,000,000. For her 
 $8,000,000 a year London gets about sixteen thousand 
 policemen, while New York for her $12,000,000 gets 
 only about eight thousand. The total cost of governing 
 London is about $70,000,000 a year, while the total 
 cost of governing New York is about $100,000,000 a 
 year. In other words, London government costs about 
 $12 a head, while New York government costs about 
 $28 a head. How much of this goes to the people, 
 and how much to Tammany Hall, perhaps Mr. Croker 
 could explain. But the comparison is suggestive, and 
 Brother Jonathan should bestir himself. 
 
 374 
 
Chapter XXX 
 
 JjF course, while in London, we took a day LondOII- 
 off and ran down to Windsor, the home of Windsor 
 England's kings and queens for many cen- 
 turies now. It is only twenty-one miles 
 from London, up the valley of the Thames, and nothing 
 could be more lovely than the picturesque ride there. 
 The town itself has only about twenty thousand people, 
 is the shire town of old Berkshire; but the castle and 
 royal residence are the chief things. They stand on a 
 little eminence overlooking the valley of the Thames, 
 and there was a stronghold here no doubt in old Roman 
 or Saxon days. But the castle as it now appears was 
 first erected by William the Conqueror, and rebuilt by 
 Henry III and Edward III, about 1300. Afterwards, 
 George IV restored it, and then Victoria still further 
 restored and enlarged it, at a cost of nearly $5,000,000, 
 making it one of the most stately and magnificent royal 
 residences in the world. 
 
 There is the Round Tower, one hundred and two 
 by ninety-five feet, on a circular mound one hundred 
 and twenty-five feet in diameter by forty-two feet high, 
 of great antiquity. The castle and royal residence 
 proper, St. George's Chapel, the Albert Chapelj the 
 barracks for the troops, are all on an extended scale, as 
 befits England. The tower was formerly used only as 
 
 375 
 
European a keep or prison, but is now a museum, with a huge bell 
 Days and in it brought from Sebastopol. The state apartments 
 Ways are full of rare and beautiful objects, as well as paint- 
 ings, portraits, and tapestries; but the private apart- 
 ments were closed, the queen being still absent at Bal- 
 moral. She ought to have been at Windsor, of course, 
 to greet us; but the best we could do was to leave our 
 compliments and kind wishes for her. We wandered 
 from room to room, and greatly enjoyed the vistas 
 from the terrace, over the exquisite valley of the Thames, 
 with its far-stretching landscapes, and after seeing and 
 realizing all here, one does not wonder that the kings 
 and queens of England chose Windsor for their royal 
 residence. How solid and substantial it all seems, yet 
 stately and romantic, old England in epitome! 
 
 St. George's Chapel ranks next to Westminster 
 Abbey as a royal mausoleum, though no king was buried 
 here until Edward IV. He left directions in his will 
 for a splendid tomb, with an effigy of himself in silver 
 over it. But nothing now remains of this, except part 
 of the iron grille surrounding it, said to be one of the 
 most skillful and elaborate pieces of wrought-iron work 
 in existence. Next, Henry VIII was buried here, 
 alongside of Jane Seymour, and he directed that a mag- 
 nificent bronze and marble tomb should be erected over 
 their remains. But the tomb was never completed, 
 and its metal work was melted down in Cromwell's 
 time and cast into cannon. Charles I and other royal 
 personages are also buried here, and the choir con- 
 tains the stalls of the Knights of the Garter, with their 
 historic coats-of-arms and banners. The chapel itself 
 is one of the finest pieces of perpendicular architecture 
 
 376 
 
in England, and is crowded with tombs and memorial London — 
 tablets, like St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, of dis- Windsor 
 tinguished persons, both civil and military. 
 
 The Albert Memorial Chapel was built originally 
 by Henry III, but altered and enlarged by Henry VII. 
 While still unfinished, Henry VIII gave it to Cardinal 
 Wolsey, and for a long time it was known as "Wolsey's 
 tomb-house." The princely Wolsey engaged a dis- 
 tinguished Florentine sculptor to make him a splendid 
 and costly tomb 
 of black marble 
 and gilt bronze, 
 with his recum- 
 b e n t effigy o n 
 top, after the 
 fashion of his 
 time. But in 
 Cromwell's time 
 the bronze work 
 was torn off and 
 melted down into 
 cannon— put to better use by the Commonwealth — and St - George's 
 in 1 80^ the black marble sarcophagus was moved from „f APEL ' 
 
 J r o Windsor. 
 
 Windsor and placed in St. Paul's, as a tomb for Lord 
 Nelson, a more worthy Englishman. In recent times, 
 since the death of Prince Albert, the whole chapel has 
 been restored, and lined with rich marbles and reliefs, 
 and dedicated to his memory; though, singularly, he 
 is not buried here, nor under the magnificent Albert 
 Memorial in London, but at Frogmore, a quiet little 
 lodge in the Home Park, a mile or so from the castle. 
 Here, however, repose George III, George IV, William 
 
 377 
 
European IV, and other royal personages. A subterranean passage 
 Days and leads from St. George's Chapel to the Royal Tomb- 
 WayS house under the Albert Chapel, but the public are not 
 permitted there. They will allow you to look through 
 the grated doors and windows, and feast your eyes on 
 dead royalty and their memorials in this way, but not 
 otherwise. We tried all sorts of arguments and ''tips" 
 to gain admission, but the doorkeepers were truly Eng- 
 lish and inexorable. 
 
 The Royal Forest, or Great Park at Windsor, used 
 to contain sixty thousand acres, but is now reduced to 
 about two thousand. It abounds with magnificent elms 
 and oaks, and contains thousands of fallow deer. Here 
 are beautiful drives and lakes, and England certainly 
 knows how to take care of her royal family, and seems 
 not unwilling to do so. 
 
 There were only a few companies of household 
 troops on duty at Windsor when we were there. We 
 saw them at guard mount and on dress parade, and they 
 were certainly all that could be desired, both as officers 
 and soldiers. They much surpassed any soldiers we saw 
 on the Continent, and were only to be compared with 
 our own American army. West Point is certainly equal 
 to Sandhurst and Woolwich, and the American private 
 soldier is in no respect inferior to "Tommy Atkins." 
 We trust they will never have to cross swords with each 
 other; but if they do, let John Bull beware! 
 
 Another day we ran down to Canterbury, through 
 the heart of Middlesex and Kent, past Rochester, Chat- 
 ham, and Faversham. It was a lovely September day, 
 neither too hot nor too cold, but just nice; and Kent 
 never appeared to better advantage for that time of the 
 
 378 
 
year. It seemed all one vast hop-field, with hop-pickers, Canterbury 
 both men and women, everywhere, and everybody mak- 
 ing merry. These hop-pickers come down largely from 
 London every year, for the hop season, and hop-picking 
 makes a jolly "outing" for them. Apple-orchards and 
 cherry-trees also abounded, and one could well believe 
 there would be worse things than picking and eating 
 "cherries in Kent in June." The whole country seemed 
 fruitful and fertile beyond anything we had yet seen in 
 England, and every field seemed cultivated as with a 
 fine-toothed comb. There was a general air of happi- 
 ness and prosperity everywhere, and ruddy-faced people 
 and chubby-cheeked boys and girls were in plentiful evi- 
 dence. Our journey down was not as romantic as that 
 of the pilgrims from the Tabard Inn in Southwark in 
 1390, or thereabouts, as reported by Geoffrey Chaucer 
 in his celebrated "Canterbury Tales;" but it was speedier, 
 and in many respects more comfortable and delightful. 
 There were "nine and twenty" of Chaucer's pilgrims, 
 and they went on horseback, sometimes at a canter (de- 
 rived from "Canterbury" pilgrimages), bound for the 
 shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, and it took them several 
 days and nights to cover the distance — about sixty miles. 
 There were only four of us; but we went by railroad and 
 made the whole pilgrimage down and back in a single 
 day easily. 
 
 Canterbury itself is not much of a town, only about 
 twenty-five thousand inhabitants, but it is the ecclesi- 
 astical metropolis of all England, and well worth a visit. 
 The Archbishop of Canterbury is primate of all England,, 
 and, while he has an official residence in London (Lam- 
 beth Palace), his diocese and legal residence are at Can- 
 
 379 
 
European terbury. He is a great personage in England, taking 
 Days and precedence next to the king, ahead of all the princes, 
 Ways dukes, and lords. The great bell at Canterbury tolls 
 only when he or the king dies, and for nobody else. The 
 little river Stour runs through the town in two branches, 
 neither of much importance. Canterbury contains many 
 quaint old houses and churches, and has still a Falstafr" 
 Inn, which Sir John Falstaff used to frequent in Shake- 
 speare's time, and the remains of the Chequers Inn, the 
 popular hostelry of the pilgrims in Chaucer's day. In 
 going from the railroad station to the cathedral we 
 passed old St. Margaret's Church, a curious old struc- 
 ture, quaint and venerable; but a passing Canterburian 
 could not tell us its age nor name even. Canterbury was 
 one of the early military stations on the old Roman road 
 from Dover to London (Watling Street), and there is a 
 little church just outside of the city, called St. Martin's, 
 that is believed to be the "Mother Church of England." 
 Parts of its walls contain old Roman brick, and an old 
 stone coffin is shown there, that is said to be that of 
 Queen Bertha, who lived in pre-Saxon days. It is cer- 
 tain that in the year 597 St. Augustine arrived here from 
 Rome itself, with a band of Christian priests, vowed to 
 convert heathen England, and soon afterwards was ap- 
 pointed archbishop of all England by King Ethelbert. 
 It is said that there was a Christian church already here, 
 built in old Roman days, and afterwards used as a pagan 
 temple, and that this was presented by Ethelbert, along 
 with his palace, to St. Augustine, who turned them into 
 a cathedral and monastery. This old cathedral was 
 burned down several times and rebuilt, and was pillaged 
 by the Danes, and one of the Archbishops of Canterbury 
 
 380 
 
was carried off and murdered by them about the year Canter- 
 iooo. At the time of the Norman conquest it had almost bury — 
 entirely disappeared; but Archbishop Lanfranc and his The 
 successors took hold, with true Norman building in- Cathedral 
 stinct, and in 1130 completed a new cathedral in mag- 
 nificent style. Parts of this still remain; but there have 
 been changes and additions since. The great central 
 tower, called the Bell Harry Tower, one of the finest 
 in all England, and with a magnificent bell in it, was not 
 built until 1495, 
 and the northwest 
 tower is also mod- 
 ern. The general 
 style of the su- 
 perb old cathedral 
 is Norman and 
 perpendicular, 
 and its dimen- 
 sions are, total 
 length five hun- 
 dred and four- 
 teen feet, breadth seventy-one feet, height of nave eighty Canterbury 
 feet, central tower two hundred and thirty-five feet, and 
 west towers one hundred and fifty-two feet. The gen- 
 eral effect is that of beauty, grandeur, and sublimity, 
 and there is no cathedral we saw in rural England that 
 impresses one more. 
 
 The crypt is a part of the early Norman cathedral, 
 and its pillars are believed to have belonged to the old 
 Roman church on this site. It is very spacious, and in 
 1 561 Queen Elizabeth granted its use to the French and 
 Flemish refugees, who fled to England from the Tnqui- 
 
 381 
 
 a 
 
 Tin' anffiw 
 
 y 
 
 m 
 
 .-■.- 
 
 a."'-'' 
 
 ON; ; 
 
 ilr- 
 
 ; V; -"-'/:. ; 
 
 % ■« - ■ ■.. ■' ' ■ ■ . ■• - 
 
European sition, and they carried on their silk manufactories here 
 Days and in this old crypt long afterwards. A part of it is still 
 Ways occupied by their descendants as a French Protestant 
 Church, and it could not be put to a better use. 
 
 The cloisters are very beautiful, and are still in good 
 preservation. The Chapter House has a ceiling paneled 
 in Irish oak, and was being restored and beautified when 
 we were there, and is still in constant use. 
 
 The old monastery or abbey adjoining has fallen into 
 decay, and only some arches and windows and crumbling 
 walls remain to attest its former beauty and grandeur. 
 These, however, are very stately and artistic, and it seems 
 a pity that such an edifice as this must have been, should 
 be allowed to fall thus into ruins. 
 
 The windows of the cathedral are among the hand- 
 somest in England, and much of their stained glass dates 
 back to the thirteenth century, or even earlier. One of 
 these represents the life and death of St. Thomas a 
 Becket, and others depict his supposed miracles. Still 
 others contain figures of Edward IV and other royal 
 personages, and all are very interesting and beautiful. 
 
 The interior of the cathedral is crowded with monu- 
 ments and tombs, but chiefly those of great ecclesiastics 
 only, such as archbishops. Henry IV is the only king 
 buried here. But Edward the Black Prince lies here, 
 with his handsome bronze effigy on his tomb, while 
 above hang his surcoat, gauntlets, helmet, shield and 
 battle-flag, with the dust of centuries upon them. He 
 was a doughty warrior in his time, for the faith of Christ 
 and the fame of England, and he could not have a fitter 
 resting-place than in historic old Canterbury. 
 
