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 B^.5eVRID TA^~LOR_~ 
 
 
BY-WAYS OF EUROPE, 
 
 BATAED TAYLOR 
 
 U 
 
 S^ 
 
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 NEW YORK: 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM AND SON, 661 Bkoadwat, 
 
 Opposite Bojsd Street. 
 
 1869. 
 
^ 
 
 
 -t 
 
 Entered according- to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 
 
 Q. P. Putnam and Son, 
 
 tn the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of Nevr Tork.* 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY 
 J 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 TO MY EKIEND OE MANY YEAES, 
 
 HORACE GEEELEY. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FAOE 
 
 A Familiar Letter to the Reader .7 
 
 A Cruise on Lake Ladoga 21 
 
 Between Europe and Asia 59 
 
 Winter-Life in St. Petersburg 85 
 
 The Little Land of Appenzell 113 
 
 From Perpignan to Montserrat 145 
 
 Balearic Days, I ' . .171 
 
 Balearic Days, II 197 
 
 Catalonian Bridle-Eoads . ; 227 
 
 The Republic of the Pyrenees 259 
 
 The Grande Chartreuse 293 
 
 The Kyffhauser and its Legends 307 
 
 A Week on Capri 335 
 
 A Trip to Ischia 365 
 
 The Land of Paoli 391 
 
 The Island of Maddalena ; with a Distant View of Ca- 
 
 PRERA 419 
 
 In the Teutoburger Forest . . .... 449 
 
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 
 
 Whoever you may be, my friendly reader, — whether I 
 may assume the footing of familiar acquaintance which 
 comes of your having read my former books of travel, or 
 whether we stand for the first time face to face, self-intro- 
 duced to each other, and uncertain, as yet, how we shall 
 get on together, — will you let me take you by the button- 
 hole and tell you some things which must be said now, if 
 at all ? 
 
 This is probably the last volume of travels which I shall 
 ever publish. It closes a series of personal and literary 
 experiences which cannot be renewed, and which I have 
 no belief will be extended. Now, therefore, all that I 
 have done as a traveller detaches itself from my other 
 labors, lies clear behind me as a life by itself, and may 
 be considered with a degree of self-criticism which was 
 scarcely possible while it lay nearer. The brief review 
 which I desire to make, must necessarily be autobiograph- 
 ical in its character, and I am aware that this is question- 
 able ground. But as I have been specially styled, for so 
 many years and little to my own satisfaction, " a traveller " 
 or " a tourist," and in either character have received praise 
 and blame, equally founded on a misconception of the 
 facts and hopes of my life, I claim the privilege, this once, 
 to set the truth before those who may care to hear it. 
 
 Only one of two courses is open to an author : either 
 to assume a dignified reserve, as who should say to his 
 reader, " There is my book — it is all that concerns you — 
 1 
 
8 A FAMILIAE LETTER TO THE READEE." 
 
 how or why it was written is my own secret ; " or, to take 
 the reader frankly into his confidence, and brave the ready 
 charge of vanity or over-estimation of self, by the free 
 communication of his message. Generally, the latter course 
 is only to anticipate the approval which is sure to come in 
 the end, if there is any vitality in an author's work. To 
 most critics the personal gossip of an acknowledged name is 
 delightful : posthumous confidences also somehow lose the 
 air of assertion which one finds in the living man. Death, 
 or that fixed renown which rarely comes during life, sets 
 aside the conventionalities of literature ; and the very mod- 
 esty and reticence which are supposed to be a part of 
 them then become matters of regret. So there are tran- 
 sitions in life which seem posthumous to its preceding phases, 
 and the present self looks upon the past as akin, indeed, 
 but not identical. 
 
 During the past twenty-two years I have written and 
 published ten volumes of travel, which have been exten- 
 sively read, and are still read by newer classes of readers. 
 "Whatever may be the quality or value of those works, I 
 may certainly assume that they possess an interest of some 
 kind, and that the reader whom I so often meet, who has 
 followed me from first to last (a fidelity which, I must con- 
 fess, is always grateful and always surprising), will not ob- 
 ject if, now, in offering him this eleventh and final volume, 
 I suspend my role of observer long enough to relate how 
 the series came to be written. 
 
 The cause of my having travelled so extensively has 
 been due to a succession of circumstances, of a character 
 more or less accidental. My prolonged wanderings formed 
 no part of my youthful programme of life. I cannot dis- 
 connect my early longings for a knowledge of the Old 
 World from a still earlier passion for Art and Literature. 
 To the latter was added a propensity, which I have never 
 unlearned, of acquiring as much knowledge as possible 
 through the medium of my own experience rather than to 
 
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 9 
 
 accept it, unquestioned, from anybody else. When I first 
 set out for Europe I was still a boy, and less acquainted 
 with life than most boys of my age. I was driven to the 
 venture by the strong necessity of providing for myself 
 sources of education which, situated as I was, could not be 
 reached at home. In other words, the journey offered me 
 a chance of working my way. 
 
 At that time, Europe was not the familiar neighbor-con- 
 tinent which it has since become. The merest superficial 
 letters, describing cities, scenery, and the details of travel, 
 were welcome to a very large class of readers, and the nar- 
 rative of a youth of nineteen, plodding a-foot over the Old 
 World, met with an acceptance which would have been 
 impossible ten years later. I am fully aware how little 
 literary merit that narrative possesses. It is the work of a 
 boy who was trying to learn something, but with a very faint 
 idea of the proper method or discipline ; who had an im- 
 mense capacity for wonder and enjoyment, but not much 
 power, as yet, to discriminate between the important and 
 the trivial, the true and the false. Perhaps the want of 
 development which the book betrays makes it attractive 
 to those passing through the same phase of mental growth. 
 I cannot otherwise account for its continued vitality. 
 
 Having been led, after returning home, into the profes- 
 sion of journalism, the prospect of further travel seemed 
 very remote. I felt, it is true, that a visit to Greece, Egypt, 
 and Syria was desirable in order to complete my acquain- 
 tance with the lands richest in the history of civilization ; 
 and I would have been quite willing to relinquish all chance 
 of seeing more of the world, had that much been assured 
 to me. I looked forward to years of steady labor as a 
 servant of the Press ; but, being a servant, and by neces- 
 sity an obedient one, I was presently sent forth, in the line 
 of my duty, to fresh wanderings. The " New York Tribune " 
 required a special correspondent in California, in 1849, 
 and the choice of its editor fell upon me. After performing 
 
10 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 
 
 the stipulated service, I returned by way of Mexico, in 
 order to make the best practicable use of my time. Thus, 
 and not from any roving propensity, originated my second 
 journey. 
 
 When, two years later, a change of scene and of occu- 
 pation became imperative, from the action of causes quite 
 external to my own plans and hopes, my first thought 
 naturally, was to complete my imperfect scheme of travel 
 by a journey to Egypt and the Orient I was, moreover, 
 threatened with an affection of the throat, for which the 
 climate of Africa offered a sure remedy. The journey was 
 simply a change of position, from assistant-editor to corres- 
 pondent, enabling me to obtain the strength which I sought, 
 without giving up the service on which I relied for support. 
 How it came to be extended to Central Africa is partly 
 explained by the obvious advantage of writing from a new 
 and but partially explored field ; but there were other influ- 
 ences acting upon me which I did not fully comprehend 
 at the time, and cannot now describe without going too 
 deeply into matters of private history. I obeyed an in- 
 stinct, rather than followed a conscious plan. 
 
 After having completed my African journeys, I traversed 
 Palestine, Syria, and Asia Minor, and finally reached Con- 
 stantinople, intending to return homewards through Europe. 
 There, however, I found letters from my associates of '' The 
 Tribune," insisting that I should proceed speedily to China, 
 for the purpose of attaching myself to the American Ex- 
 pedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry. I cannot say 
 that the offer was welcome, yet its conditions were such 
 that I could not well refuse, and, besides, I had then no 
 plan of my own of sufficient importance to oppose to it. 
 The circumstances of my life made me indifferent, so long 
 as the service required was not exactly distasteful, and in 
 this mood I accepted the proposition. Eight months still 
 intervened before the squadron could reach China, and I 
 determined to turn the time to good advantage, by includ- 
 
A FAJIILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 11 
 
 ing Spain and India in the outward journey. Thus the 
 travel of one year was extended to two and a half, and 
 instead of the one volume which I had premeditated, I 
 brought home the material for three. 
 
 It would be strange if an experience so prolonged should 
 not sensibly change the bent of an author's mind. It was 
 not the sphere of activity which I should have chosen, had 
 I been free to choose, but it was a grateful release from 
 the drudgery of the editorial room. After three years of 
 clipping and pasting, and the daily arrangement of a chaos 
 of ephemeral shreds, in an atmosphere which soon exhausts 
 the vigor of the blood, the change to the freedom of Orien- 
 tal life, to the wonders of the oldest art and to the easy 
 record of impressions so bright and keen that they put 
 themselves into words, was like that from night to day. 
 With restored health, the life of the body became a delight 
 in itself; a kindly fortune seemed to attend my steps; I 
 learned something of the patience and fatalistic content of 
 the races among whom I was thrown, and troubled myself 
 no longer with an anxious concern for the future. 
 
 I confess, too, that while floating upon the waters of the 
 White Nile, while roaming through the pine forests of 
 Phrygia or over the hills of Loo-Choo, I learned to feel 
 the passion of the Explorer. Almost had I eaten of that 
 fruit which gives its restless poison to the blood. It is 
 very likely that, had I then been able to have marked out 
 my future path, I might have given it the character which 
 was afterwards ascribed to me. 
 
 I will further confess that the unusual favor with which 
 those three volumes of travel were received, — perhaps, 
 also, the ever-repeated attachment of " traveller " to my 
 name, and that demand for oral report of what I had seen 
 and learned, which threw me suddenly into the profession 
 of lecturing, with much the sensation of the priest whom 
 Henri Quatre made general by mistake, — I will confess, I 
 say, that these things did for a time mislead me as to the 
 
12 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 
 
 kind of work which I was best fitted to do. I did not see, 
 then, that my books were still a continuation of the process 
 of development, and that, tried by a higher literary stand- 
 ard, they stopped short of r^al achievement. My plan, in 
 writing them, had been very simple. Within the limits 
 which I shall presently indicate, my faculty of observation 
 had been matured by exercise; my capacity to receive 
 impressions was quick and sensitive, and the satisfaction I 
 took in descriptive writing was much the same as that 
 of an artist who should paint the same scenes. I endeav- 
 ored, in fact, to make words a substitute for pencil and 
 palette. Having learned, at last, to analyze and compare, 
 and finding that the impression produced upon my readers 
 was proportionate to its degree of strength upon my own 
 mind, I fancied that I might acquire the power of bringing 
 home to thousands of firesides clear pictures of the remotest 
 regions of the earth, and that this would be a service worth 
 undertaking. 
 
 With a view of properly qualifying myself for the work, 
 I made a collection of the narratives of the noted travel- 
 lers of all ages, from Herodotus to Humboldt. It was a 
 rich and most instructive field of study; but the first re- 
 sult was to open my eyes to the many requirements of a 
 successful traveller — a list which increases with each gene- 
 ration. I was forced to compare myself with those wan- 
 derers of the Middle Ages, whose chief characteristic was a 
 boundless capacity for wonder and delight, but, alas ! this 
 age would not allow me their naive frankness of speech. 
 Moreover, I had now discovered that Man is vastly more 
 important than Nature, and the more I dipped into anthro- 
 pological and ethnological works, the more I became con- 
 vinced that I could not hope to be of service unless I 
 should drop all other purposes and plans, and give my life 
 wholly to the studies upon which those sciences are based. 
 But the latter lay so far away from my intentions — so far 
 from that intellectual activity which is joyous because it is 
 
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 13 
 
 spontaneous — that I was forced to pause and consider the 
 matter seriously. 
 
 A writer whose mind has been systematically trained 
 from the start will hardly comprehend by what gradual 
 processes I attained unto a little self-knowledge. The 
 faculties called into exercise by travel so repeated and 
 prolonged, continued to act from' the habit of action, and 
 subsided very slowly into their normal relation to other 
 qualities of the mind. They still continued to affect my 
 plans, when I left home, in 1856, for another visit to Europe. 
 It will, therefore, be easily understood how I came to com- 
 bine a winter and summer trip to the Arctic Zone with my 
 design of studying the Scandinavian races and languages : 
 the former was meant as a counterpart to my previous ex- 
 periences in tropical lands. This journey, and that to 
 Greece and Russia, which immediately followed, were the 
 receding waves of the tide. While I was engaged with 
 them I found that my former enjoyment of new scenes, 
 and the zest of getting knowledge at first-hand, were sen 
 sibly diminished by regret for the lack of those severe pre 
 paratory studies which would have enabled me to see and 
 learn so much more. 
 
 I never thought it worth while to contradict a story 
 which, for eight or nine years past has appeared from time 
 to time in the newspapers — that Humboldt had said of me : 
 " He has travelled more and seen less than any man living.'* 
 The simple publication of a letter from Humboldt to my- 
 self would have silenced this invention ; but I desisted, 
 because I knew its originator, and did not care to take 
 that much notice of him. The same newspapers after- 
 wards informed me that he had confessed the slander, 
 shortly before his death. I mention the circumstance now, 
 in order to say that the sentence attributed to Humboldt 
 was no doubt kept alive by the grain of truth at the bottom 
 of it. Had Humboldt actually said: "No man who has 
 published so many volumes of travel has contributed so 
 
14 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 
 
 little to positive science" — he would have spoken the 
 ti-uth, and I should have agreed with him. But when, 
 during my last interview with that great student of Nature, 
 I remarked that he would find in my volumes nothing of 
 the special knowledge which he needed, it was very grate- 
 ful to me when he replied : " But you paint the world as we, 
 explorers of science, cannot. Do not undervalue what you 
 have done. It is a real service ; and the unscientific travel- 
 ler, who knows the use of his eyes, observes for us always, 
 without being aware of it." Dr. Petermann, the distin- 
 guished geographer, made almost the same remark to me, 
 four or five years aflerwards. 
 
 I should have been satisfied with such approval and with 
 certain kindly messages which I received from Dr. Barth 
 and other explorers, and have gone forward in the path 
 into which I was accidentally led, had I not felt that it was 
 diverging more and more from the work wherein I should 
 find my true content. I may here be met by the thread- 
 bare platitude that an author is no judge of his own per- 
 formance. Very well : let me, then, be the judge of my 
 own tastes ! On the one hand there was still the tempta- 
 tion of completing an unfulfilled scheme. Two additional 
 journeys — one to the Caucasus, Persia, and the more ac- 
 cessible portions of Central Asia, and the other to South 
 America — would have rounded into tolerable completeness 
 my personal knowledge of Man and Nature. Were these 
 once accomplished, I might attempt the construction of a 
 work, the idea of which hovered before my mind for a long 
 time — a /mmcwz cosmos, which should represent the race 
 in its grand divisions, its relation to soil and climate, its 
 varieties of mental and moral development, and its social, 
 political, and spiritual phenomena, with the complex causes 
 from which they spring. The field thus opened was grander 
 than that which a mere " tourist " could claim : it had a 
 genuine charm for the imagination, and even failure therein 
 was more attractive than success in a superficial branch of 
 literature. 
 
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 15 
 
 On the other hand, I began to feel very keenly tlie de- 
 moralizing influence (if one may apply such a term to intel- 
 lectual effort) of travel. The mind flags under the strain 
 of a constant receptivity : it must have time to assimilate 
 and arrange its stores of new impressions. Moreover, 
 without that ripe knowledge which belongs to the later 
 rather than the earlier life of a man, the traveller misses 
 the full value of his opportunities. His observations, in 
 many respects, must be incomplete, and tantalize rather 
 than satisfy. While he grows weary of describing the ex- 
 ternal forms of Nature and the more obvious peculiarities 
 of races, he has little chance of following the clews to 
 deeper and graver knowledge which are continually offered 
 to his hands. Where, as in my case, other visions, of very 
 different features, obscured for a time but never suppressed, 
 beckon him onward, he must needs pause before the desul- 
 tory habit of mind, engendered by travel, becomes con- 
 firmed. 
 
 It was easy for me, at this " parting of the ways," to de- 
 cide which was my better road. While I was grateful for 
 the fortune which had led me so far, and through such 
 manifold experience, I saw that I should only reach the 
 best results of what I had already gained, by giving up all 
 further plans of travel. The favor with which my narra- 
 tives had been received was, in great measure, due to a re- 
 flection in them of the lively interest which I had taken in 
 my own wanderings, — to an appetite for external impres- 
 sions which was now somewhat cloyed, and a delight in 
 mere description which I could no longer feel. My activ- 
 ity in this direction appeared to me as a field which had 
 been traversed in order to reach my proper pastures. It 
 had been broad and pleasant to the feet, and many good 
 friends cried to me : " Stay where you are — it is the path 
 which you should tread ! " yet I preferred to press onward 
 towards the rugged steeps beyond. It seemed to me that 
 the pleasure of reading a book must be commensurate with 
 
16 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 
 
 the author's pleasure in writing it, and that those books 
 which do not grow from the natural productive force of the 
 mind will never possess any real vitality. 
 
 The poet Tennyson once said to me : "A book of travels 
 may be so written th^ it shall be as immortal as a great 
 poem." Perhaps so : but in that case its immortality will 
 be dependent upon intellectual qualities which the travel- 
 ler, as a traveller, does not absolutely require. The most 
 interesting narrative of exploration is that which is most 
 simply told. A poetic apprehension of Nature, a spark- 
 ling humor, graces of style — all these are doubtful merits. 
 We want the naked truth, without even a fig-leaf of fancy. 
 We may not appreciate all the facts of science which the 
 explorer has collected, but to omit them would be to weaken 
 his authority. Narratives of travel serve either to measure 
 our knowledge of other lands, in which case they stand 
 only until superseded by more thorough research, or to ex- 
 hibit the coloring which those lands take when painted for 
 us by individual minds, in which case their value must be 
 fixed by the common standards of literature. For the 
 former class, the widest scientific culture is demanded : for 
 the latter, something of the grace and freedom and keen 
 mental insight which we require in a work of fiction. The 
 only traveller in whom the two characters were thoroughly 
 combined, was Goethe. 
 
 Should I hesitate to confess that to be styled " a great 
 American traveller,*' has always touched me with a sense 
 of humiliation ? It is as if one should say " a great Amer- 
 ican pupil ; " for the books of travel which I have pub- 
 lished appear to me as so many studies, so many processes 
 of education, with the one advantage that, however imma- 
 ture they may be, nothing in them is forced or affected. 
 The journeys they describe came, as I have shown, through 
 a natural series of circumstances, one leading on the other : 
 no particular daring or energy, and no privation from 
 which a healthy man need shrink, was necessary. Danger 
 
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 17 
 
 is oftener a creation of one's own mind than an absolute 
 fact, and I presume that my share of personal adventure 
 was no more than would fall to the lot of any man, in the 
 same period of travel. To be praised for virtues which 
 one does not feel to be such, is quite as unwelcome as to 
 be censured for faults which are not made evident to one's 
 self 
 
 If I wish that these volumes of mine were worthier of 
 the opportunities granted to me, at least I do not regret 
 that they were written. Hardly a week passes, but I re- 
 ceive letters from young men, who have been stimulated 
 by them to achieve the education of travel ; and, believing 
 as I do that the more broad and cosmopolitan in his views 
 a man becomes through his knowledge of other lands, the 
 purer and more intelligent shall be his patriotic sentiment 
 — the more easily he shall lift himself out of the narrow 
 ■sphere of local interests and prejudices — I rejoice that I 
 have been able to assist in giving this direction to the 
 minds of the American youth. It is hardly necessary to 
 say that I had no such special intention in the beginning, 
 for I never counted beforehand on the favor of the public : 
 but the fact, as it has been made manifest to me, is some- 
 thing for which T am exceedingly grateful. 
 
 In this volume I have purposely dropped the form of 
 continuous narrative, which, indeed, was precluded by the 
 nature of my material. The papers it contains, each de- 
 voted to a separate By-way of Europe, were written at 
 various times, during two journeys abroad, within the past 
 five or six years. I employed the intervals of other occu- 
 pation, from time to time, in making excursions to outlying 
 corners of the Old World, few of which are touched by the 
 ordinary round of travel. Nearly all of them, nevertheless, 
 attracted me by some picturesque interest, either of history, 
 or scenery, or popular institutions and customs. Such 
 points, for instance, as Lake Ladoga, Appenzell, Andorra, 
 and the Teutoburger Forest, although lying near the fre- 
 
18 A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 
 
 quented highways and not difficult of access, are very 
 rarely visited, and an account of them is not an unneces- 
 sary contribution to the literature of travel. A few of the 
 places I have included — St. Petersburg in winter, Capri 
 and Ischia — cannot properly be classed as "By-ways," 
 yet they form so small a proportion of the contents of the 
 volume that I may be allowed to retain its title. Being 
 the result of brief intervals of leisure, and the desire to 
 turn my season of recreation to some good account, the 
 various papers were produced without regard to any plan, 
 and each is meant to be independent of the others. If I 
 had designed to present a tolerably complete description 
 of all the interesting By-ways of Europe, I must have in- 
 cluded Auvergne, Brittany, the Basque provinces of Spain, 
 Friesland, the Carpathians, Apulia, Croatia, and Transyl- 
 vania. 
 
 In laying down the mantle of a traveller, which has been 
 thrown upon my shoulders rather than voluntarily assumed, 
 I do not wish to be understood as renouncing all the chances 
 of the future. I cannot foresee what compulsory influences, 
 what inevitable events, may come to shape the course of 
 my life : the work of the day is all with which a man need 
 concern himself. One thing, only, is certain; I shall 
 never, from the mere desire of travel, go forth to the dis- 
 tant parts of the earth. Some minds are so constituted 
 that their freest and cheerfulest activity will not accom- 
 pany the body from place to place, but is dependent on 
 the air of home, on' certain familiar surroundings, and an 
 equable habit of life. Each writer has his own peculiar 
 laws of production, which the reader cannot always deduce 
 from his works. It amuses me, who have set my house- 
 hold gods upon the soil which my ancestors have tilled for 
 near two hundred years, to hear my love of home ques- 
 tioned by men who have changed theirs a dozen times. 
 
 I therefore entreat of you, my kindly reader, that you 
 will not ascribe my many wanderings to an inborn propen- 
 
A FAMILIAR LETTER TO THE READER. 19 
 
 sity to wander, — that you will believe me when I say that 
 culture, in its most comprehensive sense, is more to me 
 than the chance of seeing the world, — and, finally, that 
 you will consider whether I have any legitimate right to as- 
 sume the calling of an author, unless I choose the work 
 that seems fittest, without regard to that acceptance of it 
 which is termed popularity. If you have found enough in 
 my former volumes of travel to persuade you to accompany 
 me into other walks of literature, I shall do my best to 
 convince you that I am right in the conclusions at which 
 I have arrived. If, believing me mistaken, you decide to 
 turn away, let us at least shake hands, and, while I thank 
 you for your company thus far on my way, still part as 
 
 friends ! 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR. 
 
 Ct^OAia.ciiOFTjj3eptember. 1868. 
 
A CEUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 
 
" Dear T., — The steamboat Valamo is advertised to leave on 
 Tue^iay, the 26th (July 8th, New Style), for Serdopol, at the 
 very^ad of Lake Ladoga, stopping on the way at Schliisselburg, 
 Konewitz Island, Kexholm, and the island and monastery of Va- 
 laam. The anniversary of Saints Sergius and Herrmann, mir- 
 acle-workers, will be celebrated at the last named place on Thurs- 
 day, and the festival of the Apostles Peter and Paul on Friday. 
 If the weather is fine, the boat will take passengers to the Holy 
 Island. The fare is nine rubles for the trip. You can be back 
 again in St. Petersburg by six o'clock on Saturday evening. Pro- 
 visions can be had on board, but (probably) not beds ; so, if you 
 are luxurious in this particular, take along your own sheets, pil- 
 low-cases, and blankets. I intend going, and depend upon your 
 company. Make up your mind by ten o'clock, when I will call 
 for your decision. Yours, 
 
 "P." 
 
 T laid down the note, looked at my watch, and found that 
 I had an hour for deliberation before P.'s arrival. " Lake 
 Ladoga?" said I to myself; " it is the largest lake in Eu- 
 rope — I learned that at school. It is full of fish; it is 
 stormy ; and the Neva is its outlet. What else ? " I took 
 down a geographical dictionary, and obtained the following 
 additional particulars : The name LadJoga (not Lado'ga, as 
 it is pronounced in America) is Finnish, and means " new." 
 The lake lies between 60** and 61° 45' north latitude, is 
 175 versts — about 117 miles — in length, from north to 
 south, and 100 versts in breadth ; receives the great river 
 Volkhoif on the south, the Svir, which pours into it the 
 waters of Lake Onega, on the east, and the overflow of 
 
24 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 nearly half the lakes of Finland, on the west ; and is, in 
 some parts, fourteen hundred feet deep. 
 
 Vainly, however, did I ransack my memory for the nar- 
 rative of any traveller who had beheld and described this 
 lake. The red hand-book, beloved of tourists, did not even 
 deign to notice its existence. The more I meditated on 
 the subject, the more I became convinced that here was an 
 untrodden corner of the world, lying within easy reach of 
 a great capital, yet unknown to the eyes of conventional 
 sight-seers. The name of Valaam suggested that o^par- 
 laam, in Thessaly, likewise a Greek monastery ; and tnough 
 I knew nothing about Sergius and Herrmann, the fact of 
 their choosing such a spot was the beginning of a curious 
 interest in their history. The very act of poring over a 
 map excites the imagination : I fell into conjectures about 
 the scenery, vegetation, and inhabitants, and thus, by the 
 time P. arrived, was conscious of a violent desire to make 
 the cruise with him. To our care was confided an American 
 youth whom I shall call R., — we three being, as we after- 
 wards discovered, the first of our ^countrymen to visit the 
 northern portion of the lake. 
 
 The next morning, although it was cloudy and raw, R. 
 and I rose betimes, and were jolted on a droshhy through 
 the long streets to the Valamo's landing-place. We found 
 a handsome English-built steamer, with tonnage and power 
 enough for the heaviest squalls, and an after-cabin so com- 
 fortable that all our anticipations of the primitive modes of 
 travel were banished at once. As men not ashamed of our 
 health, we had decided to omit the sheets and pillow-cases, 
 and let the tooth-brush answer as an evidence of our high 
 civilization ; but the broad divans and velvet cushions of 
 the cabin brought us back to luxury in spite of ourselves. 
 The captain, smoothly shaven and robust, as befitted his 
 station, — English in all but his eyes, which were thoroughly 
 Russian, — gave us a cordial welcome in passable French. 
 P. drove up presently, and the crowd on the floating pier 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 25 
 
 rapidly increased, as the moment of departure approached. 
 Our fellow-pilgrims were mostly peasants and deck-passen- 
 gers : two or three officers, and a score of the bourgeois, 
 were divided, according to their means, between the first 
 and second cabins. There were symptoms of crowding, and 
 we hastened to put in preemption-claims for the bench on 
 the port side, distributing our travelling sacks and pouches 
 along it, as a guard against squatters. The magic promise 
 of na chdi (something to buy tea with) further inspired the 
 wait™ with a peculiar regard for our interest, so that 
 leaving our important possessions in their care, we went on 
 deck to witness the departure. 
 
 By this time the Finnish sailors were hauling in the 
 slack hawsers, and the bearded stevedores on the floating 
 quay tugged at the gangway. Many of our presumed pas- 
 sengers had only come to say good-bye, which they were 
 now waving and shouting from the shore. The rain fell 
 dismally, and a black, hopeless sky settled down upon the 
 Neva. But the Northern summer, we knew, is as fickle as 
 the Southern April, and we trusted that Sergius and Herr- 
 mann, the saints of Valaam, would smooth for us the rugged 
 waters of Ladoga. At last the barking little bell ceased 
 to snarl at the tardy pilgrims. The swift current swung 
 our bow into the stream, and, as we moved away, the crowd 
 on deck uncovered their heads, not to the bowing friends 
 on the quay, but to the spire of a church which rose to 
 view behind the houses fronting the Neva. Devoutly cross- 
 ing themselves with the joined three fingers, symbolical 
 of the Trinity, they doubtless murmured a prayer for the 
 propitious completion of the pilgrimage, to which, I am 
 sure, we could have readily echoed the amen. 
 
 The Valamo was particularly distinguished, on this oc- 
 casion, by a flag at the fore, carrying the white Greek cross 
 on a red field. This proclaimed her mission as she passed 
 along, and the bells of many a little church pealed God- 
 
26 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 speed to her and her passengers. The latter, in spite of 
 the rain, thronged the deck, and continually repeated their 
 devotions to the shrines on either bank. On the right, the 
 starry domes of the Smolnoi, rising from the lap of a linden- 
 grove, flashed upon us ; then, beyond the long front of the 
 college of demoiselles nobles and the military store-houses, 
 we hailed the silver hemispheres which canopy the tomb 
 and shrine of St. Alexander of the Neva. On the left, 
 huge brick factories pushed back the gleaming groves of 
 birch, which flowed around and between them, to diwheir 
 hanging boughs in the river ; but here and there peeped 
 out the bright green cupolas of some little church, none of 
 which, I was glad to see, slipped out of the panorama with- 
 out its share of reverence. 
 
 For some miles we sailed between a double row of con- 
 tiguous villages — a tong suburb of the capital, which 
 stretched on and on, until the slight undulations of the 
 shore showed that we had left behind us the dead level of 
 the Ingrian marshes. It is surprising what an interest one 
 takes in the slightest mole-hill, after living for a short time 
 on a plain. You are charmed with an elevation which en- 
 ables you to look over your neighbor's hedge. I once heard 
 a clergyman, in his sermon, assert that " the world was per- 
 fectly smooth before the fall of Adam, and the present in- 
 equalities in its surface were the evidences of human sin." 
 I was a boy at the time, and I thought to myself, " How 
 fortunate it is that we are sinners ! " Peter the Great, how- 
 ever, had no choice left him. The piles he drove in these 
 marshes were the surest foundation of his empire. 
 
 The Neva, in its sudden and continual windings, in its 
 clear, cold, sweet water, and its fringing groves of birch, 
 maple, and alder, compensates, in a great measure, for the 
 flatness of its shores. It has not the slow magnificence of 
 the Hudson or the rush of the Rhine, but carries with it a 
 sense of power, of steady, straightforward force, like that 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 27 
 
 of the ancient warriors who disdained all clothing except 
 their swords. Its river-god is not even crowned with reeds^ 
 but the full flow of his urn rolls forth undiminished by 
 summer and unchecked beneath its wintry lid. Outlets of 
 large lakes frequently exhibit this characteristic, and the 
 impression they make upon the mind does not depend on 
 the scenery through which they flow. Nevertheless, we dis- 
 covered many points, the beauty of which was not blotted 
 out by rain and cloud, and would have shone freshly and 
 winningly under the touch of the sun. On the north bank 
 there is a palace of Potemkin (or Potchomkin, as his 
 name is pronounced in Russian), charmingly placed at a 
 bend, whence it looks both up and down the river. The 
 gay color of the building, as of most of the datchas^ or 
 country-villas, in Russia, makes a curious impression upon 
 the stranger. Until he has learned to accept it as a portion 
 of the landscape, the effect is that of a scenic design on the 
 part of the builder. These dwellings, these villages and 
 churches, he thinks, are scarcely intended to be permanent : 
 they were erected as part of some great dramatic spectacle, 
 which has been, or is to be, enacted under the open sky. 
 Contrasted with the sober, matter-of-fact aspect of dwell- 
 ings in other countries, they have the effect of temporary 
 decorations. But when one bas entered within those walls 
 of green and blue and red arabesques, inspected their 
 thickness, viewed the ponderous porcelain stoves, tasted, 
 perhaps, the bountiful cheer of the owner, he realizes their 
 palpable comforts, and begins to suspect that all the exter- 
 nal adornment is merely an attempt to restore to Nature 
 that coloring of which she is stripped by the cold sky of 
 the North. 
 
 A little further on, there is a summer villa of the Empress 
 Catharine — a small, modest building, crowning a slope of 
 green turf. Beyond this, the banks are draped with foliage, 
 and the thinly clad birches, with their silver stems, shiver 
 above the rush of the waters. We, also, began to shiver 
 
V. 
 
 28 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 under the steadily falling rain, and retreated to the cabin 
 on the steward's first hint of dinner. A talk d'hote of four 
 courses was promised us-, including the preliminary zakoushi 
 and the supplementary coffee — all for sixty copehs, which 
 is about forty-five cents. The zakoushi is an arrangement 
 peculiar to Northern countries, and readily adopted by for- 
 eigners. In Sweden it is called the smorgas, or " butter- 
 goose," but the American term (if we had the custom) would 
 be "the whetter." On a side-table there are various plates 
 of anchovies, cheese, chopped onions, raw salt herring, and 
 bread, all in diminutive slices, while glasses of corresponding 
 size surround a bottle of hummel^ or cordial of caraway- 
 seed. This, at least, was the zakoushi on board the Valamo, 
 and to which our valiant captain addressed himself, after 
 first bowing and crossing himself towards the Byzantine 
 Christ and Virgin in either corner of the cabin. We, of 
 course, followed his example, finding our appetites, if not 
 improved, certainly not at all injured thereby. The dinner 
 which followed far surpassed our expectations. The nation- 
 al shchee, or cabbage-soup, is better than the sound of its 
 name ; the fish, fresh from the cold Neva, is sure to be well 
 cooked where it forms an important article of diet ; and the 
 partridges were accompanied by those plump little Russian 
 cucumbers, which are so tender and flavorous that they 
 deserve to be called fruit rather than vegetables. 
 
 When we went on deck to light our Riga cigars, the 
 boat was approaching Schliisselburg, at the outlet of the 
 lake. Here the Neva, just born, sweeps in two broad arms 
 around the island which bears the Key-fortress — the key 
 by which Peter opened this river-door to the Gulf of Fin- 
 land. The pretty town of the same name is on the south 
 bank, and in the centre of its front yawn the granite gates 
 of the canal which, for a hundred versts, skirts the southern 
 shore of the lake, forming, with the Volkhoff River and 
 another canal beyond, a summer communication with the 
 vast regions watered by the Volga and its affluents. The 
 
A CEUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 29 
 
 Ladoga Canal, by which the heavy barges laden with hemp 
 from Mid-Russia, and wool from the Ural, and wood from 
 the Valdai Hills, avoid the sudden storms of the lake, was 
 also the work of Peter the Great. I should have gone on 
 shore, to inspect the locks, but for the discouraging persist- 
 ence of the rain. Huddled against the smoke-stack, we 
 could do nothing but look on the draggled soldiers and 
 mujihs splashing through the mud, the low yellow fortress, 
 which has long outlived its importance, and the dark-gray 
 waste of lake which loomed in front, suggestive of rough 
 water and kindred abominations. 
 
 There it was, at last, — Lake Ladoga, — and now our 
 prow turns to unknown regions. We steamed past the 
 fort, past a fleet of brigs, schooners, and brigantines, with 
 huge, rounded stems and sterns, laden with wood from the 
 Wolkonskoi forests, and boldly entered the gray void of 
 fog and rain. The surface of the lake was but slightly 
 agitated, as the wind gradually fell and a thick mist settled 
 on the water. Hour after hour passed away, as we rushed 
 onward through the blank, and we naturally turned to our 
 fellow-passengers in search of some interest or diversion 
 to beguile the time. The heavy-bearded peasants and their 
 weather-beaten wives were scattered around the deck in 
 various attitudes, some of the former asleep on their backs, 
 with open mouths, beside the smoke-stack. There were 
 many picturesque figures among them, and, if I possessed 
 the quick pencil of Kaulbach, I might have filled a dozen 
 leaves of my sketch-book. The bourgeoisie were huddled 
 on the quarter-deck benches, silent, and fearful of sea-sick- 
 ness. But a very bright, intelligent young officer turned 
 up, who had crossed the Ural, and was able to entertain us 
 with an account of the splendid sword-blades of Zlatdoust. 
 He was now on his way to the copper mines of Pitkaranda, 
 on the northeastern shore of the lake. 
 
 About nine o'clock in the evening, although still before 
 sunset, the fog began to darken, and I was apprehensive 
 
30 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 that we should have some difficulty in finding the island of 
 Konewitz, which was to be our stopping-place for the night. 
 The captain ordered the engine to be slowed, and brought 
 forward a brass half-pounder, about a foot long, which was 
 charged and fired. la less than a minute after the report, 
 the sound of a deep, solemn bell boomed in the mist, dead 
 ahead; Instantly every head was uncovered, and the rustle 
 of whispered prayers fluttered over the deck, as the pil- 
 grims bowed and crossed themselves. Nothing was to be 
 seen ; but, stroke after stroke, the hollow sounds, muffled 
 and blurred in the opaque atmosphere, were pealed out by 
 the guiding bell. Presently a chime of smaller bells joined 
 in a rapid accompaniment, growing louder and clearer as 
 we advanced. The effect was startling. After voyaging 
 for hours over the blank water, this sudden and solemn 
 welcome, sounded from some invisible tower, assumed a 
 mystic and marvelous character. Was it not rather the 
 bells of a city, ages ago submerged, and now sending its 
 ghostly summons up to the pilgrims passing over its crystal 
 grave ? 
 
 Finally a tall mast, its height immensely magnified by 
 the fog, could be distinguished ; then the dark hulk of a 
 steamer, a white gleam of sand through the fog, indistinct 
 outlines of trees, a fisherman's hut, and a landing-place. 
 The bells still rang out from some high station near at 
 hand, but unseen. "We landed as soon as the steamer had 
 made fast, and followed the direction of the sound. A few 
 paces from the beach stood a little chapel, open, and with 
 a lamp burning before its brown Virgin and Child. Here 
 our passengers stopped, and made a brief prayer before 
 going on. Two or three beggars, whose tattered dresses 
 of tow suggested the idea of their having clothed them- 
 selves with the sails of shipwrecked vessels, bowed before 
 us so profoundly and reverently that we at first feared they 
 had mistaken us for the shrines. Following an avenue of 
 trees, up a gentle eminence, the tall white towers and green 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 31 
 
 domes of a stately church gradually detached themselves 
 from the mist, and we found ourselves at the portal of the 
 monastery. A group of monks, in the usual black robes, 
 and high, cylindrical caps of crape, the covering of which 
 overlapped and fell upon their shoulders, were waiting, ap- 
 parently to receive visitors. Recognizing us as foreigners, 
 they greeted us with great cordiality, and invited us to take 
 up our quarters for the night in the house appropriated to 
 guests. We desired, however, to see the church before the 
 combined fog and twilight should make it too dark ; so a 
 benevolent old monk led the way, hand in hand with P., 
 across the court-yard. 
 
 The churches of the Greek faith present a general re- 
 semblance in their internal decorations. There is a glitter 
 of gold, silver, and flaring colors in the poorest. Statues 
 are not permitted, but the pictures of dark Saviours and 
 saints are generally covered with a drapery of silver, with 
 openings for the head and hands. Konewitz, however, 
 boasts of a special sanctity, in possessing the body of Saint 
 Arsenius, the founder of the monastery. His remains are 
 inclosed in a large coffin of silver, elaborately chased. It 
 was surrounded, as we entered, by a crowd of kneeling 
 pilgrims ; the tapers burned beside it, and at the various 
 altars ; the air was thick with incense, and the great bell 
 still boomed from the misty tower. Behind us came a 
 throng of our own deck-passengers, who seemed to recog- 
 nize the proper shrines by a sort of devotional instinct, and 
 were soon wholly absorbed in their prayers and prostra- 
 tions. It is very evident to me that the Russian race still 
 requires the formulas of the Eastern Church ; a fondness 
 for symbolic ceremonies and observances is far more nat- 
 ural to its character than to the nations of Latin or Saxon 
 blood. In Southern Europe the peasant will exchange 
 merry salutations while dipping his fingers in the holy 
 water, or turn in the midst of his devotions to inspect a 
 stranger ; but the Russian, at such times, appears lost to 
 
32 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 the world. With his serious eyes fixed on the shrine or 
 picture, or, maybe, the spire of a distant church, his face 
 suddenly becomes rapt and solemn, and no lurking interest 
 in neighboring things interferes with its expression. 
 
 One of the monks, who spoke a little French, took us 
 into his cell. He was a tall, frail man of thirty-five, with a 
 wasted face, and brown hair flowing over his shoulders, like 
 most of his brethren of the same age. In those sharp, 
 earnest features, one could see that the battle was not yet 
 over. The tendency to corpulence does not appear until 
 after the rebellious passions have been either subdued, or 
 pacified by compromise. The cell was small, but neat and 
 cheerful, on the ground-floor, with a window opening on 
 the court, and a hard, narrow pallet against the wall. 
 There was also a little table, with books, sacred pictures, 
 and a bunch of lilacs in water. The walls were white- 
 washed, and the floor cleanly swept. The chamber was 
 austere, certainly, but in no wise repulsive. 
 