 Here in Canterbury, also, is the tomb of the famous 
 
 382 
 
Thomas a Becket, who was canonized soon after his Canter- 
 death, and became the most popular of all English saints, bury — 
 It was, indeed, his fame as St. Thomas that made Can- BeGKOt 
 terbury the greatest of English cathedrals for several 
 centuries. He was a great Englishman in his time — 
 born 1118. His father was a London merchant, and he 
 received the best education of his day, both in England 
 and France. He never became a scholar, like Wolsey, 
 nor even much of a theologian; but his intellect was keen 
 and his manners captivating. He first read law, then 
 turned soldier, and fought with ability and courage. He 
 became Lord Chancellor and then Archbishop of Eng- 
 land; must have been a man of parts and valor. When 
 made archbishop in 1162, one of his contemporaries 
 said: "The king [Henry II] had worked a miracle, in 
 having that day turned a layman into an archbishop, and 
 a soldier into a saint.'' After he became archbishop and 
 primate of all England — head of the English Church — 
 he broke with Henry, having nothing more to get from 
 him, and sided with the pope in his great struggle for 
 supremacy in England, as on the Continent. He became 
 a devout ecclesiastic — "wore haircloth next his skin, fed 
 on roots, drank nauseous water, and daily washed the 
 feet of thirteen beggars." The king resolved to conquer 
 or ruin him, and so summoned him before a great Coun- 
 cil to account for 44,000 marks alleged to have been mis- 
 appropriated by him while chancellor. "For what hap- 
 pened before my consecration," said Becket haughtily, 
 "I ought not to answer, nor will I. Know, moreover, 
 that ye are my children in God. Neither law nor reason 
 allows you to judge your father. I refer my quarrel to 
 the pope. To him I appeal, and, under the protection of 
 
 383 
 
European the Catholic Church and the Apostolic See, depart." 
 Days and He fled to France, and from that safe refuge anathe- 
 WayS matized Henry and his English enemies. The pope was 
 a warm friend of Becket, of course, but did not want to 
 break openly with Henry, and it was not until the Arch- 
 bishop of York, in defiance of a papal bull, had usurped 
 the functions of Becket, by officiating at the coronation 
 of Henry's son, that he took sides against the king. 
 Henry now began to tremble, and Becket was invited to 
 return, and it was agreed that the king should discharge 
 his debts and pay the expenses of his journey. Becket 
 came back; but the king broke his engagements, of 
 course. Becket, in retaliation, excommunicated the 
 Archbishop of York and the Bishops of London and 
 Salisbury, who had assisted him in the coronation of the 
 king's son. Here was a pretty "to-do" surely. The 
 terrified prelates fled to Henry, who, on hearing their 
 tale and an account of Becket's splendid reception at 
 Canterbury on his return thither, bitterly exclaimed : "Of 
 the cowards who eat my bread, is there not one who will 
 free me from this turbulent priest?" Four of his knights 
 heard him, and unsolicited they resolved to avenge their 
 liege lord. They went to Canterbury of their own ac- 
 cord, and finding Becket threatened him with death if 
 he did not absolve the excommunicated bishops. "In 
 vain you threaten me," replied Becket. "If all the 
 swords in England were brandishing over my head, your 
 terrors could not move me. Foot to foot you will find 
 me fighting the battle of the Lord !" Evidently he was 
 resolved on either martyrdom or victory. A brave soul, 
 he ought to have had a better fate ! 
 
 That same night, December 29, 11 70, while he knelt 
 
 384 
 
in prayer at the foot of the altar of St. Benedict in the Canter- 
 grand old cathedral, he was set upon by the overloyal bury — 
 knights, and done to death by sword and dagger. They BeGKet 
 show you the very spot still where he fell, and some of 
 his alleged blood-stains; but the latter seem apocryphal. 
 Two years afterwards Becket was canonized by the 
 pope, and down to the Reformation innumerable pil- 
 grimages were made to the shrine of "St. Thomas" of 
 Canterbury from every corner of Christendom. His 
 body was interred here in 1220 with great pomp, and his 
 shrine was adorned with such magnificence that Eras- 
 mus wrote in 1512, "Gold is the meanest thing to be seen 
 about it." Surpassing miracles were immediately 
 wrought at his grave in the crypt, and at the well where 
 his bloody garments were washed. So numerous were 
 these, and so well attested, that two large volumes, kept 
 in the cathedral, were filled with accounts of them. 
 "Every fiftieth year a jubilee was celebrated in his honor, 
 lasting fifteen days; plenary indulgences were then 
 granted to all who visited his tomb; and as many as one 
 hundred thousand pilgrims were registered at a time in 
 Canterbury. The worship of St. Thomas superseded 
 the worship of God, and even of the Virgin. In one 
 year there was offered at God's altar in Canterbury noth- 
 ing; at that of the Holy Virgin £4 is. 8d; while St. 
 Thomas's received £954 6s. 3d." — an enormous sum for 
 those days. A pilgrimage to Canterbury became not 
 only a pious journey, but a fashionable summer excur- 
 sion, like our outings to Newport and Niagara, and 
 Chaucer in his "Canterbury Tales" has given us an ad- 
 mirable picture of such pilgrimages, with the manners 
 and customs of a party of English pilgrims, leisurely 
 25 385 
 
European making the journey down from London town, and tell- 
 
 Days and ing characteristic stories to each other, seeing which 
 
 Ways could tell the best story, and so escape his "score" at the 
 
 next wayside inn or tavern. So, it seems, "swapping 
 
 stories" is no new thing after all ! 
 
 This worship of St. Thomas continued until 1538, 
 over three hundred years, when Henry VIII broke 
 finally with the pope and the Catholic Church, and 
 struck boldly at all such abuses and superstitions. He 
 appointed commissioners to visit Canterbury, and not 
 only pillaged the rich shrine dedicated to St. Thomas, 
 but caused "the saint" himself to be cited to appear in 
 court, and to be tried and condemned as a traitor, and 
 ordered his name to be struck out of the calendar of 
 saints, and his very bones to be burned and his ashes 
 " scattered to the winds. His shrine was destroyed; its 
 treasures confiscated, of course — Henry was careful 
 about that — and the only remaining trace of it now is 
 the surrounding stone pavement worn away by the knees 
 of thousands of pious pilgrims before and since. 
 
 It is true there is another account, that his relics were 
 not burned, but reinterred; and some remains, found in 
 an old stone coffin beneath the crypt in 1888 are be- 
 lieved by some to be those of Thomas a Becket. But 
 the weight of evidence is in favor of the former account, 
 as Henry VIII set out to purge England of all such 
 priestly abuses, and as a rule made thorough work of it. 
 The story of Becket is really a story of King vs. Pope, 
 or of the State against the Church — the Civil Power 
 against Ecclesiasticism; and much as we may deplore 
 the manner of his "taking off," yet we can not but sym- 
 pathize with the Henrys in their vindication of civil free- 
 
 386 
 
dom and abolition of superstition. Otherwise, where Cdllter- 
 and what would England be to-day? Or would we like bliry — 
 her to be another Italy or Spain? Or the twentieth cen- The DOfljOIl 
 tury to be only the Dark Ages over again? 
 
 Returning from the old cathedral, we stopped at the 
 Dane John (or Donjon), an ancient tumulus eighty feet 
 high, bounded on one side by a part of the old city wall, 
 and surmounted by a little obelisk — now used as a city 
 park or pleasure ground. This old mound is probably 
 of Celtic origin, and from its summit one gets a good 
 view of the city and surrounding country. We walked 
 round and about it, and were reminded of the mound at 
 Windsor, and of the greater, if not older, mound or 
 "Bury" at Leyden. 
 
 We lunched clown in the town near the old cathedral, 
 when tired with sightseeing, not far from the spot where 
 Chaucer's pilgrims likely lunched in their day, and told 
 stones to each other as they did, if not so exquisite, and 
 the same evening returned to London. And so ended 
 our pilgrimage to Canterbury. 
 
 387 
 
Chapter XXXI 
 
 N the preceding chapters a good deal has been 
 said about England in detail, but something 
 remains to be said of England in general. 
 And, first, as to her size : she has only about 
 sixty thousand square miles, or is a little larger than the 
 State of New York or Pennsylvania, less than half the 
 size of California, one-quarter the size of Texas, and one- 
 sixtieth the size of the whole United States. Of course, 
 I speak now only of England proper, Wales included, 
 but not Scotland and Ireland. She has only about 
 thirty-two millions of population, against our eighty mil- 
 lions or thereabouts. She is the most densely-populated 
 country in Europe, except Belgium, having live hun- 
 dred inhabitants to the square mile, while we have only 
 about twenty-five to the square mile. Her total length 
 is about three hundred and fifty miles north and south, 
 by an average of two hundred east and west. Truly the 
 "tight little island" is only a speck in the ocean. But 
 she knows how to breed men, and rule men, and has 
 made the name of England respected, if not feared, 
 around the world. It was no idle rhetoric of Daniel 
 Webster's, when he said, "Her morning drum-beat, com- 
 mencing with the sun, keeps company with the hours, 
 until it belts the globe with one continuous strain of the 
 martial airs of England !" 
 
 388 
 
England, as a whole, is not mountainous, but mostly England — 
 rolling and level, much like Eastern Pennsylvania and Agriculture 
 Central New Jersey. Indeed, we were often reminded 
 of the country about our home at Trenton, N. J. There 
 are the same ridges and swells, the same hills and dales 
 and fat fields, but fewer patches of woodland. England 
 has more scattered trees and clumps of trees — a good 
 deal more — in all her landscapes; but her forests, big 
 and little, have disappeared, except where preserved as 
 parks. Many of these are very spacious and noble, and 
 she is taking good care to keep them so. Once the 
 whole kingdom was densely wooded; but little by little 
 her woodland has been converted into plowed land, 
 ex necessitate with the growth of her population, until 
 now her effort seems to be to keep what she has left. 
 No well-conducted Englishman thinks of cutting down 
 an old tree without planting a new one or two; and 
 Americans will have to learn the same lesson. A tree is 
 the gift of God. It means only beauty and blessing. It 
 is always a psalm or a doxology, and should be respected, 
 if not revered, accordingly. 
 
 English agriculture is not surpassed anywhere; sel- 
 dom, indeed, equaled. Nowhere in Europe are there 
 such fine farms and good farming; nowhere in America, 
 except in Central Pennsylvania. Her fields are not 
 large, but exquisitely cultivated; no weeds, no brambles, 
 no unsightly hedgerows, but every foot of soil well 
 looked after and growing something useful and valu- 
 able; good wheat, oats, and barley; fine turnips and po- 
 tatoes; and lush grass, rich and juicy; the very paradise 
 of horses, sheep, and cows. The constant clouds and 
 mists, and almost daily rains, keep the fields green and 
 
 389 
 
European fresh, and they have no such brown and parched land- 
 DayS and scapes as we often get here in summer and autumn. All 
 Ways England, indeed, seems one vast garden, with a master- 
 gardener in charge. But the hedges are fewer and 
 poorer than we anticipated, and the roads not equal to 
 those on the Continent. They are much better, indeed, 
 than our average roads in America, of course; but they 
 are not superior to our new macadamized roads in New 
 Jersey and New England, though her climate is more 
 favorable to good roads. Give us fifty years more of 
 such progress as we have made the last ten years, and 
 America will abound in good roads too. 
 
 The climate of England is certainly not good for us, 
 but is far from bad for them. It is a moist, wet climate, 
 more or less, the year round, and it rains so easily 
 nobody seems to mind it. You get up in the morning, 
 and it is raining. By 9 A. M. the clouds will break away, 
 and the sun comes out; not a bright and shining orb as 
 we see the "king of day" here, but more like a boiled 
 carrot or pumpkin. By noon it will be drizzling again. 
 By 3 P. M. the sun will peep out again, but by sunset 
 it is apt to drizzle or rain again. Of course, I speak only 
 of England in September; but I judge this is a fair speci- 
 men of English weather two-thirds of the year or more. 
 It is not so cold in winter as we have it here, nor so hot 
 in summer, but damp and raw, and everybody wears 
 thick clothing accordingly, and heavy shoes and stock- 
 ings. Nobody seems to mind the perpetual rain and 
 drizzle. Umbrellas and mackintoshes are universal, and 
 thick-soled boots and shoes, and, with these, people go 
 about their business as usual as if everything was sun- 
 shiny and delightful. The general health is good. Peo- 
 
 390 
 
pie are redfaced and chubby. And Americans, when England — 
 they get acclimated, rather like the weather, though at Cities 
 first they think it "beastly." They have racking winds 
 and tempests there also, that often sweep around the 
 coasts and shake England to her center, as when Crom- 
 well died, and every spring and fall nearly. But she sur- 
 vives them, and they only seem to clear her atmosphere 
 after all, though sometimes church-spires topple and 
 navies are stranded. 
 
 England is full of thriving cities and towns, and the 
 number and prosperity of these amaze one. London 
 itself contains six million people, or one-seventh of her 
 entire population. But she has other great cities; as 
 Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, Bristol, 
 Hull, and scores of cities and towns averaging fifty thou- 
 sand to twenty-five thousand inhabitants, more or less. 
 Factories, foundries, potteries, workshops, and a perfect 
 forest of smokestacks greet you everywhere, and every- 
 body seems as busy as a bee and as smiling as a rose. 
 The English workingmen and laborers, as a rule, are 
 happy and contented, and would not exchange Old Eng- 
 land for any other country on the globe. Of course, 
 there is some discontent and misery, which seems in- 
 separable from human nature. But not much appears 
 upon the surface, and as compared with other European 
 countries England certainly is paradise. 
 
 The architecture of England is not so good as on the 
 Continent. It is superior to that of Germany and Hol- 
 land, but Italy and France both beat her in this respect. 
 Her cathedrals are grand and sublime, great epics in 
 stone, but not so artistic and aesthetic as on the Conti- 
 nent. Her parish churches are simple and appropriate, 
 
 39i 
 
European as if the natural outgrowth of English soil and char- 
 DayS and acter, and they always fit in with her gray skies and fat 
 Ways fields as a part and parcel thereof. Her city houses and 
 buildings generally are solid and substantial, rather than 
 symmetrical and beautiful, as if built for use and comfort 
 rather than show. There are some fine buildings in Lon- 
 don; but, as a whole, London can not compare archi- 
 tecturally with either Paris or Brussels, Florence or 
 Milan, not to speak of Venice and Genoa, and the whole 
 city is black and grimy with London smoke and fog. 
 Her country houses are stately and commodious rather 
 than beautiful; but their surrounding trees and spacious, 
 handsome grounds make up for everything else. Her 
 farm buildings and laborers' houses seem small as com- 
 pared with ours in America; but they are better than on 
 the Continent, and doubtless suffice for England's needs. 
 Formerly they were mostly of wood — a good while ago. 
 But now a wooden house is a rarity, both in town and 
 country. In stone districts they use stone almost ex- 
 clusively; but on the eastern coast, and in most of the 
 cities and towns, brick also is largely employed. The 
 general effect of English architecture, both public and 
 domestic, city and country, I think is heavy and service- 
 able rather than airy and graceful, and this is no doubt 
 due to climate and soil as well as national character. 
 Her skies are not Italy's skies, nor is John Bull Jean 
 Crapeau, and she has built and now builds accordingly. 
 But she builds to last. There is no "gingerbread" nor 
 gimcracks about her edifices, and they will stand for a 
 thousand years to come, or longer. 
 
 The conditions of life in England are clearly harder 
 than in America, but far better than elsewhere in Eu- 
 
 392 
 
rope. Wages are nearly twice as high as in France and England — 
 Germany and Italy, and food and clothing as cheap or The People 
 cheaper; rents are higher, but fuel and transportation 
 cheaper; and education is substantially free to every- 
 body. Religion, also, is free, and while the Established 
 Church is predominant, there are so many Nonconform- 
 ists and Roman Catholics, that one may believe and wor- 
 ship as he pleases. England is certainly Protestant, and 
 will never go back to Rome; but she tolerates the mass, 
 and protects it — with a mild contempt, however, not 
 much veiled. She is certainly a religious nation. Her 
 great cathedrals suggest that, as a part of her national 
 history. In traveling through England, you are never 
 out of sight of parish churches, their gray towers and 
 simple spires punctuating every English landscape. 
 Bible texts and religious mottoes appear everywhere on 
 public halls and buildings. England keeps the Sabbath 
 and goes to church on Sunday morning, whatever she 
 may do Sunday afternoon; takes a walk in the country 
 usually, for Englishmen are fond of country sights and 
 country air. Her higher classes have a real interest in 
 her lower classes, and illuminate the relation of master 
 and servant by many a kindly word and deed. In many 
 a church and churchyard it is not unusual to find a me- 
 morial tablet or gravestone to some departed servant, 
 set up by his or her grateful master in recognition of 
 long and faithful service. And even the nobility do not 
 disdain or neglect to do this, as we ourselves noticed not 
 infrequently. The keynote of all England, taken as a 
 whole, seems to be "duty." This was Nelson's great 
 battle-signal at Trafalgar : "England expects every man 
 to do his duty." This was Wellington's mainstay at 
 
 393 
 
European Waterloo. This was Clive's and Havelock's cry in India. 
 
 Days and This was David Livingstone's inspiration in Africa. 
 Ways This was Wilberforce's and Wesley's plea for the slave. 
 Her great motto is, "Fear God and honor the King," 
 which with Englishmen only means "Fear God and 
 stand by Law and Order." Accordingly, they have no 
 lynchings and lawless mobs over there, but every man 
 is under the law and protected by it. It is true they have 
 no Negroes over there; we saw only three in all Eng- 
 land, and these were in London omnibuses, and better 
 clothed and better behaved than our average fellow pas- 
 sengers. Her courts, indeed, are free and pure, both in 
 organization and administration — better than in Amer- 
 ica — and if justice be not so cheap, it is at least surer and 
 quicker, for high and low, rich and poor, white and col- 
 ored alike. Her law and equity cases are all heard by 
 the same judges, in the same courts, without extra or 
 double time and expense, as in some of our States, and 
 we might well profit by her example in this respect. She 
 writes the word "Ought" with a big "O," and believes 
 in it, and tries to enforce it both at home and abroad. 
 Of course, she sometimes fails. But this was her "key- 
 note" in both South Africa and China, and her average 
 "man in the street" means it just as much as Salisbury 
 and Chamberlain. Men look that way and talk that 
 way all over England, and while she has some knaves 
 and fools, of course, yet the heart of England is allied to 
 that "mysterious Power in the universe, which makes for 
 righteousness," and she is not ashamed to tell you so. 
 And while she "sticks" to this, we may be sure, England 
 will last. A century ago when all Europe was united 
 against her, and she seemed collapsing, William Pitt 
 
 394 
 
answered : "I have no fears for the future of old Eng- England — 
 land. With God and humanity back of her, she will Government 
 stand until the Day of Judgment !" The great Napoleon 
 did not think so. But Napoleon died an exile at St. 
 Helena, while England was never so potent and prosper- 
 ous as to-day. 
 
 But what about her king and aristocracy? Of course, 
 I have no sympathy with either of them. They would 
 not suit Americans at all. But they seem to have suited 
 England pretty well, and to agree with her tolerably 
 even now. Evidently Victoria saved the monarchy for 
 many years. What her successors will do will depend 
 upon themselves. The aristocracy are not all knaves 
 and fools, by a long sight. They know how to rule and 
 govern — have been bred to that business for gener- 
 ations — and know how to give as well as take. On many 
 lines they are useful and serviceable to her, as well as 
 ornamental, or England would never have tolerated 
 them so long as she has. On paper and in the House of 
 Lords there seem to be a good many of them. But when 
 you come to count them, there are not many to go 
 around among thirty-two millions of people. You may 
 travel in England for days and weeks, and never see a 
 lord or a duke to know it. Of course, you can find them, 
 if you want to do so, but you will have to hunt for 
 them — with a telescope almost. As a rule, they know 
 how to behave themselves and to efface themselves, as 
 they do more and more every year. There is nothing in 
 their dress or style or conduct to differentiate them from 
 their fellow-citizens any more, as there was in the days 
 of Elizabeth and Raleigh, greatly to the regret of Eng- 
 land's tailors and man-milliners. John Bull thinks them 
 
 395 
 
European pretty good, if not all right; even intelligent Englishmen 
 Days and talk that way. If they ever cross his path seriously, how- 
 WayS ever, or menace his rights and liberties, now well won 
 and established through long centuries of struggle, why, 
 then, good-bye to kings and lords quickly. They are 
 already a republic over there in everything but name 
 and form, and it will not take long to down with the 
 monarchy and up with the republic when once England 
 starts, or believes she ought to start. Of course, they 
 are only an anachronism in this twentieth century — only 
 mediaeval mummeries and the ghosts of things ("Divine 
 Right" and all). But John Bull dearly loves stare decisis, 
 to stand by the established, and he is not going to give 
 up King and Crown, Church and State, just yet. But, 
 nevertheless, speed the Republic of Great Britain and 
 her Colonies! They give their king about $2,500,000 
 annually, besides a dozen royal residences; while we give 
 our President only $50,000 and one poor old White 
 House; and nobody ventures to suggest, that Edward 
 VII is superior to Theodore Roosevelt in either ability 
 or character. 
 
 In dress and general demeanor Englishmen are very 
 much like Americans of the better sort, and quite dif- 
 ferent from average Europeans. They dress mostly in 
 sober woolens, as becomes their climate, though some 
 affect stripes and plaids. The Derby hat and sack-coat 
 or cut-away prevail among all classes, except bank clerks 
 and professional men, who stick to "stovepipes" and 
 "Prince Alberts," or double-breasted frock-coats. The 
 silk hat may be old and shiny, and the Prince Albert 
 threadbare and buttonless; but they mark a higher class 
 and their wearers disdain to wear anything else. A Bank 
 
 396 
 
of England clerk in a "Derby" would be a spectacle, England— 
 and a lawyer in a sack-coat, or cut-away even, would be SOGJSl Life 
 ruled out of court. The average Englishman is not 
 inclined to talk, unless you attack England or English 
 institutions, and then he is quick to answer, and to fight 
 too, if need be. We did not find them uncivil, but little 
 inclined to be civil until they got acquainted, and then 
 there was nothing too much to do for one. The Italian 
 will walk a mile to serve you. The Frenchman will be 
 all bows and smiles before your face, and mock at you 
 behind your back. The German will be delighted to 
 smoke and drink with you, and bear his share of the ex- 
 pense — a "Dutch treat." But the Englishman, when he 
 gets to know you, will open his heart and home and 
 purse to you, and pray God to bless and keep you, and 
 mean it, too. Of course, he smokes a pipe and eats and 
 drinks a good deal. But there is something in his cli- 
 mate that necessitates or tolerates this, and we did not 
 see anything like the amount of drunkenness that we 
 anticipated. There was wine on every table nearly, both 
 lay and clerical, and beer everywhere, substantially; but 
 neither was used to excess, as a rule. They said Tem- 
 perance Societies were increasing, and temperance had 
 much increased; there was less drinking than formerly. 
 But there is room for reform and improvement here, 
 and Christian England will not lag behind long in even 
 this respect. A clergyman we met repeatedly, a high 
 ecclesiastic of the Established Church, who drank his 
 port at every meal, said he did it because he "liked it," 
 and because he believed it "good for him in his advanc- 
 ing years." But his wife and sister did not touch it, nor did 
 he attempt to influence others that way. It was "the cus- 
 
 397 
 
European torn of the country," he said; but a custom, let us hope, 
 Days and soon "more honored in the breach than in the observ- 
 WflyS ance !" The whole country abounds in old inns and 
 taverns, but London particularly. Of the old taverns in 
 London there are yet seven "Adam and Eves," five 
 "Noah's Arks," and as many "Olive Branches," and one 
 "Samson's Castle." Oldest of all is a "Simon the Tan- 
 ner" in Long Lane, Bermondsey, the heart of the tan- 
 ning industry in South London. Here her yeomanry 
 gather, when their day's work is over, and talk politics 
 and finance, and settle the affairs of the empire. Eng- 
 land still holds on to old names and old things, and will 
 continue to do so while the bulldog strain remains in 
 her blood. 
 
 Your true Englishman is fond of horses and dogs 
 and all domestic animals. There are no finer sheep and 
 cattle anywhere, though the Hollanders claim to beat 
 John Bull in this respect. They take better care of them 
 in Holland, blanketing and housing them more, because 
 they have to — they have such "beastly" weather there — 
 but they have less intelligence, and a poorer soil, and the 
 English flocks and herds are simply incomparable. As 
 to horses and dogs, the English are away ahead of every- 
 body, not excepting Americans. John Bull is "sporty" 
 and "horsey," if nothing else. He likes fine horses and 
 good dogs, and is eager to spend his money on them, 
 and give his attention to them. His saddle and carriage 
 horses are really superb, and his racehorses visions of 
 speed and beauty. England's great races — the Derby, 
 Ascot, Goodwood, etc. — are national events, with mem- 
 bers of Parliament and royalty even in attendance, and 
 in the season all England and Scotland become one vast 
 
 398 
 
hunting-ground. Every county has its pack of fox- England — 
 hounds or buckhounds, or more, and every well-con- The ChllFGh 
 ducted Englishman his bulldog or terrier. Wherever 
 you go in the country, you will meet a mechanic or 
 workingman out walking, but with a dog of some breed 
 scouting ahead or tagging at his heels. The dog seems 
 to be a national institution, quite as much as his beer 
 or his pipe, and no true Englishman would be bereft of 
 either, as a rule. The English women have their "Pugs" 
 and "St. Charles Spaniels" everywhere in evidence, espe- 
 cially in their parlors, carriages, and on the street, and 
 all England may well be termed the very heaven of the 
 horse and dog. 
 