 It was now growing late, and only the faint edges of the 
 twilight glimmered overhead, through the fog. It was not 
 night, but a sort of eclipsed day, hardly darker than our 
 winter days under an overcast sky. We returned to the 
 tower, where an old monk took us in charge. Beside the 
 monastery is a special building for guests, a room in which 
 was offered to us. It was so clean and pleasant, and the 
 three broad sofa-couches with leather cushions looked so 
 inviting, that we decided to sleep there, in preference to 
 the crowded cabin. Our supply of shawls, moreover, en- 
 abled us to enjoy the luxury of undressing. Before saying 
 good-night, the old monk placed his hand upon R.'s head. 
 " We have matins at three o'clock," said he ; " when you 
 hear the bell, get up, and come to the church : it will bring 
 blessing to you." We were soon buried in a slumber 
 which lacked darkness to make it profound. At two 
 o'clock the sky was so bright that I thought it six, and fell 
 asleep again, determined to make three hours before I 
 
 I 
 
A CRXnSE ON LAIvE LADOGA. 66 
 
 stopped. But presently the big bell began to swing : 
 stroke after stroke, it first aroused, but was fast lulling me, 
 when the chimes struck in and sang all manner of inco- 
 herent and undevout lines. The brain at last grew weary 
 of this, when, close to our door, a little, petulant, impatient 
 bell commenced barking for dear life. R. muttered and 
 twisted in his sleep, and brushed away the sound several 
 times from his upper ear, while I covered mine — but to 
 no purpose. The sharp, fretful jangle went through shawls 
 and cushions, and the fear of hearing it more distinctly 
 prevented me from rising for matins. Our youth, also, 
 missed his promised blessing, and so we slept until the sun 
 was near five hours high — that is, seven o'clock. 
 
 The captain promised to leave for Kexholm at eight, 
 which allowed us only an hour for a visit to the Konhamen, 
 or Horse Rock, distant a mile, in the woods. P. engaged 
 as guide a long-haired acolyte, who informed us that he 
 had formerly been a lithographer in St. Petersburg. We 
 did not ascertain the cause of his retirement from the 
 world : his features were too commonplace to suggest a 
 romance. Through the mist, which still hung heavy on 
 the lake, we plunged into the fir-wood, and hurried on over 
 its uneven carpet of moss and dwarf whortleberries. Small 
 gray boulders then began to crop out, and gradually 
 became so thick that the trees thrust them aside as they 
 grew. All at once the wood opened on a rye-field belong- 
 ing to the monks, and a short turn to the right brought us 
 to a huge rock, of irregular shape, about forty feet in diam- 
 eter by twenty in height. The crest overhung the base on 
 all sides except one, up which a wooden staircase led to a 
 small square chapel perched upon the summit. 
 
 The legends attached to this rock are various, but the 
 most authentic seems to be, that in the ages when the 
 Carelians were still heathen, they were accustomed to 
 place their cattle upon this island in summer, as a protec- 
 tion against the wolves, first sacrificing a horse upon the 
 
84 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 rock. Whether their deity was the Periin of the ancient 
 Russians or the Jumala of the Finns is not stated ; the in- 
 habitants at the present day say, of course, the Devil. 
 The name of the rock may also be translated " Petrified 
 Horse," and some have endeavored to make out a resem- 
 blance to that animal, in its form. Our acolyte, for in- 
 stance, insisted thereupon, and argued very logically — 
 " Why, if you omit the head and legs, you must see that it 
 is exactly like a horse." The peasants say that the devil 
 had his residence in the stone, and point to a hole which 
 he made, on being forced by the exorcisms of Saint Arse- 
 nius to take his departure. A reference to the legend is 
 also indicated in the name of the island, Konewitz, which 
 our friend, the officer, gave to me in French as Chevalise, 
 or, in literal English, The Horsefied. 
 
 The stones and bushes were dripping from the visitation 
 of the mist, and the mosquitoes were busy with my face 
 and hands while I made a rapid drawing of the place. 
 The quick chimes of the monastery, through which we 
 fancied we could hear the warning boat-bell, suddenly 
 pierced through the forest, recalling us. The Valamo had 
 her steam up, when we arrived, and was only waiting for 
 her rival, the Letuchie (Flyer), to get out of our way. As 
 we moved from the shore, a puff of wind blew away the 
 fog, and the stately white monastery, crowned with its 
 bunch of green domes, stood for a moment clear and bright 
 in the morning sun. Our pilgrims bent, bareheaded, in 
 devotional farewell ; the golden crosses sparkled an an- 
 swer, and the fog rushed down again like a falling curtain. 
 
 We steered nearly due north, making for Kexholm, 
 formerly a frontier Swedish town, at the mouth of the 
 River Wuoxen. For four hours it was a tantalizing strug- 
 gle between mist and sunshine — a fair blue sky overhead, 
 and a dense cloud sticking to the surface of the lake. The 
 western shore, though near at hand, was not visible ; but 
 our captain, with his usual skill, came within a quarter of 
 
A CKUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 35 
 
 a mile of the channel leading to the landing-place. The 
 fog seemed to consolidate into the outline of trees ; hard 
 land was gradually formed, as we approached ; and as the 
 two river-shores finally inclosed us, the air cleared, and 
 long, wooded hills arose in the distance. Before us lay a 
 single wharf, with three wooden buildings leaning against 
 a hill of sand. 
 
 " But where is Kexholm ? " 
 
 " A verst inland," says the captain ; " and I will give you 
 just half an hour to see it." 
 
 There were a score of peasants, with clumsy two-wheeled 
 carts and shaggy ponies at the landing. Into one of these 
 we clambered, gave the word of command, and were 
 whirled off at a gallop. There may have been some elas- 
 ticity in the horse, but there certainly was none in the cart. 
 It was a perfect conductor, and the shock with which it 
 passed over stones and leaped ruts was instantly communi- 
 cated to the OS sacrum, passing thence along the vertebrae, 
 to discharge itself in the teeth. Our driver was a sun- 
 burnt Finn, who was bent upon performing his share of 
 the contract, in order that he might afterwards, with a bet- 
 ter face, demand a ruble. On receiving just the half, how- 
 ever, he put it into his pocket, without a word of remon- 
 strance. 
 
 " Siiomi ? " I asked, calling up a Finnish word with an 
 effort. 
 
 " Suomi-lamen,''^ he answered, proudly enough, though 
 the exact meaning is, " I am a Swamplahder." 
 
 Kexholm, which was founded in 1295, has attained since 
 then a population of several hundreds. Grass grows 
 betwe'en the cobble-stones of its broad streets, but the 
 houses are altogether so bright, so clean, so substantially 
 comfortable, and the geraniums and roses peeping out 
 between snowy curtains in almost every window suggested 
 such cozy interiors, that I found myself quite attracted 
 towards the plain little town. " Here," said I to P., " is a 
 
36 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 nook which is really out of the world. No need of a mon- 
 astery, where you have such perfect seclusion, and the in- 
 dispensable solace of natural society to make it endurable." 
 Pleasant faces occasionally looked out, curiously, at the 
 impetuous strangers: had they known our nationality, I 
 fancy the whole population would have run together. 
 Reaching the last house, nestled among twinkling birch- 
 trees on a bend of the river beyond, we turned about and 
 made for the fortress — another conquest of the Great 
 Peter. Its low ramparts had a shabby, neglected look ; an 
 old draw-bridge spanned the moat, and there was no senti- 
 nel to challenge us as we galloped across. In and out 
 again, and down the long, quiet street, and over the jolting 
 level to the top of the sand hill — we had seen Kexholm in 
 half an hour. 
 
 At the mouth of the river still lay the fog, waiting for us, 
 now and then stretching a ghostly arm over the woods 
 and then withdrawing it, like a spirit of the lake, longing 
 and yet timid to embrace the land. With the Wuoxen 
 came down the waters of the Saima, that great, irregular 
 lake, which, with its innumerable arms, extends for a hun- 
 dred and fifty miles into the heart of Finland, clasping the 
 forests and mountains of Savolax, where the altar-stones 
 of* Jumala still stand in the shade of sacred oaks, and the 
 song of the Kalewala is sung by the descendants of 
 Wainamoinen. I registered a vow to visit those Finnish^ 
 solitudes, as we shot out upon the muffled lake, heading for 
 the holy isles of Valaam. This was the great point of in- 
 terest in our cruise, the shrine of our pilgrim-passengers. 
 We had heard so little of these islands before leaving St. 
 Petersburg, and so much since, that our curiosity was 
 keenly excited ; and thus, though too well seasoned by ex- 
 perience to worry unnecessarily, the continuance of the 
 fog began to disgust us. We shall creep along as yester- 
 day, said we, and have nothing of Valaam but the sound 
 of its bells. The air was intensely raw ; the sun had dis- 
 
A CEUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 37 
 
 appeared, and the bearded peasants again slept, with open 
 mouths, on the deck. 
 
 Saints Sergius and Herrmann, however, were not indf- 
 ferent either to them or to us. About the middle of the 
 afternoon we suddenly and unexpectedly sailed out of the 
 fog, passing, in the distance of a ship's length, into a clear 
 atmosphere, with a far, sharp horizon ! The nuisance of 
 the lake lay behind us, a steep, opaque, white wall. Before 
 us, rising in bold cliffs from the water and dark with pines, 
 were the islands of Yalaam. Off went hats an^ caps, and 
 the crowd on deck bent reverently towards the consecrated 
 shores. As we drew near, the granite fronts of the sepa- 
 rate isles detached themselves from the plane in which 
 they were blended, and thrust boldly out between the divid- 
 ing inlets of blue water ; the lighter green of birches and 
 maples mingled with the sombre woods of coniferae ; bflt the 
 picture, with all its varied features, was silent and lonely. 
 No sail shone over the lake, no boat was hauled up between 
 the tumbled masses of rock, no fisher's hut sat in the shel- 
 tered coves — only, at the highest point of the cliff, a huge 
 wooden cross gleamed white against the trees. 
 
 As we drew around to the northern shore, point came out 
 behind point, all equally bold with rock, dark with pines, 
 and destitute of any sign of habitation. We were looking 
 forward, over the nearest headland, when, all at once, a 
 sharp glitter through the tops of the pines struck our eyes. 
 A few more turns of the paddles, and a bulging dome of 
 gold flashed splendidly in the sun ! Our voyage, thus far, 
 had been one of surprises, and this was not the least. 
 Crowning a slender, pointed roof, its connection with the 
 latter was not inmiediately visible : it seemed to spring 
 into the air and hang there, like a marvelous meteor shot 
 from the sun. Presently, however, the whole building ap- 
 peared, — an hexagonal church, of pale-red brick, the 
 architecture of which was an admirable reproduction of the 
 older Byzantine forms. It stood upon a rocky islet, on 
 
38 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 either side of which a narrow channel communicated with 
 a deep cove, cleft between walls of rock. 
 
 Turning in towards the first of these channels, we pres- 
 ently saw the inlet of darkest-blue water, pushing its way 
 into the heart of the island. Crowning its eastern bank, 
 and about half a mile distant, stood an immense mass of 
 buildings, from the centre of which tall white towers and 
 green cupolas shot up against the sky. This was the mon- 
 astery of Valaam. Here, in the midst of this lonely lake, 
 on the borders of the Arctic Zone, in the solitude of un- 
 hewn forests, was one of those palaces which religion is so 
 fond of rearing, to show her humility. In the warm after- 
 noon sunshine, and with the singular luxuriance of vege- 
 tation which clothed the terraces of rock on either hand, 
 we forgot the high latitude, and, but for the pines in the 
 rear, could have fancied ourselves approaching some cove 
 of Athos or Euboea. The steamer ran so near the rocky 
 walls that the trailing branches of the birch almost swept 
 her deck; every ledge traversing their gray, even ma- 
 sonry, was crowded with wild red pinks, geranium, saxi- 
 frage, and golden-flowered purslane ; and the air, wonder- 
 fully pure and sweet in itself, was flavored with delicate 
 woodland odors. On the other side, under the monastery, 
 was an orchard of large apple-trees in full bloom, on a 
 shelf near the water ; above them grew huge oaks and 
 maples, heavy with their wealth of foliage ; and over the 
 tops of these the level coping of the precipice, with a bal- 
 ustrade upon which hundreds of pilgrims, who had arrived 
 before us, were leaning and looking down. 
 
 Beyond this point, the inlet widened into a basin where 
 the steamer had room to turn around. Here we found 
 some forty or fifty boats moored to the bank, while the 
 passengers they had brought (principally from the eastern 
 shore of the lake, and the district lying between it and 
 Onega) were scattered over the heights. The captain 
 pointed out to us a stately, two-story brick edifice, some 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 39 
 
 three hundred feet long, flanking the monastery, as the 
 house for guests. Another of less dimensions, on the hill 
 in front of the landing-place, appeared to be appropriated 
 especially to the use of the peasants. A rich succession of 
 musical chimes pealed down to us from the belfry, as if in 
 welcome, and our deck-load of pilgrims crossed themselves 
 in reverent congratulation as they stepped upon the sacred 
 soil. 
 
 We had determined to go on with our boat to Serdopol, 
 at the head of the lake, returning the next morning in 
 season for the solemnities of the anniversary. Postponing, 
 therefore, a visit to the church and monastery, we climbed 
 to the summit of the bluff, and beheld the inlet in all its 
 length and depth, from the open, sunny expanse of the 
 lake to the dark strait below us, where the overhanging 
 trees of the opposite cliffs almost touched above the water. 
 The honeyed bitter of lilac and apple blossoms in the 
 garden below steeped the air ; and as I inhaled the scent, 
 and beheld the rich green crowns of the oaks which grew 
 at the base of the rocks, I appreciated the wisdom of Ser- 
 gius and Herrmann that led them to pick out this bit of 
 privileged summer, which seems to have wandered into the 
 North from a region ten degrees nearer the sun. It is not 
 strange if the people attribute miraculous powers to them, 
 naturally mistaking the cause of their settlement on Va- 
 laam for its effect. 
 
 The deck was comparatively deserted, as we once more 
 entered the lake. There were two or three new passen- 
 gers, however, one of whom inspired me with a mild inter- 
 est. He was a St. Petersburger, who according to his own 
 account, had devoted himself to Art, and, probably for 
 that reason, felt constrained to speak in the language of 
 sentiment. " I enjoy above all things," said he to me^ 
 " communion with Nature. My soul is uplifted, when I 
 find myself removed from the haunts of men. I live an 
 ideal life, and the world grows more beautiful to me every 
 
40 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 year." Now there was nothing objectionable in this, ex- 
 cept the manner of his saying it. Those are only shallow 
 emotions which one imparts to every stranger at the slight- 
 est provocation. Your true lover of Nature is as careful 
 of betraying his passion as the young man who carries a 
 first love in his heart. But my companion evidently de- 
 lighted in talking of his feelings on this point. His voice 
 was soft and silvery, his eyes gentle, and his air languish- 
 ing ; so that, in spite of a heavy beard, the impression he 
 made was remarkably smooth and unmasculine. 1 invol- 
 untarily turned to one of the young Finnish sailors, with 
 his handsome, tanned face, quick, decided movements, and 
 clean, elastic limbs, and felt, instinctively, that what we most 
 value in every man, above even culture or genius, is the 
 stamp of sex — the asserting, self-reliant, conquering air 
 which marks the male animal. 
 
 After some fifteen or twenty miles from the island, we 
 approached the rocky archipelago in which the lake ter- 
 minates at its northern end — a gradual transition from 
 water to land. Masses of gray granite, wooded wherever 
 the hardy northern firs could strike root, rose on all sides, 
 divided by deep and narrow channels. " This is the scheer,'^ 
 said our captain, using a word which recalled to my mind, 
 at once, the Swedish skdr, and the English sherry, used 
 alike to denote a coast-group of rocky islets. The rock 
 encroached more and more as we advanced -, and finally, 
 as if sure of its victory over the lake, gave place, here and 
 there, to levels of turf, gardens, and cottages. Then fol- 
 lowed a calm, land-locked basin, surrounded with harvest- 
 fields, and the spire of Serdopol arose before us. 
 
 Of this town I may report that it is called, in Finnish, 
 Sordovala, and was founded about the year 1640. Its his- 
 tory has no doubt been very important to its inhabitants, 
 but I do not presume that it would be interesting to the 
 world, and therefore spare myself a great deal of laborious 
 research. Small as it is, and so secluded that Ladoga 
 
A CEUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 41 
 
 seems a world's highway in comparison with its quiet 
 harbor, it nevertheless holds three races and three lan- 
 guages in its modest bounds. The government and its 
 tongue are Russian ; the people are mostly Finnish, with 
 a very thin upper-crust of Swedish tradition, whence the 
 latter language is cultivated as a sign of aristocracy. 
 
 We landed on a broad wooden pier, and entered the 
 town through a crowd which was composed of all these 
 elements. There was to be a fair on the morrow, and from 
 the northern shore of the lake, as well as the wild inland 
 region towards the Saima, the people had collected for 
 trade, gossip, and festivity. Children in ragged garments 
 of hemp, bleached upon their bodies, impudently begged 
 for pocket-money ; women in scarlet kerchiefs curiously 
 scrutinized us ; peasants carried bundles of freshly mown 
 grass to the horses which were exposed for sale ; ladies 
 with Hungarian hats, crushed their crinolines into queer 
 old cabriolets ; gentlemen with business faces and an as- 
 pect of wealth smoked paper cigars ; and numbers of 
 hucksters offered baskets of biscuit and cakes, of a disa- 
 greeable yellow color and great apparent toughness. It 
 was a repetition, with slight variations, of a village fair any- 
 where else, or an election day in America. 
 
 Passing through the roughly paved and somewhat dirty 
 streets, past shops full of primitive hardware, groceries 
 which emitted powerful whiffs of salt fish or new leather, 
 bakeries with crisp padlocks of bread in the windows, 
 drinking-houses plentifully supplied with qvass and vodki, 
 and, finally, the one watch-maker, and the vender of paper, 
 pens, and Finnish almanacs, we reached a broad suburban 
 street, whose substantial houses, with their courts and 
 gardens, hinted at the aristocracy of Serdopol. The inn, 
 with its Swedish sign, was large and comfortable, and a 
 peep into the open windows disclosed as pleasant quarters 
 as a traveller could wish. A little farther the town ceased^ 
 and we found ourselves upon a rough, sloping common, at 
 
42 BY~WA"XS OF EUROPE. 
 
 the top of which stood the church with its neighboring 
 belfry. It was unmistakably Lutheran in appearance, — 
 very plain and massive and sober in color, with a steep 
 roof for shedding snow. The only attempt at ornament 
 was a fanciful shingle-mosaic, but in pattern only, not in 
 color. Across the common ran a double row of small 
 booths, which had just been erected for the coming fair ; 
 and sturdy young fellows from the country, with their rough 
 carts and shaggy ponies, were gathering along the high- 
 way, to skirmish a little in advance of their bargains. 
 
 The road enticed us onwards into the country. On our 
 left, a long slope descended to an upper arm of the harbor, 
 the head of which we saw to be near at hand. The op- 
 posite shore was fairly laid out in grain-fields, through 
 which cropped out, here and there, long walls of granite, 
 rising higher and higher towards the west, until they cul- 
 minated in the round, hard forehead of a lofty hill. There 
 was no other point within easy reach which promised much 
 of a view ; so, rounding the head of the bay, we addressed 
 ourselves to climbing the rocks, somewhat to the surprise 
 of the herd-boys, as they drove their cows into the town to 
 be milked. 
 
 Once off the cultivated land, we found the hill a very 
 garden of wild blooms. Every step and shelf of the rocks 
 was cushioned with tricolored violets, white anemones, and 
 a succulent, moss-like plant with a golden flower. Higher 
 up there were sheets of fire-red pinks, and on the summit 
 an unbroken carpet of the dwarf whortleberry, with its 
 waxen bells. Light exhalations seemed to rise from the 
 damp hollows, and drift towards us; but they resolved 
 themselves into swarms of mosquitoes, and would have 
 made the hill-top untenable, had they not been dispersed 
 by a sudden breeze. We sat down upon a rock and con- 
 templated the wide-spread panorama. It was nine o'clock, 
 and the sun, near his setting, cast long gleams of pale 
 light through the clouds, softening the green of the fields 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 43 
 
 and forests where they fell, and turning the moist evening 
 haze into lustrous pearl. Inlets of the lake here and there 
 crept in between the rocky hills; broad stretches of 
 gently undulating grain-land were dotted with the houses, 
 barns, and clustered stables of the Finnish farmers ; in the 
 distance arose the smokes of two villages ; and beyond all, 
 as we looked inland, ran the sombre ridges of the fir-clad 
 hills. Below us, on the right, the yellow houses of the 
 town shone in the subdued light, — the only bright spot in 
 the landscape, which elsewhere seemed to be overlaid with 
 a tint of dark, transparent gray. It was wonderfully silent. 
 Not a bird twittered ; no bleat of sheep or low of cattle 
 was heard from the grassy fields ; no shout of children, or 
 evening hail from the returning boats of the fishers. Over 
 all the land brooded an atmosphere of sleep, of serene, 
 perpetual peace. To sit and look upon it was in itself a 
 refreshment like that of healthy slumber. The restless 
 devil which lurks in the human brain was quieted for the 
 time, and we dreamed — knowing all the while the vanity 
 of the dream — of a pastoral life in some such spot, among 
 as ignorant and simple-hearted a people, ourselves as un- 
 troubled by the agitations of the world. 
 
 We had scarce inhaled — or, rather, insuded, to coin a 
 word for a sensation which seems to enter at every pore — 
 the profound quiet and its suggestive fancies for the space 
 of half an hour, when the wind fell at the going down of 
 the sun, and the humming mist of mosquitoes arose again. 
 Returning to the town, we halted at the top of the common 
 to watch the farmers of the neighborhood at their horse- 
 dealing. Very hard, keen, weather-browned faces had 
 they, eyes tight-set for the main chance, mouths worn thin 
 by biting farthings, and hands whose hard fingers crooked 
 with holding fast what they had earned. Faces almost of 
 the Yankee type, many of them, and relieved by the twink- 
 ling of a humorous faculty or the wild gleam of imagina- 
 tion. The shaggy little horses, of a dun or dull tan-color, 
 
44 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 seemed to understand that their best performance was re- 
 quired, and rushed up and down the road with an amazing 
 exhibition of mettle. I could understand nothing of the 
 Finnish tongue except its music ; but it was easy to per- 
 ceive that the remarks of the crowd were shrewd, intelli- 
 gent, and racy. One young, fellow, less observant, ac- 
 costed us in the hope that we might be purchasers. The 
 boys, suspecting that we were as green as we were evi- 
 dently foreign, held out their hands for alms, with a very 
 unsuccessful air of distress, but readily succumbed to the 
 Russian interjection ^'■proch 1 " (be off !) the repetition of 
 which, they understood, was a reproach. 
 
 That night we slept on the velvet couches of the cabin, 
 having the spacious apartment to ourselves. The bright 
 young officer had left for the copper mines, the pilgrims 
 were at Valaam, and our stout, benignant captain looked 
 upon us as his only faithful passengers. The stewards, in- 
 deed, carried their kindness beyond reasonable anticipa- 
 tions. They brought us real pillows and other con- 
 veniences, bolted the doors against nightly intruders, and 
 in the morning conducted us into the pantry, to wash our 
 faces in the basin sacred to dishes. After I had com- 
 pleted my ablutions, I turned dumbly, with dripping face 
 and extended hands, for a towel. My steward understood 
 the silent appeal, and, taking a napkin from a plate of 
 bread, presented it with alacrity. I made use of it, I con- 
 fess, but hastened out of the pantry, lest I should happen 
 to see it restored to its former place. How not to observe 
 is a faculty as necessary to the traveller as its reverse. 
 I was reminded of this truth at dinner, when I saw the 
 same steward take a napkin (probably my towel !) from 
 under his arm, to wipe both his face and a plate which he 
 carried. To speak mildly, these people on Lake Ladoga 
 are not sensitive in regard to the contact of individualities. 
 But the main point is to avoid seeing what you don't like. 
 
 We got off at an early hour, and hastened back to Va- 
 
A CKUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 45 
 
 laam over glassy water and under a superb sky. This 
 time the lake was not so deserted, for the white wings of 
 pilgrim-boats drew in towards the dark island, making for 
 the golden sparkle of the chapel dome, which shone afar 
 like a light-house of the day-time. As we rounded to in 
 the land-locked inlet, we saw that the crowds on the hills 
 had doubled since yesterday, and, although the chimes 
 were pealing for some religious service, it seemed prudent 
 first to make sure of our quarters for the night. Accord- 
 ingly we set out for the imposing house of guests beside 
 the monastery, arriving in company with the visitors we 
 had brought with us from Serdopol. The entrance-halt 
 led into a long, stone-paved corridor, in which a monk, be- 
 wildered by many applications, appeared to be seeking re- 
 lief by promises of speedy hospitality. We put in our 
 plea, and also received a promise. On either side of the 
 corridor were numbered rooms, already occupied, the for- 
 tunate guests passing in and out with a provoking air of 
 comfort and unconcern. We ascended to the second story, 
 which was similarly arranged, and caught hold of another 
 benevolent monk, willing, but evidently powerless to help 
 us. Dinner was just about to be served ; the brother in 
 authority was not there ; we must be good enough to wait 
 a little while ; — would we not visit the shrines, in the 
 mean time ? 
 
 The advice was sensible, as well as friendly, and we fol- 
 lowed it. Entering the great quadrangle of the monas- 
 tery, we found it divided, gridiron-fashion, into long, nar- 
 row court-yards by inner lines of buildings. The central 
 court, however, was broad and spacious, the church occu- 
 pying a rise of ground on the eastern side. Hundreds of 
 men and women — Carelian peasants — thronged around 
 the entrance, crossing themselves in unison with the con- 
 gregation. The church, we found, was packed, and the 
 most zealous wedging among the blue caftans and shining 
 flaxen heads brought us no farther than the inner door. 
 
46 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 Thence we looked over a tufted level of heads that seemed 
 to touch — intermingled tints of gold, tawny, silver-hlond, 
 and the various shades of brown, touched with dim glosses 
 through the incense-smoke, and occasionally bending in 
 concert, with an undulating movement, like grain before 
 the wind. Over these heads rose the vaulted nave, daz- 
 zling with gold and colors, and blocked up, beyond the in- 
 tersection of the transept, by the ikoriostast, or screen 
 before the Holy of Holies, gorgeous with pictures of saints 
 overlaid with silver. In front of the screen the tapers 
 burned, the incense rose thick and strong, and the chant 
 of the monks gave a peculiar solemnity to their old Scla- 
 vonic litany. The only portion of it which I could under- 
 stand was the recurring response, as in the English Church, 
 of " Lord, have mercy upon us ! " 
 
 Extricating ourselves with some difficulty, we entered a 
 chapel-crypt, which contains the bodies of Sergius and 
 Herrmann. They lie together, in a huge coffin of silver, 
 covered with cloth of gold. Tapers of immense size burned 
 at the head and foot, and the pilgrims knelt around, bend- 
 ing their foreheads to the pavement at the close of their 
 prayers. Among others, a man had brought his insane 
 daughter, and it was touching to see the tender care with 
 which he led her to the coffin and directed her devotions. 
 So much of habit still remained, that it seemed, for the 
 time being, to restore her reason. The quietness and reg- 
 ularity with which she went through the forms of prayer, 
 brought a light of hope to the father's face. The other 
 peasants looked on with an expression of pity and sym- 
 pathy. The girl, we learned, had but recently lost her 
 reason, and without any apparent cause. She was be- 
 trothed to a }Oung man who was sincerely attached to her, 
 and the pilgrimage was undertaken in the hope that a mir- 
 acle might be wrought in her favor. The presence of 
 the shrine, indeed, struck its accustomed awe through her 
 wandering senses, but the effect was only momentary. 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA, 47 
 
 I approached the coffin, and deposited a piece of money 
 on the ofFering-plate, for the purpose of getting a glimpse 
 of the pictured faces of the saints, in their silver setting. 
 Their features were hard and regular, flatly painted, as if 
 by some forerunner of Ciraabue, but sufficiently modern to 
 make the likeness doubtful. I have not been able to obtain 
 the exact date of their settlement on the island, but I be- 
 lieve it is referred to the early part of the fifteenth century. 
 The common people believe that the island was first visited 
 by Andrew, the Apostle of Christ, who, according to the 
 Russian patriarch Nestor, made his way to Kiev and Nov- 
 gorod. The latter place is known to have been an impor- 
 tant commercial city as early as the fourth century, and 
 had a regular intercourse with Asia. The name of Valaam 
 does not come from Balaam, as one might suppose, but 
 seems to be derived from the Finnish varamo, which sig- 
 nifies "herring-ground." The more I attempted to unravel 
 the history of the island, the more it became involved in 
 obscurity, and this fact, I must confess, only heightened my 
 interest in it. I found myself ready to accept the tradition 
 of Andrew's visit, and I accepted without a doubt the grave 
 of King Magnus of Sweden. 
 
 On issuing from the crypt, we encountered a young 
 monk who had evidently been sent in search of lis. The 
 mass was over, and the court-yard was nearly emptied of 
 its crowd. In the farther court, however, we found the 
 people more dense than ever, pressing forward towards a 
 small door. The monk made way for us with some diffi- 
 culty — for, though the poor fellows did their best to fall 
 back, the pressure from the outside was tremendous. 
 Having at last run the gauntlet, we found ourselves in the 
 refectory of the monastery, inhaling a thick steam of fish 
 and cabbage. Three long tables were filled with monks 
 and pilgrims, while the attendants brought in the fish on 
 large wooden trenchers. The plates were of common white 
 ware, but the spoons were of wood. Officers in gay uni- 
 
48 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 forms were scattered among the dark anchorites, who oc- 
 cupied one end of the table, while the bourgeoisie, with 
 here and there a blue-caftaned peasant wedged among 
 them, filled the other end. They were eating with great 
 zeal, while an old priest, standing, read from a Sclavonic 
 Bible. All eyes were turned upon us as we entered, and 
 there was not a vacant chair in which we could hide our 
 intrusion. It was rather embarrassing, especially as the 
 young monk insisted that we vshould remain, and the curious 
 eyes of the eaters as constantly asked, "Who are these, 
 and what do they want ? " We preferred returning through 
 the hungry crowd, and made our way to the guests' house. 
 
 Here a similar process was going on. The corridors 
 were thronged with peasants of all ages and both sexes, 
 and the good fathers, more than ever distracted, were in- 
 capable of helping us. Seeing a great crowd piled up 
 against a rear basement-door, we descended the stairs, and 
 groped our way through manifold steams and noises to a 
 huge succession of kitchens, where cauldrons of cabbage 
 were bubbling, "and shoals of fish went in raw and came 
 out cooked. In another room some hundreds of peasants 
 were eating with all the energy of a primitive appetite. 
 Soup leaked out of the bbwls as if they had been sieves ; 
 fishes gave a whisk of the tail and vanished ; great round 
 boulders of bread went off, layer after layer, and still the 
 empty plates were held up for more. It was grand eating, 
 — pure appetite, craving only food in a general sense : no 
 picking out of tidbits, no spying here and there for a fa- 
 vorite dish, but, like a huge fire, devouring everything that 
 came in its way. The stomach was here a patient, unques- 
 tioning serf, not a master full of whims, requiring to be 
 petted and conciliated. So, I thought, people must have 
 eaten in the Golden Age': so Adam and Eve must have 
 dined, before the fall made them epicurean and dyspeptic. 
 
 We — degenerate through culture — found the steams of 
 the strong, coarse dishes rather unpleasant, and retreated 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 49 
 
 by a back way, which brought us to a spiral staircase. We 
 ascended for a long time, and finally emerged into the gar- 
 ret of the building, hot, close, and strawy as a barn-loft. 
 It was divided into rooms, in which, on the floors covered 
 deep with straw, the happy pilgrims who had finished their 
 dinner were lying on their bellies, lazily talking themselves 
 to sleep. The grassy slope in front of the house, and all 
 the neighboring heights, were soon covered in like manner. 
 Men, women, and children threw themselves down, drawing 
 off" their heavy boots, and dipping their legs, knee-deep, 
 into the sun and air. An atmosphere of utter peace and 
 satisfaction settled over them. 
 
 Being the only foreign and heterodox persons present, 
 we began to feel ourselves deserted, when the favor of Ser- 
 gius and Herrmann was again manifested. P. was suddenly 
 greeted by an acquaintance, an officer connected with the 
 Imperial Court, who had come to Valaam for a week of de- 
 votion. He immediately interested himself in our behalf, 
 procured us a room with a lovely prospect, transferred his 
 bouquet of lilacs and peonies to our table, and produced 
 his bottle of lemon-syrup to flavor our tea. The rules of 
 the monastery are very strict, and no visitor is exempt from 
 their observance. Not a fish can be caught, not a bird or 
 beast shot, no wine or liquor of any kind, nor tobacco in 
 any form, used on the island. Rigid as the organization 
 seems, it bears equally on every member of the brother- 
 hood : the equality upon which such associations were orig- 
 inally based is here preserved. The monks are only in 
 an ecclesiastical sense subordinate to the abbot. Other- 
 wise, the fraternity seems to be about as complete as in the 
 early days of Christianity. 
 
 The Valamo, and her rival, the Letuchie, had advertised 
 a trip to the Holy Island, the easternmost of the Valaam 
 group, some six miles from the monastery, and the weather 
 was so fair that both boats were crowded, many of the 
 monks accompanying us. Our new-found friend was also 
 4 
 
50 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 of the party, and I made the acquaintance of a Finnish 
 student from the Lyceum at Kuopio, who gave me descrip- 
 tions of the Saima Lake and the wilds of Savolax. Run- 
 ning eastward along the headlands, we passed Chernoi 
 Noss (Black-Nose), the name of which again recalled a 
 term common in the Orkneys and Shetlands — noss, there, 
 signifying a headland. The Holy Island rose before us, 
 a circular pile of rock, crowned with wood, like a huge, 
 unfinished tower of Cyclopean masonry, built up out of the 
 deep water. Far beyond it, over the rim of the lake, glim- 
 mered the blue eastern shore. As we drew near, we found 
 that the tumbled fragments of rock had been arranged, 
 with great labor, to form a capacious foot-path around the 
 base of the island. The steamers drew up against this 
 narrow quay, upon which we landed, under a granite wall 
 which rose perpendicularly to the height of seventy or 
 eighty feet. The firs on the summit grew out to the very 
 edge and stretched their dark arms over us. Every cran- 
 ny of the rock was filled with tufts of white and pink 
 flowers, and the moisture, trickling from above, betrayed 
 itself in long lines of moss and fern. 
 
 I followed the pilgrims around to the sunny side of the 
 island, and found a wooden staircase at a point where the 
 wall was somewhat broken aw%. Reaching the top of the 
 first ascent, the sweet breath of a' spring woodland breathed 
 around me. I looked under the broken roofage of the 
 boughs upon a blossoming jungle of shrubs and plants which 
 seemed to have been called into life by a more potent sun. 
 The lily of the valley, in thick beds, poured out the deli- 
 cious sweetness of its little cups ; spikes of a pale-green 
 orchis emitted a rich cinnamon odor ; anemones, geraniums, 
 sigillarias, and a feathery flower, white, freckled with pur- 
 ple, grew in profusion. The top of the island, five or six 
 acres in extent, was a slanting plane, looking to the south, 
 whence it received the direct rays of the sun. It w^s 
 an enchanting picture of woodland bloom, lighted with 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 51 
 
 sprinkled sunshine, in the cold blue setting of the lake, 
 which was visible on all sides, between the boles of the 
 trees. I hailed it as an idyl of the North — a poetic 
 secret, which the earth, even where she is most cruelly 
 material and cold, still tenderly hides and cherishes. 
 
 A peasant, whose scarlet shirt flashed through the bushes 
 like a sudden fire, seeing me looking at the flowers, 
 gathered a handful of lilies, which he offered to me, saying, 
 '■'' Prekrasnie'' (beautiful). Without waiting for thanks, he 
 climbed a second flight of steps and suddenly disappeared 
 from view. I followed, and found myself in front of a nar- 
 row aperture in a rude wall, which had been built up under 
 an overhanging mass of rocks. A lamp was twinkling 
 within, and presently several persons crawled out, crossing 
 themselves and muttering prayers. 
 
 " What is this ? " asked a person who had just arrived. 
 
 " The cave of Alexander Svirski," was the answer. 
 
 Alexander of the Svir — a river flowing from the Onega 
 Lake into Ladoga — was a hermit who lived for twenty 
 years on the Holy Island, inhabiting the hole before us 
 through the long, dark, terrible winters, in a solitude 
 broken only when the mo'nks of Yalaam came over the ice 
 to replenish his stock of provisions. Yerily, the hermits 
 of the Thebaid were Sybarites, compared to this man ! 
 There are still two or three hermits who have charge of 
 outlying chapels on the islands, and live wholly secluded 
 from their brethren. They wear dresses covered with 
 crosses and other symbol's, and are considered as dead to 
 the world. The ceremony which consecrates them for 
 this service is that for the burial of the dead. 
 
 I managed, with some difficulty, to creep into Alexander 
 Svirski's den. I saw nothing, however, but the old, smoky, 
 and sacred picture before which the lamp burned. The 
 rocky roof was so low that I could not stand upright, and 
 all the walls I could find were the bodies of pilgrims who 
 had squeezed in before me. A confused whisper surrounded 
 
52 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 me in the darkness, and the air was intolerably close. I 
 therefore made my escape and mounted to the chapel, on 
 the highest part of the island. A little below it, an open 
 pavilion, with seats, has been built over the sacred spring 
 from which the hermit drank, and thither the pilgrims 
 thronged. The water was served in a large* wooden bowl, 
 and each one made the sign of the cross before drinking. 
 By waiting for my turn I ascertained that the spring was 
 icy-cold, and very pure and sweet. 
 
 I found myself lured to the highest cliff, whence I could 
 look out, through the trees, on the far, smooth disk of the 
 lake. Smooth and fair as the ^gean it lay before me, and 
 the trees were silent as olives at noonday on the shores of 
 Cos. But how different in color, in sentiment! Here, 
 perfect sunshine can never dust the water with the purple 
 bloom of the South, can never mellow its hard, cold tint of 
 greenish-blue. The distant hills, whether dark or light, 
 are equally cold, and are seen too nakedly through the 
 crystal air to admit of any illusion. Bracing as is this 
 atmosphere, the gods could never breathe it. It would 
 revenge on the ivory limbs of Apollo his treatment of 
 Marsyas. No foam-born Aphrodite could rise warm from 
 yonder wave ; not even the cold, sleek Nereids could breast 
 its keen edge. We could only imagine it disturbed, tem- 
 porarily, by the bath-plunge of hardy Vikings, who must 
 have come out from it red and tingling from head to heel. 
 " Come ! " cried P., " the steamer is about to leave ! " 
 "We all wandered down the steps, I with my lilies in my 
 hand. Even the rough peasants seemed reluctant to leave 
 the spot, and not wholly for the sake of Alexander Svirski. 
 "We were all safely embarked and carried back to Valaam, 
 leaving, the island to its solitude. Alexis (as I shall call 
 our Russian friend) put us in charge of a native artist who 
 knew every hidden beauty of Yalaam, and suggested an 
 exploration of the inlet, while he went back to his devo- 
 tions. We borrowed a boat from the monks, and im- 
 
A CRUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 53 
 
 pressed a hardy fisherman into our service. I supposed 
 we had already seen the extent of the inlet, but on reach- 
 ing its head a narrow side-channel disclosed itself, passing 
 away under a quaint bridge and opening upon an inner 
 lake of astonishing beauty. The rocks were disposed in 
 every variety of grouping — sometimes rising in even ter- 
 races, step above step, sometimes thrusting out a sheer 
 wall from the summit, or lying slantwise in masses split off 
 by the wedges of the ice. The fairy birches, in their thin 
 foliage, stood on the edge of the water like Dryads undress- 
 ing for a bath, while the shaggy male firs elbowed each 
 other on the heights for a look at them. Other channels 
 opened in the distance, with glimpses of other and as beau- 
 tiful harbors in the heart of the islands. " You may sail 
 for seventy-five versts," said the painter, " without seeing 
 them all." 
 
 The fearlessness of all wild creatures showed that the 
 rules of the good monks had been carefully obeyed. The 
 wild ducks swam around our boat, or brooded, in conscious 
 security, on their nests along the shore. Three great 
 herons, fishing in a shallow, rose slowly into the air and 
 flew across the water, breaking the silence with their hoarse 
 trumpet note. Further in the woods there are herds of 
 wild reindeer, which are said to have become gradually 
 tame. This familiarity of the animals took away from the 
 islands all that was repellent in their solitude. It half re- 
 stored the broken link betvra^n man and the subject forms 
 of life. 'J 
 
 The sunset light was on the trees when we started, but 
 here in the North it is no fleeting glow. It lingers for 
 hours even, fading so imperceptibly that you scarcely know 
 when it has ceased. Thus, when we returned after a long 
 pull, craving the Lenten fare of the monastery, the same 
 soft gold tinted its clustering domes. We were not called 
 upon to visit the refectory, but a table was prepared in our 
 room. The first dish had the appearance of a salad, with 
 
54 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 the accompaniment pf black bread. On carefully tasting, 
 I discovered the ingredients to be raw salt fish chopped 
 fine, cucumbers, and — beer. The taste of the first spoon- 
 ful was peculiar, of the second tolerable, of the third de- 
 cidedly palatable. Beyond this I did not go, for we had 
 fresh fish, boiled in enough water to make a soup. Then 
 the same, fried in its own fat, and, as salt and pepper were 
 allowed, v/e did not scorn our supper. 
 
 The next day was the festival of Peter and Paul, and 
 Alexis had advised us to make an excursion t© a place 
 called Jelesniki. In the morning, however, we learned 
 that the monastery and its grounds were to be consecrated 
 in solemn procession. The chimes pealed out quick and 
 joyously, and soon a burst of banners and a cloud of in- 
 cense issued from the great gate. All the pilgrims — 
 nearly two thousand in number — thronged around the 
 double line of chanting monks, and it was found necessary 
 to inclose the latter in a hollow square, formed by a linked 
 chain of hands. As the morning sun shone on the bare- 
 headed multitude, the beauty of their unshorn hair struck 
 me like a new revelation. Some of the heads, of lustrous, 
 flossy gold, actually shone by their own light. It was 
 marvelous that skin so hard and coarse in texture should 
 produce such beautiful hair. The beards of the men, also, 
 were strikingly soft and rich. They never shave, and thus 
 avoid bristles, the down of adolescence thickening into a 
 natural beard. 
 
 As the procession approacned, Alexis, who was walking 
 behind the monks, inside the protecting guard, beckoned 
 to us to join him. The peasants respectfully made way, 
 two hands unlinked to admit us, and we became, unex- 
 pectedly, participants in the ceremonies. From the south 
 side the procession moved around to the east, where a litany 
 was again chanted. The fine voices of the monks lost but 
 little of their volume in the open air ; there was no wind, 
 and the tapers burned and the incense diffused itself, as in 
 
A CEUISE ON LAKE LADOGA. 65 
 
 the church. A sacred picture, which two monks carried 
 on a sort of litter, was regarded with particular reverence 
 by the pilgrims, numbers of whom crept under the line of 
 guards to snatch a moment's devotion before it. At every 
 pause in the proceedings there was a rush from all sides, 
 and the poor fellows who formed the lines held each other's 
 hands with all their strength. Yet, flushed, sweating, and 
 exhausted as they were, the responsibility of their position 
 made them perfectly proud and happy. Tliey were the 
 guardians of cross and shrine, of the holy books, the monks, 
 and the abbot himself. 
 
 From the east side we proceeded to the north, where 
 the dead monks sleep in their cemetery, high over the 
 watery gorge. In one corner of this inclosure, under a 
 group of giant maples, is the grave of King Magnus of 
 Sweden, who is said to have perished by shipwreck on the 
 island. Here, in the deep shade, a solemn mass for the 
 dead was chanted. Nothing could have added to the im- 
 pressiveness of the scene. The tapers burning under the 
 thick-leaved boughs, the light smoke curling up in the 
 shade, the grave voices of the monks, the bending heads 
 of the beautiful-haired crowd, and the dashes of white, 
 pink, scarlet, blue, and gold in their dresses, made a pic- 
 ture the solemnity of which was only heightened by its 
 pomp of color, I can do no more than give the features ; 
 the reader must recombine them in his own mind. 
 
 The painter accompanied us to the place called Jelesniki, 
 which, after a walk of four miles through the forests, we 
 found to be a deserted village, with a chapel on a rocky 
 headland. There was a fine bridge across the dividing 
 strait, and the place may have been as picturesque as it 
 was represented. On that side of the islands, however, 
 there was a dense fog, and we could get no view beyond a 
 hundred yards. We had hoped to see reindeer in the 
 woods, and an eagle's nest, and various other curiosities ; 
 but where there was no fog there were mosquitoes, and 
 the search became discouraging. 
 
56 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 On returning to the monastery, a register was brought 
 to us, in which, on looking back for several years, we could 
 find but one foreign visitor — a Frenchman. We judged, 
 therefore, that the abbot would possibly expect us to call 
 upon him, and, indeed, the hospitality we had received ex- 
 acted it. We found him receiving visitors in a plain but 
 comfortable room, in a distant part of the building. He 
 was a man of fifty-five, frank and self-possessed in his man- 
 ners, and of an evident force and individuality of character. 
 His reception of the visitors, among whom was a lady, was 
 at once courteous and kindly. A younger monk brought 
 us glasses of tea. Incidentally learning that I had visited 
 the Holy Places in Syria, the abbot sent for some pictures 
 of the monastery and its chosen saints, which he asked me 
 to keep as a souvenir of Valaam. He also presented each 
 of us with a cake of unleavened bread, stamped with the 
 cross, and with a triangular piece cut out of the top, to 
 indicate the Trinity. On parting, he gave his hand, which 
 the orthodox visitors devoutly kissed. Before the steamer 
 sailed, we received fresh evidence of his kindness, in the 
 present of three large loaves of consecrated bread, and a 
 bunch of lilacs from the garden of the monastery. 
 
 Through some misunderstanding, we failed to dine in 
 the refectory, as the monks desired, and their hospitable 
 regret on this account was the only shade on our enjoy- 
 ment of the visit. Alexis remained, in order to complete 
 his devotions by partaking of the Communion on the fol- 
 lowing Sabbath ; but as the anniversary solemnities closed 
 at noon, the crowd of pilgrims prepared to return home. 
 The Valamo, too, sounded her warning bell, so we left the 
 monastery as friends where we had arrived as strangers, 
 and went on board. Boat after boat, gunwale-deep with 
 the gay Carelians, rowed down the inlet, and in the space 
 of half an hour but a few stragglers were left of all the 
 multitude. Some of the monks came down to say another 
 good-bye, and the under-abbot, blessing R., made the sign 
 of the cross upon his brow and breast. 
 
A CRXnSE ON LAKE LADOGA. 51 
 
 "When we reached the golden dome of St. Nicholas, at 
 the outlet of the harbor, the boats had set their sails, and 
 the lake was no longer lonely. Scores of white wings 
 gleamed in the sun, as they scattered away in radii from 
 the central and sacred point, some north, some east, and 
 some Veering south around Holy Island. Sergius and 
 Herrmann gave them smooth seas, and light, favorable 
 airs; for the least roughness would have carried them, 
 overladen as they were, to the bottom. Once more the 
 bells of Valaam chimed farewell, and we turned the point 
 to the westward, steering back to Kexholm. 
 
 Late that night we reached our old moorage at Konewitz, 
 and on Saturday, at the appointed hour, landed in St. 
 Petersburg. We carried the white cross at the fore as we 
 descended the Neva, and the bells of the churches along 
 the banks welcomed our return. And now, as I recall 
 those five days among the islands of the Northern Lake, 
 I see that it is good to go on a pilgrimage, even if one is 
 not a pilgrim. 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 
 
 ' Pushed off from one shore, and not yet landed ou the other." 
 
 Russian Proverbs 
 
The railroad from Moscow to Nijni-Novgorod had been 
 opened but a fortnight before. It was scarcely finished, 
 indeed ; for, in order to facilitate travel during the con- 
 tinuance of the Great Fair at the latter place, the gaps in 
 the line, left by unbuilt bridges, were filled up with tempo- 
 rary trestle-work. The one daily express-train was so 
 thronged that it required much exertion, and the freest use 
 of the Envoy's prestige, to secure a private carriage for our 
 party. The sun was sinking over the low, hazy ridge of 
 the Sparrow Hills as we left Moscow : and we enjoyed one 
 more glimpse of the inexhaustible splendor of the city's 
 thousand golden domes and pinnacles, softened by lumi- 
 nous smoke and transfigured dust, before the dark woods 
 of fir intervened, and the twilight sank down on cold and 
 lonely landscapes. 
 
 Thence, until darkness, there was nothing more to claim 
 attention. Whoever has seen one landscape of Central 
 Russia is familiar with three fourths of the whole region. 
 Nowhere else — not even on the levels of Illinois — are 
 the same features so constantly reproduced. One long^ 
 low swell of earth succeeds to another ; it is rare that any 
 other woods than birch and fir are seen ; the cleared land 
 presents a continuous succession of pasture, rye, wheat, 
 potatoes, and cabbages ; and the villages are as like as 
 peas, in their huts of unpainted logs, clustering around a 
 white church with five green domes. It is a monotony 
 which nothing but tlie richest culture can prevent from be- 
 coming tiresome. Culture is to Nature what good manners 
 are to man, rendering poverty of character endurable. 
 
 Stationing a servant at the dpor to prevent intrusion at 
 
62 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 the way-stations, we let down the curtains before our win- 
 dows, and secured a comfortable privacy for the night, 
 whence we issued only once, during a halt for supper. I 
 entered the refreshment-room with very slender expecta- 
 tions, but was immediately served with plump partridges, 
 tender cutlets, and green peas. The Russians made a 
 rush for the great samovar (tea-urn) of brass, which shone 
 from one end of the long table ; and presently each had 
 his tumbler of scalding tea, with a slice of lemon floating 
 on the top. These people drink beverages of a tempera- 
 ture which would fake the skin off Anglo-Saxon mouths. 
 My tongue was more than once blistered, on beginning to 
 drink after they had emptied their glasses. There is no 
 station without its steaming samovar ; and some persons, 
 I verily believe, take their thirty-three hot teas between 
 Moscow and St. Petersburg. 
 
 There is not much choice of dishes in the interior of 
 Russia ; but what one does get is sure to be tolerably good. 
 Even on the Beresina and the Dnieper I have always fared 
 better than at most of the places in our country where 
 " Ten minutes for refreshments ! " is announced day by day 
 and year by year. Better a single beef-steak, where ten- 
 derness is, than a stalled ox, all gristle and grease. But 
 then our cooking (for the public at least) is notoriously the 
 worst in the civilized world ; and I can safely pronounce 
 the Russian better, without commending it very highly. 
 
 Some time in the night we passed the large town of 
 Vladimir, and with the rising sun were well on our way to 
 the Volga. I pushed aside the curtains, and looked out, 
 to see what changes a night's travel had wrought in the 
 scenery. It was a pleasant surprise. On the right stood a 
 large, stately residence, embowered in gardens and orch- 
 ards ; while beyond it, stretching away to the southeast, 
 opened a broad, shallow valley. The sweeping hills on either 
 side were dotted with shocks of rye ; and their thousands 
 of acres of stubble shone like gold in the level rays. Herds 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 63 
 
 of cattle were pasturing in the meadows, and the peasants 
 (serfs no longer) were straggling out of the villages to their 
 labor in the fields. The crosses and polished domes of 
 churches sparkled on the horizon. Here the patches of 
 primitive forest were of larger growth, the trunks cleaner 
 and straighter, than we had yet seen. Nature was half 
 conquered, in spite of the climate, and, for the first time 
 since leaving St. Petersburg, wore a habitable aspect. I 
 recognized some of the features of Russian country-life 
 which Puschkin describes so charmingly in his poem of 
 " Eugene Onagin." 
 
 The agricultural development of Russia has been greatly 
 retarded by the indifference of the nobility, whose vast 
 estates comprise the best land of the empire, in those prov- 
 inces where improvements might be most easily intro- 
 duced. Although a large portion of the noble families 
 pass their summers in the country, they use the season as 
 a period of physical and pecuniary recuperation from the 
 dissipations of the past, and preparation for those of the 
 coming winter. Their possessions are so large (those of 
 Count ScheremetiefF, for instance, contain one hundred and 
 thirty thousand inhabitants) that they push each other too 
 far apart for social intercourse ; and they consequently live 
 en deshahiUe, csireless of the great national interests in their 
 hands. There is a class of our Southern planters which 
 seems to have adopted a very similar mode of life — fami- 
 lies which shabbily starve for ten months, in order to make 
 a lordly show at " the Springs " for the other two. A most 
 
 accomplished Russian lady, the Princess D , said to 
 
 me, — " The want of an active, intelligent country society 
 is our greatest misfortune. Our estates thus become a sort 
 of exile. The few, here and there, who try to improve the 
 condition of the people, through the improvement of the 
 soil, are not supported by their neighbors, and lose heart. 
 The more we gain in the life of the capital, the more we 
 are oppressed by the solitude and stagnation of the life of 
 the country." 
 
64 ' BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 This open, cheerful region continued through the morn^ 
 ing. The railroad was still a novelty; and the peasants 
 everywhere dropped their scythes and shovels to see the 
 train pass. Some bowed with the profoundest gravity- 
 They were a fine, healthy, strapping race of men, only of 
 medium height, but admirably developed in chest and 
 limbs, and with shrewd, intelligent faces. Content, not stu- 
 pidity, is the cause of their stationary condition. They 
 are not yet a people, but the germ of one, and, as such, 
 present a grand field for anthropological studies. 
 
 Towards noon the road began to descend, by easy 
 grades, from the fair, rolling uplands into a lower and 
 wilder region. When the train stopped, women and chil- 
 dren whose swarthy skin and black eyes betrayed a mix- 
 ture of Tartar blood, made their appearance, with wooden 
 bowls of cherries and huckleberries for sale. These bowls 
 were neatly carved and painted. They were evidently held 
 in high value ; for I had great difficulty in purchasing one. 
 We moved slowly, on account of the many skeleton 
 bridges ; but presently a long, blue ridge, which for an 
 hour past had followed us in the southeast, began to curve 
 around to our front. I now knew that it must mark the 
 course of the Oka River, and that we were approaching 
 Nijni-Novgorod. 
 
 We soon saw the river itself; then houses and gardens 
 scattered along the slope of the hill ; then clusters of 
 sparkling domes on the summit ; then a stately, white- 
 walled citadel ; and the end of the blue ridge slanted down 
 in an even line to the Volga. We were three hundred mites 
 from Moscow, on the direct road to Siberia. 
 
 The city being on the farther side of the Oka, the rail- 
 road terminates at the Fair, which is a separate city, oc- 
 cupying the triangular level between the two rivers. Our 
 approach to it was first announced by heaps of cotton- 
 bales, bound in striped camel's-hair cloth, which had found 
 their way hither from the distant valleys of Turkestan and 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA.. 65 
 
 the warm plains of Bukharia. Nearly fifty thousand cameis 
 are employed in the transportation of this staple across 
 the deserts of the Aral to Orenburg, a distance of a 
 thousand miles. The increase of price had doubled the 
 production since the previous year, and the amount which 
 now reaches the factories of Russia through this channel 
 cannot be less than seventy-five thousand bales. The ad- 
 vance of modern civilization has so intertwined the interests 
 of all zones and races, that a civil war in the United States 
 affects the industry of Central Asia ! 
 
 Next to these cotton-bales which, to us, silently pro- 
 claimed the downfall of that arrogant monopoly which has 
 caused all our present woe, came the representatives of 
 those who produced them. Groups of picturesque Asians 
 — Bashkirs, Persians, Bukharians, and Uzbeks — appeared 
 on either side, staring impassively at the wonderful appa- 
 rition. Though there was sand under their feet, they 
 seemed out of place in the sharp north-wind and among 
 the hills of fir and pine. 
 
 The train stopped : we had reached the station. As I 
 stepped upon the platform, I saw, over the level lines of 
 copper roofs, the dragon-like pinnacles of Chinese build- 
 ings, and the white minaret of a mosque. Here was the 
 certainty of a j^cturesque interest to balance the uncer- 
 tainty of our situation. We had been unable to engage 
 quarters in advance : there were two hundred thousand 
 strangers before us, in a city the normal population of 
 which is barely forty thousand ; and four of our party were 
 ladies. The Envoy, indeed, might claim the Governor's 
 hospitality ; but our visit was to be so brief that we had 
 no time to expend on ceremonies, and preferred rambling 
 at will through the teeming bazaars to being led about 
 under the charge of an official escort. 
 
 A friend at Moscow, however, had considerately tele- 
 graphed in our behalf to a French resident of Nijni, and 
 the latter gentleman met us at the station. He could give 
 5 
 
bb BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 but slight hope of quarters for the night, but generously 
 offered us his services. Droshkies were engaged to convey 
 us to the old city, on the hill beyond the Oka ; and, crowded 
 two by two into the shabby little vehicles, we set forth. The 
 sand was knee-deep, and the first thing that happened was 
 the stoppage of our procession by the tumbling down of the 
 several horses. They were righted with the help of some 
 obliging spectators ; and with infinite labor we worked 
 through this strip of desert into a region of mud, with a 
 hard, stony bottom somewhere between us and the earth's 
 centre. The street we entered, though on the outskirts of 
 the Fair, resembled Broadway on a sensation-day. It was 
 choked with a crowd, composed of the sweepings of Europe 
 and Asia. Our horses thrust their heads between the shoul- 
 ders of Christians, Jews, Moslems, and Pagans, slowly shov- 
 ing their way towards the floating bridge, which was a jam 
 of vehicles from end to end. At the corners of the streets, 
 the wiry Don Cossacks, in their dashing blue uniforms and 
 caps of black lamb's-wool, regulated, as best they could, 
 the movements of the multitude. It was curious to notice 
 how they, and their small, well-knit horses, — the equine 
 counterparts of themselves, — controlled the fierce, fiery 
 life which flashed from every limb and feature, and did 
 their duty with wonderful patience and gentleness. They 
 seemed so many spirits of Disorder tamed to the service 
 of Order. 
 
 It was nearly half an hour before we reached the other 
 end of the bridge, and struck the superb inclined highway 
 which leads to the top of the hill. We were unwashed 
 and hungry ; and neither the tumult of the lower town, nor 
 the view of the Volga, crowded with vessels of all descrip- 
 tions, had power to detain us. Our brave little horses bent 
 themselves to the task ; for task it really was, — the road 
 rising between three and four hundred feet in less than half 
 a mile. Advantage has been taken of a slight natural ra- 
 vine, formed by a short, curving spur of the hill, which 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 67 
 
 encloses a pocket of the greenest and richest foliage — a 
 bit of unsuspected beauty, quite invisible from the other 
 side of the river. Then, in order to reach the level of the 
 Kremlin, the road is led through an artificial gap, a hundred 
 feet in depth, to the open square in the centre of the city. 
 
 Here, all was silent and deserted. There were broad, 
 well-paved streets, substantial houses, the square towers 
 and crenelated walls of the Old Kremlin, and the glittering 
 cupolas of twenty-six churches before us, and a lack of 
 population which contrasted amazingly with the whirlpool 
 of life below. Monsieur D., our new, but most faithful 
 friend, took us to the hotel, every corner and cranny of 
 which was occupied. There was a possibility of breakfast 
 only, and water was obtained with great exertion. While 
 we were lazily enjoying a tolerable meal, Monsieur D. was 
 bestirring himself in all quarters, and came back to us ra- 
 diant with luck. He had found four rooms in a neighboring 
 street ; and truly, if one were to believe De Custine or 
 Dumas, such rooms are impossible in Russia. Charmingly 
 clean, elegantly furnished, with sofas of green leather and 
 beds of purest linen, they would have satisfied the severe 
 eye of an English housekeeper. We thanked both our 
 good friend and St Macarius (who presides over the Fair) 
 for this fortune, took possession, and then hired fresh drosh- 
 kies to descend the hill. 
 
 On emerging from the ravine, we obtained a bird's-eye 
 view of the whole scene. The waters of both rivers, near 
 at hand, were scarcely visible through the shipping which 
 covered them. Vessels from the Neva, the Caspian, and 
 the rivers of the Ural, were here congregated ; and they 
 alone represented a floating population of between thirty 
 and forty thousand souls. The Fair, from this point, re- 
 sembled an immense flat city, — the streets of booths being 
 of a uniform height, — out of which rose the great Greek 
 church, the Tartar mosque, and the curious Chinese roofs. 
 It was a vast, dark, humming plain, vanishing towards the 
 
68 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 west and northwest in clouds of sand. By this time there 
 was a lull in the business, and we made our way to the 
 central bazaar with less trouble than we had anticipated. 
 It is useless to attempt an enumeration of the wares ex- 
 posed for sale : they embraced everything grown, trapped, 
 dug, or manufactured between Ireland and Japan. We 
 sought, of course, the Asiatic elements, which first met us 
 in the shape of melons from Astrakhan, and grapes from the 
 southern slopes of the Caucasus. Then came wondrous 
 stuffs from the looms of Turkestan and Cashmere, tur- 
 quoises from the Upper Oxus, and glittering strings of Si- 
 berian topaz and amethyst, side by side with Nuremberg 
 toys, Lyons silks, and Sheffield cutlery. About one third 
 of the population of the Fair was of Asiatic blood, embra- 
 cing representatives from almost every tribe north and west 
 of the Himalayas. 
 
 This temporary city, which exists during only two months 
 of the year, contained two hundred thousand inhabitants 
 at the time of our visit. During the remaining ten months 
 it is utterly depopulated, the bazaars are closed, and chains 
 are drawn across the streets to prevent the passage of ve- 
 hicles. A single statement will give an idea of its extent : 
 the combined length of the streets is twenty-five miles. 
 The Great Bazaar is substantially built of stone, after the 
 manner of those in Constantinople, except that it incloses 
 an open court, where a Government band performs every 
 afternoon. Here the finer wares are displayed, and the 
 shadowed air under the vaulted roofs is a very kaleidoscope 
 for shifting color and sparkle. Tea, cotton, leather, wool, 
 and the other heavier and coarser commodities, have their 
 separate streets and quarters. The several nationalities 
 are similarly divided, to some extent ; but the stranger, of 
 course, prefers to see them jostling together in the streets, 
 — a Babel not only of tongues, but of feature, character, 
 and costume. 
 
 Our ladies w.ere eager to inspect the stock of jewelry 
 
BETWEEN EUEOPE AM) ASIA. 69 
 
 especially those heaps of exquisite color with which the 
 Mohammedans very logically load the trees of Paradise ; 
 for they resemble fruit in a glorified state of existence. 
 One can imagine virtuous grapes promoted to amethysts, 
 blueberries to turquoises, cherries to rubies, and green- 
 gages to aqua-marine. These, the secondary jewels (with 
 the exception of the ruby), are brought in great quantities 
 from Siberia, but most of them are marred by slight flaws 
 or other imperfections, so that their cheapness is more ap- 
 parent than real. An amethyst an inch long, throwing the 
 most delicious purple light from its hundreds of facets, 
 quite takes you captive, and you put your hand in your 
 pocket for the fifteen dollars which shall make you its pos- 
 sessor ; but a closer inspection is sure to show you either 
 a broad transverse flaw, or a spot where the color fades 
 into transparency. The white topaz, known as the " Sibe- 
 rian diamond," is generally flawless, and the purest speci- 
 mens are scarcely to be distinguished from the genuine 
 brilliant. A necklace of these, varying from a half to a 
 quarter of an inch in diameter, may be had for about 
 twenty-five dollars. There were also golden and smoky 
 topaz and beryl, in great profusion. 
 
 A princely Bashkir drew us to his booth, first by his 
 beauty and then by his noble manners. He was the very 
 incarnation of Boker's " Prince Adeb." 
 
 " The girls of Damar paused to see me pass, 
 I walking in my rags, yet beautifiil. 
 One maiden said, ' He has a prince's air ! ' 
 I am a prince ; the air was all my own." 
 
 This Bashkir, however, was not in rags, he was elegantly 
 attired. His silken vest was bound with a girdle of gold 
 thread studded with jewels, and over it he wore a caftan, 
 with wide sleeves, of the finest dark-blue cloth. The round 
 cap of black lamb's-wool became his handsome head. His 
 complexion was pale olive, through which the red of his 
 cheeks shone, in the words of some oriental poem, " like 
 
70 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 a rose-leaf through oil ; " and his eyes, in their dark fire 
 were more lustrous than smoky topaz. His voice was mel- 
 low and musical, and his every movement and gesture a 
 new exhibition of human grace. Among thousands, yea, 
 tens of thousands, of handsome men, he stood preeminent. 
 
 As our acquaintance ripened, he drew a pocket-book 
 from his bosom, and showed us his choicest treasures : tur- 
 quoises, bits of wonderful blue heavenly forget-me-nots ; a 
 jacinth, burning like a live coal, in scarlet light ; and 
 lastly, a perfect ruby, which no sum less than twenty-five 
 hundred dollars could purchase. From him we learned 
 the curious fluctuations of fashion in regard to jewels. 
 Turquoises were just then in the ascendant; and one of 
 the proper tint, the size of a parsnip-seed, could not be had 
 for a hundred dollars, the full value of a diamond of equal 
 size. Amethysts of a deep plum-color, though less beauti- 
 ful than the next paler shade, command very high prices ; 
 while jacinth, beryl, and aqua-marine — stones of exquisite 
 hue and lustre — are cheap. But then, in this depart- 
 ment, as in all others. Fashion and Beauty are not conver- 
 tible terms. 
 
 In the next booth there were two Persians, who unfolded 
 before our eyes some of their marvelous shawls, where you 
 forget the barbaric pattern in the exquisite fineness of the 
 material and the triumphant harmony of the colors. Scar- 
 let with palm-leaf border, — blue clasped by golden bronze, 
 picked out with red, — browns, greens, and crimsons strug- 
 gling for the mastery in a war of tints, — how should we 
 choose between them ? Alas ! we were not able to choose ; 
 they were a thousand dollars apiece ! But the Persians 
 still went on unfolding, taking our admiration in pay for 
 their trouble, and seeming even, by their pleasant smiles, 
 to consider themselves well paid. When we came to the 
 booths of European merchants, we were swiftly impressed 
 with the fact that civilization, in following the sun west- 
 ward, loses its grace in proportion as it advances. The 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 71 
 
 gentle dignity, the serene patience, the soft, fraternal, 
 affectionate demeanor of our Asiatic brethren vanished 
 utterly when we encountered French and German sales- 
 men ; and yet these latter would have seemed gracious 
 and courteous, had there been a few Yankee dealers 
 beyond them. The fourth or fifth century, which still 
 exists in Central Asia, was undoubtedly, in this particular, 
 superior to the nineteenth. No gentleman, since his time, 
 I suspect, has equaled Adam. 
 
 Among these Asiatics Mr. Buckle would have some dif- 
 ficulty in maintaining his favorite postulate, that tolerance 
 is the result of progressive intelligence. It is also the 
 result of courtesy, as we may occasionally see in well- 
 bred persons of limited intellect. Such, undoubtedly, 
 is the basis of that tolerance which no one who has had 
 much personal intercourse with the Semitic races can have 
 failed to experience. The days of the sword and fagot are 
 past; but it was reserved for Christians to employ them 
 in the name of religion alone. Local or political jealous- 
 ies are at the bottom of those troubles which still occur 
 from time to time in Turkey ; the traveller hears no insult- 
 ing epithet, and the green-turbaned Imam will receive 
 him as kindly and courteously as the skeptical Bey edu- 
 cated in Paris. I have never been so aggressively assailed, 
 on religious grounds, as at home, — never so coarsely and 
 insultingly treated, on account of a presumed difference 
 of opinion, as by those who claim descent from the Cava- 
 liers. The bitter fierceness of some of our leading 
 reformers is overlooked by their followers, because it 
 springs from " earnest conviction " ; but in the Orient 
 intensest faith coexists with the most gracious and gentle 
 manners. 
 
 Be not impatient, beloved reader ; for this digression 
 brings me naturally to the next thing we saw at Novgorod. 
 As we issued from the bazaar, the sunlit minaret greeted 
 us through whirling dust and rising vapor, and I fancied I 
 
72 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 could hear the muezzin's musical cry. It was about time 
 for the asser prayer. Droshkies were found, and we rode 
 slowly through the long, low warehouses of " caravan tea '* 
 and Mongolian wool to the mound near the Tartar encamp- 
 ment. The mosque was a plain, white, octagonal building, 
 conspicuous only through its position. The turbaned faith- 
 ful were already gathering ; and we entered, and walked 
 up the steps among them, without encountering an un- 
 friendly glance. At the door stood two Cossack soldiers, 
 specially placed there to prevent the worshippers from 
 being insulted by curious Christians. (Those who have 
 witnessed the wanton profanation of mosques in India by 
 the English officers will please notice this fact.) If we 
 had not put off our shoes before entering the hall of wor- 
 ship, the Cossacks would have performed that operation 
 for us. 
 
 I am happy to say that none of our party lacked a 
 proper reverence for devotion, though it was offered through 
 the channels of an alien creed. The ladies left their 
 gaiters beside our boots, and we all stood in our stockings 
 on the matting, a little in the rear of the kneeling crowd. 
 The priest occupied a low dais. in front, but he simply led 
 the prayer, which was uttered by all. The windows were 
 open, and the sun poured a golden flood into the room. 
 Yonder gleamed the Kremlin of Novgorod, yonder rolled 
 the Volga, all around were the dark forests of the North, — 
 yet their faces were turned, and their thoughts went south- 
 ward, to where Mecca sits among the burning hills, in the 
 feathery shade of her palm-trees. And the tongue of 
 Mecca came from their lips, " Allah I '* " Allah ahhhar ! " as 
 the knee bent and the forehead touched the floor. 
 
 At the second repetition of the prayers we quietly with* 
 drew ; and good Monsieur D., forgetful of nothing, sug- 
 gested that preparations had been made for a dinner in the 
 great cosmopolitan restaurant. So we drove back again 
 through the Chinese street, with its red horned houses, the 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 73 
 
 roofs terminating in gilded dragons' tails, and, after press- 
 ing through an immense multitude enveloped in tobacco- 
 smoke and the steam of tea-urns, found ourselves at last in 
 a low room with a shaky floor and muslin ceiling. It was 
 an exact copy of the dining-room of a California hotel. 
 If we looked blank a moment, Monsieur D.'s smile reas- 
 sured us. He had given all the necessary orders, he said, 
 and would step out and secure a box in the theatre before 
 the zakouski was served. During his absence, we looked 
 out of the window on .either side upon surging, whirling, 
 humming pictures of the Great Fair, all vanishing in per- 
 spectives of dust and mist. 
 
 In half an hour our friend returned, and with him 
 entered the zakouski. I cannot remember half the appe- 
 tizing ingredients of which it was composed : anchovies, 
 sardines, herrings, capers, cheese, caviare, pate de foie, 
 pickles, cherries, oranges, and olives, were among them. 
 Instead of being a prelude to dinner, it was almost a 
 dinner in itself. Then, after a Russiaa soup, which always 
 contains as much solid nutriment as meat-biscuit or Arc- 
 tic pemmican, came the glory of the repast, a mighty 
 sterlet, which was swimming in Volga water when we took 
 our seats at the table. This fish, the exclusive property of 
 Russia, is, in times of scarcity, worth its weight in silver. 
 Its unapproachable flavor is supposed to be as evanescent 
 as the hues of a dying dolphin. Frequently, at grand din- 
 ner-parties, it is carried around the table in a little tank, 
 and exhibited, alive, to the guests, when their soup is 
 served, that its freshness, ten minutes afterwards, may be 
 put beyond suspicion. The fish has the appearance of a 
 small, lean sturgeon ; but its flesh resembles the melting 
 pulp of a fruit rather than the fibre of its watery brethren. 
 It sinks into juice upon the tongue, like a perfectly ripe 
 peach. In this quality no other fish in the world can ap- 
 proach it ; yet I do not think the flavor quite so fine as 
 that of a brook-trout. Our sterlet was nearly two feet 
 long, and may have cost twenty or thirty dollars. 
 
74 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 With it appeared an astonishing salad, composed of 
 watermelons, cantaloupes, pickled cherries, cucumbers, and 
 certain spicy herbs. Its color and odor were enticing, and 
 we had all applied the test of taste most satisfactorily 
 before we detected the curious mixture of ingredients. 
 After the second course, — a ragout of beef, accompanied 
 with a rich, elaborate sauce, — three heavy tankards of 
 chased silver, holding two quarts apiece, were placed upon 
 the table. The first of these contained kvass, the second 
 Icislischi, and the third hydromel. Each one of these national 
 drinks, when properly brewed, is very palatable and re- 
 freshing. I found the kislischi nearly identical with the 
 ancient Scandinavian mead : no doubt it dates from the 
 Varangian rule in Russia. The old custom of passing the 
 tankards around the table, from mouth to mouth, is still 
 observed, and will not be found objectionable, even in these 
 days of excessive delicacy, when ladies and gentlemen are 
 seated alternately at the banquet. 
 
 The Russian element of the dinner here terminated. 
 Cutlets and roast fowls made their appearance, with bottles 
 of Rudesheimer and Lafitte, followed by a dessert of su- 
 perb Persian melons, from the southern shore of the 
 Caspian Sea. 
 
 By this time night had fallen, and Monsieur D. sug- 
 gested an immediate adjournment to the theatre. What 
 should be the entertainment ? Dances of almehs, songs of 
 gypsies, or Chinese jugglers? One of the Ivans brought a 
 programme. It was not difficult to decipher the word 
 " MAKBETT) " and to recognize, further, in the name of 
 " Ira Aldridge " a distinguished mulatto tragedian, to 
 whom Maryland has given birth (if I am rightly informed) 
 and Europe fame. We had often heard of him, yea, seen 
 his portrait in Germany, decorated with the orders con- 
 ferred by half a dozen sovereigns ; and his presence here, 
 between Europe and Asia, was not the least characteristic 
 feature of the Fair. A mulatto Macbeth, in a Russian 
 theatre, with a Persian and Tartar audience ! 
 
BETWEEN EUEOPE Am> ASIA. 75 
 
 On arriving, we were ushered into two whitewashed 
 boxes, which had been reserved for our party. The man- 
 ager, having been informed of the Envoy's presence in 
 Nijni-Novgorod, had delayed the performance half an hour, 
 but the audience bore this infliction patiently. The building 
 was deep and narrow, with space for about eight hundred 
 persons, and was filled from top to bottom. The first act 
 was drawing to a close as we entered. King Duncan, with 
 two or three shabby attendants, stood in the court-yard of 
 the castle, — the latter represented by a handsome French 
 door on the left, with a bit of Tartar wall beyond, — and 
 made his observations on the " pleasant seat " of Macbeth's 
 mansion. He spoke Russian, of course. Lady Macbeth 
 now appeared, in a silk dress of the latest fashion, ex- 
 panded by the amplest of crinolines. She was passably 
 handsome, and nothing could be gentler than her face and 
 voice. She received the royal party like a well-bred lady, 
 and they all entered the French door together. 
 
 There was no change of scene. With slow step and 
 folded arms, Ira Macbeth entered and commenced the 
 soliloquy, " If it were done," etc., to our astonishment, in 
 English ! He was a dark, strongly built mulatto, of about 
 fifty, in a fancy tunic, and light stockings over Forrestian 
 calves. His voice was deep and powerful ; and it was very 
 evident that Edmund Kean, once his master, was also the 
 model which he carefully followed in the part. There 
 were the same deliberate, over-distinct enunciation, the 
 same prolonged pauses and gradually performed gestures, 
 as I remember in imitations of Kean's manner. Except 
 that the copy was a little too apparent, Mr. Aldridge's 
 acting was really very fine. The Russians were enthusias- 
 tic in their applause, though very few of them, probably, 
 understood the language of the part. The Oriental audi- 
 tors were perfectly impassive, and it was impossible to guess 
 how they regarded the performance. 
 
 The second act was in some respects the most amusing 
 
76 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 thing I ever saw upon the stage. In the dagger-scene, 
 Ira was, to my mind, quite equal to Forrest ; it was impos- 
 sible to deny him unusual dramatic talent ; but his com- 
 plexion, continually suggesting Othello, quite confounded 
 me. The amiable Russian Lady Macbeth was much better 
 adapted to the part of Desdemona : all softness and gen- 
 tleness, she smiled as she lifted her languishing eyes, and 
 murmured in the tenderest accents, " Infirm of purpose ! 
 give me the dagger ! " At least, I took for granted that 
 these were her words, for Macbeth had just said, " Look 
 on't again I dare not." Afterwards, six Russian soldiers, 
 in tan-colored shirts, loose trousers, and high boots, filed 
 in, followed by Macduff and Malcolm, in the costume of 
 Wallenstein's troopers. The dialogue — one voice Eng- 
 lish, and all the others Russian — pfoceeded smoothly 
 enough, but the effect was like nothing which our stage 
 can produce. Nevertheless, the audience was delighted, 
 and when the curtain fell there were vociferous cries of 
 "JtzVa ! A'ira I Aldreetch 1 Aldreetch 1 " until the swarthy 
 hero made his appearance before the foot-lights. ' 
 
 Monsieur D. conducted our friend P. into the green- 
 -room, where he was received by Macbeth in costume. He 
 found the latter to be a dignified, imposing personage, who 
 carried his tragic chest-tones into ordinary conversation. 
 On being informed by P. that the American minister was 
 present, he asked, — 
 
 " Of what persuasion ? " 
 
 P. hastened to set him right, and Ira then remarked, in 
 his gravest tone, — "I shall have the honor of waiting 
 upon him to-morrow morning ; " which, however, he failed 
 to do. 
 
 This son of the South, no doubt, came legitimately (or, 
 at least, naturally) by his dignity. His career, for a man 
 of his blood and antecedents, has been wonderfully success- 
 ful, and is justly due, I am convinced, since I have seen 
 him, to his histrionic talents. Both black and yellow skins 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 77 
 
 are sufficiently rare in Europe to excite a particular in- 
 terest in those who wear them ; and I had surmised, up to 
 this time, that much of his popularity might be owing to 
 his color. But he certainly deserves an honorable place 
 among tragedians of the second rank. 
 
 We left the theatre at the close of the third act, and 
 crossed the river to our quarters on the hill. A chill mist 
 hung over the Fair, but the lamps still burned, the streets 
 were thronged, and the Don Cossacks kept patient guard 
 at every corner. The night went by like one unconscious 
 minute, in beds unmolested by bug or flea ; and when I 
 arose, thoroughly refreshed, I involuntarily called to mind 
 a frightful chapter in De Custine's " Russia," describing the 
 prevalence of an insect which he calls the persica, on the 
 banks of the Volga. He was obliged to sleep on a table, 
 the legs whereof were placed in basins of water, to escape 
 their attacks. I made many inquiries about these terrible 
 persicas, and finally discovered that they were neither more 
 nor less than — cockroaches ! — called Prossaki (Prus- 
 sians) by the Russians, as they-are sometimes called Schwa- 
 hen (Suabians) by the Germans. Possibly they may be 
 found in the huts of the serfs, but they are rare in decent 
 houses. 
 
 ' We devoted the first sunny hours of the morning to a visit 
 to the citadel and a walk around the crest of the hill. On 
 the highest point, just over the junction of the two rivers, 
 there is a commemorative column to Minim, the patriotic 
 butcher of Novgorod, but for whose eloquence, in the year 
 1610, the Russian might possibly now be the Polish Em- 
 pire. Vladislas, son of Sigismund of Poland, had been 
 called to the throne by the boyards, and already reigned in 
 Moscow, when Minim appealed to the national spirit, per- 
 suaded General Pojarski to liead an anti-Polish movement, 
 which was successful, and thus cleared the way for the 
 election of Michael Romanoff, the first sovereign of the 
 present dynasty. Minim is therefore one of the historic 
 names of Russia. 
 
78 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 When I stood beside his monument, and the finest land- 
 scape of European Russia was suddenly unrolled before 
 my eyes, I could believe the tradition of his eloquence, 
 for here was its inspiration. Thirty or forty miles away 
 stretched the rolling swells of forest and grain-land, fading 
 into dimmest blue to the westward and northward, dotted 
 with villages and sparkling domes, and divided by shining 
 reaches of the Volga. It was truly a superb and imposing 
 view, changing with each spur of the hill as we made the 
 circuit of the citadel. Eastward, the country rose into 
 dark, wooded hills, between which the river forced its way 
 in a narrower and swifter channel, until it disappeared 
 behind a purple headland, hastening southward to find a 
 warmer home in the unfrozen Caspian. By embarking on 
 the steamers anchored below us, we might have reached 
 Perm, among the Ural Mountains, or Astrakhan, in less 
 than a week ; while a trip of ten days would have taken us 
 past the Caucasus, even to the base of Ararat or Demavend. 
 Such are the splendid possibilities of travel in these days. 
 
 The Envoy, who visited Europe for the first time, de- 
 clared that this panorama from the hill of Novgorod was 
 one of the finest things he had seen. There could, truly, 
 be no better preparation to enjoy it than fifteen hundred 
 miles of nearly unbroken level, after leaving the Russian 
 frontier ; but I think it would be a noted landscape any- 
 where. Why it is not more widely celebrated I cannot 
 guess. The only person in Russia whom I heard speak of 
 it with genuine enthusiasm was Alexander II. 
 
 Two hours upon the breezy parapet, beside the old 
 Tartar walls, were all too little ; but the droshkies waited 
 in the river-street a quarter of a mile below us ; our return 
 to Moscow was ordered for the afternoon ; there were ame- 
 thysts and Persian silks yet to be bought, and so we sighed 
 farewell to an enjoyment rare in Russia, and descended the 
 steep foot-path. 
 
 P. and I left the rest of the party at the booth of the 
 
BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA. 79 
 
 handsome Bashkir, and set out upon a special mission to 
 the Tartar camp. I had ascertained that the national 
 beverage of Central Asia might be found there, — the gen- 
 uine koumiss or fermented milk of the mares of the Uralian 
 steppes. Having drunk palm-wine in India, samshoo in 
 China, saM in Japan, pulque in Mexico, houza in Egypt, 
 mead in Scandinavia, ale in England, hock-hier in Germany, 
 mastic in Greece, calahogus in Newfoundland, and — soda- 
 water in the United States, I desired to complete the bibu- 
 lous cosmos, in which koumiss was still lacking. My friend 
 did not share my curiosity, but was ready for an adventure, 
 which our search for mare's milk seemed to promise. 
 
 Beyond the mosques we found the Uzbeks and Kirghiz, 
 — some in tents, some in rough shanties of boards. But 
 they were without koumiss : they had had it, and showed 
 us some empty kegs, in evidence of the fact I fancied a 
 gleam of diversion stole over their grave, swarthy faces, as 
 they listened to our eager inquiries in broken Russian. 
 Finally we came into an extemporized village, where some 
 women, unveiled and ugly, advised us to apply to the 
 traders in the khan, or caravanserai. This was a great 
 barn-like building, two stories high, with broken staircases 
 and creaking floors. A corridor ran the whole length of 
 the second floor, with some twenty or thirty doors opening 
 into it from the separate rooms of the traders. We ac- 
 costed the first Tartar whom we met, and he promised, 
 with great readiness, to procure us what we wanted. He 
 ushered us into his room, cleared away a pile of bags, 
 saddles, camel-trappings, and other tokens of a nomadic 
 life, and revealed a low divan covered with a ragged carpet. 
 On a sack of barley sat his father, a blind graybeard, 
 nearly eighty years old. On our way through the camp I 
 had noticed that the Tartars saluted each other with the 
 Arabic, " Salaam aleikoom ! " and I therefore greeted the 
 old man with the familiar words. He lifted his head : his 
 face brightened, and he immediately answered, ^^ Aleikoom 
 salaam, my son ! " 
 
80 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 " Do you speak A^rabic ? " I asked. 
 