 What about the Established Church? Well, it is a 
 pretty good Church. It might be a great deal worse, 
 but is not. No doubt it was a decadent Church in John 
 Wesley's time and before. But that was a century and 
 a half ago, and Christian England has made great 
 strides in that time. The day of the foxhunting and 
 cardplaying English parson is over, and the Church, 
 as a whole, sets herself to a nobler life and worthier 
 deeds. The curates and rectors, as a class, have high 
 ideals, and do their utmost to carry them out. Their 
 churches, as a rule, are open every day in the week, and 
 at matins and vespers they are faithful in attendance, 
 though their congregations may be small. On Sundays, 
 however, they have large congregations, and the piety 
 and devotion manifested are certainly beyond criticism. 
 The music, as a rule, is excellent, and everybody sings, 
 "with the spirit and the understanding also." During 
 the weekdays the clergy interest themselves in all kinds 
 of parish work, such as the sick, the poor, the schools, 
 
 399 
 
European the jails, sanitation, and they seem to be a body of hard- 
 DayS and working and deserving men as a whole. Their stipends 
 Ways are not large, and as a class they are poor, though now 
 and then rich rectors are found who take upon them- 
 selves the burden of a poor parish for sake of the honor 
 and the service. As to the higher clergy — the bishops 
 and archbishops, who sit in the House of Lords and help 
 make laws for the kingdom — they are all rich or liber- 
 ally salaried, but they are expected to spend their in- 
 comes, or more, in helping poor parishes, struggling 
 schools, mission work, and the like, and their high places 
 are by no means sinecures. As a whole, they are a body 
 of good men, and England has had them so long, copes, 
 stoles, chasubles, and all, that she would hardly know 
 how to get on without them. Of course, they will all 
 have to go overboard some day, "Established Church" 
 and all; but England is not yet ready for such a "new 
 departure." 
 
 The Nonconformist churches are large — Presby- 
 terians, Baptists, Wesleyans or Methodists, Primi- 
 tives, etc. — and they have few disabilities any more. 
 They lack the large endowments of the Established 
 Churches and their ancient edifices, and some Govern- 
 ment aid — not much nowadays — but they are active, 
 bold, and aggressive, and have more hold on the masses 
 of the people than the Establishment, and are lifting 
 England to a higher and more modern plane of Chris- 
 tian thought and action. Their influence is great and 
 increasing, and steadily becomes more so, and it is they 
 that will yet abolish all distinctions, both civilly and 
 ecclesiastically, and make England a republic one of 
 these days. But their radicalism "goes slow" — is what 
 
 400 
 
a good many Americans would call conservatism — and England- 
 it will likely be several years yet before we see a Presi- Its MOMl- 
 dent installed at St. James and Windsor. mentS 
 
 England certainly knows how to take care of her 
 great men, and to commemorate them. All through 
 London and England you find statues and memorials of 
 Wellington, Nelson, Chatham, Pitt, Peel, Palmerston, 
 Beaconsfield, Gordon, Shakespeare, Milton, Gladstone, 
 and others, and America may well take example by her 
 gratitude and devotion to such men. Or have we no 
 heroes, statesmen, or poets whose memories and services 
 we wish to perpetuate? It is true we have Bunker Hill 
 and the Washington Monument; but is not our land 
 singularly bare of fitting memorials? Perhaps when 
 our new "Hall of Fame" (New York) materializes 
 more, we shall do better on this line. England has 
 not yet erected a fitting monument to Oliver Crom- 
 well; but she has some minor ones, and has just 
 celebrated his three hundredth birthday, and will yet 
 build him a monument worthy of her greatest son 
 and ruler. There was a pretty monument building 
 for him in London when we were there, I think 
 by private subscription. But the time will come 
 when the British nation will build a great mausoleum 
 for him in Westminster Abbey, where he was buried 
 originally, but from which he was afterwards ejected 
 by her recreant rulers, and hanged and drawn and quar- 
 tered, his body buried at Tyburn among thieves and 
 murderers, and his rotting head exposed in ignominy 
 and derision over Westminster Hall.* For shame! — 
 
 *His skull blew down in a winter storm years afterwards, and a sentry 
 on duty sold it to a passerby for "tuppence" to buy a glass of beer. 
 26 401 
 
European for "Old Noll" was her greatest Englishman. But time, 
 Days and at last, sets all things even, and 
 
 WayS "The mills of the God's grind slowly, 
 
 But they grind exceeding fine ! " 
 
 The English have their faults, no doubt, but they 
 also have great virtues, and the stock is good. Their 
 bulldog courage is proverbial, and is the simple truth 
 of history. "Men," said a British officer to his com- 
 pany in India, when they were in a tight place, "if 
 we retreat, we shall all be killed; if we advance, we 
 shall all be killed; if we halt, we shall all be killed. 
 Forward, charge!" And they did charge, and were 
 not all killed, either; but it shows the racial tendency. 
 They simply believe in themselves, and in their "tight 
 little island," and are ready to go all lengths for her. 
 They fearlessly face France and Russia; but they want 
 to keep on good terms with America, and frankly avow 
 it. We found this sentiment everywhere in England, 
 and Americans and American sympathy were never 
 more welcome there. She did not want to fight Kruger 
 and the Boers. Never did a nation go to war more 
 reluctantly. But she found she had to do it, and "faced 
 the music," as we did the war with Spain; and as she 
 gave us her sympathies then, she hoped for ours some- 
 what against the Transvaal. Perhaps she would not 
 get all she expected; but, all the same, she had bared 
 her sword for Equality and Justice, as she understood 
 them, and for British supremacy in South Africa; and, 
 like Grant in the Wilderness, she would "fight it out 
 on that line if it took all summer," and all winter, and 
 all next summer; and she did — all honor to Roberts 
 and Kitchener ! Her chiefs of finance and trade literally 
 
 402 
 
belt the globe with their enterprises. Her money and England — 
 markets fix the currency and prices of the world. With Civilization 
 one hand upon Canada and another upon India; with 
 one foot upon Australia, and another upon Africa, she 
 looked mankind calmly in the face (including China), 
 and will have "peace with honor," if she can; but, other- 
 wise, will fight for it, if need be. It was something to 
 be a Roman citizen, but it is ten times as great to be 
 a British citizen; for the whole British Empire panoplies 
 and protects him with its whole might and power 
 wherever he may go. Already she rules one-third of 
 the total population of the earth, and controls one-half 
 its surface, and more than one-half of its wealth and 
 resources. The "weary Titan" now and then groans 
 beneath his burden of worldwide empire — the "White 
 Man's Burden" — but he does not shirk, and he sticks 
 to his job. Of the same stock, with the same tradi- 
 tions and aspirations, with a common voice and a com- 
 mon language — soon to be the chief language of the 
 human race — with a common Shakespeare and a com- 
 mon Bible, both of us great world-powers forever, why 
 should we not now and always march side by side in 
 the common interests of a common civilization, a com- 
 mon God, and a common heaven? War between us 
 would be madness. And if ever despotic Europe should 
 band together against her, for her destruction, the best 
 thing we could do would be to order the American 
 fleet to the British Channel; and may God defend the 
 right! Of course, I think America a great deal better 
 than England. But as compared with other European 
 States, in every political, religious, and human aspect, 
 England is a hundred-fold superior to them all. 
 
 403 
 
Chapter XXXII 
 
 E left London, Sunday, October 1st, and did 
 not reach New York until Wednesday, Oc- 
 tober nth. It was a dull and rainy Sunday 
 morning, a true and typical English day; 
 and because it was Sunday we came near missing our 
 train to Southampton. We had to go that day in order 
 to catch our steamer the Friedrich der Grosse. Our 
 steamer train left London at 3.30 P. M., and we counted 
 on cabs, of course, to take us to the station, forgetting 
 London keeps the Sabbath and there would be few cabs 
 about. As it was, we barely succeeded in capturing 
 two, and getting to the station fairly in time. Here 
 we found several other Americans, who had come over 
 with us in May on the Aller, and were booked to re- 
 turn on the Friedrich der Grosse also. Of course, our 
 reunion was delightful, and we had a thousand things 
 to tell each other of our varied experiences, not only 
 on this first day, but the voyage over. Our run down 
 to Southampton was quickly made, through a pictur- 
 esque and lovely district of country, with fine farms and 
 charming country-houses, and by 7 P. M. we were on 
 shipboard, and headed for home again. Just before 
 reaching Southampton the sun came out, and a lovely 
 rainbow spanned the landscape; a good omen, as it 
 seemed, for our voyage. But once out in the Channel 
 
 404 
 
we found a high wind and a choppy sea, and pretty Return 
 much everybody turned in early. Voydfl6 
 
 It continued much the same for several days, the 
 sea rough, the weather raw and cold, but no storms 
 all the way over. Fortunately we had secured our 
 steamer-chairs on the right side, away from the wind 
 and scud, and so were able to sit on deck, well wrapped 
 up, every day nearly. Porpoises were daily in evidence, 
 as on our voyage over; but we saw only two whales, 
 and these at a distance. We saw only two or three 
 vessels from the time we left Southampton until our 
 arrival at Sandy Hook. We made usually about three 
 hundred and fifty or four hundred miles a day; but the 
 voyage was monotonous, and we were glad when it 
 ended. We had nearly one thousand passengers on 
 board, both cabin and steerage, and it was not cheering 
 to reflect upon what might happen in case of accident 
 from fire or otherwise. One day I walked and climbed 
 all over our steamer, and counted her boats and rafts, 
 and computed their life-saving capacity, and the result 
 was anything but comforting and reassuring to a half 
 seasick landsman. 
 
 When we got well out into midocean, the sea never 
 seemed so grand and sublime. It was not merely beau- 
 tiful; it was all that, but something more. It was huge,, 
 and vast, and round like Achilles's shield, and terrible, 
 and awful. It did not seem to be a dead mass of water, 
 but something fearfully alive, and at times ferocious and 
 ravenous, as if we were trespassers upon its domain, 
 and it would like to seize and devour us. It came at us 
 some days with its great mouth wide open, and its huge 
 fangs white with foam and wrath, roaring and thunder- 
 
 405 
 
European ing about our good ship, as if it were a tiny victim; 
 Days and and one can never realize how helpless he is except on 
 Ways such an occasion. Upon land you are always more or 
 less safe, so to speak, even in an earthquake or a rail- 
 road collision. But what chance is there on the vast 
 and cruel sea, with no ship in sight, and none crossing 
 your path perhaps for days or a week together? The 
 ocean never seems so cold and pitiless as then, and day 
 after day, when we did not see the sun, this creepy 
 
 feeling grew upon 
 us. We seemed 
 but a speck in the 
 midst of the il- 
 1 i m i t a bl e and 
 fathomless deep — 
 a mere atom on 
 the wild waste of 
 waters — with 
 only a pulsing en- 
 gine between us 
 and eternity, 
 plunging blindly along over an unknown sea, and liable 
 at any moment to end in a purl or a plunge. I never 
 felt so but once before, when lost on the prairies of the 
 great West, many years ago, with not a house or tree 
 in sight, and no passing travelers. But, even then, 
 there was the road, and the old familiar wagon-tracks 
 that came from somewhere and went somewhere; 
 whereas on the sea, of course, there are no tracks, and 
 you come from nowhere and go nowhere apparently. 
 On bright days, however, when the sun comes out warm, 
 you forget all this, and think only of the intelligence 
 
 406 
 
 A Big Wave, 
 A Snapshot. 
 
and skill of the mariner, and of the might and strength New 
 
 of your magnificent steamer, and of Somebody's super- FOlWdland 
 
 intending providence, and walk and talk or read 
 
 and sleep as serenely as a seagull on the evening 
 
 waves. 
 
 When we reached the banks of New Foundland, 
 with their constant fogs and possible icebergs, and our 
 great foghorn began to blow day and night, and kept 
 it up, it was still more discomforting and dishearten- 
 ing. Nothing could well be more dismal and depress- 
 ing. Fortunately we encountered no icebergs, but our 
 officers were constantly on the lookout for them, with 
 a keen appreciation of their danger, and when the fogs 
 thickened up or shut down and concealed everything, 
 our devoted captain never undressed or went to bed. 
 Night after night, and day after day, he spent mainly 
 on "the bridge," scanning the sea far and near with 
 his glasses, and only left it for needed rest when the 
 fog lifted or the sun came out again. One night, when 
 asked to join in a social game of cards, I heard him 
 reply: "What? The captain of the Friedrich der Grosse 
 play cards? And suppose something should happen 
 to our good ship while I was doing so; what, then, 
 would folks say in New York and Bremen?" This, at 
 least, was reassuring, and showed of what sterling stuff 
 our good captain was made. 
 
 Sunday, October 8th, we were one thousand eight 
 hundred and forty-two miles across, or nearly two-thirds 
 way over. We had got out of the fog, and were ap- 
 proaching the coast of Maine. It was a cold, raw day, 
 with dashes of rain, pretty stiff winds, and a pitching 
 sea. At breakfast it was proposed to have divine service 
 
 407 
 
European in the cabin at n A. M., but we could find no clergy- 
 DayS and man on board. Finally it was agreed I must under- 
 WayS take it, with the promise of help from others, male and 
 female, from New York and Brooklyn. The captain 
 was seen, and offered no objection. The ship's or- 
 chestra, all Germans, engaged to play three or four 
 hymn tunes they fortunately knew — "Nearer, my God, 
 to Thee," "Rock of Ages," and "Old Hundred," the 
 same in German as in English. Two young collegians 
 (fine young fellows) circulated a notice of the intended 
 service among the passengers, and the next thing was 
 to prepare the service itself. To our consternation, not 
 a hymn-book of any kind was to be found on the vessel, 
 and only a solitary little Book of Common Prayer and 
 Hymnal in English, that a lady had purchased in London 
 as a souvenir. However, we found in this a few well- 
 known American hymns, somewhat altered, and hastily 
 adapting the good old English service to the occasion, 
 we mustered our company at the hour designated, and 
 had really an edifying and delightful service quite to 
 ourselves. A large majority of the passengers gladly 
 attended. The smoking-room habitues, even, stopped 
 playing cards and put in an appearance; and when we 
 got through it was proposed to hold a "Song Service" 
 also at 9 P. M., after dinner was well over, and this 
 also we carried through, though without hymn or song 
 books, except as aforesaid. It was gratifying to find 
 how many Christian people there were on board, and 
 how much they knew of each other's hymns and songs, 
 and everybody seemed grateful for the services. There 
 was a Presbyterian Sunday-school superintendent from 
 Cincinnati, a Methodist lawyer from Chicago, a Baptist 
 
 408 
 
business man from St. Louis, an Episcopal physician Passengers 
 from New York, a Methodist college professor from 
 Maryland, a Hebrew merchant from New Orleans, some 
 charming ladies of all denominations from Philadelphia, 
 Brooklyn, and other cities, and altogether it was a very 
 catholic and ecumenical occasion. Going over, we had 
 no Sabbath services at all, though we had three clergy- 
 men on board. But, coming back, we laymen and lay- 
 women thus "took the bit into our own teeth," 
 and made the best of our necessities. And we were 
 not left to ourselves altogether, by a long sight, 
 either ! 
 
 The next day was warm and delightful; American 
 breezes were reaching us; and everybody was on deck 
 and in good spirits. Soon a sail appeared in the dis- 
 tance astern, and not long afterwards another forward. 
 This last we steadily overhauled, and by noon passed 
 her. She proved to be the Brighton, a tramp steamer 
 from England; but we easily outsailed her. By 5 P. M. 
 it was raining again heavily, but just at sunset a little 
 land-bird flew aboard, and we knew we were nearing 
 home. 
 
 Next day, October 10th, was raw and cold, but we 
 gave the captain and crew a vote of thanks at dinner, 
 with some little speeches; and afterwards they gave 
 us the customary "ball" on deck, with the German and 
 American flags lovingly intertwined. The night shut 
 down dark and foggy again, with our foghorn blowing 
 incessantly, and the next morning we found ourselves 
 at anchor off Sandy Hook, having sailed two thou- 
 sand eight hundred and forty-nine miles in all. It was 
 now warm, but a dense fog prevailed. Now and then 
 
 409 
 
European the fog lifted, and we found ourselves literally the center 
 
 Days and 
 Ways 
 
 of a vast fleet of incoming and outgoing vessels — ocean 
 liners, coasters, sailing vessels — and many were so close 
 it was dangerous even to move. The fog lifted and 
 shut down alternately for hours, and it was not until 
 late in the day that we weighed anchor and ventured 
 up the bay. We did not reach our wharf at Hoboken 
 
 until 4 P. M.; but 
 
 we found friends 
 
 there faithfully 
 awaiting us, and, 
 after duly passing 
 the custom offi- 
 cers, by 9 P. M. 
 reached Trenton 
 again, safe and 
 sound. 
 
 Going over 
 u again? Yes, some 
 Welcome ^ay, if possible. But I am only sorry we did not go 
 thirty years before. Then our observations and experi- 
 ences would have stood us in good stead. But now I 
 can not hope for many years more. 
 
 410 
 
INDEX 
 
 Aar, The, 178. 
 
 A Big Wave, 406. 
 
 A Common-sense Account of Europe, 
 
 7- 
 Advantages of Different Steamers, 
 
 13, 14- 
 
 Advertisements on the Rhine, 241. 
 
 Afoot in Switzerland, 187. 
 
 A Good Omen, 14, 404. 
 
 Agriculture and Implements, Italy, 
 62-85 ; Switzerland, 191-92 ; Tyrol, 
 199 ; Germany, 204, 212, 222 ; Hol- 
 land, 246-7 ; Belgium, 267 ; France, 
 306 ; England, 389 ; Scotland, 336. 
 
 Albert Memorial, 363-377. 
 
 Aller, The, 14; Fellow-Passengers, 
 15, 16; Her Dimensions, Equip- 
 ment, Supplies, etc., 17 ; Engine- 
 room, 18. 
 
 Alva, Duke of, 272-74. 
 
 Amalfi, Road there, 58; Hotel Cap- 
 puccini, 59; Situation, Population, 
 History, 60. 
 
 American Flag, on the Aller, 20, 30 ; 
 at Castellamare, 45 ; at Genoa, 118. 
 
 American on Royal Throne, 98. 
 
 American Consulate, 117. 
 
 America and England, 402-3. 
 
 Amerigo Vespucci, 103. 
 
 Amsterdam, 245 ; Situation, Popula- 
 tion, Importance, 248 ; Houses, 
 Canals, 249-50; Hotels, Bells, 
 Weather, 250; Architecture, Art, 
 Museums, 251; Rembrandt's 
 "Night Watch," 252. 
 
 Ancient Rome, 67 ; Pisa, 106-7. 
 
 Antwerp, 266; History, Importance, 
 267. 
 
 A Progressive Priest, 55-6. 
 
 Aqueducts and Fountains, Rome, 66. 
 
 Arcades, Naples, 40 ; Milan, 155 ; Be- 
 laggio, 161 ; Berne, 190. 
 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, 379. 
 
 Ariadne, Frankfort, 230. 
 
 Arrival at Naples, 31 ; New York, 410. 
 
 Arnold, Thomas and Matthew, 349. 
 
 Art and Artists, Naples, 40; Pompeii 
 49,50; Rome, 70-1-2 ; Perugia, 
 88 ; Florence, 97, 98 ; Pisa, 106-7 J 
 Genoa, 118-20; Milan, 150-1-2-3-5- 
 7-8; Verona, 125-26; Padua, 129-31; 
 Venice, 142-3-4-5-7; Lucerne, 170- 
 71 ; Munich, 206; Nuremberg, 215- 
 16 ; Cologne, 237 ; Amsterdam, 251- 
 52; Berne, 189; The Hague, 259-60 ; 
 Innsbruck, 202-3 >* Brussels, 274- 
 77 ; Paris, 308-16 ; London, 371-2. 
 
 Arthur's Seat, 336. 
 
 Ascent of Mount Vesuvius, 47. 
 
 "Assumption of the Virgin," Titian, 
 
 it 145. 
 Auld Reekie," 339. 
 
 Automobiles, 269. 
 
 Avalanches, First Stage, 179; Sec- 
 ond, 181. 
 
 Ball on Shipboard, 30, 409. 
 Baseball, Nuremberg, 214. 
 Baths, Pompeii, 50; Venice, 
 
 Scheveningen, 262. 
 Bay of Naples, 38; of Genoa, 117. 
 Beachy Head, 326. 
 Becket, Thomas a, 383; 
 
 and Career, 384-86. 
 Beer and Beer-Drinking, 
 " Beggar Boys of Seville, 
 "Belgian Blocks," 277. 
 Belgium, 266-67 > Size, 
 
 etc., 268. 
 Bellagio and Lake Como, 161. 
 Belt I^ine Railroad, Milan, 159. 
 Berne, 189, ; Situation, Population, 
 
 Cathedral, Capitol, 189 ; Arcades, 
 
 Fountains, 190; Bears, Clock-tower, 
 
 etc., 191 ; Hotels, 191. 
 Berwick-on-Tweed, 336. 
 Between Pisa and Genoa, 336. 
 Blticher, Marshal, at Waterloo, 281-7, 
 
 2 95-99, 302. 
 " Bocconi's," Milan, 158. 
 
 146; 
 
 ; Character 
 
 208, 397. 
 " etc., 206. 
 
 Prosperity, 
 
 411 
 
Index 
 
 Boer War, 402. 
 
 Bourbons in Italy, 55. 
 
 Bread, etc., at Pompeii, 48. 
 
 Bregenz, 197-98. 
 
 Brera, etc., Milan, 157. 
 
 Brienz, 178. 
 
 Brick Road Pavements, 248, 262. 
 
 Bridge of Boats, 235 ; of Sighs, 143 ; 
 Rialto, etc., 143. 
 
 Brigandage, Italy, 58. 
 
 Bronze Horses of St. Mark's, 138. 
 
 Brussels, 268; Climate, Streets, 
 Houses, Walls, 268-69; Horses, 
 Tramways, Cathedrals, 269-70 ; 
 Palace of Justice, 270; Hotel de 
 Ville, 271; Parks, 272-73 ; Royal and 
 National Palaces, 273 ; Fire-engine 
 Houses, 273 ; Galleries, Museums, 
 274-75 ; Art and Artists, 274-77. 
 
 Cadenabbia, 163. 
 
 Cambridge, 328, 355. 
 
 Cambridge and Ely, 328. 
 
 Campagna, Roman, 63-6, 81^ 
 
 Campanile, Florence, 93-4 ; Pisa, 108 ; 
 Venice, 140. 
 
 Canals, Padua, 131 ; Venice, 134 ; Mi- 
 lan, 159 ; Holland, 246-47 ; Amster- 
 dam, 248-49 ; The Hague, 263. 
 
 Canterbury, 378; our "Pilgrimage " 
 there, 379; Population, History, 
 Archbishop of, 380 ; Cathedral, 381 ; 
 Cloisters, Chapter-house, Abbey, 
 Monuments, 382 ; Thomas a Becket, 
 383-86 ; the Dane John, Chaucer's 
 Pilgrims, etc., 387. 
 
 Canterbury Cathedral, 381. 
 
 Capri and Blue Grotto, 56-7. 
 
 Captain Peterman, of the Aller, 30." 
 
 Capua, 62. 
 
 Carbineers vs. Brigands, Italy, 58. 
 
 Cardinal St. Carlo Borromeo, 153. 
 
 Castellamare, 44 ; Location, Popula- 
 tion, Hackmen, etc., 44; U. S. 
 Consulate and Flag there, 45. 
 
 Castellamare to Sorrento, 52. 
 
 Cathedral, Naples, 35 ; Salerno, 61 ; 
 Rome, 75 ; Perugia, 88 ; Pisa, 105 ; 
 Genoa, 115; Verona, 125; Padua, 
 130; Venice, 137; Milan, 150-53; 
 Lucerne, 171 ; Berne, 189 ; Inns- 
 bruck, 202 ; Munich, 208 ; Cologne, 
 237 ; Amsterdam, 251 ; Brussels, 
 269-70 ; Paris, 313-14 ; Lincoln, 330 ; 
 York, 331 ; Durham, 333 ; London, 
 367; Canterbury, 381. 
 
 Cathedrals, English, 328-30. 
 
 " Cave Canem," Pompeii, 50. 
 
 Channel, The English, 326. 
 
 Charleroi, 280-81, 288. 
 
 Charm of Venice, 147. 
 
 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 379. 
 
 Christ, Heads of, 215. 
 
 City Hall, Perugia, 88 ; Brussels, 271 ; 
 Paris, 312 ; London, 364. 
 
 Climate, Naples, 43; Rome, 81 ; Ven- 
 ice, 160; Milan, 161 ; Lake Como, 
 162 ; Holland, 265 ; Paris, 325 ; Eng- 
 land, 390 ; Scotland, 339. 
 
 Cloaca Maxima, Rome, 68, 75. 
 
 Clock- tower, Venice, 141 ; Berne, 191. 
 
 Coast of Spain, 23. 
 
 Coblenz, 234; Situation, Population, 
 Monument, 234 ; Park, Bridge of 
 Boats, etc., 235. 
 
 Cologne, 235 ; Situation, History, 
 Population, 236 ; Fortifications, 
 Streets. Cathedral, etc., 237-39. 
 
 Columbus at Azores, 22-23 > Genoa, 
 119. 
 
 Cows in Switzerland, 185-86, 192 ; 
 Germany, 222 ; Harnessed Singly, 
 222 ; Holland, 247 ; England, 327, 
 
 335- 
 Crispi's Villa, 37. 
 Cromwell, Oliver, 334 ; his Helmet at 
 
 Warwick, 351 ; in London, 401. 
 "Custom of the Country," 38, 43; 
 
 Verona, 124 ; England, 398. 
 Custom-house Officers, Naples, 31 ; 
 
 Lindau, 198. 
 
 Dairy, A Peripatetic, 28. 
 
 Dancing the Tarantella, 54. 
 
 Death-rate, Rome, 81. 
 
 Decoration-day on the Aller, 20. 
 
 Delft, 266. 
 
 Departure from New York, 14, 
 
 Devil-fishes, Naples, 41. 
 
 Dieppe, 326. 
 
 Dikes and Canals, Holland, 246-47. 
 
 Dogs Harnessed with Men and Wo- 
 men, 197, 219, 254, 277. 
 
 " Doing " Europe in Sixty Days, 188. 
 
 " Domine, dirige nos ! " 373. 
 
 Don Carlos, Venice, 147. 
 
 Down the Rhine, 175-84. 
 
 Drake, Sir Francis, 351. 
 
 Dunbar, 336. 
 
 Duomo, Florence, 93 ; Milan, 150. 
 
 Durer, Albrecht, his " Christ," 215. 
 
 Durham Cathedral, 333-34. 
 
 Durham, 334 ; Situation, Population, 
 History, 334. 
 
 Dutch Art and Artists, 259-60. 
 
 Dutch in England, 335. 
 