 " A little ; I have forgotten it," said he. " But thine is 
 a new voice. Of what tribe art thou ? " 
 
 " A tribe far away, beyond Bagdad and Syria," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 " It is the tribe of Damascus. I know it now, my son. 
 I have heard the voice, many, many years ago." 
 
 The withered old face looked so bright, as some pleas- 
 ant memory shone through it, that I did not undeceive the 
 man. His son came in with a glass, pulled a keg from 
 under a pile of coarse caftans, and drew out the wooden 
 peg. A gray liquid, with an odor at once sour and pun- 
 gent, spirted into the glass, which he presently handed to 
 me, filled to the brim. In such cases no hesitation is per- 
 mitted. I thought of home and family, set the glass to my 
 lips, and emptied it before the flavor made itself clearly 
 manifest to my palate. 
 
 " Well, what is it like ? " asked my friend, who curiously 
 awaited the result of the experiment. 
 
 " Peculiar," I answered, with preternatural calmness, — 
 " peculiar, but not unpleasant." 
 
 The glass was filled a second time ; and P., not to be 
 behindhand, emptied it at a draught. Then he turned to 
 me with tears (not of delight) in his eyes, swallowed very 
 hard two or three times, suppressed a convulsive shudder, 
 and finally remarked, with the air of a martyr, "Very 
 curious, indeed ! " 
 
 " Will your Excellencies have some more ? " said the 
 friendly Tartar. 
 
 " Not before breakfast, if you please," I answered ; 
 " your koumiss is excellent, however, and we will take a 
 bottle with us," — which we did, in order to satisfy the 
 possible curiosity of the ladies. I may here declare that 
 the bottle was never emptied. 
 
 The taste was that of aged buttermilk mixed with am- 
 monia. We could detect no flavor of alcohol, yet were 
 
BETWEE2< EUEOPE AND ASIA. 81 
 
 consci^/iis of a light exhilaration from the small quantity 
 we drank. The beverage is said, indeed, to be very in- 
 toxicating. Some German physician has established a 
 " koumiss-cure " at Piatigorsk, at the northern base of the 
 Caucasus, and invites invalids of certain kinds to come 
 and be healed by its agency. I do not expect to be one of 
 the number. 
 
 There still remained a peculiar feature of the Fair, 
 which I had not yet seen. This is the subterranean net- 
 work of sewerage, which reproduces, in massive masonry, 
 the streets on the surface. Without it, the annual city of 
 two months would become uninhabitable. The peninsula 
 between the two rivers being low and marshy, — frequently 
 overflowed during the spring freshets, — pestilence would 
 soon be bred from the immense concourse of people : hence 
 a system of cloacce^ almost rivaling those of ancient Rome. 
 At each street-corner there are wells containing spiral 
 staircases, by which one can descend to the spacious sub- 
 terranean passages, and there walk for miles under arches 
 of hewn stone, lighted and aired by shafts at regular inter- 
 vals. In St. Petersburg you are told that more than half 
 the cost of the city is under the surface of the earth ; at 
 Nijni-Novgorod the statement is certainly true. Peter the 
 lireat at one time designed establishing his capital here. 
 Could he have foreseen the existence of railroads, he would 
 certainly have done so. Nijni-Novgorod is now nearer to 
 Berlin than the Russian frontier was fifty years ago. St. 
 Petersburg is an accidental city ; Nature and the destiny 
 of the empire are both opposed to its existence ; and a time 
 will come when its long lines of palaces shall be deserted 
 for some new capital, in a locality at once more southern 
 and more central. 
 
 Another walk through the streets of the Fair enabled 
 me to analyze the first confused impression, and separate 
 the motley throng of life into its several elements. I shai» 
 not attempt, however, to catch and paint its ever-changing, 
 
»5J BY-WAYS OF EimOPE. 
 
 fluctuating character. Our limited visit allowed UvS to see 
 only the more central and crowded streets. Outside of 
 these, for miles, extend suburbs of iron, of furs, wool, and 
 other coarser products, brought together from the Ural, 
 from the forests towards the Polar Ocean, and from the 
 vast extent of Siberia. Here, from morning till night, the 
 beloved kvass flows in rivers, the strong stream of shchee 
 (cabbage-soup) sends up its perpetual incense, and the 
 samovar of cheap tea is never empty. Here, although im- 
 portant interests are represented, the intercourse between 
 buyers and sellers is less grave and methodical than in the 
 bazaar. There are jokes, laughter, songs, and a constant 
 play of that repartee in which even the serfs are masters. 
 Here, too, jugglers and mountebanks of all sorts ply their 
 trade ; gypsies sing, dance, and tell fortunes ; and other 
 vocations, less respectable than these, flourish vigorously. 
 For, whether the visitor be an Ostiak from the Polar Cir- 
 cle, an Uzbek from the Upper Oxus, a Crim-Tartar or 
 Nogai, a Georgian from Tiflis, a Mongolian from the Land 
 of Grass, a Persian from Ispahan, a Jew from Hamburg, a 
 Frenchman from X/yons, a Tyrolese, Swiss, Bohemian, or 
 an Anglo-Saxon from either side of the Atlantic, he meets 
 his fellow -visitors to the Great Fair on the common ground, 
 not of human brotherhood, but of human appetite ; and all 
 the manifold nationalities succumb to the same allurements. 
 If the various forms of indulgence could be so used as to 
 propagate ideas, the world would speedily be regenerated ; 
 but as things go, " cakes and ale " have more force than 
 the loftiest ideas, the noblest theories of improvement ; and 
 the impartial observer will make this discovery as readily 
 at Nijni- Novgorod as anywhere else. 
 
 Before taking leave of the Fair, let me give a word to 
 the important subject of tea. It is a much-disputed ques- 
 tion with the connoisseurs of that beverage which neither 
 cheers nor inebriates (though, I confess, it is more agree- 
 able than koumiss), whether the Russian " caravan tea* 
 
BETWEEN EUEOPE AND ASIA. 83 
 
 & really superior to that which is imported by sea. After 
 much patient observation, combined with serious reflection, 
 I incline to the opinion that the flavor of tea depends, not 
 upon the method of transportation, but upon the price paid 
 for the article. I have tasted bad caravan tea in Russia, 
 and delicious tea in New York. " In St. Petersburg you 
 cannot procure a good article for less than three roubles 
 ($2.25, gold) per pound ; while the finer kinds bring 
 twelve and even sixteen roubles. Whoever is willing to 
 import at that price can no doubt procure tea of equal ex- 
 cellence. The fact is, that this land-transportation is slow, 
 laborious, and expensive ; hence the finer kinds of tea are 
 always selected, a pound thereof costing no more for car- 
 riage than a pound of inferior quality ; whence the supe- 
 rior flavor of caravan tea. There is, however, one variety 
 to be obtained in Russia which I have found nowhere else, 
 not even in the Chinese sea-ports. It is called " imperial 
 tea," and comes in elegant boxes of yellow silk emblazoned 
 with the dragon of the Hang dynasty, at the rate of from 
 six to twenty dollars a pound. It is yellow, and the decoc- 
 tion from it is almost colorless. A small pinch of it, 
 added to ordinary black tea, gives an indescribably delicious 
 flavor — the very aroma of the tea-blossom ; but one cup 
 of it, unmixed, is said to deprive the drinker of sleep for 
 three nights. 
 
 Monsieur D. brought our last delightful stroll through 
 the glittering streets to an untimely end. The train for 
 Moscow was to leave at three o'clock ; and he had ordered 
 an early dinner at the restaurant. By the time this was 
 concluded, it was necessary to drive at once to the station, 
 in order to secure places. We were almost too late ; the 
 train, long as it was, was crammed to overflowing ; and 
 although both station-master and conductor assisted us, the 
 eager passengers disregarded their authority. With great 
 difficulty, one compartment was cleared for the ladies ; in 
 the adjoining one four merchants, in long caftans, with 
 
84 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 sacks of watermelons as provision for the journey, took 
 their places, and would not be ejected. A scene of con- 
 fusion- ensued, in which station-master, conductor. Mon- 
 sieur D., my friend P., and the Eussian merchants were 
 curiously mixed ; but when we saw the sacks of water- 
 melons rolling out of the door, we knew the day was ours* 
 In two minutes more we were in full possession ; the doors 
 were locked, and the struggling throngs beat against them 
 in vain. 
 
 With a grateful farewell to our kind guide, whose rather 
 severe duties for our sake were now over, we moved away 
 from the station, past heaps of cotton-bales, past hills of 
 drifting sand, and impassive groups of Persians, Tartars, 
 and Bukharians, and slowly mounted the long grade to 
 the level of the upland, leaving the Fair to hum and whirl 
 in the hollow between the rivers, and the white walls and 
 golden domes of Novgorod to grow dim on the crest of the 
 receding hill. 
 
 The next morning, at sunrise, we were again in Mos- 
 cow. 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 
 
As September drew to all end, with only here and there 
 a suggestion of autumn in chrome-colored leaves on the 
 ends of birch-branches, we were told that any day might 
 suddenly bring forth winter. I remembered that five years 
 before, in precisely the same season, I had travelled from 
 Upsala to Stockholm in a violent snow-storm, and there- 
 fore accepted the announcement as a part of the regular 
 programme of the year. But the days came and went; 
 fashionable equipages forsook their summer ground of the 
 Islands, and crowded the Nevskoi Prospekt ; the nights 
 were cold and raw; the sun's lessening declination was 
 visible from day to day, and still Winter delayed to make 
 his appearance. 
 
 The Island drive was our favorite resort of an afternoon ; 
 and we continued to haunt it long after every summer 
 guest had disappeared, and when the datchas and palaces 
 showed plank and matting in place of balcony and window. 
 In the very heart of St. Petersburg the one full stream of 
 the Neva splits into three main arms, which afterwards 
 subdivide, each seeking the Gulf of Finland at its own 
 swift, wild will. The nearest of these islands, Vassili Os- 
 trow, is a part of the solid city : on Kammenoi and Apte- 
 karskoi you reach the commencement of gardens and 
 groves; and beyond these the rapid waters mirror only 
 palace, park, and summer theatre. The widening streams 
 continually disclose the horizon-line of the Gulf; and at 
 the farthest point of the drive, where the road turns 
 sharply back again from the freedom of the shore into 
 mixed woods of birch and pine, the shipping at Cronstadt 
 — and sometimes the phantoms of fortresses — detach 
 
88 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 themselves from the watery haze, and the hill of Pargola, 
 in Finland, rises to break the dreary level of the Ingrian 
 marshes. 
 
 During the sunny evenings and the never-ending twi- 
 lights of midsummer, all St. Petersburg pours itself upon 
 these islands. A league-long wall of dust rises from the 
 carriages and droshkies in the main highway ; and the 
 branching Neva-arms are crowded with skiffs and diminu- 
 tive steamers bound for pleasure-gardens where gypsies 
 sing and Tyrolese yodel and jugglers toss their knives and 
 balls, and private rooms may be had for gambling and 
 other cryptic diversions. Although with shortened days 
 and cool evenings the tide suddenly took a reflux and the 
 Nevskoi became a suggestion of Broadway (which, of all 
 individual streets, it most nearly resembles), we found an 
 indescribable charm in the solitude of the fading groves 
 and the waves whose lamenting murmur foretold their 
 speedy imprisonment. We had the whole superb drive to 
 ourselves. It is true that Ivan, upon the box, lifted his 
 brows in amazement, and sighed that his jaunty cap of 
 green velvet should be wasted upon the desert air, when- 
 ever I said, " Na Ostrowa" but he was too genuine a Rus- 
 sian to utter a word of remonstrance. 
 
 Thus, day by day, unfashionable, but highly satisfied, we 
 repeated the lonely drive, until the last day came, as it al- 
 ways will. I don't think I shall ever forget it. It was the 
 first day of November. For a fortnight the temperature 
 had been a little below the freezing-point, and the leaves 
 of the alder-thickets, frozen suddenly and preserved as in 
 a great out-door refrigerator, maintained their green. A 
 pale blue mist rose from the Gulf and hung over the 
 islands, the low sun showing an orange disk, which touched 
 the shores with the loveliest color, but gave no warmth to 
 the windless air. The parks and gardens were wholly de- 
 serted, and came and went, on either side, phantom-like in 
 their soft, gray, faded tints. Under every bridge flashed 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 89 
 
 and foamed the clear, beryl-green waters. And nobody in 
 St. Petersburg, except ourselves, saw this last and sunniest 
 flicker of the dying season ! 
 
 The very next day was cold and dark, and so the weather 
 remained, with brief interruptions, for months. On the 
 evening of the 6th, as we drove over the Nikolai Bridge 
 to dine with a friend on Vassili Ostrow, we noticed frag- 
 ments of ice floating down the Neva. Looking up the 
 stream, we were struck by the fact that the remaining 
 bridges had been detached from the St. Petersburg side, 
 floated over, and anchored along the opposite shore. This 
 seemed a needless precaution, for the pieces of drift-ice 
 were hardly large enough to have crushed a skiff. How 
 surprised were we, then, on returning home, four hours 
 later, to find the noble river gone, not a green wave to be 
 seen, and, as far as the eye could reach, a solid floor of ice, 
 over which people were already crossing to and fro ! 
 
 Winter, having thus suddenly taken possession of the 
 world, lost no time in setting up the signs of his rule. The 
 leaves, whether green or brown, disappeared at one swoop ; 
 snow-gusts obscured the little remaining sunshine ; the in- 
 habitants came forth in furs and bulky wrappings ; oysters 
 and French pears became unreasonably dear ; and sledges 
 of frozen fish and game crowded down from the northern 
 forests. In a few days the physiognomy of the capital was 
 completely changed. All its life and stir withdrew from 
 the extremities and -gathered into a few central thorough- 
 fares, as if huddling together for mutual warmth and en- 
 couragement in the cold air and under the gloomy sky. 
 
 For darkness, rather than cold, is the characteristic of 
 the St. Petersburg winter. The temperature, which at 
 Montreal or St. Paul would not be thought remarkably 
 low, seems to be more severely felt here, owing to the ab- 
 sence of pure daylight. Although both Lake Ladoga and 
 the Gulf of Finland are frozen, the air always retains a 
 damp, raw, penetrating quality, and the snow is more fre- 
 
90 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 quently sticky and clammy than dry and crystalline. Few, 
 indeed, are the days which are not cheerless and depress- 
 ing. In December, when the sky is overcast for weeks to- 
 gether, the sun, rising after nine o'clock, and sliding along 
 just above the horizon, enables you to dispense with lamp- 
 light somewhere between ten and eleven ; but by two in 
 the afternoon you must call for lights again. Even when 
 a clear day comes, the yellow, level sunshine is a combina- 
 tion of sunrise and sunset, and neither tempers the air nor 
 mitigates the general expression of gloom, almost of de- 
 spair, upon the face of Nature. 
 
 The preparations for the season, of course, have been 
 made long before. In most houses the double windows 
 are allowed to remain through the summer, but they must 
 be carefully examined, the layer of cotton between them, 
 at the bottom, replenished, a small vessel of salt added to 
 absorb the moisture and prevent it from freezing on the 
 panes, and strips of paper pasted over every possible crack. 
 The outer doors are covered with wadded leather, over- 
 lapping the frames on all sides. The habitations being thus 
 almost hermetically sealed, they are easily warmed by the 
 huge porcelain stoves, which retain warmth so tenaciously 
 that one fire per day is sufficient for the most sensitive 
 constitutions. In my own room, I found that one armful of 
 birch-wood, reduced to coal, every alternate morning, created 
 a steady temperature of 64°. Although the rooms are 
 always spacious, and arranged in suites of from three to a 
 dozen, according to the extent and splendor of the residence, 
 the atmosphere soon becomes close and characterized by 
 an' unpleasant odor, suggesting its diminished vitality ; for 
 which reason pastilles are burned, or eau de Cologne re- 
 duced to vapor in a heated censer, whenever visits are an- 
 ticipated. It was a question with me, whether or not the 
 advantage of a thoroughly equable temperature was counter- 
 balanced by the lack of circulation. The physical depress- 
 ioti we all felt seemed to result chiefly from the absence 
 of daylight. 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 91 
 
 One winter picture remains clearly outlined upon my 
 memory. In the beginning of December we happened 
 once to drive across the Admiralty Square in the early 
 evening twilight, — three o'clock in the afternoon. The 
 temperature was about 10° below zero, the sky a low roof 
 of moveless clouds, which seemed to be frozen in their 
 places. The pillars of St. Isaac's Cathedral — splendid 
 monoliths of granite, sixty feet high — had precipitated the 
 moisture of the air, and stood silvered with rime from base 
 to capital. The Column of Alexander, the bronze statue 
 of Peter, with his horse poised in air on the edge of the 
 rock, and the trees on the long esplanade in front of the 
 Admiralty, were all similarly coated, every twig rising 
 as rigid as iron in the dark air. Only the huge goldert 
 hemisphere of the Cathedral dome, and the tall, pointed 
 golden spire of the Admiralty, rose above the gloom, and 
 half shone with a muffled, sullen glare. A few people, 
 swaddled from head to foot, passed rapidly to and fro, or 
 a droshky, drawn by a frosted horse, sped away to the en- 
 trance of the Nevskoi Prospekt. Even these appeared 
 rather like wintry phantoms than creatures filled with warm 
 blood and breathing the breath of life. The vast spaces of 
 the capital, the magnitude of its principal edifices, and the 
 display of gold and colors, strengthened the general aspect 
 of unreality, by introducing so many inharmonious ele- 
 ments into the picture. A bleak moor, with the light of a 
 single cottage-window shining across it, would have been 
 less cold, dead, and desolate. 
 
 The temperature, I may here mention, was never very 
 severe. There were three days when the mercury fluctu- 
 ated between 15° and 20° below zero, five days when it 
 reached 10° below, and perhaps twenty when it fell to zero, 
 or a degree or two on either side. The mean of the five 
 vfinter months was certainly not lower than -(-12°. Quite 
 as nmch rain fell as snow. After two or three days of 
 sharp cold, there was almost invariably a day of rain or 
 
92 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 fog, and for many weeks walking was so difficult that we 
 were obliged to give up all out-door exercise except 
 skating or sliding. The streets were either coated with 
 glassy ice or they were a foot deep in slush. There is more 
 and better sleighing in the vicinity of Boston almost any 
 winter than in St. Petersburg during the winter of 1862-3. 
 In our trips to the Observatory of Pulkova, twelve miles 
 distant, we were frequently obliged to leave the highway 
 and put our sled-runners upon the frosted grass of the 
 ineadows. The rapid and continual changes of temperature 
 were more trying than any amount of steady cold. Grippe 
 became prevalent, and therefore fashionable, and all the 
 endemic diseases of St. Petersburg showed themselves in 
 force. The city, it is well known, is built upon piles, and 
 most of the inhabitants suffer from them. Children look 
 pale and wilted, in the absence of the sun, and special care 
 must be taken of those under five years of age. Some 
 little relatives of mine, living in the country, had their 
 daily tumble in the snow, and thus kept ruddy ; but in the 
 city this is not possible, and we had many anxious days be- 
 fore the long darkness was over. 
 
 As soon as snow had fallen and freezing weather set in, 
 the rough, broken ice of the Neva was flooded in various 
 places for skating-ponds, and the work of erecting ice-hills 
 commenced. There were speedily a number of the latter 
 in full play, in the various suburbs, — a space of level 
 ground, at least a furlong in length, being necessary. They 
 are supported by subscription, and I had paid ten rubles 
 for permission to use a very fine one on the farther island, 
 when an obliging card of admission came for the gardens 
 of the Taurida Palace, where the younger members of the 
 Imperial family skate and slide. My initiation, however, 
 took place at the first-named locality, whither we were con- 
 ducted by an old American resident of St. Petersburg. 
 
 The construction of these ice-hills is very simple. They 
 are rude towers of timber, twenty to thirty feet in height; 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBUEG. 93 
 
 the summit of which is reached by a staircase at the back, 
 while in front descends a steep concave of planking upon 
 which water is poured until it is covered with a six-inch 
 coating of solid ice. Raised planks at the side keep the 
 sled in its place until it reaches the foot, where it enters 
 upon an icy plain two to four hundred yards in length (in 
 proportion to the height of the hill), at the extremity of 
 which rises a similar hill, facing towards the first, but a 
 little on one side, so that the sleds from the opposite ends 
 may pass without collision. 
 
 The first experience of this diversion is fearful to a per- 
 son of delicate nerves. The pitch of the descent is so 
 sheer, the height so great (apparently), the motion of the 
 sled so swift, and its course so easily changed, — even the 
 lifting of a hand is sufficient, — that the novice is almost 
 sure to make immediate shipwreck. The sleds are small 
 and low, with smooth iron runners, and a plush cushion, 
 upon which the navigator sits bolt upright with his legs 
 close together, projecting over the front. The runners 
 must be exactly parallel to the lines of the course at start- 
 ing, and the least tendency to sway to either side must be 
 instantly corrected by the slightest motion of the hand. 
 
 I engaged one of the mujihs in attendance to pilot me 
 on my first voyage. The man having taken his position 
 well forward on the little sled, I knelt upon the rear end, 
 where there was barely space enough for my knees, placed 
 my hands upon his shoulders, and awaited the result. He 
 shoved the sled with his hands, very gently and carefully, 
 to the brink of the icy steep : then there was a moment's 
 adjustment : then a poise : then — sinking of the heart, 
 cessation of breath, giddy roaring and whistling of the air, 
 and I found myself scudding along the level with the speed 
 of an express train. I never happened to fall out of a 
 fourth-story window, but I immediately understood the sen- 
 sations of the unfortunate persons who do. It was so 
 frightful that I shuddered when we reached the end of the 
 
94 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 course and the man coolly began ascending the steps of 
 the opposite hill, with the sled under his arm. But my com- 
 panions were waiting to see me return, so T mounted after 
 him, knelt again, and held my breath. This time, knowing 
 what was coming, I caught a glimpse of our descent, and 
 found that only the first plunge from the brink was threat- 
 ening. The lower part of the curve, which is nearly a 
 parabolic line, is more gradual, and the seeming headlong 
 fall does not last more than the tenth part of a second. 
 The sensation, nevertheless, is very powerful, having all the 
 attraction, without the reality, of danger. 
 
 The ice-hills in the Taurida Gardens were not so high, 
 and the descent was less abrupt: the course was the 
 smooth floor of an intervening lake, which was kept clear 
 for skating. Here I borrowed a sled, and was so elated at 
 performing the feat successfully, on the first attempt, that 
 I offered my services as charioteer to a lady rash enough 
 to accept them. The increased weight gave so much ad- 
 ditional impetus to the sled, and thus rendered its guidance 
 a more delicate matter. Findinor that it began to turn even 
 before reaching the bottom, I put down my hand suddenly 
 upon the ice. The effect was like an explosion ; we struck 
 the edge of a snow-bank, and were thrown entirely over it 
 and deeply buried on the opposite side. The attendants 
 picked us up without relaxing a muscle of their grave, re- 
 spectful faces, and quietly swept the ice for another trial. 
 But after that I preferred descending alone. 
 
 Good skaters will go up and down these ice-hills on their 
 skates. The feat has a hazardous look, but I have seen it 
 performed by boys of twelve. The young Grand Dukes 
 who visited the Gardens generally contented themselves 
 with skating around the lake at not too violent a speed. 
 Some ladies of the court circle also timidly ventured to try 
 the amusement, but its introduction was too recent for theHR 
 to show much proficiency. On the Neva, in fact, the English 
 were the best skaters. During the winter, one of them 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 95 
 
 crossed the Gulf to Cronstadt, a distance of twenty-two 
 miles, in about two hours. 
 
 Before Christmas, the Lapps came down from the North 
 with their reindeer, and pitched their tents on the river, in 
 front of the Winter Palace. Instead of the canoe-shaped 
 pulk, drawn by a single deer, they hitched four abreast to 
 an ordinary sled, and took « half a dozen passengers at a 
 time, on a course of a mile, for a small fee. I tried it once, 
 for a child's sake, but found that the romance of reindeer 
 travel was lost without the pulk. The Russian sleighs are 
 very similar to our own for driving about the city : in very 
 cold weather, or for trips into the country, the hiUtka, a 
 heavy closed carriage on runners, is used. To my eye, 
 tihe most dashing team in the world is the troika^ or three- 
 span, the thill-horse being trained to trot rapidly, while 
 the other two, very lightly and loosely harnessed, canter 
 on either side of him. From the ends of the thills 
 springs a wooden arch, called the duga^ rising eighteen 
 inches above the horse's shoulder, and usually emblazoned 
 with gilding and brilliant colors. There was one magnifi- 
 cent troika on the Nevskoi Prospekt, the horses of which 
 were full-blooded, jet-black matches, and their harness 
 formed of overlapping silver scales. The Russians being 
 the best coachmen in the world, these teams dash past each 
 other at furious speed, often escaping collision by the 
 breadth of a hair, but never coming in violent contact. 
 
 With the approach of winter the nobility returned from 
 their estates, the diplomatists from their long summer va- 
 cation, the Imperial Court from Moscow, and the previous 
 social desolation of the capital came speedily to an end. 
 There were dinners and routs in abundance, but the sea- 
 son of balls was not fairly inaugurated until invitations had 
 been issued for the first at the Winter Palace. This is 
 usually a grand affair, the guests numbering from fifteen 
 hundred to two thousand. We were agreeably surprised at 
 finding half-past nine fixed as the hour of arrival, and 
 
96 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 took pains to be punctual ; but there were already a hun- 
 dred yards of carriages in advance. The toilet, of course, 
 must be fully completed at home, and the huge pelisses of 
 fur so adjusted as not to disarrange head-dresses, lace, crin- 
 oline, or uniform : the footmen must be prompt, on reach- 
 ing the covered portal, to promote speedy alighting and 
 unwrapping, which being accomplished, each sits guard for 
 the night over his own special pile of pelisses and furred 
 boots. 
 
 When the dresses are shaken out and the gloves 
 smoothed, at the foot of the grand staircase, an usher, in a 
 short, bedizened red tunic and white knee-breeches, with a 
 cap surmounted by three colossal white plumes, steps before 
 you and leads the way onward through the spacious halls, 
 ablaze with light from thousands of wax candles. I always 
 admired the silent gravity of these ushers, and their slow, 
 majestic, almost mysterious march — until one morning 
 at home, when I was visited by four common-looking Rus- 
 sians, in blue caftans, who bowed nearly to the floor and 
 muttered congratulations. It was a deputation of the Im- 
 perial ushers, making their rounds for New Year's gifts ! 
 
 Although the streets of St. Petersburg are lighted with 
 gas, the palaces and private residences are still illuminated 
 only with wax candles. Gas is considered plebeian, but it 
 has probably also been found to be disagreeable in the 
 close air of the hermetically sealed apartments. Candles 
 are used in such profusion that I am told thirty thousand 
 are required to light up an Imperial ball. The quadruple 
 rows of columns which support the Hall of St. George are 
 spirally entwined with garlands of wax-lights, and immense 
 chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling. The wicks 
 of each column are connected with threads dipped in some 
 inflammable mixture, and each thread, being kindled at 
 the bottom at the same instant, the light is carried in a few 
 seconds to every candle in the hall. This instantaneous 
 kindling of so many thousand wicks has a magical effect. 
 
WINTER-LIFE EN ST. PETERSBURG. 97 
 
 At the door of the great hall the usher steps aside, 
 bows gravely, and returns, and one of the deputy masters 
 of ceremonies receives you. These gentlemen are chosen 
 from among the most distinguished families of Russia, and 
 are, without exception, so remarkable for tact, kindness, 
 and discretion, that the multitude falls, almost uncon- 
 sciously, into the necessary observances ; and the perfection 
 of ceremony, which hides its own external indications, is 
 attained. Violations of etiquette are most rare, yet no 
 court in the world appears more simple and unconstrained 
 in its forms. 
 
 In less than fifteen minutes after the appointed time the 
 hall is filled, and a blast from the orchestra announces the 
 entrance of the Imperial family. The ministers and chief 
 personages of the court are already in their proper places, 
 and the representatives of foreign nations stand on one 
 side of the door-way in their established order of prece- 
 dence (determined by length of residence near the court), 
 with the ladies of their body on the opposite side. 
 
 Alexander II. was much brighter and more cheerful 
 than during the preceding summer. His care-worn, pre- 
 occupied air was gone; the dangers which then encom- 
 passed him had subsided ; the nobility, although still chaf- 
 ing fiercely against the decree of emancipation, were slowly 
 coming to the conclusion that its consummation is inevita- 
 ble ; and the Emperor began to feel that his great work 
 will be safely accomplished. His dark-green uniform well 
 becomes his stately figure and clearly chiseled^ symmetri- 
 cal head. He is Nicholas recast in a softer mould, wherein 
 tenacity of purpose is substituted for rigid, inflexible will, 
 and the development of the nation at home supplants the 
 ambition for predominant political infkience abroad. This 
 difference is expressed, despite the strong personal resem- 
 blance to his father, in the more frank and gentle eye, the 
 fuller and more sensitive mouth, and the rounder lines of 
 jaw and forehead. A free, natural directness of manner 
 7 
 
98 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 and speech is his principal characteristic. He wears easily, 
 almost playfully, the yoke of court ceremonial, temporarily 
 casting it aside when troublesome. In two respects he 
 differs from most of the other European rulers whom I 
 have seen : he looks the sovereign, and he unbends as 
 gracefully and unostentatiously as a man risen from the 
 ranks of the people. There is evidently better stuff than 
 kings are generally made of in the Romanoff line. 
 
 Grace and refinement, rather than beauty, distinguish 
 the Empress, though her eyes and hair deserve the latter 
 epithet. She is an invalid, and appears pale and some- 
 what worn ; but there is no finer group of children in 
 Europe than those to whom she has given birth. Six sons 
 and one daughter are her jewels ; and of these, the third 
 son, Vladimir, is almost ideally handsome. Her dress was 
 at once simple and superb — a cloud of snowy tulle, with 
 a scarf of pale-blue velvet, twisted with a chain of the 
 largest diamonds and tied with a knot and tassel of pearls? 
 resting half-way down the skirt, as if it had slipped from 
 her waist. On another occasion, I remember her wearing 
 a crown of five stars, the centres of which were single 
 enormous rubies and the rays of diamonds, so set on invis- 
 ible wires that they burned in the air over her head. The 
 splendor which was a part of her role was always made 
 subordinate to rigid taste, and herein prominently distin- 
 guished her from many of the Russian ladies, who carried 
 great fortunes upon their heads, necks, and bosoms. I 
 had several opportunities of conversing with her, generally 
 upon Art and Literature, and was glad to find that she 
 had both read and thought, as well as seen. The honored 
 author of " Evangeline " numbers her among his apprecia- 
 tive readers. 
 
 After their Majesties have made the circle of the diplo- 
 matic corps, the Polonaise, which always opens a Court 
 ball, commences. The Grand Dukes Nicholas and Mi- 
 chael (brothers of the Emperor), and the younger mem- 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 99 
 
 hers of the Imperial family, take part in it, the latter evi- 
 dently impatient for the succeeding quadrilles and waltzes. 
 When this is finished, all palpable, obtrusive ceremony is 
 at an end. Dancing, conversation, cards, strolls through 
 the sumptuous halls, fill the hours. The Emperor wanders 
 freely through the crowd, saluting here and there a friend, 
 exchanging badinage with the wittiest ladies (which they 
 all seem at liberty to give back, without the least embar- 
 rassment), or seeking out the scarred and gray-haired 
 officers who have come hither from all parts of the vast 
 empire. He does not scrutinize whether or not your back 
 is turned towards him as he passes. Once, on entering a 
 door rather hastily, I came within an ace of a personal col- 
 lision ; whereupon he laughed good-humoredly, caught me 
 by the hands, and saying, " It would have been a shock, 
 n'est-ce pas ? " hurried on. 
 
 ■ To me the most delightful part of the Winter Palace 
 was the garden. It forms one of the suite of thirty halls, 
 some of them three hundred feet long, on the second story. 
 In this garden, which is perhaps a hundred feet square by 
 forty in height, rise clumps of Italian cypress and laurel 
 from beds of emerald turf and blooming hyacinths. In 
 the centre, a fountain showers over fern-covered rocks, 
 and the gravel-walks around the border are shaded by tall 
 camellia-trees in white and crimson bloom. Lamps of 
 frosted glass hang among the foliage, and diffuse a mellow 
 golden moonlight over the enchanted ground. The cor- 
 ridor adjoining the garden resembles a bosky alley, so 
 completely are the walls hidden by flowering shrubbery. 
 
 Leaving the Imperial family, and the kindred houses of 
 Leuchtenberg, Oldenburg, and Mecklenburg, all of which 
 are represented, let us devote a little attention to the 
 ladies, and the crowd of distinguished, though unroyal per- 
 sonages. The former are all decolletees, of course, — even 
 the Countess , who, 1 am positively assured, is ninety- 
 five years old ; but I do not notice much uniformity of 
 
100 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 taste, except in the matter of head-dresses. Chignons have 
 not yet made their appearance, but there are huge coils 
 and sweeps of hair — a mane-like munificence, so disposed 
 as to reveal the art and conceal the artifice. The orna- 
 ments are chiefly flowers, though here and there I see 
 jewels, coral, mossy sticks, dead leaves, birds, and birds'- 
 nests. From the blonde locks of yonder princess hang 
 bunches of green brook-grass, and a fringe of the same 
 trails from her bosom and skirt : she resembles a fished-up 
 and restored Ophelia. Here passes a maiden with a 
 picket-fence of rose coral as a berthe, and she seems to 
 have another around the bottom of her dress ; but, as the 
 mist of tulle is brushed aside in passing, we can detect 
 that the latter is a clever chenille imitation. There is an- 
 other with small moss-covered twigs arranged in the same 
 way ; and yet another with fifty black-lace butterflies, of 
 all sizes, clinging to her yellow satin skirt. All this swim- 
 ming and intermingling mass of color is dotted over with 
 sparkles of jewel-light ; and even the grand hall, with its 
 gilded columns and thousands of tapers, seems but a sober 
 frame for so gorgeous a picture. 
 
 I can only pick out a few of the notable men present, 
 because there is no space to give biographies as well as 
 portraits. That man of sixty, in rich civil uniform, who 
 entered with the Emperor, and who at once reminds an 
 American of Edward Everett both in face and in the pol- 
 ished grace and suavity of his manner, is one of the first 
 statesmen of Europe — Prince Alexander Gortchakoff. 
 Of medium height and robust frame, with a keen, alert eye, 
 a broad, thoughtful forehead, and a wonderfully sagacious 
 mouth, the upper lip slightly covering the under one at the 
 corners, he immediately arrests your attention, and your eye 
 unconsciously follows him as he makes his way through the 
 crowd, with a friendly word for this man and an elegant 
 rapier-thrust for that. His predominant mood, however, 
 is a cheerful good nature ; his wit and irony belong rather 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETEESBUEG. 101 
 
 to the diplomatist than to the man. There is no sounder or 
 more prudent head in Russia. 
 
 But who is this son of Anak, approaching from the cor- 
 ridor ? Towering a full head above the throng, a figure of 
 superb strength and perfect symmetry, we give him that 
 hearty admiration which is due to a man who illustrates 
 and embellishes manhood. In this case we can give it 
 freely ; for that finely balanced head holds a clear, vig- 
 orous brain ; those large blue eyes look from the depths 
 of a frank, noble nature ; and in that broad breast beats 
 a heart warm with love for his country, and good-will for 
 his fellow-men, whether high or low. It is Prince Su- 
 vdroff, the Military Governor of St. Petersburg. If I 
 were to spell his name " Suwarrow," you would know who 
 his grandfather was, and what place in Russian history he 
 fills. In a double sense the present Prince is cast in an 
 heroic mould. It speaks well for Russia that his qualities 
 are so truly appreciated. He is beloved by the people, and 
 trusted by the Imperial Government : for, while firm in his 
 administration of affairs, he is humane, — while cautious, 
 energetic, — and while shrewd and skillful, frank and 
 honest. A noble man, whose like I Wish were oftener to 
 be found in the world. 
 
 Here are two officers, engaged in earnest conversation. 
 The little old man, with white hair, and thin, weather- 
 beaten, wrinkled face, is Admiral Baron Wrangel, whose 
 Arctic explorations on the northern coast of Siberia are 
 known to all geographers. Having read of them as a boy, 
 and then as things of the past, I was greatly delighted at 
 finding the brave old Admiral still alive, and at the privi- 
 lege of taking his hand and hearing him talk in English 
 as fluent as my own. The young officer, with rosy face, 
 brown moustache, and profile strikingly like that of Gen- 
 eral McClellan, has already made his mark. He is Gen- 
 eral Ignatieff, the most prominent young man of the em- 
 pire. Although scarcely thirty-five, he has already filled 
 
102 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 special missions to Bukharia and Peking, and took a lead- 
 ing part in the Treaty of Tien-tsin. At the time of which 
 I write, he was Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs and 
 Chief of the Asiatic Department. 
 
 I might mention Count Bludoif, the venerable President 
 of the Academy of Sciences ; General Todleben ; Admiral 
 Liittke ; and the distinguished members of the Galitzin, 
 Narischkin, Apraxin, Dolgorouky, and Scheremetieff fami- 
 lies, who are present, — but by this time the interminable 
 mazourka is drawing to a close, and a master of ceremonies 
 suggests that we shall step into an adjoining hall to await 
 the signal fi3r supper. The refreshments previously fur- 
 nished consisted simply of tea, orgeat, and cooling drinks 
 made of cranberries, Arctic raspberries, and other fruits ; 
 it is two hours past midnight, and we may frankly confess 
 hunger. 
 
 While certain other guests are being gathered together, 
 I will mention another decoration of the halls, peculiar to 
 St. Petersburg. On either side of all the doors of com- 
 munication in the long range of halls, stands a negro in 
 rich oriental costume, reminding one of the mute palace- 
 guards in the Arabian tales. Happening to meet one of 
 these men in the Summer Garden, I addressed him in 
 Arabic ; but he knew only enough of the language to in- 
 form me that he was born in Dar-Fur. I presume, there- 
 fore, they were obtained in Constantinople. In the large 
 halls, which are illustrated with paintings of battles, in all 
 the Russian campaigns from Pultowa to Sebastopol, are 
 posted companies of soldiers at the farther end — a differ- 
 ent regiment to each hall. For six hours these men and 
 their officers stand motionless as statues. Not a move- 
 ment, except now and then of the eyelid, can be detected ; 
 even their respiration seems to be suspended. There is 
 something weird and uncanny in such a preternatural 
 silence and apparent death-in-life. I became impressed 
 with the idea that some form of catalepsy had seized and 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 103 
 
 bound them in strong trance. The eyeballs were fixed: 
 they stared at me and saw me not : their hands were glued 
 to the weapons, and their feet to the floor. I suspect there 
 must have been some stolen relief when no guest happened 
 to be present, yet, come when I might, I found them un- 
 changed. When I reflected that the men were undoubtedly 
 very proud of the distinction they enjoyed, and that their 
 case demanded no sympathy, I could inspect and admire 
 them with an easy mind. 
 
 The Grand Chamberlain now advances, followed by the 
 Imperial family, behind which, in a certain order of pre- 
 cedence, the guests fall into place, and we presently reach 
 a supper-hall, gleaming with silver and crystal. There 
 are five others, I am told, and each of the two thousand 
 guests has his chair and plate. In the centre stands the 
 Imperial table, on a low platform: between wonderful 
 epergnes of gold spreads a bed of hyacinths and crocuses. 
 Hundreds of other epergnes, of massive silver, flash from 
 the tables around. The forks and spoons are gold, the 
 decanters of frosted crystal, covered with silver vine-leaves ; 
 even the salt-cellars are works of art. It is quite proper 
 that the supper should be substantial ; and as one such en- 
 tertainment is a pattern for all that succeed, I may be al- 
 lowed to mention the principal dishes : creme de Vorge, pate 
 de foie gras, cutlets of fowl, game, asparagus, and salad, 
 followed by fruits, ices, and bon-bons, and moistened with 
 claret, Sauterne, and Champagne. I confess, however, that 
 the superb silver chasing, and the balmy hyacinths Which 
 almost leaved over my plate, feasted my senses quite as 
 much as the delicate viands. 
 
 After supper, the company returns to the Hall of St. 
 George, a quadrille or two is danced to promote digestion, 
 and the members of ihe Imperial family, bowing first to 
 the diplomatic corps, and then to the other guests, retire 
 to the private apartments of the palace. Now we are at 
 liberty to leave, — not sooner, — and rapidly, yet not with 
 
104 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 undignified haste, seek the main staircase. Cloaking and 
 booting (Ivan being on hand, with eyes like a lynx) are 
 performed without regard to head-dress or uniform, and 
 we wait while the carriages are being called, until the 
 proper pozlannik turns up. If we envied those who got off 
 sooner, we are now envied by those who still must wait, 
 bulky in black satin or cloth, in sable or raccoon skin. It 
 is half past three when we reach home, and there are still 
 six hours until sunrise. 
 
 The succeeding balls, whether given by the Grand 
 Dukes, the principal members of the Russian nobility, or 
 the heads of foreign legations, were conducted on the 
 same plan, except that, in the latter instances, the guests 
 were not so punctual in arriving. The pleasantest of the 
 season was one given by the Emperor in the Hermitage 
 Palace. The guests, only two hundred in number, were 
 bidden to come in ordinary evening-dress, and their Im- 
 pe'rial Majesties moved about among them as simply and 
 unostentatiously as any well-bred American host and host- 
 ess. On a staircase at one side of the Moorish Hall sat a 
 distinguished Hungarian artist, sketching the scene, with 
 its principal figures, for a picture. 
 
 I was surprised to find how much true social culture ex- 
 ists in St. Petersburg. Aristocratic manners, in their per- 
 fection, are simply democratic ; but this is a truth which is 
 scarcely recognized by the nobility of Germany, and only 
 partially by that of England. The habits of refined society 
 are very much the same everywhere. The man or woman 
 of real culture recognizes certain forms as necessary, that 
 social intercourse may be ordered instead of being arbitrary 
 and chaotic ; but these forms must not be allowed to limit 
 the free, expansive contact of mind with mind and charac- 
 ter with character which is the charm and blessing of society. 
 Those who meet withiaf the same walls meet upon an equal 
 footing, and all accidental distinctions cease for the time. I 
 found these principles acted upon to quite as full an ex* 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 105 
 
 tent as (perhaps even more so than) they are at home. 
 One of the members of the Imperial family, even, expressed 
 to me the intense weariness occasioned by the observance 
 of the necessary forms of court life, and the wish that they 
 might be made as simple as possible. 
 
 I was interested in extending my acquaintance among 
 the Russian nobility, as they, to a certain extent, represent 
 the national culture. So far as my observations reached, T 
 found that the women were better read, and had more 
 general knowledge of art, literature, and even politics, than 
 the men. My most instructive intercourse was with the 
 former. It seemed that most men (here I am not speak- 
 ing of the members of the Imperial Government) had each 
 his specialty, beyond which he showed but a limited in- 
 terest. There was one distinguished circle, however, 
 where the intellectual level of the conversation was as high 
 as I have ever found it anywhere, and where the only title 
 to admission prescribed* by the noble host was the capacity 
 to take part in it. In that circle I heard not only the 
 Polish Question discussed, but the Unity or Diversity of. 
 Races, Modern and Classic Art, Strauss, Emerson, and 
 Victor Hugo, the ladies contributing their share. At a 
 soiree given by the Princess LvofF, I met Richard Wagner, 
 the composer, Rubinstein, the pianist, and a number of 
 artists "^nd literary men. 
 
 A society, the head of which is a court, and where ex- 
 ternals, of necessity, must be first considered, is not the 
 place to seek for true and lasting intimacies ; but one may 
 find what is next best, in a social sense — cheerful and 
 cordial intercourse. The circle of agreeable and friendly 
 acquaintance continually enlarged ; and I learned to know 
 one friend (and perhaps one should hardly expect more 
 than that in any year) whom I shall not forget, nor he me, 
 though we never meet again. The Russians have been 
 unjustly accused of a lack of that steady, tender, faithful 
 depth of character upon which friendship must rest. Let 
 
106 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 US not forget that one of Washington Irving's dearest 
 friends was Prince Dolgorouki. 
 
 Nevertheless, the constant succession of entertainments, 
 agreeable as they were, became in the end fatiguing to 
 quiet persons like ourselves. The routs and soirees, it is 
 true, were more informal and unceremonious : one was not 
 obliged to spend more than an hour at each, but then one 
 was not expected to arrive before eleven o'clock. We fell, 
 perforce, into the habits of the place, — of sleeping two or 
 three hours after dinner, then rising, and after a cup of 
 strong tea, dressing for the evening. After Carnival, the 
 balls ceased ; but there were still frequent routs, until 
 Easter week closed the season. 
 
 I was indebted to Admiral Liittke, President of the Im- 
 perial Geographical Society, for an invitation to attend its 
 sessions, some of which were of the most interesting char- 
 acter. My great regret was, that a very imperfect knowl- 
 edge of the language prevented me from understanding 
 much of the proceedings. On one occasion, while a paper 
 on the survey of the Caspian Sea was being read, a tall, 
 stately gentleman, sitting at the table beside me, obligingly 
 translated all the principal facts into French, as they were 
 stated. I afterwards found that he was Count Panin, Min- 
 ister of Justice. In the transactions of the various literary 
 and scientific societies, the Russian language has now en- 
 tirely supplanted the French, although the latter keeps its 
 place in the salons, chiefly on account of the foreign ele- 
 ment. The Empress has weekly conversazioni, at which 
 only Russian is spoken, and to which no foreigners are 
 admitted. It is becoming fashionable to have visiting- 
 cards in both languages. 
 
 Of all the ceremonies which occurred during the winter, 
 that of New Year's Day (January 13th, N. S.) was most 
 interesting. After the members of the different legations 
 had called in a body to pay their respects to the Emperor 
 and Empress, the latter received the ladies of the Court, 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBURG. 107 
 
 who, on this occasion, wore the national costume, in the 
 grand hall. We were permitted to witness the spectacle, 
 which is unique of its kind and wonderfully beautiful. The 
 Empress, having taken her place alone near one end of 
 the hall, with the Emperor and his family at a little dis- 
 tance on her right, the doors at the other end — three hun- 
 dred feet distant — were thrown open, and a gorgeous pro- 
 cession approached, sweeping past the gilded columns, and 
 growing with every step in color and splendor. The ladies 
 walked in single file, about eight feet apart, each holding 
 the train of the one preceding her. The costume consists 
 of a high, crescent-shaped head-dress of velvet covered with 
 jewels ; a short, embroidered corsage of silk or velvet, with 
 open sleeves ; a full skirt and sweeping train of velvet or 
 satin or moire, with a deep border of point-lace. As the 
 first lady approached the Empress, her successor dropped 
 the train, spreading it, by a dexterous movement, to its 
 full breadth on the polished floor. The lady, thus re- 
 leased, bent her knee, and took the Empress's hand to kiss 
 it, which the latter prevented by gracefully lifting her and 
 saluting her on the forehead. After a few words of con- 
 gratulation, she passed across the hall, making a profound 
 obeisance to the Emperor on the way. 
 
 This was the most trying part of the ceremony. She 
 was alone and unsupported, with all eyes upon her. and it 
 required no slight amount of skill and self-possession to 
 cross the hall, bow, and carry her superb train to the op- 
 posite side, without turning her back on the Imperial pres- 
 ence. At the end of an hour the dazzling group gathered 
 on the right equaled in numbers the long line marching up 
 on the left — and still they came. It was a luxury of color, 
 scarcely to be- described, — all flowery and dewy tints, in 
 a setting of white and gold. There were crimson, maroon, 
 blue, lilac, salmon, peach-blossom, mauve, magenta, silver- 
 gray, pearl-rose, daffodil, pale orange, purple, pea-green, 
 sea-green, scarlet, violet, drab, and pink, — and, whether 
 
108 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 by accident or design, the succession of colors never 
 shocked by too violent contrast. This was the perfection 
 of scenic effect ; and we lingeted, enjoying it exquisitely, 
 until the last of several hundred ladies closed the radiant 
 spectacle. 
 
 The festival of Epiphany is celebrated by the blessing 
 of the waters of the Neva, followed by a grand military 
 review on the Admiralty Square. We were invited to 
 witness both ceremonies from the windows of the Winter 
 Palace, where, through the kindness of Prince Dolgorouki, 
 we obtained favorable points of view. As the ceremonies 
 last two or three hours, an elegant breakfast was served 
 to the guests in the Moorish Hall. The blessing of the 
 Neva is a religious festival, witti the accompaniment of 
 tapers, incense, and chanting choirs, and we could only see 
 that the Emperor performed his part uncloaked and bare- 
 headed in the freezing air, finishing by descending the 
 steps of an improvised chapel and well (the building an- 
 swered bo-th purposes), and drinking the water from a hole 
 in the ice. Far and wide over the frozen surface similar 
 holes were cut, where, during the remainder of the day, 
 priests officiated, and thousands of the common people 
 were baptized by immersion. As they generally came out 
 covered with ice, warm booths were provided for them on 
 the banks, where they thawed themselves out, rejoicing 
 that they would now escape sickness or misfortune for a 
 year to come. 
 
 The review requires a practiced military pen to do it 
 justice, and I fear I must give up the attempt. It was a 
 " small review," only about twenty-five thousand troops be- 
 ing under arms. In the uniformity of size and build of 
 the men, exactness of equipment, and precision of move- 
 ment, it would be difficult to imagine anything more per- 
 fect. All sense of the individual soldier was lost in the 
 grand sweep and wheel and march of the columns. The 
 Circassian chiefs, in their steel skull-caps ^nd shirts of chain 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST. PETERSBUEG. 109 
 
 mail seemed to have ridden into their places direct from 
 the Crusades. The Cossacks of the Don, the Ukraine, and 
 the Ural, managed their little brown or black horses (each 
 regiment having its own color) so wonderfully, that, as we 
 looked down upon them, each line resembled a giant cater- 
 pillar, moving sidewise with its thousand legs creeping as 
 one. These novel and picturesque elements constituted 
 the principal charm of the spectacle. 
 
 The passing away of winter was signalized by an increase 
 of daylight rather than a decrease of cold. The rivers 
 were still locked, the ice-hills frequented, the landscape 
 dull and dead ; but by the beginning of February we could 
 detect signs of the returning sun. When' the sky was clear 
 (a thing of rarest occurrence), there was white light at noon- 
 day, instead of the mournful yellow or orange gloom of the 
 previous two months. After the change had fairly set in, 
 it proceeded more and more rapidly, until our sunshine was 
 increased at the rate of seven or eight minutes per day. 
 When the vernal equinox came, and we could sit down to 
 dinner at sunset, the spell of death seemed to be at last 
 broken. The fashionable drive, of an afternoon, changed 
 from the Nevskoi Prospekt to the Palace Quay on the 
 Neva ; the Summer Garden was cleared of snow, and its 
 statues one by one unboxed ; in fine days we could walk 
 there, and there coax back the faded color to a child's 
 face. There, too, walked Alexander II., one of the crowd, 
 leading his little daughter by the hand ; and thither, in a 
 plain little caleche, drove the Empress, with her youngest 
 baby on her lap. 
 
 But when the first ten days of April had passed and 
 there was still no sign of spring, we began to grow impa- 
 tient. How often I watched the hedges around the Michai- 
 loffsky Palace, knowing that the buds would there first 
 swell ! How we longed for a shimmer of green under the 
 brown grass, an alder tassel, a flush of yellow on the willow 
 wands, a sight of rushing green water ! One day, a week or 
 
110 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 SO later, we were engaged to dine on Vassili Ostrow. I had 
 been busily occupied until late in the afternoon, and when 
 we drove out upon the square, I glanced, as usual, towards 
 Peter the Great. Lo! behind him flashed and glittered 
 the free, the rejoicing Neva! Here and there floated a 
 cake of sullen ice, but the great river had bared his breast 
 to the sun, which welcomed him after six months of ab- 
 sence. The upper pontoon-bridges were already spanned 
 and crowded with travel, but the lower one, carried away 
 before it could be secured, had been borne down by the 
 stream and jammed against and under the solid granite 
 and iron of the Nikolai Bridge. There was a terrible 
 crowd and confusion at the latter place; all travel was 
 stopped, and we could get neither forward nor backward. 
 Presently, however, the Emperor appeared upon the scene ; 
 order was the instant result ; the slow officials worked 
 with a will ; and we finally reached our host's residence 
 half an hour behind the time. As we returned, at night, 
 there was twilight along the northern sky, and the stars 
 sparkled on the crystal bosom of the river. 
 
 This was the snapping of winter's toughest fetter, but it 
 was not yet spring. Before I could detect any sign of re- 
 turning life in Nature, May had come. Then, little by 
 little, the twigs in the marshy thickets began to show yel- 
 low and purple and brown, the lilac-buds to swell, and some 
 blades of fresh grass to peep forth in sheltered places. 
 This, although we had sixteen hours of sunsHirie, with an 
 evening twilight which shifted into dusky dawn under the 
 North Star ! I think it was on the 13th of May that I 
 first realized that the season had changed, and for the last 
 time saw the noble-hearted ruler who is the central figure 
 of these memories. The People's Festival — a sort of 
 Russian May-day — took place at Catharinenhof, a park 
 and palace of the famous Empress, near the shore of the 
 Finnish Gulf The festival, that year, had an unusual sig- 
 nificance. On the 3d of March the edict of Emancipation 
 
WINTER-LIFE IN ST, PETERSBURG. Ill 
 
 was finally consummated, and twenty-two millions of serfs 
 became forever free : the Polish troubles and the menace 
 of the Western powers had consolidated the restless nobles, 
 the patient people, and the plotting revolutionists, the or- 
 thodox and dissenting sects, into one great national party, 
 resolved to support the Emperor and maintain the integ- 
 rity of the Russian territory: and thus the nation was 
 marvelously strengthened by the very blow intended to 
 cripple it. 
 
 4t least a hundred thousand of the common people 
 (possibly, twice that number) were gathered together in 
 the park of Catharinenhof. There were booths, shows, 
 flying-horses, refreshment saloons, jugglers, circuses, bal- 
 loons, and exhibitions of all kinds : the sky was fair, the 
 turf green and elastic, and the swelling birch-buds scented 
 the air. I wandered about for hours, watching the lazy, 
 con tell ted people, as they leaped and ran, rolled on the 
 grass, pulled off their big boots and aired their naked legs, 
 or laughed and sang in jolly chorus. About three in the 
 afternoon there was a movement in the main avenue of the 
 park. Hundreds of young mujiks appeared, running at 
 full speed, shouting out, tossing their caps high in the air, 
 and giving their long, blonde locks to the wind. Instantly 
 the crowd collected on each side, many springing like cats 
 into the trees; booths and shows we're deserted, and an 
 immense multitude hedged the avenue. Behind the leap- 
 ing, shouting, cap-tossing avant-garde came the Emperor, 
 with three sons and a dozen generals, on horseback, canter- 
 ing lightly. One cheer went up from scores of thousands ; 
 hats darkened the air ; eyes blazing with filial veneration 
 followed the stately figure of the monarch, as he passed by, 
 gratefully smiling and greeting on either hand. I stood 
 among the people and watched their faces. I saw the 
 phlegmatic Slavonic features transformed with a sudden 
 and powerful expression of love, of devotion, of gratitude, 
 and then I knew that the throne of Alexander II. rested 
 
112 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 on a better basis than tradition or force. I saw therein an- 
 other side of this shrewd, cunning, patient, and childlike 
 race, whom no other European race yet understands and 
 appreciates — a race yet in the germ, but with qualities 
 out of which a people, in the best sense of the word, may 
 be developed. 
 
 The month of May was dark, rainy, and cold ; and when 
 I left St. Petersburg, at its close, everybody said that a few 
 days would bring the summer. The leaves were opening, 
 almost visibly from hour to hour. Winter was really over, 
 and summer was just at the door ; but I found, upon reflec- 
 tion, that I had not had the slightest experience of spring. 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 
 
The traveller who first reaches the Lake of Constance 
 at Lindau, or crosses that sheet of pale green water to one 
 of the ports on the opposite Swiss shore, cannot fail to 
 notice the bold heights to the southward which thrust 
 themselves between the opening of the Rhine Valley and 
 the long, undulating ridges of the Canton Thurgau. These 
 heights, broken by many a dimly hinted valley -and ravine, 
 appear to be the front of an Alpine table-land. Houses 
 and villages, scattered over the steep ascending plane, 
 present themselves distinctly to the eye ; the various green 
 of forest and pasture land is rarely interrupted by the gray 
 of rocky walls ; and the afternoon sun touches the topmost 
 edge of each successive elevation with a sharp outline of 
 golden light, through the rich gloom of the shaded slopes. 
 Behind and over this region rise the serrated peaks of the 
 Sentis Alp, standing in advance of the farther ice-fields of 
 Glarus, like an outer fortress, garrisoned in summer by 
 the merest forlorn hope of snow. 
 
 The green fronts nearest the lake, and the lower lands 
 falling away to the right and left, belong to the Canton of 
 St. Gall ; but all aloft, beyond that frontier marked by the 
 sinking sun, lies the Appenzeller Ldndli, as it is called in 
 the endearing diminutive of the Swiss German tongue, — 
 the Little Land of Appenzell. 
 
 If, leaving the Lake of Constance by the Rhine Valley, 
 you ascend to Ragatz and the Baths of Pfeffers, thence 
 turn westward to the Lake of Wallenstatt, cross into the 
 valley of the Toggenburg, and so make your way northward 
 and eastward around the base of the mountains back to 
 the starting point, you will have passed only through the 
 
116 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 territory of St. Gall. Appenzell is an Alpine island, wholly 
 surrounded by the former canton. From whatever side 
 you approach, you must climb in order to get into it. It is 
 a nearly circular tract, falling from the south towards the 
 north, but lifted, at almost every point, over the adjoining 
 lands. This altitude and isolation is an historical as well 
 as a physical peculiarity. When the Abbots of St. Gall, 
 after having reduced the entire population of what is now 
 two cantons to serfdom, became more oppressive as their 
 power increased, it was the mountain shepherds who, in 
 the year 1403, struck the first blow for liberty. Once free, 
 they kept their freedom, and established a rude democracy 
 on the heights, similar in form and spirit to the league 
 which the Forest Cantons had founded nearly a century 
 before. An echo from the meadow of Griitli reached the 
 wild valleys around the Sentis, and Appenzell, by the mid- 
 dle of the fifteenth century, became one of the original 
 states out of which Switzerland has grown. 
 
 I find something very touching and admirable in this 
 fragment of hardly noticed history. The people isolated 
 themselves by their own act, held together, organized a 
 simple yet sufficient government, and maintained their 
 sturdy independence, while their brethren on every side, 
 in the richer lands below them, were fast bound in the 
 gyves of a priestly despotism. Individual liberty seems to 
 be a condition inseparable from mountain life ; that once 
 attained, all other influences are conservative in their char- 
 acter. The cantons of Unterwalden, Schwytz, Glarus, and 
 Appenzell retain to-day the simple, primitive forms of 
 democracy which had their origin in the spirit of the peo- 
 ple nearly six hundred years ago. 
 
 Twice had I looked up to the little mountain republic 
 from the lower lands to the northward, with the desire and 
 the determination to climb one day the green buttresses 
 which support it on every side ; so, when I left St. Gall on 
 a misty morning, in a little open carriage, bound for Trogen, 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 117 
 
 it was with the pleasant knowledge that a land almost un- 
 known to tourists lay before me. The only summer visit- 
 ors are invalids, mostly from Eastern Switzerland and 
 Germany, who go up to drink the whey of goats' milk ; 
 and, although the fabrics woven by the people are known 
 to the world of fashion in all countries, few indeed are the 
 travellers who turn aside from the near highways. The 
 landlord in St. Gall told me that his guests were almost 
 wholly commercial travellers, and my subsequent experi- 
 ence among an unspoiled people convinced me that I was 
 almost a pioneer in the paths I traversed. 
 
 It was the last Saturday in April, and at least a month 
 too soon for the proper enjoyment of the journey ; but on 
 the following day the Landsgemeinde, or Assembly of the 
 People, was to be held at.Hundwyl, in the manner and with 
 the ceremonies which have been annually observed for the 
 last three or four hundred years. This circumstance de- 
 termined the time of my visit. I wished to study the 
 character of an Alpine democracy, so pure that it has not 
 yet adopted even the representative principle, — to be with 
 and among a portion of the Swiss people at a time when 
 they are most truly themselves, rather than look at them 
 through the medium of conventional guides, on lines of 
 travel which have now lost everything of Switzerland ex- 
 cept the scenery. 
 
 There was bad weather behind, and, I feared, bad 
 weather before me. " The sun will soon drive away these 
 mists," said the postilion, " and when we get up yonder, 
 you will see what a prospect there will be." In the rich 
 valley of St. Gall, out of which we mounted, the scattered 
 houses and cloud-like belts of blossoming cherry-trees 
 almost hid the green ; but it sloped up and down, on 
 either side of the rising road, glittering with flowers and 
 dew, in the flying gleams of sunshine. Over us hung 
 masses of gray cloud, which stretched across the valley, 
 hooded the opposite hills, and sank into a dense mass over 
 
118 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 the Lake of Constance. As we passed through this belt, 
 and rejoiced in the growing clearness of the upper sky, I 
 saw that my only prospect would be in cloud-land. After 
 many windings, along which the blossoms and buds of the 
 fruit-trees indicated the altitude as exactly as any barom- 
 eter, we finally reached the crest of the topmost height, the 
 frontier of Appenzell and the battle-field of Voglisegg, 
 where the herdsman first measured his strength with the 
 soldier and the monk, and was victorious. 
 
 "Whereabouts was the battle fought?" I asked the 
 postilion. 
 
 " Up and down, and all around here," said he, stopping 
 the carriage at the summit. 
 
 I stood up and looked to the north. Seen from above, 
 the mist had gathered into dense, rounded clouds, touched 
 with silver on their upper edges. They hung over the lake, 
 rolling into every bay and spreading from shore to shore, 
 so that not a gleam of water was visible; but over their 
 heaving and tossing silence rose, far away, the mountains 
 of the four German states beyond the lake. An Alp in 
 Vorarlberg made a shining island in the sky. The postil- 
 ion was loud in his regrets, yet I thought the picture best 
 as it was. On the right lay the land of Appenzell — not a 
 table-land, but a region of mountain ridge and summit, of 
 valley and deep, dark gorge, green as emerald up to the 
 line of snow, and so thickly studded with dwellings, grouped 
 or isolated, that there seemed to be one scattered village 
 as far as the eye could reach. To the south, over forests 
 of fir, the Sentis lifted his huge towers of rock, crowned 
 with white, wintry pyramids. 
 
 " Here, where we are," said the postilion, " was the first 
 battle ; but there was another, two years afterwards, over 
 there, the other side of Trogen, where the road goes down 
 to the Rhine. Stoss is the place, and there's a chapel built 
 on the very spot. Duke Frederick of Austria came to help 
 the Abbot Kuno, and the Appenzellers were only one to 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 119 
 
 ten against them. It was a great fight, they say, and the 
 women helped — not with pikes and guns, but in this way : 
 they put on white shirts, and came out of the woods, above 
 where the fighting was going on. Now, when the Austrians 
 and the Abbot's people saw them, they thought there were 
 spirits helping the Appenzellers (the women were all white, 
 you see, and too far off to show plainly), and so they gave 
 up the light after losing nine hundred knights and troopers. 
 After that, it was ordered that the women should go first 
 to the sacrament, so that no man might forget the help they 
 gave in that battle. And the people go every year to the 
 chapel, on the same day when it took place." 
 
 I looked, involuntarily, to find some difference in the pop- 
 ulation after passing the frontier. But I had not counted 
 upon the leveling influence which the same kind of labor 
 exercises, whether upon mountain or in valley. So long 
 as Appenzell was a land of herdsmen, many peculiarities 
 of costume, features, and manners must have remained. 
 For a long time, however, Outer-Rhoden, as this part of 
 the Canton is called, has shared with that part of St. Gall 
 which lies below it the manufacture of fine muslins and 
 embroideries. There are looms in almost every house, and 
 this fact explains the density of population and the signs 
 of wealth on every hand, which would otherwise puzzle 
 the stranger. The houses are not only so near together 
 that almost every man can call to his neighbors and be 
 heard, but they are large, stately, and even luxurious, in 
 contrast to the dwellings of other country people in Eu- 
 rope. The average population of Outer-Rhoden amounts 
 to four hundred and seventy-five persons to the square 
 mile, being nearly double that of the most thickly settled 
 portions of Holland. 
 
 If one could only transport a few of these houses to the 
 United States ! Our country architecture is not only hid- 
 eous, but frequently unpractical, being at worst shanties, 
 and at best city residences set in the fields. An Appenzell 
 
120 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 farmer lives in a house from forty to sixty feet square, and 
 rarely less than four stories in height. The two upper sto- 
 ries, however, are narrowed by the high, steep roof, so that 
 the true front of the house is one of the gables. The roof 
 projects at least four feet on all sides, giving shelter to bal- 
 conies of carved wood, which cross the front under each 
 row of windows. The outer walls are covered with upright, 
 overlapping shingles, not more than two or three inches 
 broad, and rounded at the ends, suggesting the scale armor 
 of ancient times. This covering secures the greatest warmth ; 
 and when the shingles have aquired from age that rich 
 burnt-sienna tint which no paint could exactly imitate, the 
 effect is exceedingly beautiful. The lowest story is gen- 
 erally of stone, plastered and whitewashed. The stories are 
 low (seven to eight feet), but the windows are placed side 
 by side, and each room is thoroughly lighted. Such a 
 house is very warm, very durable, and, without any appa- 
 rent expenditure of ornament, is externally so picturesque 
 that no ornament could improve it. 
 
 Many of the dwellings, I was told, could not be built 
 with the present means of the population, at the present 
 prices of labor and material. They date from the palmy 
 days of Appenzell industry, before machinery had reduced 
 the cost of the finer fabrics. Then, one successful manu- 
 facturer competed with another in the erection of showy 
 houses, and fifty thousand francs (a large sum for the 
 times) were frequently expended on a single dwelling. 
 The view of a broad Alpine landscape, dotted all over 
 with such beautiful homes, from the little shelf of green 
 hanging on the sides of a rocky gorge and the strips of 
 sunny pasture between the ascending forests, to the very 
 summits of the lower heights and the saddles between 
 them, was something quite new in my experience. 
 
 Turning around the point of Voglisegg, we made for 
 Trogen, one of the two capitals of Outer-Rhoden, which 
 lay before us, across the head of the deep and wild St. 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 121 
 
 Martin's Tobel. {Tohel is an Appenzell word, correspond- 
 ing precisely to the gulch of California.) My postilion 
 mounted, and the breathed horse trotted merrily along the 
 winding level. One stately house after another, with a 
 clump of fruit-trees on the sheltered side, and a row of 
 blooming hyacinths and wall-flowers on the balcony, passed 
 by on either side. The people we met were sunburnt and 
 ugly, but there was a rough air of self-reliance about them, 
 and they gave me a hearty " God greet you ! " one and all. 
 Just before reaching Trogen, the postilion pointed to an 
 old, black, tottering platform of masonry, rising out of a 
 green slope of turf on the right. The grass around it 
 seemed ranker than elsewhere. 
 
 This was the place of execution, where capital criminals 
 are still beheaded with the sword, in the sight of the people. 
 The postilion gave me an account, with all the horrible de- 
 tails, of the last execution, only three years ago, — how the 
 murderer would not confess until he was brought out of 
 prison to hear the bells tolling for his victim's funeral, — 
 how thereupon he was sentenced, and — but I will not re- 
 late further. I have always considered the death penalty 
 a matter of policy rather than principle ; but the sight of 
 that blood-stained platform, the blood-fed weeds around it, 
 and the vision of the headsman, in his red mantle, looking 
 down upon the bared neck stretched upon the block, gave 
 me more horror of the custom than all the books and 
 speeches which have been said and written against it. 
 
 At Trogen I stopped at the principal inn, two centuries 
 old, the quaint front painted in fresco, the interior neat and 
 fresh as a new toy — a very gem of a house ! The floor 
 upon which I entered from the street was payed with flat 
 stones. A solid wooden staircase, dark with age, led to the 
 guests' room in the second story. One side of this room 
 was given up to the windows, and there was a charming 
 hexagonal oriel in the corner. The low ceiling was of 
 wood, in panels, the stove a massive tower, faced with por- 
 
122 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 celain tiles, the floor polished nearly into whiteness, and all 
 tlie doors, cup-boards, and tables, made of brown nut-wood, 
 gave an air of warmth and elegance to the apartment. All 
 other parts of the house were equally neat and orderly. 
 The hostess greeted me with, " Be you welcome ! " and set 
 about preparing dinner, as it was now nearly noon. In the 
 pauses of her work she came into the room to talk, and 
 was very ready to give information concerning the country 
 and people. 
 
 There were already a little table and three plates in the 
 oriel, and while I was occupied with my own dinner I did 
 not particularly notice the three persons who sat down to 
 theirs. The coarseness and harshness of their dialect, 
 however, presently struck my ear. It was pure Appenzell, 
 a German made up of singular and puzzling elisions, and 
 with a very strong guttural h and g, in addition to the ch. 
 Some knowledge of the Alemannic dialect of the Black 
 Forest enabled me to understand the subject of conversa- 
 tion, which, to my surprise, was — the study of the classics ! 
 It was like hearing an Irishman talk of Shelley's " Witch 
 of Atlas " in the broadest Tipperary brogue. I turned and 
 looked at the persons. They were well dressed young men, 
 evidently the best class of Appenzellers — possibly tutors 
 in the schools of Trogen. Their speech in no wise differed 
 from that of the common herdsmen, except that they were 
 now and then obliged to use words which, being unknown 
 to the people, had escaped mutilation. I entered into con- 
 versation, to ascertain whether true German was not pos- 
 sible to them, since they must needs read and write the 
 language ; but, although they understood me, they could 
 only partly, and with evident difficulty, lay aside their own 
 patois. I found this to be the case everywhere throughout 
 the Canton. It is a circumstance so unusual, that, in spite 
 of myself, associating a rude dialect with ignorance, I was 
 always astonished when those who spoke it showed culture 
 and knowledge of the world. 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 123 
 
 The hostess provided me with a guide and pack-bearer, 
 and I set out on foot across the country towards Hundwyl. 
 This guide, Jakob by name, made me imagine that I had 
 come among a singular people. He was so short that he 
 could easily walk under my arm ; his gait was something 
 between a roll and a limp, although he stoutly disclaimed 
 lameness ; he laughed whenever I spoke to 4iim, and an- 
 swered in a voice' which seemed the cuneiform character 
 put into sound. First, there was an explosion of gutturals, 
 and then came a loud trumpet-tone, something like the 
 Honk ! honk ! of wild geese. Yet, when he placed his squat 
 figure behind a tavern table, and looked at me quietly with 
 his mouth shut, he was both handsome and distinguished 
 in appearance. We walked two miles together before I 
 guessed how to unravel his speech. It is almost as difficult 
 to learn a dialect as a new language, and but for the key 
 which the Alemannic gave me, I should have been utterly 
 at sea. Who, for instance, could ever guess that a' Ma' g'si, 
 pronounced " amaa:i " (the x representing a desperate gut- 
 tural), really stands for einen Mann gewesen ? 
 
 The road was lively with country people, many of whom 
 were travelling in our own direction. Those we met in- 
 variably addressed us with " God greet you ! " or " Gudt 
 ti ! " which it was easy to translate into " Good-day ! " 
 Some of the men were brilliant in scarlet jackets, with 
 double rows of square silver buttons, and carried swords 
 under their arms ; they were bound for the Landsgemeinde, 
 whither the law of the Middle Ages still obliges them to 
 go armed. When I asked Jakob if he would accompany 
 me as far as Hundwyl, he answered, " I can't ; I daren't 
 go there without a black dress, and my sword, and a cylin- 
 der hat." 
 
 The wild Toheh, opening downward to the Lake of Con- 
 stance, which now shimmered afar through the gaps, were 
 left behind us, and we passed westward along a broken, 
 irregular valley. The vivid turf was sown with all the 
 
124 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 flowers of spring, — primrose, violet, buttercup, anemone, 
 and veronica, — faint, but sweetest-odored, and the heralds 
 of spring in all lands. So I gave little heed to the weird 
 lines of cloud, twisting through and between the severed 
 pyramids of the Sentis, as if weaving the woof of storms. 
 The scenery was entirely lovely, and so novel in its popu- 
 lation and the labor which, in the long course of time, had 
 effaced its own hard traces, turning the mountains into 
 lifted lawns and parks of human delight, that my own slow 
 feet carried me through it too rapidly. We must have 
 passed a slight water-shed somewhere, though I observed 
 none ; for the road gradually fell towards another region 
 of deeply cloven Tobels, with snowy mountains beyond. 
 The green of the landscape v/as so brilliant and uniform, 
 under the cold gray sky, that it almost destroyed the per- 
 spective, which rather depended on the houses and the 
 scattered woods of fir. 
 
 On a ridge, overlooking all this region, was the large 
 village of Teufen, nearly as grand as Trogen in its archi- 
 tecture. Here Jakob, whose service went no further, con- 
 ducted me to the " Pike " inn, and begged the landlady to 
 furnish me with " «' Md " in his place. We had refresh- 
 ments together, and took leave with many shakings of the 
 hand and mutual wishes of good luck. The successor was 
 an old fellow of seventy, who had been a soldier in Hol- 
 land, and who with proper exertion could make his speech 
 intelligible. The people nowhere inquired after my busi- 
 ness or nationality. When the guide made the latter 
 known, they almost invariably said, " But, of course, you 
 were born in Appenzell ? " The idea of a traveller coming 
 among them, at least during this season of the year, did 
 not enter their heads. In Teufen, the large and hand- 
 some houses, the church and schools, led me, foolishly, to 
 hope for a less barbarous dialect ; but no, it was the same 
 thing everywhere. 
 
 The men in black, with swords under their arms, in- 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 125 
 
 creased in number as we left the village. They were prob- 
 ably from the furthest parts of the Canton, and were thus 
 abridging the morrow's journey. The most of them, how- 
 ever turned aside from the road, and made their way to 
 one farm-house or another. I was tempted to follow their 
 example, as I feared that the little village of Hundwyl 
 would be crowded. But there was still time to claim pri- 
 vate hospitality, even if this should be the case, so we 
 marched steadily down the valley. The Sitter, a stream 
 fed by the Sentis, now roared below us, between high, 
 rocky walls, which are spanned by an iron bridge, two 
 hundred feet above the water. The roads of Outer- 
 Rhoden, built and kept in order by the people, are most 
 admirable. This little population of forty-eight thousand 
 souls has within the last fifteen years expended seven hun- 
 dred thousand dollars on means of communication. Since 
 the people govern themselves, and regulate their expenses, 
 and consequently their taxation, their willingness to bear 
 such a burden is a lesson to other lands. 
 
 After crossing the airy bridge, our road climbed along 
 the opposite side of the Tohel, tp a village on a ridge thrust 
 out from the foot of the Hundwyl Alp, beyond which we 
 lost sight of Teufen and the beautiful valley of the Sitter. 
 We were now in the valley of the Urnasch, and a walk of 
 two miles more brought us to the village of Hundwyl. I was 
 encouraged, on approaching the little place, by seeing none 
 except the usual signs of occupation. There was a great 
 new tank before the fountain, and two or three fellows in 
 scarlet vests were filling their portable tubs for the even- 
 ing's supply ; a few children came to the doors to stare at 
 me, but there was no sign that any other stranger had 
 arrived. 
 
 " I'll take you to the Crown,'* said the guide ; " all the 
 Landamanner will be there in the morning, and the music ; 
 and you'll see what our Appenzell government is.'* The 
 landlady gave me a welcome, and the promise of a lodging, 
 
126 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 whereupon I sat down in peace, received the greetings of 
 all the members of the family, as they came and went, and 
 made myself familiar with their habits. There was only 
 one other guest in the house, — a man of dignified face 
 and intellectual head, who carried a sword tied up with an 
 umbrella, and must be, I supposed, one of the chief offi- 
 cials. He had so much the air of a reformer or a philoso- 
 pher that the members of a certain small faction at home 
 might have taken him for their beloved W. P. ; others 
 might have detected in him a resemblance to that true 
 philanthropist and gentleman W. L. G. ; and the believers 
 in the divinity of slavery would have accepted him as 
 
 Bishop . As no introductions are required in Ap- 
 
 penzell, I addressed myself to him, hoping to open a prof- 
 itable acquaintance ; but it was worse than Coleridge's ex- 
 perience with the lover of dumplings. His sentiments 
 may have been elevated and refined, for aught I knew, but 
 what were they? My trumpeter Jakob was more intel- 
 ligible than he ; his upper teeth were gone, and the muti- 
 lated words were mashed out of all remaining shape against 
 his gums. Then he had the singular habit of ejaculating 
 the word Ja ! (Yes !) in three different ways, after answer- 
 ing each of my questions. First, a decided, confirmatory 
 Ja I then a pause, followed by a slow, interrogative Ja ? as 
 if it were the echo of some mental doubt ; and finally, after 
 a much longer pause, a profoundly melancholy, despond- 
 ing, conclusive Ja-a-a ! sighed forth from the very bottom 
 of his lungs. Even when I only said, " Good-morning ! '» 
 the next day, these ejaculations followed, in the same order 
 of succession. 
 
 One may find a counterpart to this habit in the Wa^al 
 of the Yankee, except that the latter never is, nor could it 
 well be, so depressing to hear as the Ja of Appenzell. 
 
 In the evening a dozen persons gathered around one of 
 the long tables, and drank a pale, weak cider, made of ap- 
 ples and pears, and called " Most.'* I gave to one, with 
 
THE LITTLE LAOT) OF APPENZELL. 127 
 
 whom I found I could converse most easily, a glass of red 
 wine, whereupon he said, " It is very impudent in me to 
 take it." 
 
 Upon asking the same person how it was that I could 
 understand him so much more readily than the others, he 
 answered, " O, I can talk the written language when I try, 
 but these others can't." 
 
 " Here," said I, pointing to the philosopher, " is one who 
 is quite incomprehensible." 
 
 " So he is to me." 
 
 They were all anxious to know whether our American 
 troubles were nearly over ; whether the President had the 
 power to do further harm (he had too much power, they 
 all thought) ; and whether our Congress could carry out 
 its plan of reconstruction. Lincoln they said, was the best 
 man we ever had ; when the play of " Lincoln's Death " 
 was performed in the theatre at St. Gall, a great many 
 Appenzellers hired omnibuses and went down from the 
 mountains to see it. 
 
 I was aroused at daybreak by the chiming of bells, and 
 soon afterwards muskets began to crack, near and far. 
 Then there were noises all over the house, and presently 
 what seemed to be a procession of horses or elephants be- 
 gan to thunder up and down the wooden stairs. In vain I 
 tried to snatch the last and best morning nap ; there was 
 no end to the racket. So I arose, dressed, and went forth 
 to observe. The inn was already transformed, from top to 
 bottom, into a Vast booth for meat and drink. Bedding 
 and all other furniture had disappeared ; every room, and 
 even the open hall on each story, was filled with tables, 
 benches, and chairs. My friend of the previous evening, 
 who was going about with a white apron on and sleeves 
 rolled up, said to me: "I am to be one of the waiters to- 
 day. We have already made places for six hundred." 
 
 There were at least a dozen other amateur waiters on 
 hand and busy. The landlord wore a leathern apron, and 
 
128 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 went from room to room, blowing into the hole of a wooden 
 tap which he carried in his hand, as if thereby to collect 
 his ideas. A barrel of red and a barrel of white wine 
 stood on trestles in the guests' room, and they were already 
 filling the schoppins by hundreds and ranging them on 
 shelves, — honestly filling, not as lager-bier is filled in New 
 York, one third foam, but waiting until the froth subsided, 
 and then pouring to the very^brim. In the kitchen there 
 were three fires blazing, stacks of Bratwurst on the tables, 
 great kettles for the sour-krout and potatoes ; and eggs, let- 
 tuce, and other finer viands, for the dignitaries, on the 
 shelves. " Good morning," said the landlady, as I looked 
 into this sanctuary, " you see we are ready for them." 
 
 While I was taking my coffee, the landlord called the 
 waiters together, gave each a bag of small money for 
 change, and then delivered a short, practical address con- 
 cerning their duties for the day, — who were to be trusted 
 and who not, how to keep order and prevent impatience, 
 and, above all, how to preserve a proper circulation, in or- 
 der that the greatest possible number of persons might be 
 entertained. He closed with : " Once again, take notice 
 and don't forget, every one of you, — Most 10 rappen (2 
 cents), bread 10, Wurst 15, tongue 10, wine 25 and 40," etc. 
 
 In the village there were signs of preparation, but not a 
 dozen strangers had arrived. Wooden booths had been 
 built against some of the houses, and the owners thereof 
 were arranging their stores of gingerbread and coarse con- 
 fectionery ; on the open, grassy square, in front of the par- 
 sonage, stood a large platform, with a handsome railing 
 around it, but the green slope of the hill in front was as 
 deserted as an Alpine pasture. Looking westward over 
 the valley, however, I could already see dark figures mov- 
 ing along the distant paths. The morning was overcast, 
 but the Hundwyl Alp, streaked with snow, stood clear, and 
 there was a prospect of good weather for the important 
 day. As I loitered about the village, talking with the 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 129 
 
 people, who, busy as they were, always found time for a 
 friendly word, the movement in the landscape increased. 
 Out of firwoods, and over the ridges and out of the fold- 
 ings of the hills, came the Appenzellers, growing into 
 groups, and then into lines, until steady processions began 
 to enter Hundwyl by every road. Every man was dressed 
 in black, with a rusty stove-pipe hat on his head, and a 
 sword and umbrella in his hand or under his arm. 
 
 From time to time the church bells chimed ; a brass 
 band played the old melodies of the Canton ; on each side 
 of the governing Landamnian's place on the platform stood 
 a huge two-handed sword, centuries old, and the temper of 
 the gathering crowd became earnest and solemn. Six old 
 men, armed with pikes, walked about with an air of im- 
 portance : their duty was to preserve order, but they had 
 nothing to do. Policeman other than these, or soldier, was 
 not to be seen ; each man was a part of the government, 
 and felt his responsibility. Carriages, light carts, and hay 
 wagons, the latter filled with patriotic singers, now began 
 to arrive, and I took my way to the " Crown," in order to 
 witness the arrival of the members of the Council. 
 