 412 
 
Echo in Baptistery, Pisa, 107. 
 
 Edinburgh, 336; Situation, History, 
 Population, 336 ; Arthur's Seat, 336; 
 Castle, St. Margaret's Chapel, 
 Mons Meg-, Garrison, 337; Holyrood 
 Palace, St. Giles's, John Knox, 
 338 ; his House and Grave, 338-39 ; 
 Heart of Midlothian, Scott Monu- 
 ment, Waver ly Hotel, "Auld 
 Reekie," 339; Art and Architec- 
 ture, 339 ; Scotch People and Cli- 
 mate, 340. 
 
 Egmont and Horn, 272. 
 
 Ehrenbreitstein, 235 ; Situation, Im- 
 portance, 235. 
 
 Eifel Tower, Paris, 313. 
 
 Elliott, Sir George, 29-30. 
 
 England, 326 ; language, 326 ; Farms 
 and Farming, 327-28, 335, 341, 389; 
 Scenery, 328; Cathedrals, 328; How 
 Built, 329-30; East Coast, 335; 
 North of England, 345; Lincoln- 
 shire, 341 ; Roman Remains, 346, 
 390; Weather, 347; Peterborough, 
 348; Leamington, 349; Warwick, 
 350 ; Oxfordshire, 357 ; Berkshire, 
 375 ; Middlesex, 378 ; Kent, 378-79 ; 
 Size, Population, Power, 388; Land 
 scape, Trees, Hedges, 327; Farm- 
 ing, 389 ; Climate, 390 ; Cities, 
 Towns, Industries, 391 ; Architec- 
 ture, Houses, 391-92 ; Life there, 
 392; Religion, 393; Courts, 394; 
 King and Aristocracy, 395 ; Gov- 
 ernment, 395-96 ; Dress, Manners, 
 Character, 396-97 ; Inns and Tav- 
 erns, 398 ; Horses, Dogs, Sports, 
 398-99 ; Established Church, 399, 
 400 ; Nonconformists, 400 ; Com- 
 memorates Great Men, 401 ; Pluck 
 and Courage, 402 ; Boer War, 366, 
 402 ; Relation to America, 403. 
 
 England keeps the Sabbath, 393. 
 
 England plants Protestant Churches 
 everywhere, 279. 
 
 England and America, 402-3. 
 
 "England expects every man to do 
 his duty ! " 24, 393. 
 
 English Canon on Cathedrals, 329. 
 
 "English Garden," Munich, 207. 
 
 English Girls, Switzerland, 186-87; 
 Retired Naval Officer, Munich, 210. 
 
 "Famine, Madness, and Crime, "276. 
 
 Farms and Farming, Italy, 62 ; Swit- 
 zerland, 191-92 ; Germany, 204, 212, 
 222 ; Holland, 247 ; Belgium, 267 ; 
 France, 306 ; England, 327 ; Scot- 
 land, 336. 
 
 Farnese Bull, Hercules, and Flora, 
 Naples, 40, 69. 
 
 Farewell Ball on the Aller, 30. 
 
 Father Neptune, 14. 
 
 Father Rhine, 235, 246 ; Branches and 
 Mouths, 246. 
 
 Feeding the Pigeons, Venice, 140. 
 
 Fellow-passengers, 15, 16. 
 
 " Fen Country," England, 335. 
 
 Fiesole, 100, 101. 
 
 Florence, 91 ; City Titles, Italy, 91 ; 
 Population, Pensions, the Arno, 
 etc., 92; Baptistery, Duomo, Cam- 
 panile, etc., 93, 94; the Misericor- 
 dia, San Croce, San Marco, etc., 
 95, 96 ; Galleries, Art and Artists, 
 97; Pitti Palace, San Miniato, 98; 
 Palazzos Strozzi and Vecchio, 99 ; 
 Loggio dei Lanzi, Fiesole, etc., 100, 
 101 ; Ponte Vecchio, Washing in 
 the Arno, Shops, etc., 101, 102; 
 Amerigo Vespucci, Pavements, the 
 Medici, etc., 103. 
 
 Fltielen, 168. 
 
 Fogs and Icebergs, 407-9. 
 
 Foreign Travel, Value of, to Italy, 
 155- 
 
 Forum, The, Rome, 73. 
 
 Fountains, Aqueducts, etc., Rome, 66. 
 
 Fountains and Gardens, Versailles, 
 316. 
 
 Fourth of July, Genoa, 119. 
 
 Fowler, Rev. J. T., 343; Canon and 
 Professor, Durham, 343. 
 
 Fowler, William, Antiquarian and 
 Archaeologist, 346; his Drawings 
 and Engravings, 346-47. 
 
 Fra Angelico, 96-7. 
 
 France, 306. 
 
 France and Spain at Gibraltar, 29. 
 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main, 227 ; Loca- 
 tion, Population, History, 227; Ho- 
 tels, Buildings, Streets, 228 ; Roth- 
 schilds, 229 ; Ariadne, Monuments, 
 Bridges, 230-31 ; Finance, etc., 231- 
 32. 
 
 Frascati, 63. 
 
 French Politeness, 319; Vanity, 323; 
 Army, 323 ; People, 324 ; Sundays, 
 324- 
 
 Frescoed House-fronts, 128, 147, 214. 
 
 Friedrich der Grosse, 404. 
 
 Frogmore, 377. 
 
 Fiirth, Old and New, 219. 
 
 Galileo at Pisa, 106. 
 
 Gallant Defense of Gibraltar, 29-30. 
 
 Garibaldi, 61, 66, 80, 104. 
 
 Genoa the Superb, 113; Celebrating 
 
 Index 
 
 413 
 
Inripv San Giovanni's Day, 114-15; Illu- 
 niUDA mination, Streets, Cathedral, etc., 
 116; U. S. Consulate, 117; Popula- 
 tion, Commerce, Palaces, 117-18; 
 Fourth of July, 118; Columbus, 
 Campo Santo, etc., 119; Nervi, Co- 
 lumbus Egg, 120; Grottoes, John 
 Bull, Police, Horses, etc., 121-22. 
 
 Germans in Switzerland, 184-85 ; la- 
 dies Traveling, 204 ; Soldiers and 
 Officers, 209, 243 ; Fraulein at Mu- 
 nich, 210; Women and Dogs Har- 
 nessed to Carts, etc., 220; on the 
 Rhine, 242-44. 
 
 Getting off, 14. 
 
 Ghirlandajo, Florence, 97. 
 
 Gibraltar, 24 ; Situation, People, etc.. 
 25 ; Batteries, Garrison, etc., 25-26 ; 
 Streets, Churches, Wine-shops, 
 etc., 26; Fruit, Roses, Flora, etc., 
 27; Apes, Caves, etc., 27; Goats, 
 Harbor, 28 ; Antiquity, Sieges, Im- 
 portance, etc., 29, 30. 
 
 Giotto's Campanile, 93-4. 
 
 Glass and Lace Factories,Venice, 147. 
 
 Going Abroad, 13. 
 
 Gondolas and Gondoliers, Venice, 
 133, 136. 
 
 Grand Canal and Del Salute,Venice, 
 
 135- 
 
 Grandeur and Magnificence of An- 
 cient Rome, 66-7. 
 
 Grant and Dewey, 129. 
 
 Greatness of London, 372. 
 
 Grindelwald, 186. 
 
 Grottoes, Genoa, 120. 
 
 Grouchy, Marshal, Ligny and Wa- 
 terloo, 281-89, 296, 301. 
 
 Gulf of Salerno, 58, 60. 
 
 Gulf Stream, 18. 
 
 Gutenberg, 233 ; Statue at Frankfort, 
 230. 
 
 Hague, The, 256 ; Situation, Popu- 
 lation, History, 256-57; Houses, 
 Streets, Canals, Parks, 257 ; Stat- 
 ues, Public Buildings, etc., 258-59 ; 
 Dutch Art and Artists, 259. 
 
 Hannibal in Italy, 62, 89. 
 
 Harvests, Italian, 62 ; Swiss, 192 ; 
 German, 212 ; Belgian, 267 ; Eng- 
 lish, 327, 341 ; Scotch, 336. 
 
 Hathaway, Anne, 352 ; her Cottage, 
 
 354- 
 
 Hawthorne on Oxford, 355. 
 
 Heart of Midlothian, 339. 
 
 Heidelberg, 222 ; Situation, Popula- 
 tion, History, 223 ; University, Cas- 
 
 tle, 223-25; Wine-cask, Terrace, 
 etc., 226. 
 
 Henry VIII, 386. 
 
 Herculaneum, 44. 
 
 Hofer, Andreas, Tyrol, 202. 
 
 Holland, 245-47, 256. 
 
 Holy Nail, Milan, 153. 
 
 Holy Stairs, Rome, 74. 
 
 Home Again, 410. 
 
 Horses, Naples, 37 ; Genoa, 121-22 ; 
 Belgium, 269; London, 362. 
 
 Hotel de Ville, Brussels, 271 ; Paris, 
 312. 
 
 Hotels, Naples, 32 ; Pompeii, 45 ; 
 Sorrento, 53 ; Amalfi,59 ; Rome, 70; 
 Perugia, 87 ; Florence, 91 ; Pisa, 
 104 ; Genoa, 114 ; Verona, 124 ; Ven- 
 ice, 135; Milan, 159; Bellagio, 161 ; 
 Lucerne, 171; Interlaken, 179; 
 Murren, 182 ; Berne, 191 ; Lindau, 
 196 ; Innsbruck, 200 ; Munich, 209 ; 
 Nuremberg, 212 ; Heidelberg, 222 ; 
 Frankfort, 228 ; Coblenz, 234 ; Co- 
 logne, 235; Amsterdam, 250; The 
 Hague, 256; Brussels, 268; Paris, 
 307 ; London, 392 ; Edinburgh, 339. 
 
 Houses and Palaces, Naples, 35 ; 
 Pompeii, 49; Rome, 65; Florence, 
 99 ; Genoa, 118 ; Venice, 135 ; Milan, 
 150 ; Munich, 205 ; Amsterdam, 
 249 ; The Hague, 257 ; Brussels, 
 273 ; Paris, 317 ; England, 392. 
 
 Hughes, Rev. Hugh Price, 365. 
 
 Illumination, etc., Genoa, 115- 16. 
 
 In Track of Columbus, 22. 
 
 In the Tyrol, 200. 
 
 Industrial England, 391. 
 
 Interlaken, 178 ; Location, Popula- 
 tion, 178 ; the Hoheweg, Hotel, 
 etc., 179; the Jungfrau, 180. 
 
 Inns and Taverns, England, 398. 
 
 Innsbruck, 200; Situation, Popula- 
 tion, History, 200; Museums, 
 Shops, Houses, Inns, 201 ; Cathe- 
 dral, Churches, Tombs, Monu- 
 ments, 202 ; Andreas Hofer, Park, 
 etc., 202-3. 
 
 Irrigation in Lombardy, 123. 
 
 Italians, hard-working, but happy 
 and contented, 63, 84. 
 
 Italian Agriculture, Implements, 
 etc., 62, 85. 
 
 Italian Mountain Towns, Churches, 
 etc., 85. 
 
 Italian Equestrian Statues, 61, 66, 87, 
 104. 
 
 Italian City Surnames, 91 
 
 414 
 
Jan Steen, 260. 
 Jews at Frankfort, 229. 
 John Bull, Genoa, 121 ; Munich, 210; 
 England, 396-97. 
 
 Kenilworth and Castle, 352. 
 " Key of the Mediterranean," 25. 
 Knox, John, 338 ; House and Grave, 
 338-39. 
 
 Lake Como and Como, 160-61. 
 
 Lake Lugano and Lugano, 164-65. 
 
 Lake Constance, 195. 
 'Last Supper," Milan, 156. 
 
 Lauterbrunnen, 181. 
 
 Lawyers, Patron Saint of, 82-83. 
 
 Leamington, 349. 
 
 Leaving New York, 14. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci, 156. 
 
 Leyden, 263; Situation, Population, 
 Old Burg, 263 ; University, Dutch 
 Soldiers, etc., 264-65. 
 
 Lido, The, 146. 
 
 Life on Shipboard, 20. 
 
 Life al fresco, Naples, 34. 
 
 Life at Sorrento, 53; Lake Como, 162; 
 in Hotels and Pensions, 209-10. 
 
 Ligny, 281. 
 
 Lincoln, 330; Situation, Population, 
 History, etc., 330-31. 
 
 Lincoln Cathedral, 330. 
 
 Lincolnshire, 341. 
 
 Lindau, 196; Situation, Population, 
 etc., 197. 
 
 Lion of St. Mark, 141. 
 
 Lion of Lucerne, 171. 
 
 Lombardy, 123. 
 
 Lombardy Poplars, 104, 123, 176. 
 
 London, 328; Population, History, 
 359 ; Roman Remains, Old Walls, 
 360; King Alfred, William the 
 Conqueror, 361 ; First Impressions, 
 361-62 ; Streets, Street Travel and 
 Traffic, Omnibuses, 322 ; Chief 
 Places, 363; the Tower, British 
 Museum, Guildhall, 364; Bank of 
 England, "Old Curiosity Shop," 
 Mansion House, Smithfield Mar- 
 ket and Martyrs, 365 ; Sunday 
 there, 365-66 ; War Meeting in Tra- 
 falgar Square, 366 ; Police, 366 ; St. 
 Paul's, 367-69; Westminster Ab- 
 bey, 369-71 ; National Gallery, 371 ; 
 Thunder-storm there, 372 ; Great 
 London, 372; Sabbath Observance, 
 373 ; London and New York Com- 
 pared, 373-74- 
 
 Lord Nelson and Villeneuve, 23-24. 
 