 In order to make the proceedings of the day more intel- 
 ligible, I must first briefly sketch certain features of this 
 little democracy, which it possesses in common with three 
 other mountain cantons — the primitive forms which the 
 republican principle assumed in Switzerland. In the first 
 place the government is only representative so far as is re- 
 quired for its permanent, practical operation. The highest 
 power in the land is the Landsgemeinde, or General Assem- 
 bly of the People, by whom the members of the Executive 
 Council are elected, and who alone can change, adopt, or 
 abolish any law. All citizens above the age of eighteen, 
 and all other Swiss citizens after a year's residence in the 
 Canton, are not only allowed, but required, to attend the 
 Landsgemeinde. There is a penalty for non-attendance. 
 Outer-Rhoden contains forty-eight thousand inhabitants, 
 
130 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 of whom eleven thousand are under obligations to be pres- 
 ent and vote, from beginning to end of the deliberations. 
 
 In Glarus and Unterwalden, where the population is 
 smaller, the right of discussion is still retained by these 
 assemblies, but in Appenzell it has been found expedient 
 to abolish it. Any change in the law, however, is first 
 discussed in public meetings in the several communities, 
 then put into form by the Council, published, read from all 
 the pulpits for a month previous to the coming together 
 of the Landsgemeinde, and then voted upon. But if the 
 Council refuses to act upon the suggestion of any citizen 
 whomsoever, and he honestly considers the matter one of 
 importance, he is allowed to propose it directly to the peo- 
 ple, provided he do so briefly and in an orderly manner. 
 The Council, which may be called the executive power, 
 consists of the governing Landamman and six associates, 
 one of whom has the functions of treasurer, another of 
 military commander, — in fact, a ministry on a small scale. 
 The service of the persons elected to the Council is obli- 
 gatory, and they receive no salaries. There is, it is true, a 
 secondary Council, composed of the first, and representa- 
 tives of the communities, one for every, thousand inhabit- 
 ants, in order to administer more intelligently the various 
 departments of education, religion, justice, roads, the mili- 
 tia system, the poor, etc. ; but the Assembly of the People 
 can at any time reject or reverse its action. All citizens 
 are not only equal before the law, but are assured liberty 
 of conscience, of speech, and of labor. The right of sup- 
 port only belongs to those who are born citizens of the 
 Canton. The old restriction of the Heimathsrecht, — the 
 claim to be supported at the expense of the community in 
 case of need, — narrow and illiberal as it seems to us, pre- 
 vails all over Switzerland. In Appenzell a stranger can 
 only acquire the right, which is really the right of citizen- 
 ship, by paying twelve hundred francs into the cantonal 
 treasury. 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 131 
 
 The governing Landamman is elected for two years, but 
 the other members of the Council may be reelected from 
 year to year, as often as the people see fit. The obligation 
 to serve, therefore, may sometimes seriously incommode 
 the person chosen ; he cannot resign, and his only chance 
 of escape lies in leaving the Canton temporarily, and pub- 
 lishing his intention of quitting it altogether in case the 
 people refuse to release him from office ! This year, it 
 happened that two members of the Council had already 
 taken this step, while three others had appealed to the 
 people not to reelect them. The Landsgemeinde at Hun- 
 dwyl was to decide upon all these applications, and there- 
 fore promised to be of more than usual interest. The 
 people had had time to consider the matter, and it was sup- 
 posed had generally made up their lAinds ; yet I found no 
 one willing to give me a hint of their action in advance. 
 
 The two remaining members presently made their ap- 
 pearance, accompanied by the Chancellor, to whom I was 
 recommended. The latter kindly offered to accompany me 
 to the parsonage, the windows of which, directly in the 
 rear of the platform, would enable me to hear, as well as 
 see the proceedings. The clergyman, who was preparing 
 for the service which precedes the opening of the Lands- 
 gemeinde, showed me the nail upon which hung the key of 
 the study, and gave me liberty to take possession at any 
 time. The clock now struck nine, and a solemn peal of 
 bells announced the time of service. A little procession 
 formed in front of the inn ; first the music, then the cler- 
 gyman and the few members of the government, bare- 
 headed, and followed by the two Weihels (apparitors), who 
 wore long mantles, the right half white and the left half 
 black. The old pikemen walked on either side. The 
 people uncovered as the dignitaries took their way around 
 the church to the chancel door ; then as many as could be 
 accommodated entered at the front. 
 
 I entered with them, taking my place on the men's side, 
 
132 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 — the sexes being divided, as is usual in Germany. After 
 the hymn, in which boy's voices were charmingly heard, 
 and the prayer, the clergyman took a text from Corin- 
 thians, and proceeded to preach a good, sound political 
 sermon, which, nevertheless, did not in the least shock the 
 honest piety of his hearers. I noticed with surprise that 
 most of the men put on their hats at the close of the 
 prayer. Only once did they remove them afterwards, — 
 when the clergyman, after describing the duties before 
 them, and the evils and difficulties which beset every good 
 work, suddenly said, " Let us pray to God to help and 
 direct us ! " and interpolated a short prayer in the midst 
 of his sermon. The effect was all the more impressive, 
 because, though so unexpected, it was entirely simple and 
 natural. These democrats of Appenzell have not yet made 
 the American discovery that pulpits are profaned by any 
 utterance of national sentiment, or any application of Chris- 
 tian doctrine to politics. They even hold their municipal 
 elections in the churches, and consider that the act of 
 voting is thereby solemnized, not that the holy building is 
 desecrated! But then, you will say, this is the democracy 
 of the Middle Ages. 
 
 When the service was over, I could scarcely make my 
 way through the throng which had meanwhile collected. 
 The sun had come out hot above the Hundwyl Alp, and 
 turned the sides of the valley into slopes of dazzling sheen. 
 Already every table in the inns was filled, every window 
 crowded with heads, the square a dark mass of voters of 
 all ages and classes, lawyers and clergymen being packed 
 together with grooms and brown Alpine herdsmen ; and, 
 after the government had been solemnly escorted to its 
 private chamber, four musicians in antique costume an- 
 nounced, with drum and fife, the speedy opening of the 
 Assembly. But first came the singing societies of Heri- 
 sau, and forced their way into the centre of the throng, 
 where they sang, simply yet grandly, the songs of Appen- 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 133 
 
 zell. The people listened with silent satisfaction ; not a 
 man seemed to think of applauding. 
 
 I took myplace in the pastor's study, and inspected the 
 crowd. On the steep slope of the village square and the 
 rising field beyond, more than ten thousand men were 
 gathered, packed as closely as they could stand. The law 
 requires them to appear armed and " respectably dressed." 
 The short swords, very much like our marine cutlasses, 
 which they carried, were intended for show rather than 
 service. Very few wore them : sometimes they were tied 
 up with umbrellas, but generally carried loose in the hand 
 or under the arm. The rich manufacturers of Trogen and 
 Herisau and Teufen had belts and silver-mounted dress- 
 swords. With scarce an exception, every man was habited 
 in black, and wore a stove-pipe hat, but the latter was in 
 most cases brown and battered. Both circumstances were 
 thus explained to me : as the people vote with the uplifted 
 hand, the hat must be of a dark color, as a background, to 
 bring out the hands more distinctly ; then, since rain would 
 spoil a good hat (and it rains much at this season), they 
 generally take an old one. I could now understand the 
 advertisements of "second hand cylinder hats for sale," 
 which I had noticed, the day before, in the newspapers of 
 the Canton. The slope of the hill was such that the hats 
 of the lower ranks concealed the faces of those imme- 
 diately behind, and the assembly was the darkest and den- 
 sest I ever beheld. Here and there the top of a scarlet 
 waistcoat flashed out of the cloud with astonishing bril- 
 liancy. 
 
 With solemn music, and attended by the apparitors, in 
 their two colored mantles, and the ancient pikemen, the 
 few officials ascended the platform. The chief of the two 
 Landammanner present took his station in front, between 
 the two-handed swords, and began to address the assembly* 
 Suddenly a dark cloud seemed to roll away from the faces 
 of the people ; commencing in front of the platform, and 
 
134 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 spreading rapidly to the edges of the compact throng, the 
 hats disappeared, and the ten thousand faces, in the full 
 light of the sun, blended into a ruddy mass. But no ; each 
 head retained its separate character, and the most surpris- 
 ing circumstance of the scene was the distinctness with 
 which each human being held fast to his individuality in 
 the multitude. Nature has drawn no object with so firm a 
 hand, nor painted it with such tenacious clearness of color, 
 as the face of man. The inverted crescent of sharp light 
 had a different curve on each individual brow before me ; 
 the little illuminated dot on the end of the nose under it 
 hinted at the form of the nostrils in shadow. As the hats 
 had before concealed the faces, so now each face was re- 
 lieved against the breast of the man beyond, and in front 
 of me were thousands of heads to be seen, touching each 
 other like so many ovals drawn on a dark plane. 
 
 The address was neither so brief nor so practical as it 
 might have been. Earnest, well meant, and apparently 
 well received, there was nevertheless much in it which the 
 plain, semi-educated weavers and Alpadores in the assem- 
 bly could not possibly have comprehended; as, for instance, 
 " May a garland of confidence be twined around your de- 
 liberations ! " At the close, the speaker said, "Let us 
 pray!" and for a few moments there were bowed heads 
 and utter silence. The first business was the financial 
 report for the year, which had been printed and distributed 
 among the people weeks before. They were now asked 
 whether they would appoint a commission to test its accu- 
 racy, but they unanimously declined to do so. The ques- 
 tion was put by one of the apparitors, who first removed 
 his cocked hat, and cried, in a tremendous voice, " Faith- 
 ful and beloved fellow-citizens, and brethren of the Union ! " 
 
 Now came the question of releasing the tired Landam- 
 manner of the previous year from ofiice. The first appli- 
 cation in order was that of the governing Landamman, 
 Dr. Ziircher. The people voted directly thereupon ; there 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. . 135 
 
 was a strong division of sentiment, but the majority allowed 
 him to resign. His place was therefore to be filled at once. 
 The names of candidates were called out by the crowd. 
 There were six in all ; and as both the members of the 
 Council were among them, the latter summoned six well- 
 known citizens upon the platform, to decide the election. 
 The first vote reduced the number of candidates to two. 
 and the voting was then repeated until one of these re- 
 ceived an undoubted majority. Dr. Roth, of Teufen, was the 
 fortunate man. As soon as the decision was announced, 
 several swords were held up in the crowd to indicate 
 where the new governor was to be found. The musicians 
 and pikemen made a lane to him through the multitude, 
 and he was conducted to the platform with the sound of 
 fife and drum. He at once took his place between the 
 swords, and made a brief address, which the people heard 
 with uncovered heads. He did not yet, however, assume 
 the black silk mantle which belongs to his office. He was 
 a man of good presence, prompt, and self-possessed in man- 
 ner, and conducted the business of the day very success- 
 fully. 
 
 The election of the remaining members occupied much 
 more time. All the five applicants were released from 
 service, and with scarcely a dissenting hand: wherein, I 
 thought, the people showed very good sense. The case of 
 one of these officials, Herr Euler, was rather hard. He 
 was the Landessdckelmeister (Treasurer), and the law makes 
 him personally responsible for every farthing which passes 
 through his hands. Having, with the consent of the Coun- 
 cil, invested thirty thousand francs in a banking-house at 
 Rheineck, the failure of the house obliged him to pay this 
 sum out of his own pocket. He did so, and then made 
 preparations to leave the Canton in case his resignation 
 was not accepted. 
 
 For most of the places from ten to fourteen candidates 
 were named, and when these were reduced to two, nearly 
 
136 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 equally balanced in popular favor, the voting became very- 
 spirited. The apparitor, who was chosen on account of his 
 strength of voice (the candidates for the office must be 
 tested in this respect), had hard work that day. The same 
 formula must be repeated before every vote, in this wise : 
 " Herr Landamman, gentlemen, faithful afnd beloved fellow- 
 citizens and brethren of the Union, if it seems good to you 
 to choose so-and-so, as your treasurer for the coming year, 
 so lift up y,our hands!" Then, all over the dark mass, 
 thousands of hands flew into the sunshine, rested a mo- 
 ment, and gradually sank with a fluttering motion, which 
 made me think of leaves flying from a hill-side forest in 
 the autumn winds. As each election was decided, and the 
 choice was announced, swords were lifted to show the loca-, 
 tion of the new official in the crowd, and he was then* 
 brought upon the platform with fife and drum. Nearly 
 two hours elapsed before the gaps were filled, and the gov- 
 ernment was again complete. 
 
 Then followed the election of judges for the judicial dis- 
 tricts, who, in most cases, were almost unanimously re- 
 elected. These are repeated from year to year, so long as 
 the people are satisfied. Nearly all the citizens of Outer- 
 Ehoden were before me ; I could distinctly see three fourths 
 of their faces, and I detected no expression except that of 
 a grave, conscientious interest in the proceedings. Their 
 patience was remarkable. Closely packed, man against 
 man, in the hot, still sunshine, they stood quietly for nearly 
 three hours, and voted upwards of two hundred and seven 
 times before the business of the day was completed. A 
 few old men on the edges of the crowd slipped away for a 
 quarter of an hour, in order, as one of them told me, " to 
 keep their stomachs from giving way entirely," and some 
 of the younger fellows took a schoppin of Most for the same 
 purpose ; but they generally returned and resumed their 
 places as soon as refreshed. 
 
 The close of the Landsgemeinde was one of the most im- 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 137 
 
 pressive spectacles I ever witnessed. When the elections 
 were over and no further duty remained, the Pastor Etter 
 of Hundwyl ascended the platform. The governing Land- 
 amman assumed his black mantle of office, and, after a 
 brief prayer, took the oath of inauguration from the clergy- 
 man. He swore to further the prosperity and honor of the 
 land, to ward off misfortune from it, to uphold the Consti- 
 tution and laws, to protect the widows and orphans, and to 
 secure the equal rights of all, nor through favor, hostility, 
 gifts, or promises to be turned aside from doing the same. 
 The clergyman repeated the oath sentence by sentence, 
 both holding up the oath-fingers of the right hand, the 
 people looking on silent and uncovered. 
 
 The governing Landamman now turned to the assembly, 
 and read them their oath, that they likewise should further 
 the honor and prosperity of the land, preserve its freedom 
 and its equal rights, obey the laws, protect the Council and 
 the judges, take no gift or favor from any prince or poten- 
 tate, and that each one should accept and perform, to the 
 best of his ability, any service to which he might be chosen. 
 After this had been read, the Landamman lifted his right 
 hand, with the oath-fingers extended; his colleagues on 
 the platform, and every men of the ten or eleven thousand 
 present did the same. The silence was so profound that 
 the chirp of a bird on the hillside took entire possession 
 of the air. Then the Landamman slowly and solemnly 
 spoke these words: "I have well understood that — which 
 has been read to me ; — I will always and exactly observe 
 it, — faithfully and without reservation, — so truly as I 
 wish and pray — that God help me ! " At each pause, the 
 same words were repeated by every man, in a low, subdued 
 tone. The hush was else so complete, the words were 
 spoken with such measured firmness, that I caught each as 
 it came, not as from the lips of men, but from a vast super- 
 natural murmur in the air. The effect was indescribable. 
 Far off on the horizon was the white vision of an Alp, but 
 
138 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 all the hidden majesty of those supreme mountains was 
 nothing to the scene before me. When the last words had 
 been spoken, the hands sank slowly, and the crowd stood a 
 moment locked together, with grave faces and gleaming 
 eyes, until the spirit that had descended upon them passed. 
 Then they dissolved ; the Landsgemeinde was over. 
 
 In my inn, I should think more than the expected six 
 hundred had found place. From garret to cellar, every 
 corner was occupied ; bread, wine, and steamy dishes 
 passed in a steady whirl from kitchen and tap-room into all 
 the roaring chambers. In the other inns it was the same, 
 and many took their drink and provender in the open air. 
 I met my philosopher of the previous evening, who said, 
 " Now, what do you think of our Landsgemeinde ? " and 
 followed my answer with his three Ja's, the last a more 
 desponding sigh than ever. Since the business was over, 
 I judged that the people would be less reserved — which, 
 indeed, was the case. Nearly all with whom I spoke ex- 
 pressed their satisfaction with the day's work. I walked 
 through the crowds in all directions, vainly seeking for 
 personal beauty. There were few women present, but a 
 handsome man is only less beautiful than a beautiful 
 woman, and I like to look at the former when the latter is 
 absent. I was surprised at the great proportion of under- 
 sized men ; only weaving, in close rooms, for, several gen- 
 erations, could have produced so many squat bodies and 
 short legs. The Appenzellers are neither a handsome nor 
 a picturesque race, and their language harmonizes with 
 their features ; but I learned, during that day at Hundwyl, 
 to like and to respect them. 
 
 Pastor Etter insisted on my dining with him; two 
 younger clergymen were also guests, and my friend the 
 Chancellor Engwiller came to make further kind offers of 
 service. The people of each parish, I learned, elect their 
 own pastor, and pay him his salary. In municipal matters 
 the same democratic system prevails as in the cantonal 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 139 
 
 government. Education is well provided for, and the mor- 
 als of the community are watched and guarded by a com- 
 mittee consisting of the pastor and two officials elected by 
 the people. Outer-Rhoden is almost exclusively Protes- 
 tant, while Inner-Rhoden — the mountain region around 
 the Sentis — is Catholic. Although thus geographically 
 and politically connected, there was formerly little inter- 
 course between the inhabitants of the two parts of the 
 Canton, owing to their religious differences ; but now they 
 come together in a friendly way, and are beginning to in- 
 termarry. 
 
 After dinner, the officials departed in carriages, to the 
 sound of trumpets, and thousands of the people followed. 
 Again the roads and paths leading away over the green 
 hills were dark with lines of pedestrians ; but a number of 
 those whose homes lay nearest to Hundwyl lingered to 
 drink and gossip out the day. A group of herdsmen, over 
 whose brown faces the high stove-pipe hat looked doubly 
 absurd, gathered in a ring, and while one of them yodelled 
 the Ranz des Vaches of Appenzell, the others made an ac- 
 companiment with their voices, imitating the sound of cow- 
 bells. They were lusty, jolly fellows, and their songs 
 hardly came to an end. I saw one man who might be 
 considered as positively drunk, but no other who was more 
 than affectionately and socially excited. Towards sunset 
 they all dropped off, and when the twilight settled down 
 heavy, and threatening rain, there was no stranger but my- 
 self in the little village. "I have done tolerably well," 
 said the landlord, " but I can't count my gains until day 
 after to-morrow, when the scores run up to-day must be 
 paid off." Considering that in my own bill lodging was 
 set down at. six, and breakfast at twelve cents, even the fif- 
 teen hundred guests whom he entertained during the day 
 could not have given him a very splendid profit. 
 
 Taking a weaver of the place as guide, I set off early 
 the next morning for the village of Appenzell, the capital 
 
140 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 of Inner- Rhoden. The way led me back into the valley 
 of the Sitter, thence up towards the Sentis Alp, winding 
 around and over a multitude of hills. • The same smooth, 
 even, velvety carpet of grass was spread upon the land- 
 scape, covering every undulation of the surface, except 
 where the rocks had frayed themselves through. There is 
 no greener land upon the earth. The grass, from centuries 
 of cultivation, has become so rich and nutritious, that the 
 inhabitants can no longer spare even a little patch 6f 
 ground for a vegetable garden, for the reason that the 
 same space produces more profit in hay. The green comes 
 up to their very doors, and they grudge even the foot-paths 
 which connect them with their neighbors. Their vegeta- 
 bles are brought up from the lower valleys of Thurgau. 
 The first mowing had commenced at the time of my visit, 
 and the farmers were employing irrigation and manure to 
 bring on the second crop. By this means they are enabled 
 to mow the same fields every five or six weeks. The pro- 
 cess gives the whole region a smoothness, a mellow splen- 
 dor of color, such as I never saw elsewhere, not even in 
 England. 
 
 A walk of two hours through such scenery brought me 
 out of the Sitter Tobel, and in sight of the little Alpine 
 basin in which lies Appenzell. It was raining slowly and 
 dismally, and the broken, snow-crowned peaks of the Ka- 
 mor and the Hohe Kasten stood like livid spectres of 
 mountains against the stormy sky. I made haste to reach 
 the compact, picturesque little town, and shelter myself in 
 an inn, where a landlady with rippled golden hair and fea- 
 tures like one of Dante Rossetti's women, offered me trout 
 for dinner. Out of the back window I looked for the shat- 
 tered summits of the Sentis, which rise five thousand feet 
 above the valley, but they were invisible. The vertical 
 walls of the Ebenalp, in which are the grotto and chapel 
 of Wildkirchli, towered over the nearer hills, and I saw 
 with regret that they were still above the snow line. It 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 141 
 
 was impossible to penetrate much further without better 
 weather ; but I decided, while enjoying my trout, to make 
 another trial— to take the road to Urnasch, and thence 
 pass westward into the renowned valley of the Toggen- 
 burg. 
 
 The people of Inner-Rhoden are the most picturesque 
 of the Appenzellers. The men wear a round skull-cap of 
 leather, sometimes brilliantly embroidered, a jacket of 
 coarse drilling, drawn on over the head, and occasionally 
 knee-breeches. Early in May the herdsmen leave their 
 winter homes in the valleys and go with their cattle to the 
 Matten, or lofty mountain pastures. The most intelligent 
 cows, selected as leaders for the herd, march, in advance, 
 with enormous bells, sometimes a foot in diameter, sus- 
 pended to their necks by bands of embroidered leather ; 
 then follow the others, and the bull, who, singularly enough 
 carries the milking-pail garlanded with flowers, between 
 his horns, brings up the rear. The Alpadores are in their 
 finest Sunday costume, and the sound of yodel-songs — 
 the very voice of Alpine landscapes — echoes from every 
 hill. Such a picture as this, under the cloudless blue of a 
 fortunate May day, makes the heart of the Appenzeller 
 light. He goes joyously up to his summer labor, and 
 makes his herb-cheese on the heights, while his wife 
 weaves and embroiders muslin in the valley until his re 
 turn. 
 
 In the afternoon I set out for Urnasch, with a bright 
 boy as guide. Hot gleams of sunshine now and then 
 struck like fire across the green mountains, and the Sentis 
 partly unveiled his stubborn forehead of rock. Behind 
 him, however, lowered inky thunder-clouds, and long before 
 the afternoon's journey was made it was raining below and 
 snowing aloft. The scenery grew more broken and abrupt 
 the further I penetrated into the country, but it was every- 
 where as thickly peopled and as wonderfully cultivated. 
 At Gonten, there is a large building for -the whey-cure of 
 
142 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 overfed people of the world. A great many such, I was 
 told, come to Appenzell for the summer. Many of the 
 persons we met not only said, " God greet you I " but im- 
 mediately added, "Adieu!" — like the Salve et vale! of 
 classical times. 
 
 Beyond Gonten the road dropped into a wild ravine, the 
 continual windings of which rendered it very attractive. I 
 found enough to admire in every farm-house by the way- 
 side, with its warm wood-color, its quaint projecting bal- 
 conies, and coat of shingle mail. When the ravine opened, 
 and the deep valley of Urnasch, before me, appeared be- 
 tween cloven heights of snow, disclosing six or eight square 
 miles of perfect emerald, over which the village is scat- 
 tered, I was fully repaid for having pressed farther into the 
 heart of the land. There were still two hours until night, 
 and I might have gone on to the Rossfall, — a cascade 
 three or four miles higher up the valley, — but the clouds 
 were threatening, and the distant mountain-sides already 
 dim under the rain. 
 
 At the village inn I found several herdsmen and mechan- 
 ics, each with a bottle of Rheinthaler wine before him. 
 They were ready and willing to give me all the information 
 I needed. In order to reach the Toggenburg, they said, I 
 must go over the Kratzernwald. It was sometimes a dan- 
 gerous journey; the snow was many cubits deep, and at 
 this time of the year it was frequently so soft, that a man 
 would sink to his hips. To-day, however, there had been 
 thunder, and after thunder the snow is always hard-packed, 
 so that you can walk on it ; but to cross the Kratzernwald 
 without a guide, — never ! For two hours you were in a 
 wild forest, not a house, nor even a Sennhutf (herdsman's 
 cabin) to be seen, and no proper path, but a clambering 
 hither and thither, in snow and mud ; with this weather, — 
 yes, one could get into Toggenburg that way, they said, but 
 not alone, and only because there had been thunder on the' 
 mountains. 
 
THE LITTLE LAND OF APPENZELL. 143 
 
 But all night the rain beat against my chamber window, 
 and in the morning the lower slopes on the mountains 
 were gray with new snow, which no thunder had packed. 
 Indigo-colored clouds lay heavily on all the Alpine peaks ; 
 the air was raw and chilly, and the roads slippery. In such 
 weather the scenery is not only shrouded, but the people 
 are shut up in their homes, — wherefore further travel 
 would not have been repaid. I had already seen the greater 
 part of the little land, and so gave up my thwarted plans 
 the more cheerfully. When the post-omnibus for Herisau 
 came to the inn door, I took my seat therein, saying, like 
 Schiller's " Sennbub'," " Ihr Matten^ leht wohl I ihr sonnige 
 Weidenl" 
 
 The country became softer and lovelier as the road grad- 
 ually fell towards Herisau, which is the richest and state- 
 liest town of the Canton. I saw little of it except the 
 hospitable home of my friend the Chancellor, for we had 
 brought the Alpine weather with us. The architecture of 
 the place, nevertheless, is charming, the town being com- 
 posed of country-houses, balconied and shingled, and set 
 down together in the most irregular way, every street shoot- 
 ing off at a different angle. A mile beyond, I reached the 
 edge of the mountain region, and again looked down upon 
 the prosperous valley of St. Gall. Below me was the rail- 
 way, and as I sped towards Zurich that afternoon, the top of 
 the Sentis, piercing through a mass of dark rain-clouds, 
 was my last glimpse of the Little Land of Appenzell. 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 
 
 10 
 
" Out of France and into Spain," says the old nursery 
 rhyme ; but at the eastern base of the Pyrenees one seems 
 to have entered Spain before leaving France. The rich 
 vine-plains of Roussillon once belonged to the former 
 country ; they retain quite as distinct traces of the earlier 
 Moorish occupancy, and their people speak a dialect almost 
 identical with that of Catalonia. I do not remember the 
 old boundaries of the province, but I noticed the change 
 immediately after leaving Narbonne. Vine-green, with the 
 grays of olive and rock, were the only colors of the land- 
 scape. The towns, massive and perched upon elevations, 
 spoke of assault and defense ; the laborers in the fields 
 were brown, dark-haired, and grave, and the semi-African 
 silence of Spain seemed already to brood over the land. 
 
 I entered Perpignan under a heavy Moorish gateway, 
 and made my way to a hostel through narrow, tortuous 
 streets, between houses with projecting balconies, and win- 
 dows few and small, as in the Orient. The hostel, though 
 ambitiously calling itself a hotel, was filled with that 
 Mediterranean atmosphere and odor which you breathe 
 everywhere in Italy and the Levant, — a single charac- 
 teristic flavor, in which, nevertheless, you fancy you detect 
 the exhalations of garlic, oranges, horses, cheese, and oil. 
 A mild whiff of it stimulates the imagination, and is no 
 detriment to physical comfort. When, at breakfast, red 
 mullet came upon the table, and oranges fresh from the 
 tree, I straightway took off my Northern nature as a gar- 
 ment, folded it and packed it neatly away in my knapsack, 
 and took, out in its stead, the light, beribboned, and be- 
 spangled Southern nature, which I had not worn for some 
 
148 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 eight or nine years. It was like a dressing-gown after a 
 dress-coat, and I went about with a delightfully free play 
 of the mental and moral joints. 
 
 There were four hours before the departure of the dili- 
 gence for Spain, and I presume I might have seen various 
 historical or architectural sights of Perpignan ; but I was 
 really too comfortable for anything else than a lazy mean- 
 dering about the city, feeding my eyes on quaint houses 
 groups of people full of noise and gesture, the scarlet blos- 
 soms of the pomegranate, and the glitter of citron-leaves 
 in the gardens. A one-legged fellow,' seven feet high, who 
 called himself a commissionaire^ insisted on accompanying 
 me, and I finally accepted him, for two reasons ; — first, he 
 knew nothing whatever about the city ; and secondly, tour- 
 ists are so rare that he must have been very poor. His 
 wooden leg, moreover, easily kept pace with my loitering 
 steps, and though, as a matter of conscience, he sometimes 
 volunteered a little information, he took my silence nieekly 
 and without offense. In this wise, I gained some pleasant 
 pictures of the place ; and the pictures which come with 
 least effort are those which remain freshest in memory. 
 
 There was one point, however, where my limping giant 
 made a stand, and set his will against expostulation or en- 
 treaty. I must see the avenue of sycamores, he said ; there 
 was plenty of time ; France, the world, had no such avenue ; 
 it was near at hand ; every stranger went to see it and was 
 amazed ; — and therewith he set off, without waiting for my 
 answer. I followed, for I saw that otherwise he would not 
 have considered his fee earned. The avenue of sycamores 
 was indeed all that he had promised. I had seen larger 
 trees in Syria and Negropont, but here was a triple avenue, 
 nearly half a mile in length, so trained and sculptured that 
 they rivaled the regularity of masonry. Each trunk, at 
 the height of ten or twelve feet, divided into two arms, 
 which then leaned outwards at the same angle, and mingled 
 their smaller boughs, fifty feet overhead. The aisles be- 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 149 
 
 tween them thus took the form of very slender pyramids, 
 truncated near the top. If the elm gives the Gothic, this 
 was assuredly the Cyclopean arch. In the beginning, the 
 effect must have been artificially produced, but the trees 
 were now so old, and had* so accustomed themselves to the 
 forms imposed, that no impression of force or restraint re- 
 mained. Through the roof of this superb green minster 
 not a beam of sunshine found its way. On the hard gravel 
 floor groups of peasants, soldiers, nurses, and children 
 strolled up and down, all with the careless and leisurely air 
 of a region where time has no particular value. 
 
 We passed a dark-haired and rather handsome gentle- 
 man and lady. " They are opera-singers, Italians," said my 
 companion, " and they are going with you in the diligence." 
 I looked at my watch and found that the hour of departure 
 had nearly arrived, and I should have barely time to pro- 
 cure a little Spanish money. When I reached the office, 
 the gentleman and lady were already installed in the two 
 corners of the coupe. My place, apparently, was between 
 them. The agent was politely handing me up the steps, 
 when the gentleman began to remonstrate ; but in France 
 the regulations are rigid, and he presently saw that the in- 
 trusion could not be prevented. With a sigh and a groan 
 he gave up his comfortable corner to me, and took the 
 middle seat, for which I was booked ! " Will you have 
 your place?" whispered the agent. I shook my head. 
 " You get the best seat, don't you see ? " he resumed, " be- 
 cause " — But the rest of the sentence was a wink and a 
 laugh. I am sure there is the least possible of a Don Juan 
 in my appearance ; yet this agent never lost an opportunity 
 to wink at me whenever he came near the diligence, and 
 I fancied I heard him humming to himself, as we drove 
 
 away, — 
 
 " Ma — nella Spagna — mille e tre ! " 
 
 I endeavored to be reasonably courteous, without famili- 
 arity, towards the opera-singers, but the effect of the mali- 
 
150 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 cious winks and smiles made the lady appear to me timid 
 and oppressed, and the gentleman an unexploded mine of 
 jealousy. My remarks were civilly if briefly answered, and 
 then they turned towards each other and began conversing 
 in a language which was not Italian, although melodious, nor 
 French, although nasal. I pricked up my ears and listened 
 more sharply than good manners allowed — but only until 
 I had recognized the Portuguese tongue. Whomsoever I 
 may meet in wandering over the world, it rarely happens 
 that I cannot discover some common or " mutual " friend, 
 and in this instance I determined to try the experiment. 
 After preliminaries, which gently led the conversation to 
 Portugal, I asked, — 
 
 "Do you happen to know Count M ?" 
 
 " Only by name." 
 
 "Or Senhor O , a young man and an astronomer? " 
 
 " Very well ! " was the reply. " He is one of the most 
 distinguished young men of science in Portugal." 
 
 The ice was thereupon broken, and the gentleman be- 
 came communicative and agreeable. I saw, very soon, that 
 the pair were no more opera-singers than they were Ital- 
 ians ; that the lady was not timid, nor her husband jealous ; 
 but he had simply preferred, as any respectable husband 
 would, to give up his comfortable seat rather than have a 
 stranger thrust between himself and his wife. 
 
 Once out of Perpignan, the Pyrenees lay clear before 
 us. Over bare red hills, near at hand, rose a gray moun- 
 tain rampart, neither lofty nor formidable ; but westward, 
 between the valleys of the Tech and the Tet, towered 
 the solitary pyramid of the Canigou, streaked with snow- 
 filled ravines. The landscapes would have appeared bleak 
 and melancholy, but for the riotous growth of vines which 
 cover the plain and climb the hillsides wherever there is 
 room for a terrace of earth. These vines produce the dark, 
 rich wine of Roussillon, the best vintage of Southern 
 France. Hedges of aloes, clumps of Southern cypress, 
 
FEOM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 151 
 
 poplars by the dry beds of winter streams, with brown tints 
 in the houses and red in the soil, increased the resemblance 
 to Spain. Rough fellows, in rusty velvet, who now and 
 then dug their dangling heels into the sides of the mules 
 or asses they rode, were enough like arrieros or contrahan- 
 distas to be the real article. Oui^ stout and friendly coach- 
 man, even, was hailed by the name of Moreno, and spoke 
 French with a foreign accent. 
 
 At the post-station of Le Boulou, we left the plain of 
 Roussillon behind us. ' At this end of the Pyrenean chain 
 there are no such trumpet-names as Roncesvalles, Font- 
 arabia, and Bidassoa. Hannibal, Caesar, Charlemagne, and 
 the Saracens have marched through these defiles, and left 
 no grand historic footprint, but they will always keep the 
 interest which belongs to those natural barriers and division 
 walls whereby races and histories were once separated. It 
 was enough for me that here were the Pyrenees, and I 
 looked forward, perhaps, with a keener curiosity, to the char- 
 acter and forms of their scenery, than to the sentiment 
 which any historic association could produce. A broad and 
 perfect highway led us through shallow valleys, whose rocky 
 sides were hung with rows of olive-trees, into wilder and 
 more abrupt dells, where vegetation engaged in a struggle 
 with stone, and without man's help would have been driven 
 from the field. Over us the mountains lifted themselves in 
 bold bastions and parapets, disforested now, if those gray 
 upper plateaus ever bore forests, and of a uniform slaty 
 gray in tone except where reddish patches of oxidation 
 showed like the rust of age. 
 
 But, like " all waste and solitary places," the scenery had 
 its own peculiar charm. Poussin and Salvator Rosa would 
 have seated themselves afresh at every twist of the glen, 
 and sketched the new picture which it unfolded. The huge 
 rocks, fallen from above, or shattered in the original up- 
 heaval of the chain, presented a thousand sharp, forcible 
 outlines and ragged facets of shadow, and the two native 
 
152 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 growths of the Pyrenees — box and cork-oak — fringed 
 them as thickets or overhung them as trees, in tKe wildest 
 and most picturesque combinations. Indeed, during this 
 portion of the journey, I saw scores of sketches waiting for 
 the selected artist who has not yet come for them, — 
 sketches full of strength and beauty, and with a harmony 
 of color as simple as the chord of triple tones in music. 
 When to their dark grays and greens came the scarlet Phry- 
 gian cap of the Catalonian, it was brighter than sunshine. 
 
 The French fortress of Bellegafde, crowning a drum- 
 shaped mass oT rock, which blocked up the narrow valley 
 in front, announced our approach to the Spanish frontier. 
 The road wound back and forth as it climbed through a 
 stony wilderness to the mouth of a gorge under the fortress, 
 and I saw, before we entered this last gateway into Spain, 
 the peak of the Canigou touched with sunset, and the sweep 
 of plain beyond it black under the shadow of storm-clouds. 
 On either side were some heaps of stone, left from forts 
 and chapels of the Middle Ages, indicating that we had al- 
 ready reached the summit of the pass, which is less than a 
 thousand feet above the sea-level. In ten minutes the 
 gorge opened, and we found ourselves suddenly rattling 
 along the one street of the gay French village of Perthus. 
 Officers from Bellegarde sat at the table in front of the 
 smart cafe^ and drank absinthe ; soldiers in red trousers 
 chatted with the lively women who sold tobacco and gro- 
 ceries ; there were trees, little gardens, arbors of vine, and 
 the valley opened southwards, descending and broadening 
 towards a cloudless evening sky. 
 
 At the end of the village I saw a granite pyramid, with 
 the single word " Gallia " engraved upon it ; a few paces 
 farther, two marble posts bore the half-obliterated arms of 
 Spain. Here the diligence paused a moment, and an offi- 
 cer of customs took his seat beside the coachman. The 
 telegraph pole behind us was of barked pine, the next one 
 in front was painted gray; the vente de tabac became 
 
FKOM PERPIGNAN TO MQNTSERRAT. 153 
 
 estanco nacional, and the only overlapping of the two na- 
 tionalities which I observed — all things else being sud- 
 denly and sharply divided — was that some awkward and 
 dusty Spanish soldiers were walking up the street of Per- 
 thus, and some trim, jaunty French soldiers were walking 
 down the road, towards the first Spanish wine-^hop. We 
 also went down, and swiftly, in the falling twilight, through 
 which, erelong, gardens and fields began to glimmer, and 
 in half an hour drew up in the little Spanish town of La 
 Junquera, the ancient " place of rushes." Here there was 
 a rapid and courteous examination of baggage, a call for 
 passports, which were opened and then handed back to us 
 without vise or fee being demanded, and we were declared 
 free to journey in Spain. Verily the world is becoming 
 civilized, when Spain, the moral satrapy of Rome, begins 
 to pull down her barriers and let the stranger in ! 
 
 I inspected our " insides," as they issued forth, and found, 
 in addition to a priest and three or four commercial indi- 
 viduals with a contraband air, a young French naval officer, 
 and an old German who was too practical for a professor 
 and too stubborn in his views to be anything else. He had 
 made fifteen journeys to Switzerland, he informed me, 
 knew Scotland from the Cheviots to John o' Groat's, and 
 now proposed the conquest of Spain. Here Moreno sum- 
 moned us to our places, and the diligence rolled onward. 
 Past groups of Catalans, in sandals and scarlet bonnets, 
 returning from the harvest fields; past stacks of dusky 
 grain and shadowy olive-orchards ; past open houses, where 
 a single lamp sometimes flashed upon a woman's head ; 
 past a bonfire, turning the cork-trees into transparent 
 bronze, and past the sound of water, plunging under the 
 idle mill-wheel, in the cool, delicious summer air, — we 
 journeyed on. The stars were beginning to gather in the 
 sky, when square towers and masses of cubic houses rose 
 against them, and the steady roll of our wheels on the 
 smooth highway became a dreadful clatter on the rough 
 cobble-stones of Figueras. 
 
154 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 The Pyrenees were already behind us ; the town over- 
 looks a wide, marshy plain. But the mountains make their 
 vicinity felt in a peculiar manner. The north-wind, gath- 
 ered into the low pass of Bellegarde and drawn to a focus 
 of strength, blows down the opening valley with a force 
 which sometimes lays an embargo on travel. Diligences 
 are overturned, postilions blown out of their saddles, and 
 pedestrians carried off their feet. The people then pray 
 to their saints that the tramontana may cease ; but, on the 
 other hand, as it is a very healthy wind, sweeping away 
 the feverish exhalations from the marshy soil, they get up 
 a grand annual procession to some mountain-shrine of the 
 Virgin, and pray that it may blow. So, when the Virgin 
 takes them at their word, the saints are invoked on the 
 other side, and the wonder is that both parties don't get 
 out of patience with the people of Figueras. 
 
 The diligence drew up at the door of a fonda, and 
 Moreno announced that we were to take supper and wait 
 until midnight. This was welcome news to all ; but the 
 old German drew me aside as we entered the house, and 
 whispered, "Now our stomachs are going to be tried." 
 " Not at all," I answered, " we shall find very good prov- 
 ender." " But the guide-book says it is very bad," he 
 persisted. And he looked despondent, even with a clean 
 table-cloth and a crisp roll of bread before him, until the 
 soup steamed under his nose. His face brightened at the 
 odor, grew radiant at the flavor, and long before we reached 
 the roast pullet and salad, he expressed his satisfaction 
 with Spanish cookery. With the dessert came a vino rancio, 
 full of summer fire, and the tongues of the company were 
 loosened. From the weather and the Paris Exposition 
 we leaped boldly into politics, and, being on Spanish soil, 
 discussed France and the Mexican business. The French 
 officer was silent and annoyed ; he was a pleasant fellow, 
 and I, for one, had a little sympathy with his annoyance, 
 but I could not help saying that all Americans (except the 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 155 
 
 Rev. ) considered the action of France as an out- 
 rage and an impertinence, and were satisfied with her 
 miserable failure. The Spanish passengers nodded and 
 smiled. 
 
 I should not have spoken, had I foreseen one conse- 
 quence of my words. The German snatched the reins of 
 conversation out of our hands, and dashed off at full speed, 
 trampling France and her ruler under his feet. At the 
 first pause, I said to him, in German : " Pray don't be so 
 violent in your expressions, — the gentleman beside me is 
 a naval officer." But he answered : " I don't care, I must 
 speak my mind, which I could not do in Paris. France 
 has been the curse of Spain, as well as of all Europe, and 
 there will be no peace until we put a stop to her preten- 
 sions ! " Thereupon he said the same thing to the com- 
 pany ; but the Spaniards were too politic to acquiesce openly. 
 The officer replied, " France has not injured Spain, but, 
 on the contrary, has protected her ! '* and he evidently had 
 not the slightest suspicion that there was anything offensive 
 in his words. The Spaniards still remained silent, but 
 another expression came into their eyes. It was time 
 to change the subject ; so the principle of non-intervention, 
 in its fullest, most literal sense, was proposed and ac- 
 cepted. A grave Majorcan gentleman distributed cigars ; 
 his daughter, with her soft, melodious voice, was oil to the 
 troubled waters, and before midnight we were all equally 
 courteous and cosmopolitan. 
 
 Of the four ensuing hours I can give no account. 
 Neither asleep nor awake, hearing with closed eyes or see- 
 with half-closed senses, one can never afterwards distinguish 
 between what is seen and what is dreamed. This is a 
 state in which the body may possibly obtain some rest, but 
 the mind becomes inexpressibly fatigued. One's memory 
 of it is a blurred sketch, a faded daguerreotype. I wel- 
 comed that hour when — 
 
 *' Tlie wind blows cold 
 While the morning doth unfold." 
 
156 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 for it blew away this film, which usurped the place of the 
 blessed mantle of sleep. Chill, even here in African 
 Spain, where the pale pearl of the dawn foretold a burning 
 noon, and where, in May, the harvests were already reaped, 
 the morning brightened ; but we were near the end of the 
 journey. At sunrise, the towers of Girona stood fast and 
 firm over the misty level of the shimmering olive-groves ; 
 then the huge dull mass of the cathedral, the walls and 
 bastions of the hill-forts, which resisted a siege of seven 
 months during the Peninsular War, and finally the monot- 
 onous streets of the lower town, through which we drove. 
 
 The industrious Catalans were already awake and stir- 
 ring. Smokes from domestic hearths warmed the cool 
 morning air ; cheerful noises of men, animals, and fowls 
 broke the silence ; doors were open as we entered the town, 
 and the women were combing and twisting their black 
 hair in the shadows within. At the post some brown 
 grooms lounged about the door. A priest passed, — a gen- 
 uine Don Basilio, in inky gown and shovel hat ; and these 
 graceless grooms looked after him, thrust their tongues 
 into their cheeks, and made an irreverent grimace. The 
 agent at Perpignan came into my mind ; I winked at the 
 fellows, without any clear idea wherefore, but it must have 
 expressed something, for they burst into a laugh and re- 
 peated the grimace. 
 
 The lower town seemed to Hbe of immense length. Once 
 out of it, a superb avenue of plane trees received us, at the 
 end of which was the railway station. In another hour the 
 train would leave for Barcelona. Our trunks must be 
 again examined. When I asked the reason why this an- 
 noying regulation, obsolete elsewhere in Europe, is here 
 retained, the Spaniards gravely informed me that, if it were 
 abolished, a great many people would be thrown out of 
 employment. Not that they get much pay for the exam- 
 ination, — but they are constantly bribed not to examine ! 
 There was a cafe attached to the station, and I advised my 
 
FROM PEEPIGNAN TO MONTSEEEAT. 157 
 
 fellow-passengers to take a cup of the delicious ropy choco- 
 late of Spain, after which one accepts the inevitable more 
 patiently. 
 
 I found the landscapes from Girona to Barcelona very 
 bright and beautiful. Our locomotive had fallen into the 
 national habit : it was stately and deliberate, it could not 
 be hurried, its very whistle was subdued and dignified. 
 We went forward at an easy pace, making about fifteen 
 miles an hour, which enabled me to notice the patient in- 
 dustry of the people, as manifested on every plain and hill- 
 side. The Catalans are called rough and ungraceful ; beside 
 the sprightly Andalusians they seem cold and repellent ; 
 they have less of that blue blood which makes the beggar as 
 proud as the grandee, but they possess the virtue of labor, 
 which, however our artistic tastes may undervalue it, is the 
 basis from which all good must spring. When I saw how 
 the red and rocky hills were turned into garden-terraces, 
 how the olive-trees were pruned into health and produc- 
 tiveness, how the wheat stood so thick that it rolled but 
 stiffly under the breeze, I forgot the jaunty majos of Seville, 
 and gave my hearty admiration to the strong-backed reap- 
 ers in the fields of Catalonia. 
 
 The passengers we took up on the way, though belong- 
 ing to the better class, and speaking Spanish whenever it 
 was necessary, all seemed to prefer the popular dialect. 
 Proprietors of estates and elegant young ladies conversed 
 together in the rough patois of the peasants, which to me 
 was especially tantalizing, because it sounded so familiar, 
 and yet was so unintelligible. It is in reality the old langue 
 limousine of France, kindred to the Provengal, and differs 
 very slightly from the dialect spoken on the other side of 
 the Pyrenees. It is terse, forcible, and expressive, and I 
 must confess that the lisping Spanish, beside it, seems to 
 gain in melody at the expense of strength. 
 
 We approached Barcelona across the wide plain of the 
 Llobregat, where orange gardens and factory chimneys, 
 
158 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 fountains " i' the midst of roses," and machine-shops full of 
 grimy workmen, succeed each other in a curious tangle of 
 poetry and greasy fact. The Mediterranean gleams in a 
 blue line on the left, the citadel of Monjuich crowns a bluff 
 in front ; but the level city hides itself behind the foliage 
 of the plain, and is not seen. At the station you wait half 
 an hour, until the baggage is again deposited on the dis- 
 secting-tables of the custom officers ; and here, if, instead 
 of joining the crowd of unhappy murmurers in the ante- 
 room, you take your station in the doorway, looking down 
 upon porters, peddlers, idlers, and policemen, you are sure 
 to be diverted by a little comedy acted in pantomime. 
 An outside porter has in some way interfered with the 
 rights of a station-porter ; a policeman steps between the 
 two, the latter of whom, lifting both hands to heaven in a 
 wild appeal, brings them down swiftly and thrusts them 
 out before him, as if descending to earthly justice. The 
 outsider goes through the same gestures, and then both, 
 with flashing eyes and open mouths, teeth glittering under 
 the drawn lips, await the decision. The policeman first 
 makes a sabre-cut with his right arm, then with his left ; 
 then also lifts his hands to heaven, shakes them there a 
 moment, and, turning as he brings them down, faces the 
 outside porter. The latter utters a passionate cry, and his 
 arms begin to rise ; but he is seized by the shoulder and 
 turned aside ; the crowd closes in, and the comedy is over. 
 We have a faint interest in Barcelona for the sake of 
 Columbus ; but, apart from this one association, we set it 
 down beside Manchester, Lowell, and other manufacturing 
 cities. It was so crowded within its former walls, that 
 little space was left for architectural display. In many of 
 the streets I doubt whether four persons could walk 
 abreast. Only in the Rambla, a broad central boulevard, is 
 there any chance for air and sunshine, and all the leisure 
 and pleasure of the city is poured into this one avenue. 
 Since the useless walls have been removed, an ambitious 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 159 
 
 modern suburb is springing up on the west, and there will, 
 in time, be a new city better than the old. 
 
 This region appears to be the head-quarters of political 
 discontent in Spain, — probably because the people get to 
 be more sensible of the misrule under which they languish, 
 in proportion as they become more active and industrious. 
 Nothing could have been more peaceable upon the surface 
 than the aspect of things ; the local newspapers never re- 
 ported any disturbance, yet intelligence of trouble in Cata- 
 lonia was circulating through the rest of Europe, and 
 something — I could not ascertain precisely what it was — 
 took place during my brief visit. The telegraph-wires 
 were cut, and some hundreds of soldiers were sent into the 
 country ; but the matter was never mentioned, unless two 
 persons whom I saw whispering together in the darkest cor- 
 ner of a cafe were discussing it. I believe, if a battle had 
 been fought within hearing of the cannon, the Barcelonese 
 would have gone about the streets with the same placid, 
 unconcerned faces. Whether this was cunning, phlegm, 
 or the ascendency of solid material interests over the fiery, 
 impulsive nature of the Spaniard, was not clear to a pass- 
 ing observer. In either case it was a prudent course. 
 
 If, in the darkened streets — or rather lanes — of Bar- 
 celona, I saw some suggestive pictures ; if the court-yard 
 of the cathedral, with its fountains and orange - trees, 
 seemed a thousand miles removed from the trade and 
 manufacture of the city ; if the issuing into sunshine on 
 the mole was like a blow in the eyes, to which the sapphire 
 bloom of the Mediterranean became a healing balm ; and 
 if the Rambla, towards evening, changed into a shifting 
 diorama of color and cheerful life, — none of these things 
 inclined me to remain longer than the preparation for my 
 further journey required. Before reaching the city, I had 
 caught a glimpse, far up the valley of the Llobregat, ol a 
 high, curiously serrated mountain, and that old book of the 
 "Wonders of the World" (now, alas! driven from the 
 
160 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 library of childhood) opened its pages and showed its 
 rough woodcuts., in memory, to tell me what the mountain 
 was. How many times has that wonderful book been the 
 chief charm of my travels, causing me to forget Sulpicius 
 on the ^gean Sea, Byron in Italy, and Humboldt in Mex- 
 ico! 
 
 To those who live in Barcelona, Montserrat has become 
 a common-place, the resort of Sunday excursions and pic- 
 nics, one fourth devotional, and three fourths epicurean. 
 Wild, mysterious, almost inaccessible as it stands in one's 
 fancy, it sinks at this distance into the very material atmos- 
 phere of railroad and omnibus ; but, for all that, we are 
 not going to give it up, though another " Wonder of the 
 World " should* go by the board. Take the Tarragona 
 train then with me, on a cloudless afternoon. In a few 
 minutes the scattered suburban blocks are left behind, and 
 we enter the belt of villas, with their fountained terraces 
 and tropical gardens. More and more the dark red earth 
 shows through the thin foliage of the olives, as the hills 
 draw nearer, and it finally gives color to the landscapes. 
 The vines covering the levels and lower slopes are won- 
 derfully luxuriant ; but we can see how carefully they are 
 cultivated. Hedges of aloe and cactus divide them ; here 
 and there some underground cavern has tumbled in, let- 
 ting down irregular tracts of soil, and the vines still flour- 
 ish at the bottom of the pits thus made. As the plain 
 shrinks to a valley, the hills on either side ascend into 
 rounded summits, which begin to be dark with pine for- 
 ests ; villages with square, brown church-towers perch on 
 the lower heights ; cotton-mills draw into their service the 
 scanty waters of the river, and the appearance of cheerful, 
 thrifty labor increases as the country becomes rougher. 
 
 All this time the serrated mountain is drawing nearer, 
 and breaking into a wilder confusion of pinnacles. It stands 
 alone, planted across the base of a triangular tract of open 
 country, — a strange, solitary, exiled peak, drifted away 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 161 
 
 in the beginning of things from its brethren of the Pyre- 
 nees, and stranded in a different geological period. This 
 circumstance must have long ago impressed the inhabit- 
 ants of the region — even in the ante-historic ages. When 
 Christianity rendered a new set of traditions necessary, 
 the story arose that the mountain was thus split and shat- 
 tered at the moment when Christ breathed his last on the 
 cross of Calvary. This is still the popular belief; but the 
 singular formation of Montserrat, independent of it, was 
 sufficient to fix the anchoretic tastes of the early Christians. 
 It is set apart by Nature, not only towering above all the 
 surrounding heights, but drawing itself haughtily away 
 from contact with them, as if conscious of its earlier ori- 
 gin. 
 
 At the station of Martorel I left the train, and took a 
 coach which was in waiting for the village of Collbato, at 
 the southern base of the mountain. My companion in the 
 coupe was a young cotton-manufacturer, who assured me 
 that in Spain the sky and soil were good, but the entresol 
 (namely, the human race) was bad. The interior was 
 crowded with country-women, each of whom seemed to 
 have four large baskets. I watched the driver for half an 
 hour attempting to light a broken cigar, and then rewarded 
 his astonishing patience with a fresh one, whereby we be- 
 came good friends. Such a peaceful light lay upon the 
 landscape, the people were so cheerful, the laborers worked 
 so quietly in the vineyards, that the thought of a political 
 disturbance the day before seemed very absurd. The 
 olive-trees, which clothed the hills wherever their bony 
 roots could find the least lodgment of soil, were of re- 
 markably healthy and vigorous growth, and the regular 
 cubic form into which they were pruned marked the climb- 
 ing terraces with long lines of gray light, as the sun 
 slanted across them. 
 
 " You see," said the Spaniard, as I noticed this peculiar- 
 ity, " the entresol is a little better in this neighborhood than 
 
162 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 elsewhere in Spain. The people cut the trees into this 
 shape in order that they may become more compact and 
 produce better; besides which, the fruit is more easily 
 gathered. In all those orchards you will not find a decayed 
 or an unhealthy tree ; such are dug up and burned, and 
 young ones planted in their place." 
 
 At the village of Esparaguerra the other passengers 
 left, and I went on towards CoUbato alone. But I had 
 Montserrat for company, towering more grandly, more 
 brokenly, from minute to minute. Every change in the 
 foreground gave me a new picture. Now it was a clump 
 of olives with twisted trunks ; now an aloe, lifting its giant 
 candelabrum of blossoms from the edge of a rock ; now a 
 bank of dull vermilion earth, upon which goats were hang- 
 ing. The upper spires of the mountain disappeared be- 
 hind its basal buttresses of gray rock, a thousand feet in 
 perpendicular height, and the sinking sun, as it crept west- 
 ward, edged these with sharp lines of light. Up, under 
 the tremendous cliffs, and already in shadow, lay CoUbato, 
 and I was presently set down at the gate of the posada. 
 
 Don Pedro, the host, came forward to meet and welcome 
 me, and his pretty daughter, sitting on the steps, rose up 
 and dropped a salute. In the entrance hall I read, painted 
 in large letters on the wall, the words of St. Augustine : 
 " In necessariis unitas ; in dubiis lihertas ; in omnibus, caritas" 
 Verily, thought I, Don Pedro must be a character. I had 
 no sooner comfortably seated myself in the doorway to 
 contemplate the exquisite evening landscape, which the 
 Mediterranean bounded in the distance, and await my sup- 
 per, than Don Pedro ordered his daughter to bring the 
 guests' book, and then betook himself to the task of run- 
 ning down a lean chicken. In the record of ten years I 
 found that Germans were the most frequent visitors ; Amer- 
 icans appeared but thrice. One party of the latter regis- 
 tered themselves as " gentlemen," and stated that they had 
 seen the " promanent points," — which gave occasion to a 
 
FROM PEEPIGNAN TO MONTSEERAT. 163 
 
 later Englishman to comment upon the intelligence of 
 American gentlemen. The host's daughter, Pepita, was 
 the theme of praise in prose and raptures in poetry. 
 
 " Are you Pepita ? " I asked, turning to the girl, who sat 
 on the steps before me, gazing into the evening sky with an 
 expression of the most indolent happiness. I noticed for 
 the first time, and admired, her firm, regular, almost Roman 
 profile and the dark masses of real hair on her head. Her 
 attitude, also, was very graceful, and she would have been, 
 to impressible eyes, a phantom of delight, but for the un- 
 graceful fact that she inveterately scratched herself when- 
 ever and wherever a flea happened to bite. 
 
 " No, seiior," she answered ; " I am Carmen. Pepita 
 was married first, and then Mariquita. Angelita and my- 
 self are the only ones at home." 
 
 " I see there is also a poem to Angelita," I remarked, 
 turning over the last leaves. 
 
 " O, that was a poet ! " said she, — "a funny man ! Every- 
 body knows him : he writes for the theatre, and all that is 
 about some eggs which Angelita fried for him. We can't 
 understand it all, but we think it's good-natured." 
 
 Here the mother came, not as duenna, but as companion, 
 with her distaff and spindle, and talked and span until I 
 could no longer distinguish the thread against her gray 
 dress. When the lean chicken was set before me, Don 
 Pedro announced that a mule and guide would be in readi- 
 ness at sunrise, and I could, if I chose, mount to the top- 
 most peak of San Geronimo. In the base of the moun- 
 tain, near Collbato, there are spacious caverns, which most 
 travellers feel bound to visit ; but I think that six or seven 
 caves, one coal mine, and one gold mine are enough for a 
 life-time, and have renounced any further subterranean re- 
 searches. Why delve into those dark, moist, oppressive 
 crypts, when the blessed sunshine of years shows one so 
 little of the earth and of human life ? Let any one that 
 chooses come and explore the caverns of Montserrat, and 
 
164 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 then tell me (as people have a passion for doing), " You 
 missed the best ! " The best is that with which one is satis- 
 fied. 
 
 Instead of five o'clock, when I should have been called, 
 I awoke naturally at six, and found that Don Pedro had 
 set out for San Geronimo four hours before, while neither 
 guide nor mule was forthcoming. The old woman pointed 
 to some specks far up in the shadow of the cliffs, which 
 she assured me were travellers, and would arrive with 
 mules in fifteen minutes. But I applied the words in dubns 
 Uherfas, and insisted on an immediate animal and guide, 
 both of which, somewhat to my surprise, were produced. 
 The black mule was strong, and the lank old Catalan shoul- 
 dered my heavy valise and walked off without a murmur. 
 The sun was already hot; but once risen above the last 
 painfully constructed terrace of olives, and climbing the 
 stony steep, we dipped into the cool shadow of the moun- 
 tain. The path was difficult but not dangerous, winding 
 upward through rocks fringed with dwarf ilex, box^ and 
 mastic, which made the air fragrant. Thyme, wild flax, 
 and aconite blossomed in the crevices. The botany of the 
 mountain is as exceptional as its geology ; it includes five 
 hundred different species. 
 
 The box-tree, which my Catalan guide called hosch in his 
 dialect, is a reminiscence, wherever one sees it, of Italy 
 and Greece — of ancient culture and art. Its odor, as 
 Holmes admirably says, suggests eternity. If it was not 
 the first plant that sprang up on the cooling planet, it 
 ought to have been. Its glossy mounds, and rude, stat- 
 uesque clumps, which often seem struggling to mould 
 themselves into human shape, cover with beauty the ter- 
 rible rocks of Montserrat. M. Delavigne had warned me 
 of the dangers of the path I was pursuing, — walls on one 
 side, and chasms a thousand feet deep on the other, — but 
 the box everywhere shaped itself into protecting figures, 
 and whispered as I went by, " Never fear ; if you slip, I 
 will hold you ! " 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 165 
 
 The mountain is an irregular cone, about thirty-five hun- 
 dred feet in height, and cleft down the middle by a torrent 
 which breaks through its walls on the northeastern side. 
 It presents a perpendicular face, which seems inaccessible, 
 for the shelves between the successive elevations, when 
 seen from below, appear as narrow fringes of vegetation, 
 growing out of one unbroken wall. They furnish, indeed, 
 but scanty room for the 'bridle-path, which at various points 
 is both excavated and supported by arches of- masonry. 
 After nearly an hour, I found myself over Collbato, upon 
 the roofs of which, it seemed, I might fling a stone. At 
 the next angle of the mountain, the crest was attained, and 
 I stood between the torn and scarred upper wilderness of 
 Montserrat on the one hand, and the broad, airy sweep of 
 landscape, bounded by the sea, on the other. To the north- 
 ward a similar cape thrust out its sheer walls against the 
 dim, dissolving distances, and it was necessary to climb 
 along the sides of the intervening gulf, which sank under 
 me into depths of shadow. Every step of the way was 
 inspiring, for there was the constant threat; without the 
 reality, of danger. My mule paced securely along the 
 giddy brinks; and through the path seemed to terminate fifty 
 paces ahead, I was always sure to find a loop-hole or coigne 
 of vantage which the box and mastic had hidden from sight. 
 So in another hour the opposite foreland was Attained, and 
 from its crest I saw, all along the northern horizon, the 
 snowy wall of the Pyrenees. 
 
 Here a path branched off to the peak of San Geronimo, 
 — a two hours' clamber through an absolute desert of rock. 
 My guide, although panting and sweating with his load, 
 proposed the ascent ; but in .the film of heat which over- 
 spread the land I should have only had a wider panorama 
 in which all distinct forms were lost, — vast, no doubt, but 
 as blurred and intangible as a metaphysical treatise. I 
 judged it better to follow the example of a pious peasant 
 and his wife whom we had overtaken, and who, setting 
 
166 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 their faces toward the renowned monastery, murmured an 
 Ave from time to time. Erelong, on emerging from the 
 thickets, we burst suddenly upon one of the wildest and 
 most wonderful pictures I ever beheld. A tremendous 
 wall of rock arose in front, crowned by colossal turrets, 
 pyramids, clubs, pillars, and ten-pin shaped masses, which 
 were drawn singly, or in groups of incredible distortion, 
 against the deep blue of the sky. At the foot of the rock, 
 the buildings of the monastery, huge and massive, the 
 church, the houses for pilgrims, and the narrow gardens, 
 completely filled and almost overhung a horizontal shelf 
 of the mountain, under which it again fell sheer away, 
 down, down into misty depths, the bottom of which was 
 hidden from sight. I dropped from the mule, sat down 
 upon the grass, and, under pretense of sketching, studied 
 this picture for an hour. In all the galleries of memory I 
 could find nothing resembling it. 
 
 The descriptions of Montserrat must have made a power- 
 ful impression upon Goethe's mind, since he deliberately 
 appropriated the scenery for the fifth act of the Second 
 Part of Faust. Goethe was in the steadfast habit of choos- 
 ing a local and actual habitation for the creations of his 
 imagination ; his landscapes were always either painted 
 from nature, or copied from the sketch-books of others. 
 The marvelous choruses of the fifth act floated through 
 my mind as I drew ; the " Pater Ecstaticus " hovered in the 
 sunny air, the anchorites chanted from their caves, and the 
 mystic voices of the ilndeveloped child-spirits came between, 
 like the breathing of an ^olian harp. I suspect that the 
 sanctity of the mountain really depends as much upon its 
 extraordinary forms, as upon the traditions which have been 
 gradually attached to it. These latter, however, are so 
 strange and grotesque, that they could only be accepted 
 here. 
 
 The monastery owes its foundation to a miraculous statue 
 of the Virgin, sculptured by St. Luke, and brought to Spain 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSERRAT. 167 
 
 by no less a personage than St. Peter. In the year 880, 
 some shepherds who had climbed the mountain in search of 
 stray goats heard celestial harmonies among the rocks. This 
 phenomenon coming to the ears of Bishop Gondemar, he 
 climbed to the spot, and was led by the music to the mouth 
 of a cave, which exhaled a delicious perfume. There, en- 
 shrined in light, lay the sacred statue. Gondemar and his 
 priests, chanting as they went, set out for Manresa, the 
 seat of the diocese, carrying it with them ; but on reaching 
 a certain spot, they found it impossible to move farther. 
 The statue obstinately refused to accompany them — which 
 was taken as a sign that there, and nowhere else, the shrine 
 should be built. Just below the monastery there still 
 stands a cross, with the inscription, " Here the Holy Image 
 declared itself immovable, 880." 
 
 The chapel when built was intrusted to the pious care 
 of Fray Juan Garin, whose hermitage is pointed out to you, 
 on a peak which seems accessible only to the eagle. The 
 Devil, however, interfered, as he always does in such cases. 
 He first entered into Riquilda, the daughter of the Count of 
 Barcelona, and then declared through her mouth that he 
 would not quit her body except by the order of Juan Garin, 
 the hermit of Montserrat. Riquilda was therefore sent to 
 the mountain and given into the hermit's charge. A temp- 
 tation similar to that of St. Anthony followed, but with ex- 
 actly the opposite result. In order to conceal his sin, Juan 
 G^rin cut off Riquilda's head, buried her, and fled. Over- 
 taken by remorse, he made his way to Rome, confessed him- 
 self to the Pope, and prayed for a punishment proportioned 
 to his crime. He was ordered to become a beast, never 
 lifting his face towards heaven, until the hour when God 
 Himself should signify his pardon. 
 
 Juan Garin went forth from the Papal presence on his 
 hands and knees, crawled back to Montserrat, and there' 
 lived seven years as a wild animal, eating grass and bark, 
 and never lifting his face towards heaven. At the end of 
 
168 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 this time his body was entirely covered with hair, and it so 
 happened that the hunters of the count snared him as a 
 strange beast, put a chain around his neck, and took him 
 to Barcelona. In the mansion of the Count there was an 
 infant only five months old, in its nurse's arms. IjTo sooner 
 had the child beheld the supposed animal, than it gave a 
 loud cry and exclaimed : " Rise up, Juan Garin ; God has 
 pardoned thee ! " Then, to the astonishment of all, the 
 beast arose and spoke in a human tongue. He told his 
 story, and the Count set out at once with him to the spot 
 where Riquilda was buried. They opened the grave and 
 the maiden rose up alive, with only a rosy mark, like a 
 thread, around her neck. In commemoration of so many 
 miracles, the Count founded the monastery. 
 
 At present, the monks retain but a fragment of their 
 former wealth and power. Their number is reduced to 
 nineteen, which is barely enough to guard the shrine, per- 
 form their offices, and prepare and bless the rosaries and 
 other articles of devotional traffic. I visited the church, 
 courts, and corridors, but took no pains to get sight of the 
 miraculous statue. I have already seen both the painting 
 and the sculpture of St. Luke, and think him one of the 
 worst artists that ever existed. Moreover, the place is fast 
 assuming a secular, not to say profane air. There is a 
 modern restaurant, with bill of fare and wine list, inside 
 the gate, ticket-office for travellers, and a daily omnibus to 
 the nearest railway station. Ladies in black mantillas 
 lounge about the court-yards, gentlemen smoke on the bal- 
 conies, and only the brown-faced peasant pilgrims, arriving 
 with weary feet, enter the church with an expression of awe 
 and of unquestioning faith. The enormous wealth which 
 the monastery once possessed — the offering of kings — 
 has disappeared in the vicissitudes of Spanish history, the 
 •French, in 1811, being the last pillagers. Since then, the 
 treasures of gold and jewels have not returned ; for the 
 crowns offered to the Virgin by the city of Barcelona and 
 
FROM PERPIGNAN TO MONTSEREAT. 169 
 
 by a rich American are of gilded silver, set with diamonds 
 of paste ! 
 
 I loitered for hours on the narrow terraces around the 
 monastery, constantly finding some new and strange com- 
 bination of forms in the architecture of the mountain. 
 The bright silver-gray of the rock contrasted finely with 
 the dark masses of eternal box, and there was an endless 
 play of light and shade as the sun burst suddenly through 
 some unsuspected gap, or hid himself behind one of the 
 giant ten-pins of the summit. The world below swam in 
 dim red undulations, for the color of the soil showed every- 
 where through its thin clothing of olive-trees. In hue as 
 in form, Montserrat had no fellowship with the surround- 
 ing region. 
 
 The descent on the northern side is far less picturesque, 
 inasmuch as you are perched upon the front seat of an 
 omnibus, and have an excellent road — a work of great 
 cost and labor — the whole way. But, on the other hand, 
 you skirt the base of a number of the detached pillars and 
 pyramids into which the mountain separates, and gain fresh 
 pictures of its remarkable structure. There is one isolated 
 shaft, visible at a great distance, which I should judge to 
 be three hundred feet in height by forty or fifty in diameter. 
 At the western end, the outline is less precipitous, and 
 here the fields of vine and olive climb much higher than 
 elsewhere. In an hour from the time of leaving the mon- 
 astery, we were below the last rampart, rolling through 
 dust in the hot valley of the Llobregat, and tracing the 
 course of the invisible road across the walls of Montserrat, 
 with a feeling of incredulity that we had really descended 
 from such a point. 
 
 At the village of Montrisol, on the river, there is a large 
 cotton factory. The doors opened as we approached, and 
 the workmen came forth, their day's labor done. Men and 
 women, boys and girls, in red caps and sandals, or bare- 
 headed and barefooted, they streamed merrily along the 
 
170 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 road, teeth and eyes flashing as they chatted and sang. 
 They were no pale, melancholy factory slaves, but joyous 
 and light-hearted children of labor, and, it seemed to me, 
 the proper successors of the useless idlers in the monastery 
 of Montserrat. Up there, on the mountain, a system, all- 
 powerful in the past, was swiftly dying ; here, in the valley, 
 was the first life of the only system that can give a future 
 to Spain. 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 
 I. 
 
As the steamer Mallorca slowly moved out of the har- 
 bor of Barcelona, I made a rapid inspection of the passen- 
 gers gathered on deck, and found that I was the only 
 foreigner among them. Almost without exception they 
 were native Majorcans, returning from trips of business or 
 pleasure to the Continent. They spoke no language ex- 
 cept Spanish and Catalan, and held fast to all the little 
 habits and fashions of their insular life. If anything more 
 had been needed to show me that I was entering upon un- 
 trodden territory, it was supplied by the joyous surprise of 
 the steward when I gave him a fee. This fact reconciled 
 me to my isolation on board, and its attendant awkward- 
 ness. 
 
 I knew not why I should have chosen to visit the Bale- 
 aric Islands, unless for the simple reason that they lie so 
 much aside from the highways of travel, and are not rep- 
 resented in the journals and sketch-books of tourists. If 
 any one had asked me what I expected to see, I should 
 have been obliged to confess my ignorance ; for the few 
 dry geographical details which I possessed were like the 
 chemical analysis of a liquor wherefrom no one can recon- 
 struct the taste. The flavor of a land is a thing quite 
 apart from its statistics. There is no special guide-book 
 for the islands, and the slight notices in the works on 
 Spain only betray the haste of the authors to get over a 
 field with which they are unacquainted. But this very 
 circumstance, for me, had grown into a fascination. One 
 gets tired of studying the bill of fare in advance of the 
 repast. When the sun and the Spanish coast had set to- 
 gether behind the placid sea, I went to my berth with the 
 
174 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 delightful certainty that the sun of the morrow, and of 
 many days thereafter, would rise upon scenes and adven- 
 tures which could not be anticipated. 
 
 The distance from Barcelona to Palma is about a hun- 
 dred and forty miles ; so the morning found us skirting 
 the southwestern extremity of Majorca — a barren coast, 
 thrusting low headlands of gray rock into the sea, and hills 
 covered with parched and stunted chaparral in the rear. 
 The twelfth century, in the shape of a crumbling Moorish 
 watch-tower, alone greeted us. As we advanced eastward 
 into the Bay of Palma, however, the wild shrubbery 
 melted into plantations of olive, solitary houses of fisher- 
 men nestled in the coves, and finally a village, of those 
 soft ochre-tints which are a little brighter than the soil, 
 appeared on the slope of a hill. In front, through the 
 pale morning mist which still lay upon the sea, I saw the 
 cathedral of Palma, looming grand and large beside the 
 towers of other churches, and presently, gliding past a 
 mile or two of country villas and gardens, we entered the 
 crowded harbor. 
 
 Inside the mole there was a multitude of the light crafl 
 of the Mediterranean, — xebecs, feluccas, speronaras, or 
 however they may be termed, — with here and there a brig- 
 antine which had come from beyond the Pillars of Her- 
 cules. Our steamer drew into her berth beside the quay, 
 and after a very deliberate review by the port physician we 
 were allowed to land. I found a porter, Arab in everything 
 but costume, and followed him through the water-gate into 
 the half-awake city. My destination was the Inn of the 
 " Four Nations," where I was cordially received, and after- 
 wards roundly swindled, by a French host. My first de- 
 mand was for a native attendant, not so much from any need 
 of guide as simply to become more familiar with the people 
 through him ; but I was told that no such serviceable spirit 
 was to be had in the place. Strangers are so rare that a 
 class of people who live upon them has not yet been created. 
 
BALEAEIG DAYS. 175 
 
 " But how shall I find the Palace of the Government, or 
 the monastery of San Domingo, or anything else ?" 1 
 asked. 
 
 " 0, we will give you directions, so that you cannot miss 
 them," said the host ; bift he laid before me such a confu- 
 sion of right turnings and left turnings, ups and downs, 
 that I became speedily bewildered, and set forth, deter- 
 mined to let the spirit in my feet guide me. A labyrinthine 
 place is Palma, and my first walks through the city were 
 so many games of chance. The streets are very narrow, 
 changing their direction, it seemed to me, at every tenth 
 step ; and whatever landmark one may select at the start 
 is soon shut from view by the high, dark houses. At first, 
 I was quite astray, but little by little I regained the lost 
 points of the compass. 
 
 After having had the Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthagin- 
 ians, Romans, Vandals, and Saracens as masters, Majorca 
 was first made Spanish by King Jaime of Aragon, the 
 Conquistador, in the year 1235. For a century after the 
 conquest it was an independent kingdom, and one of its 
 kings was slain by the English bowmen at the battle of 
 Crecy. The Spanish element has absorbed, but not yet 
 entirely obliterated, the characteristics of the earlier races 
 who inhabited the island. Were ethnology a more posi- 
 tively developed science, we might divide and classify this 
 confused inheritance of character ; as it is, we vaguely feel 
 the presence of something quaint, antique, and unusual, in 
 walking the streets of Palma, and mingling with the inhab- 
 itants. The traces of Moorish occupation are still notice- 
 able everywhere. Although the Saracenic architecture no 
 longer exists in its original forms, its details may be de- 
 tected in portals, court-yards, and balconies, in almost 
 every street. The conquerors endeavored to remodel the 
 city, but in doing so they preserved the very spirit which 
 they sought to destroy. 
 
 My wanderings, after all, were not wholly undirected. 
 
176 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 I found an intelligent guide, who was at the same time an 
 old acquaintance. The whirligig of time brings about, not 
 merely its revenges, but also its compensations and coinci- 
 dences. Twenty-two years a^o, when I was studying Ger- 
 man as a boy in the old city of Frankfort, guests from the 
 south of France came to visit the amiable family with 
 whom I was residing. They were M. Laurens, a painter 
 and a musical enthusiast, his wife, and Mademoiselle Ro- 
 salba, a daughter as fair as her name. Never shall I for- 
 get the curious letter which the artist wrote to the manager 
 of the theatre, requesting that Beethoven's Fidelio might 
 be given (and it was !) for his own especial benefit, nor the 
 triumphant air with which he came to us one day, saying^ 
 " I have something of most precious," and brought forth, 
 out of a dozen protecting envelopes, a single gray hair from 
 Beethoven's head. Nor shall I forget how Madame Lau- 
 rens taught us French plays, and how the fair Rosalba 
 declaimed Andre Chenier to redeem her pawns ; but I 
 might have forgotten all these things, had it not been for 
 an old volume ^ which turned up at need, and which gave 
 me information, at oijce clear, precise, and attractive, con- 
 cerning the streets and edifices of Palma. The round, 
 solid head, earnest eyes, and abstracted air of the painter 
 came forth distinct from the limbo of things overlaid but 
 never lost, and went with me through the checkered blaze 
 and gloom of the city. 
 
 The monastery of San Domingo, which was the head- 
 quarters of the Inquisition, was spared by the progressive 
 government of Mendizabal, but destroyed by the people. 
 Its ruins must have been the most picturesque sight of 
 Palma ; but since the visit of M. Laurens they have been 
 removed, and their broken vaults and revealed torture- 
 chambers are no longer to be seen. There are, however, 
 
 1 Souvenirs d'un Voyage d'Art a Vlsle de Majorque. Par J. B. Lau- 
 rens. 
 
BALEAKIC DAYS. 177 
 
 two or three buildings of more than ordinary interest. The 
 Casa Consistorial, or City Hall, is a massive Palladian pile 
 of the sixteenth century, resembling the old palaces of 
 Pisa and Florence, except in the circumstance that its 
 roof projects at least ten feet beyond the front, resting on 
 a massive cornice of carved wood with curious horizontal 
 caryatides in the place of brackets. The rich burnt-sienna 
 tint of the carvings contrasts finely with the golden-brown 
 of the massive marble walls — a combination which is 
 shown in no other building of the Middle Ages. The 
 sunken rosettes, surrounded by raised arabesque borders, 
 between the caryatides, are sculptured with such a care- 
 ful reference to the distance at which they must be seen, 
 that they appear as firm and delicate as if near the spec- 
 tator's eye. 
 
 The Cathedral, founded by the Conquistador, and built 
 upon, at intervals, for more than three centuries, is not yet 
 finished. It stands upon a natural platform of rock, over- 
 hanging the sea, where its grand dimensions produce the 
 greatest possible effect. In every view of Palma, it towers 
 solidly above the houses and bastioned walls, and insists 
 upon hadng the sky as a background for the light Gothic 
 pinnacles of its flying buttresses. The government has 
 recently undertaken its restoration, and a new front of 
 very admirable and harmonious design is about half com- 
 pleted. The sofl amber-colored marble of Majorca is en- 
 riched in tint by exposure to the air, and even when built 
 in large, unrelieved masses retains a bright and cheerful 
 character. The new portion of the cathedral, like the old, 
 has but little sculpture, except in the portals ; but that 
 little is so elegant that a greater profusion of ornament 
 would seem out of place. 
 
 Passing from the clear, dazzling day into the interior, one 
 finds himself, at first, in total darkness ; and the dimen- 
 sions of the nave — nearly three hundred feet in length 
 by one hundred and forty in height — are amplified by the 
 12 
 
178 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 gloom. The wind, I was told, came through the windows 
 on the sea side with such force as to overturn the chalices, . 
 and blow out the tapers on the altar, whereupon every 
 opening was walled up, except a rose at the end of the 
 chancel, and a few slits in the nave, above the side-aisles. 
 A sombre twilight, like that of a stormy day, fills the edi- 
 fice. Here the rustling of stoles and the muttering of 
 prayers suggest incantation rather than worship ; the or- 
 gan has a hollow, sepulchral sound of lamentation ; and 
 there is a spirit of mystery and terror in the stale, clammy 
 air. The place resembles an ante-chamber of Purgatory 
 much more than of Heaven. The mummy of Don Jaime 
 IL, son of the Conquistador and first king of Majorca, is 
 preserved in a sarcophagus of black marble. This is -the 
 only historic monument in the Cathedral, imless the stran- 
 ger chooses to study the heraldry of the island families 
 from their shields suspended in the chapels. 
 
 "When I returned to the " Four Nations " for breakfast, I 
 found at the table a gentleman of Palma, who invited me 
 to sit down and partake of his meal. For the first time 
 this Spanish custom, which really seems picturesque and 
 fraternal when coming from shepherds or muleteers in a 
 mountain inn, struck me as the hollowest of forms. The 
 gentleman knew that I would not accept his invitation, nor 
 he mine ; he knew, moreover, that I knew he did not wish 
 me to accept it. The phrase, under such conditions, be- 
 comes a cheat which offends the sacred spirit of hospitality. 
 How far the mere form may go was experienced by George 
 Sand, who having accepted the use of a carriage most ear- 
 nestly offered to her by a Majorcan count, found the equip- 
 age at her door, it is true, but with it a letter expressing 
 so much vexation, that she was forced to withdraw her ac- 
 ceptance of the favor at once, and to apologize for it ! I 
 have always found much hospitality among the common 
 people of Spain, and I doubt not that the spirit exists in 
 all classes ; but it requires some practice to distinguish 
 
BALEAEIC DAYS. 179 
 
 between empty phrase and the courtesy which comes from 
 the heart A people who boast of some special virtue gen- 
 erally do not possess it. 
 
 My own slight intercourse with the Majorcans was very 
 pleasant. On the day of my arrival, I endeavored to pro- 
 cure a map of the island, but none of the bookstores pos- 
 sessed the article. It could be found in one house in a 
 remote street, and one of the shopmen finally sent a boy 
 with me to the very door. When I offered money for the 
 service, my guide smiled, shook his head, and ran away. 
 The map was more than fifty years old, and drawn in the 
 style of two centuries ago, with groups of houses for the 
 villages, and long files of conical peaks for the mountains. 
 The woman brought it down, yellow and dusty, from a 
 dark garret over the shop, and seemed as delighted with 
 the sale as if she had received money for useless stock. 
 In the streets, the people inspected me curiously, as a 
 stranger, but were always ready to go out of their way to 
 guide me. The ground-floor being always open, all the 
 features of domestic life and of mechanical labor are ex- 
 posed to the public. The housewives, the masters and 
 apprentices, busy as they seem, manage to keep one eye 
 disengaged, and no one passes before them without notice. 
 Cooking, washing, sewing, tailoring, shoemaking, cooper- 
 ing, rope and basket making, succeed each other, as one 
 passes through the narrow streets. In the afternoon, the 
 mechanics frequently come forth and set up their business 
 in the open air, where they can now and then greet a coun- 
 try acquaintance, or a city friend, or sweetheart. 
 
 When I found that the ruins of San Domingo had been 
 removed, anfl a statue of Isabella II. erected on the Ala- 
 meda, I began to suspect that the reign of old things was 
 over in Majorca. A little observation of the people made 
 this fact more evident. The island costume is no longer 
 worn by the young men, even in the country ; they have 
 passed into a very comical transition state. Old men, 
 
180 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 mounted on lean asses or mules, still enter the gates of 
 Palma, with handkerchiefs tied over their shaven crowns, 
 and long gray locks falling on their shoulders, — with 
 short, loose jackets, shawls around the waist, and wide 
 Turkish trousers gathered at the knee. Their gaunt brown 
 legs are bare, and their feet protected by rude sandals. 
 Tall, large-boned, and stern of face, they hint both of 
 Vandal and of Moslem blood. The younger men are of 
 inferior stature, and nearly all bow-legged. They have 
 turned the flowing trousers into modern pantaloons, the 
 legs of which are cut like the old-fashioned gigot sleeve, 
 very big and baggy at the top, and tied with a dra"wing- 
 string around the waist. My first impression was, that the 
 men had got up in a great hurry, and put on their trousers 
 hinder end foremost. It would be difficult to invent a cos- 
 tume more awkward and ungraceful than this. 
 