 Lucerne, 169; Situation, Population, 
 
 169-70 ; Lake, Quay, Hotels, Thor- 
 waldsen's Lion, 170-71 ; Glacier 
 Garden, Rathhaus, Cathedral, Or- 
 gan, etc., 171-72; Pilatus, Rigi,etc, 
 172-73 ; a Typical Frenchman, 174 ; 
 Sunday there, 175 ; Swiss Army, 175. 
 
 Lunch at Fiesole, 101. 
 
 Luther in Rome, 74. 
 
 " Macaroni, macaroni, Senors !" 59. 
 
 Magdalen College, Oxford, 355. 
 
 Magnificence of Ancient Rome, 66-67. 
 
 Maine Lady "Doing" Europe in 
 Sixty Days, 188. 
 
 Mamertine Prison, 75. 
 
 Marken, 252; Situation, Houses, Peo- 
 ple, etc., 253-55. 
 
 Market Gardens and Farms, Italy, 
 62. 
 
 Market Square, Verona, 128 ; Padua, 
 130 ; Innsbruck, 201 ; Nuremberg, 
 214; Brussels, 272. 
 
 Marvels at St. Peter's, 77-78. 
 
 Mary, Queen of Scotts, 338, 348. 
 
 Mass at Milan, 154. 
 
 Mayence, 233 ; History, Population, 
 etc., 234. 
 
 Medici Family, 103. 
 
 Mediterranean Skies and Stars, 30. 
 
 Menaggio, 16X 
 
 " Merrie England," 354. 
 
 Meridian, Milan, 152. 
 
 Methodist Episcopal Church, Rome, 
 79-80. 
 
 Methodists, 344-46, 357. 
 
 Michael Angelo and St Peter's, 71- 
 77 ; at Florence, 98; his " Moses," 
 73 ; his " Last Judgment," 71. 
 
 Milan, La Grande, 123, 149 ; Streets, 
 Trolley-cars, Population, Business, 
 Art, etc., 150; Cathedral, 151-53; 
 High Mass there, 154; Arcades, 
 155; Leonardo da Vinci's "Last 
 Supper" and Statue, 156; the 
 Brera, 157 ; Museo Poldi-Pezzoldi, 
 158 ; Bocconi's, 158 ; Belt Railroad, 
 Hotels, etc., 159. 
 
 Milk on Hoof, 28. 
 
 Misericordia, The, Florence, 95. 
 
 Modern Rome, 65-66. 
 
 Modern Painters, 275. 
 
 Monnikendam, 253 ; Dogs at work, 
 etc., 254. 
 
 Mont St. Jean, 282. 
 
 Monte Resegone, Lecco, 163. 
 
 Mosaic Work, Factory, etc., Rome, 
 78. 
 
 Mottoes and Street Signs, Pompeii, 
 50. 
 
 Index 
 
 415 
 
InflPY Mountain Towns and Monasteries, 
 1I,Ut5A Italy, 85. 
 
 Mt. Vesuvius, 38, 46, 47 ; Ascent of, 
 
 47- 
 
 Munich, 204; Situation, Population, 
 205 ; Art, Galleries, Museums, 206 ; 
 Bter and Beer-houses, 207-8 ; Eng- 
 lish Garden, 207; Sunday and 
 Churches, 208-9 ', Soldiers, Pen- 
 sions, etc., 209. 
 
 Murat at Naples, 35. 
 
 Murillos at Munich, 206; at Paris, 
 309-10. 
 
 Miirren, 180; Ascent there, 181 ; Lo- 
 cation, Glaciers, Avalanches, 182 ; 
 Sabbath there, 183; Life there, 
 183-84. 
 
 Museo Poldi-Pezzoldi, Milan, 158. 
 
 " Musical Doors," St. John Lateran, 
 74- 
 
 Naples to Rome, 61. 
 
 Naples, 32 ; Population, Situation, 
 33 ; Streets, Life al fresco, etc., 33- 
 34; An tiquity, 34; Churches, 
 Houses, Architecture, 35-36; St. 
 Januarius, 35 ; Cable-cars, Cabs, 
 Horses, 37 ; Pallino Restaurant, 
 Crispi's Villa, Virgil's Tomb, Bay, 
 Vesuvius, etc., 37-38; "Old Na- 
 ples," 34-38; Street Cries and 
 Sounds, 39; Climate, Art, etc., 39- 
 40; Galleries, Parks, Aquarium, 
 Devil-fishes, 40-41 ; Botanic Gar- 
 den, Flora, 42 ; Neapolitans, 42 ; 
 " Siesta," etc., 43. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, 218 ; at Water- 
 loo, 281-303; his Sword, 309; Tomb, 
 312-14. 
 
 "Napoleon in Hell," 276. 
 
 National Gallery, London, 371. 
 
 Natives, Marken, 255. 
 
 Neckars, 222. 
 
 Need of Book, 7. 
 
 Nelson and Villeneuve at Trafalgar, 
 23-24. 
 
 Nervi, 120. 
 
 New Haven, 326. 
 
 Ney, Marshal, at Quatrebras and 
 Waterloo, 281, 287, 289, 293, 295-97. 
 
 No two Persons see alike, 7. 
 
 Nonconformists, England, 400. 
 
 North German Lloyd Lines, 17-18. 
 
 Not "Guide-book" nor "Sentimental 
 Journey," 7. 
 
 Nuremberg, 212 ; History, Situation, 
 213; Walls, Houses, Artists, 
 Churches, 214-15 ; Museums, Foun- 
 tains, 216; the "Berg," Torture- 
 
 chamber, etc., 217-18; "Maid of 
 Nuremberg," 218; Manufactures, 
 218-19 1 Park, 219 ; Women and 
 Dogs, "Snapshots," etc., 220. 
 
 Ocean, Vastness of, 19, 406 ; Cruel 
 and Pitiless, 405-6. 
 
 " Octroi " Officers, Verona, 124. 
 
 Officers and Soldiers, Italian, 58, 89; 
 Swiss, 194; German, 209, 243 ; 
 Dutch, 265 ; French, 323 ; English, 
 378. 
 
 Off St. Vincent and Trafalgar, 23. 
 
 Ogre Fountain, Berne, 190. 
 
 "Old Naples," 34, 38. 
 
 " Old Cow," Florence, 94. 
 
 Old English Inn, Warwick, 350. 
 
 Old Roman Road, England, 331, 344, 
 380. _ 
 
 Old Priest at Sorrento, 55-6. 
 
 On the Sea, 19. 
 
 On Royal Throne, Florence, 99. 
 
 Orange, Princes of, 261. 
 
 Our Voyage over, Chap. I, p. 13. 
 
 Oxford, 354; Colleges and Univer- 
 sity, 355; Life there, 356; Ridley 
 and Latimer there, 356 ; John Wes- 
 ley there, 357; Population, History, 
 etc., 357 ; the Thames, 358, 375. 
 
 Padua, 129; Population, Churches, 
 130; Hall of Justice, 131 ; Art, Uni- 
 versity, 131 ; Ghost of Greatness, 
 
 131- 
 
 Palace of the Doges, Venice, 141-43. 
 
 Palace of Justice, Brussels, 270. 
 
 Palazzo Vecchio and Strozzi, Flor- 
 ence, 99. 
 
 Palms, Genoa, 118. 
 
 Pantheon, Rome, 72; Michael Angelo 
 and the Pantheon, 77. 
 
 Paris, 307 ; History Great City, 307-8 ; 
 the Louvie and its Treasures, 308- 
 310; Museums, 310-11; Galleries, 
 312 ; Sainte Chapelle, Place de la 
 Concorde, Hotel de Ville, Grand 
 Opera-house, Hotel des Invalides, 
 Arc de Triomphe, Pere-la-Chaise, 
 312; Place Vendome, Eifel Tower, 
 Notre Dame, etc., 313; Napoleon's 
 Tomb, Pantheon, Madeleine, 
 Champs Elysees, etc., 314; Ver- 
 sailles, 315-16 ; Bois de Boulogne, 
 University, National Library, 316- 
 17 ; Street Travel and Traffic, 317 ; 
 her Boulevards, 317 ; Buildings, 
 Houses, Chimney-pots, 317-18; 
 Book-stalls, 318; Omnibuses, 318; 
 French Politeness and Dress, 319 ; 
 
 16 
 
Worth's and Bon Marche, 319 ; Ex- 
 position 1900,320; Dreyfus Case, 
 320-22; French Politics, 322; 
 Vanity, 323 ; Army, 323 ; Nation 
 and People, 323-24 ; Sunday there, 
 324; Grand Dames and Gentlemen, 
 
 325- 
 
 Parish Churches, England, 391-92. 
 
 Parliament, Houses of, 364. 
 
 Patron Saints, 82, 191, 373. 
 
 Pavements, Naples, 36 ; Pompeii, 48 ; 
 Rome, 82 ; Florence, 103 ; Venice, 
 135 ; Milan, 135 ; Amsterdam, 248 ; 
 The Hague, 262 ; Brussels, 269 , 
 Paris, 318; London, 362. 
 
 " Pearl of Italy," 91, 148. 
 
 Peasants, Italy, 59. 
 
 Pennsylvania Dutch, 243. 
 
 Pensions, Florence, 92 ; Munich, 209. 
 
 Peripatetic Dairy, 28. 
 
 Perugia, 84; location, Population, 
 etc., 85-86; Electric Road, Hotel, 
 Mountain Views, etc., 86-87; Cathe- 
 dral, City Hall, etc., 88; Streets, 
 Palaces, 89 ; Officers and Soldiers, 
 89. 
 
 Peterborough, 348 ; Population, His- 
 tory, Cathedral, 348 ; Mary Queen 
 of Scots and Old Scarlett, 349. 
 
 Phidias and Praxitiles, 277. 
 
 Piazza of St. Mark's, Venice, 139. 
 
 Pigeons, Venice, 140. 
 
 Pigs, Italian, 52. 
 
 Pillars at Venice, 141. 
 
 Pisa, 104 ; History, Population, 105 ; 
 Duomo, Baptistery, 105-6; Art, Art- 
 ists, 106-7, Echo, 107; Leaning 
 Tower, 108 ; Cameo Santo, 109-10 ; 
 St. Stephen's, m~; St. Mary of the 
 Thorn, 11 1 ; Interesting Old City, 
 112. 
 
 Pitti Gallery and Palace, Florence, 
 97-98. 
 
 Place de la Concorde, Pans, 312. 
 
 " Places of Refuge," London, 362. 
 
 Police, Genoa, 121 ; Venice, 136. 
 
 Pompeii, 45 ; Antiquity, Destruction, 
 etc., 45-46; Vesuvius and its As- 
 cent, 47 ; Museum, Streets, etc., 48; 
 Houses, Street Signs, etc., 49-50; 
 Baths, Theaters, 50-51 ; Excava- 
 tion, Sedan-chair, etc., 51. 
 
 Pompeiian Wagon-ruts, 49. 
 
 Pope at St. Peter's, 82. 
 
 Porpoises, Flying-fish, etc., 18-19, 4°5- 
 
 Positano, 61. 
 
 Priests, Italy, " too many," etc., 55 ; 
 Rome, 64. 
 
 Progress in Italy, 55-56. 
 
 Protestant Churches, Rome, 79 ; Ven- I n (J p y 
 
 ice, 139; Lucerne, 175; Miirren, 1UUCA 
 183 ; Munich, 208 ; Paris, 324 ; Lon- 
 don, 365. 
 
 Quaint Mountain City, Perugia, It- 
 aly, 87. 
 " Quaker Oats " Advertisements, 241. 
 Quay at Lucerne, 170. 
 Queen of the Adriatic, 91, 132, 148. 
 Queer Names, 169, 181, 212. 
 
 Railroads, Italian, 61. 
 
 Railroad Station at Rome, 84. 
 
 Raphael at Rome, 71 ; Florence, 97 ; 
 Paris, 309; London, 371. 
 
 " Rapid Transit," Perugia, 86. 
 
 Rathhaus, Lucerne, 171 ; Lindau, 198; 
 Nuremberg, 215, 
 
 Religion, England, 393. 
 
 Rembrandt's "Night Watch," 252; 
 " School of Anatomy," 259. 
 
 Republic, England, 400. 
 
 " Revolt of Hell," 276. 
 
 Rhine, The, 233 ; Travel there, 234 ; 
 Cities and Towns, 235-38 ; Busi- 
 ness, 239-40 ; Romance, Castles, 
 Vineyards, Wine, 241-42 ; Men and 
 Women there, 243-44. 
 
 Riches and Trade of Venice, 133. 
 
 Road, Castellamare to Sorrento, 52 ; 
 to Amalfi and Salerno, 58-61. 
 
 Robber Barons, Italy, 63 ; Germany, 
 217. 
 
 Rock of Gibraltar, 25. 
 
 Roman Campagna, 63-66, 81. 
 
 Roman Fever, 81. 
 
 Romans in England, 332,346, 352, 360. 
 
 Romanshorn, 195. 
 
 Rome, 64; Population, the Tiber, 
 Houses, Streets, Aqueducts, Foun- 
 tains, etc., 65-66; the "Eternal 
 City, "66; Ancient Rome, 67; Co- 
 losseum, Caracalla's Baths, Tra- 
 jan's Column, Arch of Titus, etc., 
 68-69 ', Old Romans, Reflections, 
 etc., 69-70; Art, Galleries, 
 Churches, etc., 70 ; Vatican, Sistine 
 Chapel, "Last Judgment," 71 ; 
 Guidi Reni's "Aurora," the "Dy- 
 ing Gladiator,' - ' etc., 71-72; Pan- 
 theon, 72 ; St. Paul's Beyond the 
 Walls, the Lateran, 73 ; Cappuc- 
 cini Church, Mamertine Prison, 
 etc., 74-75 ; St. Peter's, 75-6-7 ; Cost, 
 Dimensions, etc., 78-79 ; Protestant 
 Churches there, 79; Methodist 
 Episcopal Church, etc., there, 80; 
 " Roman Fever," Climate, etc., 81 ; 
 
 27 
 
 417 
 
InflPY Pavements, 82 ; Patron Saints and 
 11,UCA Lawyers, 82-83. 
 
 Rome from Dome of St. Peter's, 67. 
 
 Rome, the Forum, 73. 
 
 Rothschilds, Frankfort, 229. 
 
 Rotterdam, 266. 
 
 Rouen, 326. 
 
 Royal Exchange and Bank of Eng- 
 land, 365. 
 
 Rubens, Munich, 206; Paris, 310. 
 
 Rugby, 349. 
 
 Ruskin on Colleoni Statue, 144. 
 
 Ryks Museum, Amsterdam, 251-52. 
 
 Sabbath Observance, Germany, 208; 
 France, 324 ; England, 393. 
 
 Salerno, 60; Drive there, 60; His- 
 tory, Population, Cathedral, etc., 
 61. 
 
 San Croce, Marco, etc., Florence, 95- 
 
 9 6 - . 
 
 San Giovanni's Day, Genoa, 114. 
 
 Sandy Hook, 14, 409. 
 
 Scheidegg, 184. 
 
 Scheveningen, 261 ; Situation, 
 Streets, Bathing, etc., 262. 
 
 Scotland, 336 ; P'arms and Farming, 
 336 ; Intemperance, 339 ; People 
 and Climate, 339-40. 
 
 Scotch Lakes and Trosachs, 328, 341. 
 
 Sedan-chair, Pompeii, 51. 
 
 " See Naples and die !" 42. 
 
 Seine, The, 306, 313. 
 
 Service in St. Paul's, 365 ; Westmin- 
 ster Abbey, 365. 
 
 Shakespeare, 252 ; House, Tomb, Ep- 
 itaph, 353 ; Country there, 354. 
 
 Sheep, Holland, 247 ; England, 327 ; 
 Scotland, 336. 
 
 Short or Eong Trip, 13. 
 
 Short Cuts, Pompeii, 48. 
 
 Siege of Gibraltar, 29. 
 
 " Siesta," Naples, 43; Pompeii, 45 ; 
 Rome, 81 ; Milan, 149. 
 
 Singular Meeting of Friends, 211. 
 
 Sleep during Voyage, 19-20. 
 
 Soldiers at Perugia, 89 ; Munich, 209 ; 
 Paris, 323 ; Windsor Castle, 378. 
 
 Sorrento, 53 ; Hotel, 53; Charm of 
 Place, 53-54 ; History, Situation, 
 Products, etc. , 54 ; Dancers, Priests, 
 etc., 55 ; Soldiers and Priests in It- 
 aly, 56. 
 
 Soult, Marshal, at Waterloo, 287, 301. 
 
 Southampton, 404-5. 
 
 Southern Italy, Chapters II and III, 
 pages 32, 44. 
 
 Spain , First Sight of, 23 ; her Siege 
 of Gibraltar, 29. 
 
 Spezia, 113 ; Talk with Italian there, 
 1 13-14. 
 
 Strada S. Eucia, Naples, 39. 
 
 Stratford - on - Avon, 352 ; Situation. 
 Population, Modern Traits, 352 ; 
 Shakespeare's House, 353 ; Harvard 
 House, 353; Old Trinity Church, 
 the Avon, Shakespeare's Grave and 
 Epitaph, 353 ; Anne Hathaway's 
 Cottage, 354 ; the Heart of " Mer- 
 rie England," 354. 
 
 St. Albans, 360. 
 
 St. Anthony of Padua, 129. 
 
 St. Ambrose, Milan, 153-54. 
 
 St. Bartholomew, Milan, 153. 
 
 St. George's Chapel, Windsor, 377. 
 
 St. Giorgio, Venice, 141. 
 
 St. Gothard Pass and R.R., 166-67. 
 
 St. Mark's, Venice, 137-39. 
 
 St. Paul's Beyond the Walls, Rome, 
 73- 
 
 St. Paul's, Eondon, 367-68. 
 
 St. Peter's, Rome, 75-77. 
 
 St. Vincent and Trafalgar, 23. 
 
 Steamboats in Venice, 133-37. 
 
 Strand, The, Eondon, 363. 
 
 Sulgrave, Home of Washingtons, 349. 
 
 Sunday at Sorrento, 54 , Rome, 79 ; 
 Perugia, 87; Genoa, 115; Venice, 
 139 ; Eucerne, 175 ; Miirren, 183 ; 
 Munich, 208 ; The Hague, 278 ; 
 Brussels, 278; Paris, 324; Eondon, 
 365 ; at Sea, 407-8. 
 
 Sussex and Surrey, 327. 
 
 Swiss Cows, 185-86, 192 ; Soldiers, 
 175, 194; Chalets, etc., 184, 192; 
 People, 193 ; Railroads, 194; School- 
 houses, Churches, 194; Language, 
 195- 
 
 Tabard Inn, 379. 
 Tarentella, The, Sorrento, 54. 
 Tell, William, 169. 
 Temperance, England, 397. 
 Thames, The, 328, 359, 373. 
 Thanksgiving of Columbus, 23. 
 The Balcony City, 36. 
 The Classes and the Masses, 278. 
 The Eternal City, 63-66. 
 The Italian Summer, 149. 
 The Venice of the North, 248. 
 Theaters at Pompeii, 50-51. 
 Thorwaldsen's " Eion of Eucerne," 
 
 170-71. 
 Thunderstorms, Eake Como, 160-62. 
 Tiber, The, at Rome, 65 ; Valley of, 
 
 84. 
 Titian's "Assumption," Venice, 145. 
 Titles of Cities, Italy, 91. 
 
 18 
 
"Too many " Priests and Soldiers, 
 
 . 55-56. 
 
 Trolley-cars, Naples, 37; Rome, 77; 
 Genoa, 1 17-18; Florence, 100; Mi- 
 lan, 150-59 ; Berne, 189 ; Nurem- 
 berg, 219 ; Amsterdam, 248 ; The 
 Hague, 263 ; Brussels, 269 ; Paris, 
 317 ; London, 362. 
 
 Tunnels, Pisa to Genoa, 113. 
 
 Typical Bridges, Venice, 144. 
 
 Tyrol, The, 198; Mountains, People, 
 Chalets, 199; Roads, Villages, 
 Churches, Shrines, 200. 
 
 Uffizi and Pitti Galleries, 97-98. - 
 Unterseen, 180. 
 Up the Mediterranean, 30. 
 Utrecht, 246. 
 
 Vastness of the Ocean, 19 ; of Paris, 
 317 ; of London, 361. 
 
 Vatican, Rome, 71 ; " Prisoner of," 
 82. 
 
 Venice, 132 ; Islands, Bridges, etc., 
 132 ; Population, Commerce, His- 
 tory, 133 ; Canals, Streets, Houses, 
 J 34-35 ; Police, Gondolas, Climate, 
 J 36-37 ; St. Mark's, 137-39 J Bronze 
 Horses* 138 ; Piazza of St. Mark's, 
 Pigeons, Campanile, etc., 139-40; 
 I,ion of St. Mark's, St. Theodore 
 and Crocodile, 140-41 ; Doges' Pal- 
 ace, 141-43 ; St. Barbara, 143 ; Col- 
 leoni Equestrian Statue, 144; 
 Church of Frari, 144; Titian's 
 "Assumption," Tintoretto's St. 
 Mark, 144-45 ; the Arsenal, Public 
 Garden, Lido, 146; Don Carlos, 
 Glass and Lace, Art and Architec- 
 ture, 147 ; Skies and Colors. 147-48. 
 
 Venus of Milo, Paris, 310-11. 
 
 Verona, 124; Situation, Population, 
 Walls, Garrison, etc., 124; Cathe- 
 dral, Architecture, etc., 125-26; 
 Scaligers, 126 ; Romeo and Juliet, 
 126 ; Amphitheater, 127-28 ; Market 
 Place, 128 ; Old Water-mills, 129 ; 
 Celebrities, 129. 
 
 Versailles, 315. 
 
 Victory, Statue of, Paris, 308. 
 
 Villages and Towns, Italy, 63. 
 
 Vineyards, Italy, 62-63, 84, 123, 132 ; 
 Germany, 241. 
 
 Virgil's Tomb, 37. 
 
 " Visions of a Man Beheaded," 276. 
 
 Visit to Engine-room of the Aller, 18. 
 
 Wages, Italy, 63 ; Germany and 
 France, 393 ; England, 393. 
 
 Warwick, 350 ; History, Population, IndPY 
 Castle, 350-51 ; Paintings, Armor, 11IUUA 
 Bric-a-brac, etc., 351 ; Warwick's 
 Mace, Cromwell's Helmet, 351; Ad- 
 venture there. 352. 
 
 Washerwomen, Lake Lecco, 164. 
 
 Washing in the Arno, 102. 
 
 Washingtons, English, and George, 
 
 349- 
 Waterloo, 280 ; Battle of, 281 ; like 
 Gettysburg, 282 ; Mont St. Jean, 
 282 ; La Hougomont, 283-84 ; La 
 Haye Sainte, 285 ; Numbers and 
 Kind engaged, 285-6-7 ; Napoleon 
 there, 288-89 ', tne Field, 290 ; on 
 Sunday, 290 ; Attack on La Houg- 
 omont, 291 ; on Mont St. Jean, 291- 
 92 ; on La Haye Sainte, 294 ; La 
 Belle Alliance, 288, 290, 292-95 , 
 Charge of Imperial Guard, 295-6-7; 
 Bliicher's Arrival and Attack, 293- 
 98; "the Butcher's Bill," 299; 
 March on Paris, 299 ; Napoleon's 
 Errors, 300 ; Wellington's Good 
 Conduct, 301-2 ; Victor Hugo, 303 ; 
 unlike Gettysburg, 303-4 ; Mound 
 and Monuments there, 303-4; Mon- 
 archies and Republics compared, 
 
 304- 
 
 Water Street, Padua, 131. 
 
 Welcome Home, 310. 
 
 Wellington, Duke of, at Waterloo, 
 280 to 302. 
 
 Westminster Abbey, 369-71. 
 
 Whales, 19, 405. 
 
 Why Book written, 7. 
 
 Wiertz's Gallery, Brussels, 275-6-7. 
 
 William the Silent, 258. 
 
 Windows, Stained-glass, Milan, 152; 
 Cologne, 238 ; Nuremberg, 215 ; 
 Paris, 312; York, 332; Durham, 
 333 ; Canterbury, 382. 
 
 Windsor, 375 ; Population, History, 
 Castle, 375-76; St. George 's Chapel, 
 Albert Chapel, 376-77 ; Royal For- 
 est, Officers and Soldiers, 378. 
 
 Wine, Italian, 63, 123 ; German, 241-42; 
 Wine-drinking in Germany, 242. 
 
 Winterton, 341; Location, 341-42, 
 Wesley an Chapel and Parish 
 Church there, 342 ; Sabbath there, 
 342 ; Home of Ancestors and Rela- 
 tives there, 343 ; John Wesley there,, 
 346 ; Weather there, 347. 
 
 Wintringham, 343-44; Old Parish 
 Church and Rectory there, 344; Old 
 Knight in Armor, 344. 
 
 "Woman's Rights," Nuremberg, 
 219 
 
 419 
 
InriPY Women working in Fields, Italy, 62 ; 
 1IIUbA Switzerland, 191; "Tending Ma- 
 son, etc., Germany, 204-7, 243; Har- 
 nessed with Dogs, 177, 219, 254, 277; 
 Carrying Hay, Holland, 254; Shoe 
 Blacks, Belgium, 278. 
 Wooden Shoes in Holland, 253. 
 "Working like a Dog," 177, 254, 277. 
 Wiirzburg, 221. 
 
 York, 332; Situation, History, Pop- 
 ulation, Ancient Walls, etc., 332-33 ; 
 Cathedral, 331-32. 
 
 York Minster, 331. 
 
 Yorkshire, 332, 341. 
 
 Zurich, 192; Situation, Importance, 
 192-93. 
 
 420 
 
 H f 61- 79 
 

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