 In the city the young girls wear a large triangular piece 
 of white or black lace, which covers the hair, and tightly 
 incloses the face, being fastened under the chin and the 
 ends brought down to a point on the breast. Their al- 
 mond-shaped eyes are large and fine, but there is very little 
 positive beauty among them. Most of the old country- 
 women are veritable hags, and their appearance is not im- 
 proved by the broad-brimmed stove-pipe hats which they 
 wear. Seated astride on their donkeys, between panniers 
 of produce, they come in daily from the plains and moun- 
 tains, and you encounter them on all the roads leading out 
 of Palma. Few of the people speak any other language 
 than the Mallorquin^ a variety of the Catalan, which, from 
 the frequency of the terminations in ch and tz, constantly 
 suggests the old Provencal literature. The word vitch 
 (son) is both Celtic and Slavonic. Some Arabic terms 
 are also retained, though fewer, I think, than in Andalusia. 
 
 In the afternoon I walked out into the country. The 
 wall, on the land side, which is very high and massive, is 
 pierced by five guarded gates. The dry moat, both wide 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 181 
 
 and deep, is spanned by wooden bridges, after crossing 
 which one has the choice of a dozen highways, all scantily 
 shaded with rows of ragged mulberry-trees, glaring white 
 in the sun and deep in impalpable dry dust. But the 
 sea-breeze blows freshening across the parched land ; sliad- 
 ows of light clouds cool the arid mountains in the distance ; 
 the olives roll into silvery undulations ; a palm in full, re- 
 joicing plumage rustles over your head ; and the huge 
 spatulate leaves of a banana in the nearest garden twist 
 and split into fringes. There is no languor in the air, no 
 sleep in the deluge of sunshine ; the landscape is active 
 with signs of work and travel. Wheat, wine, olives, al- 
 monds, and oranges are produced, not only side by side, 
 but from the same fields, and the painfully thorough sys- 
 tem of cultivation leaves not a rood of the soil unused. 
 
 I had chosen, at random, a road which led me west 
 toward the nearest mountains, and in the course of an hour 
 I found myself at the entrance of a valley. Solitary farm- 
 houses, each as massive as the tower of a fortress and of 
 the color of sunburnt gold, studded the heights, overlook- 
 ing the long slopes of almond orchards. I looked about 
 for water, in order to make a sketch of the scene ; but the 
 bed of the brook was as dry as the highway. The nearest 
 house toward the plain had a splendid sentinel palm beside 
 its door, — a dream of Egypt, which beckoned and drew 
 me towards it with a glamour I could not resist. Over the 
 wall of the garden the orange-trees lifted their mounds of 
 impenetrable foliage ; and the blossoms of the pomegran- 
 ates, sprinkled against such a background, were like coals 
 of fire. The fig-bearing cactus grew about the house in 
 clumps twenty feet high, covered with pale-yellow flowers. 
 The building was large and roomy, with a court-yard, 
 around which ran a shaded gallery. The farmer who was 
 issuing therefrom as I approached wore the shawl and 
 Turkish trousers of the old generation, while his two sons, 
 reaping in the adjoining wheat-fields, were hideous in the 
 
182 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 modern gigots. Although I was manifestly an intruder, 
 the old man greeted me respectfully, and passed on to his 
 work. Three boys tended a drove of black hogs in the 
 stubble, and some women were so industriously weeding 
 and hoeing in the field beyond, that they scarcely stopped 
 to cast a glance upon the stranger. There was a grateful 
 air of peace, order, and contentment about the place ; no 
 one seemed to be suspicious, or even surprised, when I 
 seated myself upon a low wall, and watched the laborers. 
 
 The knoll upon which the farm-house stood sloped down 
 gently into the broad, rich plain of Palma, extending many 
 a league to the eastward. Its endless orchards made a 
 dim horizon-line, over which rose the solitary double-headed 
 mountain of Felaniche, and the tops of some peaks near 
 Arta. The city wall was visible on my right, and beyond 
 it a bright arc of the Mediterranean. The features of the 
 landscape, in fact, were so simple, that I fear I cannot 
 make its charm evident to the reader. Looking over the 
 nearer fields, I observed t\fo peculiarities of Majorca, upon 
 which depends much of the prosperity of the island. The 
 wheat is certainly, as it is claimed to be, the finest of any 
 Mediterranean land. Its large, perfect grains furnish a 
 flour of such fine quality that the whole produce of the 
 island is sent to Spain for the pastry and confectionery of 
 the cities, while the Majorcans import a cheap, inferior 
 kind in its place. Their fortune depends on their absti- 
 nence from the good things which Providence has given 
 them. Their pork is greatly superior to that of Spain, and 
 it leaves them in like manner ; their best wines are now 
 bought up by speculators and exported for the fabrication 
 of sherry ; and their oil, which might be the finest in the 
 world, is so injured by imperfect methods of preservation 
 that it might pass for the worst. These things, however, 
 give them no annoyance. Southern races are sometimes 
 indolent, but rarely Epicurean in their habits; it is the 
 Northern man who sighs for his flesh-pots. 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 183 
 
 I walked forward between the fields towards another 
 road, and came upon a tract which had just been p^loughed 
 and planted for a new crop. The soil was ridged in a 
 labyrinthine pattern, which appeared to have been drawn 
 with square and rule. But more remarkable than this was 
 the difference of level, so slight that the eye could not pos- 
 sibly detect it, by which the slender irrigating streams 
 were conducted to every square foot of the field, without a 
 drop being needlessly wasted. The system is an inherit- 
 ance from the Moors, who were the best natural engineers 
 the world has ever known. Water is scarce in Majorca, 
 and thus every stream, spring, rainfall — even the dew of 
 heaven — is utilized. Channels of masonry, oflen covered 
 to prevent evaporation, descend from the mountains, branch 
 into narro\^c veins, and visit every farm on the plain, what- 
 ever may be its level. Where these are not sufficient, the 
 rains are added to the reservoir, or a string of buckets, 
 turned by a mule, lifts the water from a well. But it is in 
 the economy of distributing water to the fields that the 
 most marvelous skill is exhibited. The grade of the sur- 
 face must not only be preserved, but the subtle, tricksy 
 spirit of water so delicately understood and humored that 
 the streams shall traverse the greatest amount of soil with 
 the least waste or wear. In this respect, the most skillful 
 application of science could not surpass the achievements 
 of the Majorcan farmers. 
 
 Working my way homeward through the tangled streets, 
 I was struck with the universal sound of wailing which 
 filled the city. All the tailors, shoemakers, and basket- 
 makers, at work in the open air, were singing, rarely in 
 measured strains, but with wild, irregular, lamentable cries, 
 exactly in the manner of the Arabs. Sometimes the song 
 was antiphonal, flung back and forth from the furthest 
 visible corners of a street ; and then it became a contest of 
 lungs, kept up for an hour at a time. While breakfasting, 
 I had heard, as I supposed, a miserere chanted by some 
 
184 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 procession of monks, and wondered when the doleful strains 
 would cease. I now saw that they came from the mouths 
 of some cheerful coopers, who were heading barrels a little 
 further down the street. The Majorcans still have their 
 troubadours, who are hired by languishing lovers to im- 
 provise strains of longing or reproach under the windows 
 of the fair, and perhaps the latter may listen with delight ; 
 but I know of no place where the Enraged Musician would 
 so soon become insane. The isle is full of noises, and a 
 Caliban might say that they hurt not ; for me they mur- 
 dered sleep, both at midnight and at dawn. 
 
 I had decided to devote my second day to an excursion 
 to the mountain paradise of Valldemosa, and sallied forth 
 early, to seek the means of conveyance. Up to this time I 
 had been worried — tortured, I may say, without exagger- 
 ation — by desperate efforts to recover the Spanish tongue, 
 which I had not spoken for fourteen years. I still had the ' 
 sense of possessing it, but in some old drawer of memory, 
 the lock of which had rusted and would not obey the key. 
 Like Mrs. Dombey with her pain, I felt as if there were 
 Spanish words somewhere in the room, but I could not 
 positively say that I had them — a sensation which, as 
 everybody knows, is far worse than absolute ignorance. I 
 had taken a carriage for Valldemosa, after a long talk with 
 the proprietor, a most agreeable fellow, when I suddenly 
 stopped, and exclaimed to myself, "You are talking 
 Spanish, did you know it ? " It was even so : as much of 
 the language as I ever knew was suddenly and unaccount- 
 ably restored to me. On my return to the " Four Nations," 
 I was still further surprised to find myself repeating songs, 
 without the failure of a line or word, which I had learned 
 from a Mexican as a schdol-boy, and had not thought of 
 for twenty years. The unused drawer had somehow been 
 unlocked or broken open while I slept. 
 
 Valldemosa is about twelve miles north of Palma, in the 
 heart of the only mountain-chain of the island, which forms 
 
BALEAEIC DAYS. 185 
 
 its western, or rather northwestern coast. The average 
 altitude of these mountains will not exceed three thousand 
 feet ; but the broken, abrupt character of their outlines, and 
 the naked glare of their immense precipitous walls, give 
 them that intrinsic grandeur which does not depend on 
 measurement. In their geological formation they resemble 
 the Pyrenees ; the rocks are of that palomhino, or dove- 
 colored limestone, so common in Sicily and the Grecian 
 islands — pale bluish gray, taking a soft orange tint on the 
 faces most exposed to the weather. Rising directly from 
 the sea on the west, they cease almost as suddenly on the 
 land side, leaving all the central portion of the island a 
 plain, slightly inclined toward the southeast, where occa- 
 sional peaks or irregular groups of hills interrupt its mo- 
 notony. 
 
 In due time my team made its appearance — an omni- 
 bus of basket-work, with a canvas cover, drawn by two 
 horses. It had space enough for twelve persons, yet was 
 the smallest vehicle I could discover. There appears to be 
 nothing between it and the two-wheeled cart of the peas- 
 ant, which, on a pinch, carries six or eight. For an hour 
 and a half we traversed the teeming plain, between stacks 
 of wheat worthy to be laid on the altar at Eleusis, carob 
 trees with their dark, varnished foliage, almond-orchards 
 bending under the weight of their green nuts, and the 
 country houses with their garden clumps of orange, cactus, 
 and palm. As we drew near the base of the mountains, 
 olive-trees of great size and luxuriance covered the earth 
 with a fine sprinkle of shade. Their gnarled and knotted 
 trunks, a thousand years old, were frequently split into 
 three or four distinct and separate trees, which in the pro- 
 cess assumed forms so marvelously human in their distor- 
 tion, that I could scarcely believe them to be accidental. 
 Dore never drew anything so weird and grotesque. Here 
 were two club-headed individuals fighting, with interlocked 
 knees, convulsed shoulders, and fists full of each other's 
 
186 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 hair ; yonder a bully was threatening attack, and three 
 cowards appeared to be running away from him with such 
 speed that they were tumbling over one another's heels. 
 In one place a horrible dragon was devouring a squirming, 
 shapeless animal ; in another, a drunken man, with whirl- 
 ing arms and tangled feet, was pitching forward upon his 
 face. The living wood in Dante was tame beside these 
 astonishing trees. 
 
 We now entered a wild ravine, where, nevertheless, the 
 mountain-sides, sheer and savage as they were, had suc- 
 cumbed to the rule of man, and nourished an olive or a 
 carob tree on every corner of earth between the rocks. 
 The road was built along the edge of the deep, dry bed of 
 a winter stream, so narrow that a single arch carried it 
 from side to side, as the windings of the glen compelled. 
 After climbing thus for a mile in the shadows of threaten- 
 ing masses of rock, an amphitheatre of gardens, enframed 
 by the spurs of two grand, arid mountains, opened before 
 us. The bed of the valley was filled with vines and or- 
 chards, beyond which rose long terraces, dark with orange 
 and citron trees, obelisks of cypress and magnificent groups 
 of palm, with the long white front and shaded balconies 
 of a hacienda between. Far up, on a higher plateau be- 
 tween the peaks I saw the church-tower of Valldemosa. 
 The sides of the mountains were terraced with almost in- 
 credible labor, walls massive as the rock itself being raised 
 to a height of thirty feet, to gain a shelf of soil two or 
 three yards in breadth. Where the olive and the carob 
 ceased, box and ilex took possession of the inaccessible 
 points, carrying up the long waves of vegetation until their 
 foam-sprinkles of silver-gray faded out among the highest 
 clefts. The natural channels of the rock were straightened 
 and made to converge at the base, so that not a wandering 
 cloud could bathe the wild growths of the summit without 
 being caught and hurried into some tank below. The 
 wilderness was forced, by pure toil, to become a Paradise ; 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 187 
 
 and each stubborn feature, which toil could not subdue, 
 now takes its place as a contrast and an ornament in the 
 picture. Verily, there is nothing in all Italy so beautiful 
 as Valldemosa ! 
 
 Lest I should be thought extravagant in my delight, let 
 me give you some words of George Sand, which I have 
 since read. " I have never seen," she says, " anything so 
 bright, and at the same time so melancholy, as these per- 
 spectives where the ilex, the carob, pine, olive, poplar, and 
 cypress mingle their various hues in the hollows of the 
 mountain — abysses of verdure, where the torrent precipi- 
 tates its course under mounds of sumptous richness and 
 
 an inimitable grace While you hear the sound 
 
 of the sea on the northern coast, you perceive it only as a 
 faint shining line beyond the sinking mountains and the 
 great plain which is unrolled to the southward — a sub- 
 lime picture, framed in the foreground by dark rocks cov- 
 ered with pines ; in the middle distance by mountains of 
 boldest outline, fringed with superb trees; and beyond 
 these by rounded hills which the setting sun gilds with 
 burning colors, where the eye distinguishes, a league away, 
 the microscopic profile of trees, fine as the antennae of 
 butterflies, black and clear as pen-drawings of India ink on 
 a ground of sparkling gold. It is one of those landscapes 
 which oppress you because they leave nothing to be desired, 
 nothing to be imagined. Nature has here created that 
 which the poet and the painter behold in their dreams. 
 An immense ensemble, infinite details, inexhaustible variety, 
 blended forms, sharp contours, dim, vanishing depths — 
 all are present, and art can suggest nothing further. 
 Majorca is one of the most beautiful countries of the world 
 for the painter, and one of the least known. It is a green 
 Helvetia under the sky of Calabria, with the solemnity and 
 silence of the Orient." 
 
 The village of Valldemosa is a picturesque, rambling 
 place, brown with age, and buried in the foliage of fig and 
 
188 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 orange trees. The highest part of the narrow plateau 
 where it stands is crowned by the church and monastery 
 of the Trappists (Cartusa), now deserted. My coachman 
 drove under the open roof of a venta, and began to unhar- 
 ness his horses. The family, who were dining at a table so 
 low that they appeared to be sitting on the floor, gave me 
 the customary invitation to join them, and when I asked 
 for a glass of wine brought me one which held nearly a 
 quart. I could not long turn my back on the bright, won- 
 derful landscape without ; so, taking books and colors, I 
 entered the lonely cloisters of the monastery. Followed 
 first by one small boy, I had a retinue of at least fifteen 
 children before I had completed the tour of the church, 
 court-yard, and the long drawn, shady corridors of the 
 silent monks ; and when I took my seat on the stones at 
 the foot of the tower, with the very scene described by 
 George Sand before my eyes, a number of older persons 
 added themselves to the group. A woman brought me a 
 chair, and the children then planted themselves in a dense 
 row before me, while I attempted to sketch under such 
 difficulties as I had never known before. Precisely be- 
 cause I am no artist, it makes me nervous to be watched 
 while drawing ; and the remarks of the young men on this 
 occasion were not calculated to give me courage. 
 
 When I had roughly mapped out the sky with its few 
 floating clouds, some one exclaimed, " He has finished the 
 mountains, there they are ! " and they all crowded around 
 me, saying, " Yes, there are the mountains ! " While I 
 was really engaged upon the mountains, there was a violent 
 discussion as to what they might be ; and I don't know how 
 long it would have lasted, had I not turned to some 
 cypresses nearer the foreground. Then a young man cried 
 out : " O, that's a cypress ! I wonder if he will make them 
 all, — how many are there ? One, two, three, four, five, — 
 yes, he makes five ! " There was an immediate rush, shut- 
 ting out earth and heaven from my sight, and they all 
 
BALEAKIC DAYS. 189 
 
 cried in chorus, "One, two, three, four, five — yes, he has 
 made five!" 
 
 " Cavaliers and ladies," I said, with solemn politeness, 
 " have the goodness not to stand before me." 
 
 " To be sure ! Santa Maria ! How do you think he can 
 see ? " yelled an old woman, and the children were hustled 
 away. But I thereby won the ill-will of those garlic- 
 breathing and scratching imps, for very soon a shower of 
 water-drops fell upon my paper. Next a stick, thrown 
 from an upper window, dropped on my head, and more 
 than once my elbow was intentionally jogged from behind. 
 The older people scolded and threatened, but young 
 Majorca was evidently against me. I therefore made 
 haste to finish my impotent mimicry of air and light, and 
 get away from the curious crowd. 
 
 Behind the village there is a gleam of the sea, near, yet 
 at an unknown depth. As I threaded the walled lanes 
 seeking some point of view, a number of lusty young fel- 
 lows, mounted on unsaddled mules, passed me with a cour- 
 teous greeting. On one side rose a grand pile of rock, 
 covered with ilex-trees — a bit of scenery so admirable, 
 that I fell into a new temptation. I climbed a little knoll 
 and looked around me. Far and near no children were to 
 be seen ; the portico of an unfinished house offered both 
 shade and seclusion. I concealed myself behind a pillar, 
 and went to work. For half an hour I was happy ; then a 
 round black head popped up over a garden wall, a small 
 brown form crept towards me, beckoned, and presently a 
 new multitude had assembled. The noise they made pro- 
 voked a sound of cursing from the interior of a stable ad- 
 joining the house. They only made a louder tumult in 
 answer ; the voice became more threatening, and at the 
 end of five minutes the door burst open. An old man, 
 with wrath flashing from his eyes, came forth. The chil- 
 dren took to their heels ; I greeted the new-comer politely, 
 but he hardly returned the salutation. He was a very 
 
190 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 fountain of curses, and now hurled stones with them after 
 the fugitives. When they had all disappeared behind the 
 walls, he went back to his den, grumbling and muttering. 
 It was not five minutes, however, before the children were 
 back again, as noisy as before ; so, at the first thunder from 
 the stable, I shut up my book, and returned to the inn. 
 
 While the horses were being harnessed, I tried to talk 
 with an old native, who wore the island costume, and was 
 as grim and grizzly as Ossawatomie Brown. A party of 
 country peoj)le from the plains, who seemed to have come 
 up to Valldemosa on a pleasure trip, clambered into a two- 
 wheeled cart drawn by one mule, and drove away. My 
 old friend gave me the distances of various places, the 
 state of the roads, and the quality of the wine ; but he 
 seemed to have no conception of the world outside of the 
 island. Indeed, to a native of the village, whose fortune 
 has simply placed him beyond the reach of want, what is 
 the rest of the world ? Around and before him spreads 
 one of its loveliest pictures ; he breathes its purest air ; 
 and he may enjoy its best luxuries, if he heeds or knows 
 how to use them. 
 
 Up to this day the proper spice and flavor had been 
 wanting. Palma had only interested me, but in Vallde- 
 mosa I found the inspiration, the heat and play of vivid, 
 keen sensation, which one (often somewhat unreasonably) 
 expects from a new land. As my carriage descended, 
 winding around the sides of the magnificent mountain 
 amphitheatre, in the alternate shadows of palm and ilex, 
 pine and olive, I looked back, clinging to every marvelous 
 picture, and saying to myself, over again, "I have not 
 come hither in vain." When the last shattered gate of 
 rock closed behind me, and the wood of insane olive- 
 trunks was passed, with what other eyes I looked upon the 
 rich orchard-plain ! It had now become a part of one 
 superb whole ; as the background of my mountain view, it 
 had caught a new glory, and still wore the bloom of the in- 
 visible sea. 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 191 
 
 In the evening I reached the " Four Nations," where I 
 was needlessly invited to dinner by certain strangers, and 
 dined alone, on meats cooked in rancid oil. When the 
 cook had dished the last course, he came into a room ad- 
 joining the dining apartment, sat down to a piano in his 
 white cap, and played loud, long, and badly. The landlord 
 had papered this room with illustrations from all the period- 
 icals of ICurope : dancing-girls pointed their toes under 
 cardinals' hats, and bulls were baited before the shrines of 
 saints. Mixed with the wood-cuts were the landlord's own 
 artistic productions, wonderful to behold. All the house 
 was proud of this room, and with reason ; for there is as- 
 suredly no other room like it in the world. A notice in 
 four languages, written with extraordinary flourishes, an- 
 nounced in the English division that travellers will find 
 " confortation and modest prices." The former advantage, 
 I discovered, consisted in the art of the landlord, the music 
 and oil of the cook, and the attendance of a servant so 
 distant that it was easier to serve myself than seek him ; 
 the latter may have been " modest " for Palma, but in any 
 other place they would have been considered brazenly im- 
 pertinent. I should therefore advise travellers to try the 
 "Three Pigeons," in the same street, rather than the. 
 « Four Nations." 
 
 The next day, under the guidance of my old friend, M. 
 Laurens, I wandered for several hours through the streets? 
 peeping into court-yards, looking over garden-walls, or 
 idling under the trees of the Alameda. There are no 
 pleasant suburban places of resort, such as are to be found 
 in all other Spanish cities ; the country commences on the 
 other side of the moat. Three small cafes exist, but can- 
 not be said to flourish, for I never saw more than one 
 table occupied. A theatre has been built, but is only open 
 during the winter, of course. Some placards on the walls, 
 however, announced that the national (that is, Majorcan) 
 diversion of baiting bulls with dogs would be given in a 
 few days. 
 
192 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 The noblesse appear to be even haughtier than in Spain, 
 perhaps on account of their greater poverty ; and much 
 more of the feudal spirit lingers among them, and gives 
 character to society, than on the main-land. Each family 
 has still a crowd of retainers, who perform a certain amount 
 of service on the estates, and are thenceforth entitled to 
 support. This custom is the reverse of profitable ; but it 
 keeps up an air of lordship, and is therefore retained. 
 Late in the afternoon, when the new portion of the Ala- 
 meda is in shadow, and swept by a delicious breeze from 
 the sea, it begins to be frequented by the people ; but I 
 noticed that very few of the upper class made their ap- 
 pearance. So grave and sombre are these latter, that one 
 would fancy them descended from the conquered Moors, 
 rather than the Spanish conquerors. 
 
 M. Laurens is of the opinion that the architecture of 
 Palma cannot be ascribed to an earlier period than the 
 beginning of the sixteenth century. I am satisfied, how- 
 ever, either that many fragments of Moorish sculpture 
 must have been used in the erection of the older buildings, 
 or that certain peculiarities of Moorish art have been 
 closely imitated. For instance, that Moorish combination 
 of vast, heavy masses of masonry with the lightest and 
 airiest style of ornament, which the Gothic sometimes at- 
 tempts, but never with the same success, is here found at 
 every step. I will borrow M. Laurens' words, descriptive 
 of the superior class of edifices, both because I can find no 
 better of my own, and because this very characteristic has 
 been noticed by him. " Above the ground-floor," he says, 
 " there is only one story and a low garret. The entrance 
 is a semi-circular portal without ornament ; but the num- 
 ber and dimensions of the stones, disposed in long radii, 
 give it a stately aspect. The grand halls of the main story 
 are lighted by windows divided by excessively slender 
 columns, which are entirely Arabic in appearance. This 
 character is so pronounced, that I was obliged to examine 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 193 
 
 more than twenty houses constructed in the same manner, 
 and to study all the details of their construction, in order 
 to assure myself that the windows had not really been 
 taken from those fairy Moresque palaces, of which the Al- 
 hambra is the only remaining specimen. Except in Ma- 
 jorca, I have nowhere seen columns which, with a height 
 of six feet, have a diameter of only three inches. .The 
 fine grain of the marble of which they are made, as well 
 as the delicacy of the capitals, led me to suppose them to 
 be of Saracenic origin." 
 
 I was more impressed by the Lonja, or Exchange, than 
 any other building in Palma. It dates from the first half 
 of the fifteenth century, when the kings of the island had 
 built up a flourishing commerce, and expected to rival 
 Genoa and Venice. Its walls, once crowded with merchants 
 and seamen, are now only opened for the Carnival balls 
 and other festivals sanctioned by religion. It is a square 
 edifice, with light Gothic towers at the corners, displaying 
 little ornamental sculpture, but nevertheless a taste and 
 symmetry, in all its details, which are very rare in Spanish 
 architecture. The interior is a single vast hall, with a 
 groined roof, resting on six pillars of exquisite beauty. 
 They are sixty feet high, and fluted spirally from top to 
 bottom, like a twisted cord, with a diameter of not more 
 than two feet and a half. It is astonishing how the airy 
 lightness and grace of these pillars relieve the immense 
 mass of masonry, spare the bare walls the necessity of 
 ornament, and make the ponderous roof light as a tent. 
 There is here the trace of a law of which our modern ar- 
 chitects seem to be ignorant. Large masses of masonry 
 are always oppressive in their effect ; they suggest pain and 
 labor, and the Saracens, even more than the Greeks, seem 
 to have discovered the necessity of introducing a sportive, 
 fanciful element, which shall express the delight of the 
 workman in his work. 
 
 In the afternoon, I salUed forth from the western coast- 
 
 13 
 
194 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 gate, and found there, sloping to the shore, a village inhab- 
 ited apparently by sailors and fishermen. The houses 
 were of one story, flat-roofed, and brilliantly whitewashed. 
 Against the blue background of the sea, with here and 
 there the huge fronds of a palm rising from among them, 
 they made a truly African picture. On the brown ridge 
 above the village were fourteen huge windmills, nearly all 
 in motion. I found a road leading along the brink of the 
 overhanging cliffs, toward the castle of Belver, whose brown 
 mediaeval turrets rose against a gathering thunder-cloud. 
 This fortress, built as a palace for the kings of Majorca 
 immediately after the expulsion of the Moors, is now a 
 prison. It has a superb situation, on the summit of a conical 
 hill, covered with umbrella-pines. In one of its round, 
 massive towers, Arago was imprisoned for two months in 
 1808. He was at the time employed in measuring an arc 
 of the meridian, when news of Napoleon's violent meas- 
 ures in Spain reached Majorca. The ignorant populace 
 immediately suspected the astronomer of being a spy and 
 political agent, and would have lynched him at once. 
 "Warned by a friend, he disguised himself as a sailor, es- 
 caped on board a boat in the harbor, and was then placed 
 in Belver by the authorities, in order to save his life. He 
 afterwards succeeded in reaching Algiers, where he was 
 seized by order of the Bey, and made to work as a slave. 
 Few men of science have known so much of the romance 
 of Kfe. 
 
 I had a long walk to Belver, but I was rewarded by a 
 grand view of the Bay of Palma, the city and all the south- 
 ern extremity of the island. I endeavored to get into the 
 fields, to seek other points of view ; but they were sur- 
 rounded by such lofty walls that I fancied the owners of 
 the soil could only get at them by scaling-ladders. The 
 grain and trees on ejther side of the road were hoary with 
 dust, and the soil, of the hue of burnt chalk, seemed never 
 to have known moisture. But while I loitered on the cliffs 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 195 
 
 the cloud in the west had risen and spread ; a cold wind 
 blew over the hills, and the high gray peaks behind Vall- 
 demosa disappeared, one by one, in a veil of rain. A 
 rough tartana, which performed the service of an omnibus, 
 passed me returning to the city, and the driver, having no 
 passengers, invited me to ride. "What is your fare?" 
 I asked. " Whatever people choose to give," said he, — 
 which was reasonable enough ; and I thus reached the 
 " Four Nations " in time to avoid a deluge. 
 
 The Majorcans are fond of claiming their island as the 
 birthplace of Hannibal. There are some remains supposed 
 to be Carthaginian near the town of Alcudia, but, singularly 
 enough, not a fragment to tell of the Roman domination, 
 although their Balearis Major must have been then, as now, 
 a rich and important possession. The Saracens, rather 
 than the Vandals, have been the spoilers of ancient art. 
 Their religious detestation of sculpture was at the bottom 
 of this destruction. The Christians could consecrate the 
 old temple to a new service, and give the names of saints 
 to the statues of the gods ; but to the Moslem every repre- 
 sentation of the human form was worse than blasphemy. 
 For this reason, the symbols of the most ancient faith, mas- 
 sive and unintelligible, have outlived the monuments of 
 those which followed. 
 
 In a forest of ancient oaks near the village of Arta, 
 there still exist a number of Cyclopean constructions, the 
 character of which is as uncertain as the date of their erec- 
 tion. They are cones of huge, irregular blocks, the jambs 
 and lintels of the entrances being of single stones. In a 
 few the opening is at the top, with rude projections resem- 
 bling a staircase to aid in the descent. Cinerary urns have 
 been found in some of them, yet they do not appear to 
 have been originally constructed as tombs. The Romans 
 may have afterwards turned them to that service. In the 
 vicinity there are the remains of a Druid circle, of large 
 upright monoliths. These singular structures were formerly 
 
196 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 much more numerous, the people (who call them " the al- 
 tars of the Gentiles") having destroyed a great many in 
 building the village and the neighboring farm-houses. 
 
 I heard a great deal about a cavern on the eastern coast 
 of the island, beyond Arta. It is called the Hermit's Cave, 
 and the people of Palma consider it the principal thing to 
 be seen in all Majorca. Their descriptions of the place, 
 however, did not inspire me with any very lively desire to 
 undertake a two days' journey for the purpose of crawling 
 on the belly through a long hole, and then descending a 
 shaky rope-ladder for a hundred feet or more. When one 
 has performed these feats, they said, he finds himself in an 
 immense hall, supported by stalactitic pillars, the marvels 
 of which cannot be described. Had the scenery of the 
 eastern part of the island been more attractive, I should 
 have gone as far as Arta ; but I wished to meet the steamer 
 Minorca at Alcudia, and there were but two days remain- 
 ing. 
 
BALEARIC DAYS, 
 n. 
 
The same spacious omnibus and span of dun-colored 
 ponies which had taken me to Valldemosa came to carry 
 me across the island. As there is an excellent highway, 
 and the distance to Alcudia is not more than ten leagues, 
 I could easily have made the journey in a day ; but I pur- 
 posely divided it, in order to secure a quiet, unhurried en- 
 joyment of the scenery of the interior. It had rained 
 violently all night, and the morning of my departure from 
 Palma was cold and overcast. The coachman informed 
 me that four months had elapsed since a drop of rain had 
 fallen, and that for two years past the island had suffered 
 from drought. I therefore wrapped myself in my cloak, 
 contented with the raw air and threatening sky, since the 
 dry acequias would now flow with new streams, and the 
 empty tanks of the farmers be filled. 
 
 It was like a rainy day in the tropics. There was a gray 
 veil all over the sky, deepening into blackness where the 
 mountains drew down the showers. The soil, yesterday 
 as dry as a cinder, already looked soggy and drenched, 
 and in place of white, impalpable dust, puddles of water 
 covered the road. For the first two leagues we drove 
 over a dead level, seeing nothing but fig, olive, and almond 
 trees, with an occasional palm or cactus, fading out of sight 
 in the rain. Majorca is in reality the orchard of the Med- 
 iteranean. All its accessible surface is not only covered 
 with fruit-trees, but the fruit is of the most exquisite qual- 
 ity. The apricots are not dry and insipid, but full of 
 juice, and with a flavor as perfect as that of a peach. The 
 oranges and figs seemed to me the finest I had ever tasted ; 
 even the date-palm matures its fruit, and the banana grows 
 
200 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 in the same garden with the cherry and apple. The valley 
 of Soller, the only port on the western side of the moun- 
 tains, was described to me as one unbroken orchard of 
 superh orange-trees, a league or two in length. The diffi- 
 culty of transportation has hitherto robbed the people of 
 the profits of their production, and a new prosperity has 
 come with the recent improvement of their roads. Within 
 a league of Palma an entire village has been built within 
 the last five years ; and most of the older towns are in 
 rapid process of enlargement. 
 
 After the second league, the country became undulating, 
 the trees were loftier and more luxuriant, and woods of 
 picturesque Italian pine covered the rocky crests of the 
 hills. The mountains on the left assumed very bold and 
 violent forms, rising through the dim atmosphere like so 
 many detached towers and fortresses. There were two 
 dominant peaks, which in the sheer escarpment of their 
 summits resembled the crags of Konigstein and Lilienstein 
 in Saxony. They were the Torrella and the Puig (Peak) 
 Major — grand, naked, almost inaccessible mountains, 
 which shed the rain like a roof. The water-courses which 
 came down from them were no longer dry hollows, but 
 filled to the brim with swift, roaring, turbid floods. These 
 peaks appeared to be detached nearly to the base, and 
 betvreen their steep abutments the mouths of dim, folding 
 gorges gave promise of rare and original scenery within 
 their recesses. 
 
 We passed Santa Maria, a beautiful little village of two 
 streets, at the intersection of which rises a fine square 
 belfry, connected with the buildings of a defunct monas- 
 tery. The picture was so pleasant that I brought its out- 
 lines away with me. In spite of the rain, the people were 
 at work in the fields, turning the red soil about the roots 
 of the olive-trees. The flowing trousers were no longer to 
 be seen ; even the old men here wore the gigot. Others, 
 with the words Peon caminero on their caps, were breaking 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 201 
 
 stones by the roadside. I received a friendly Bon di' ! 
 from each and all. Both robbery and beggary are un- 
 known in Majorca ; they have no place in a land of so 
 much material order and cheerful industry. 
 
 Beyond Santa Maria the road again became quite level, 
 and the courses of the streams pointed to the northern 
 shore. The fruit-trees temporarily gave place to vineyards 
 so luxuriant that the shoots, unsupported by stake or trel- 
 lis, threw their tendrils around each other, and hid the soil 
 under a deluge of green. The wine of Benisalem (Arabic 
 heni-salaam, " the children of peace ") is considered the 
 best on the island. It is a fiery, golden-brown vintage, 
 resembling ripe old Malaga in flavor. 
 
 We were within a league of Inca, — my destination, — 
 when the rain, which had already blotted out the moun- 
 tains, began to drive over the plain. A fine spray beat 
 through the canvas cover of the omnibus, condemning me 
 to a blind, silent, and cheerless half-hour of travel. Then, 
 between garden-walls, over which the lemon-trees hung 
 great boughs breaking with fruit, and under clumps of 
 rustling and dripping palms, I entered Inca. My equipage 
 drew up before the door of a new fonda in a narrow old 
 street. There were billiards and coffee on the ground- 
 floor ; over them a long hall, out of which all the doors and 
 staircases issued, served as a dining-room. The floors were 
 tiled, the walls white-washed and decorated with the litho- 
 graphed histories of Mazeppa and Hernan Cortez, and the 
 heavy pine joists of the ceiling were fresh and unpainted. 
 There was an inconsiderate waste of space in the disposi- 
 tion of the rooms and passages which was pleasant to be- 
 hold. Contrary to the usual habit of travellers, I ventured 
 into the kitchen, and found it — as it ought to be — the 
 most cheerful and attractive part of the house. The land- 
 lord brought a glass of the wine of Benisalem to stay my 
 hunger ; but I was not obliged to wait overlong for the 
 excellent meal of eggs, kid with pepper-sauce, and an ex- 
 
202 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 quisite dish of lobster stewed with leeks and tomatoes, 
 which I tasted for the first time. 
 
 Towards evening the rain subsided, and I went forth 
 to view the place, finding a picture at every turn. First, 
 a group of boys burning shavings before a church-door ; 
 then a gable embowered with one enormous grape-vine, 
 and touched with sunshine, while beneath, in the gloom of 
 a large arch, the family ate their supper ; then a guitar- 
 player in the door of a barber's shop, with a group around 
 him, or a company of women, filling their jars at a foun- 
 tain. The town is built upon an irregular hill, overlooking 
 the finest orchards of Majorca. The clusters of palm- 
 trees which spring from its topmost gardens are far more 
 beautiful than its church-towers. Nothing can be more 
 picturesque than the narrow valleys on either side, which 
 slope sufiiciently to bring out in sumptuous contrast the 
 foliage of the terraced gardens. The people looked at me 
 curiously, but with no unfriendly air, as I followed the 
 winding streets into the country, or loitered through some 
 country lane back into the town. Only two persons spoke 
 to me — the letter-carrier, and a boy who was trying to 
 knock down swallows with a long pole. The latter made 
 'a remark which I did not understand, but it was evidently 
 witty, for we both laugjied. The workmen at their avoca- 
 tions sang with all their force, and very dismally. It was 
 difficult to say which were the more insignificant — the 
 melodies or the words of their songs. One specimen of 
 the latter will suflSce to give an idea of both : — 
 
 " On Sundays the young girls you may view, 
 (Since they nothing better have then to do), 
 "Watering their pots of carnations sweet: 
 Saying, Drink, my dears, for you cannot eat! " 
 
 When I returned to the fonda, the landlord took me into 
 a part of his house which was built like a tower above the 
 level of the city roofs. A thunderous mass of clouds still 
 hung over the Puig Major, but between its rifts the low 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 203 
 
 sun cast long lines of brassy radiance over the wide land- 
 scape. Westward rose the torn and shattered mountains ; 
 eastward the great orchard -plain stretched away into pur- 
 ple dimness, only broken by the chapel-crowned peak of 
 Santa Maddalena, near at hand, and the signal mountain 
 of Felaniche in the distance. Inca, under my feet, re- 
 sounded with wailing noises, which, nevertheless, expressed 
 the cheerfulness and content of the inhabitants. Through 
 the lanes dividing the rich vegetation, the laborers were 
 flocking homeward from their fields ; rude tartanas rat- 
 tled along the broad white highway ; and the chimes of 
 vesper presently floated over the scene in slow, soothing 
 vibrations. " You see how beautiful the country is ! " said 
 the landlord ; " I suppose there is nothing finer in the 
 world. You will think so too, when you have been to the 
 cemetery, and have seen the new monument. It is won- 
 derful ! A basket full of flowers, and if they were not all 
 white, you would take them to be real. They say it cost 
 an immense amount of money." 
 
 When I asked for Juevos (eggs) for my supper, the land- 
 lady shook her head, until somebody suggested jo dos ! with 
 a sound like the whistling of wind through a keyhole. 
 They were then speedily forthcoming, with another dish of 
 the lobster and leeks, and a bottle of excellent wine. I 
 was kept awake for a long time, that night, by the thrum- 
 ming of guitars and the click of billiard balls in the cafe 
 below ; and when sleep finally came, it was suddenly broken 
 by the bursting open of the doors and windows of my room. 
 The house seemed to rock under the stress of the hurri- 
 cane ; the lightning played through the torrents of rain in 
 rapid flashes of transparent silver, accompanied with peals 
 like the crashing down of all the Puigs in the mountain- 
 chain. But at sunrise, when I went upon the roof, I found 
 the island sparkling under the purest of morning skies, 
 every leaf washed, every outline of the landscape recut, 
 and all its colors bright as if newly dyed. A bracing 
 
204 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 north wind blew over the fields, and there was an expres- 
 sion of joy in the very dance of the boughs and the waving 
 of the vines. 
 
 When we set out for Alcudia, the coachman first drove 
 to a fountain at the foot of the hill, and watered his horses. 
 There was a throng about the place, — old women with 
 huge earthen amphora, young girls with jars which they 
 carried on the hip, donkeys laden with casks, and children 
 carrying all sorts of smaller vessels. The water is brought 
 from the mountains to this fountain, which never fails in 
 its supply. It is shaded by grand old plane and carob 
 trees, which throw a network of light and gloom over the 
 great stone tanks and the picturesque moving crowds. 
 Rising out of the glen where it stands, I saw the mountains 
 bare in the morning sun, every crevice and jag of their 
 rocky fronts painted with a pre-Raphaelite pencil. Past 
 the foot of the solitary mountain of Santa Maddalena ran 
 our road, and then northward over a second plain, even 
 richer than that of Palma. 
 
 The olive and almond trees by the roadside had been 
 washed clean of dust, but they hissed in the breeze as dryly 
 as if they had never known rain. The very colors of the 
 olive, ilex, and myrtle express aridity. Their dry leaves 
 seem to repel moisture, even as the mellow, sappy green of 
 the North seems to attract it. But their soft grays relieve 
 the keen, strong tints of soil, sea, and sky, and we could ill 
 spare them from these landcapes. As accessories to sun- 
 browned houses, or masses of ruined architecture, they are 
 invaluable. They belong naturally to an atmosphere of age 
 and repose, while fresh turf and deciduous trees perpetually 
 reproduce the youth of Nature. Something of Attica al- 
 ways comes to me with the olive, something of Tusculum 
 and the Sabine Farm with the ilex. The box, I know not 
 why, suggests the Euphrates ; and the myrtle in bloom, the 
 Garden of Eden. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through my mind, 
 
BALEAEIC DAYS. 205 
 
 the road slowly fell to the northward ; and I beheld in the 
 distance fields of a green so dazzling that the hackneyed 
 term " emerald " seems much too dull to express it. It 
 positively burned in the sun, drawing into itself the lust^ 
 of the sky, the distant sea, and the leagues of glittering 
 foliage. Over it rose, as a completer foil, the gray moun- 
 tains of the peninsula dividing the bays of Pollenza and 
 Alcudia. I was at a loss to guess what plant could give 
 such an indescribable color ; and not until we were within 
 a stone's throw did I recognize the leaves of hemp. An 
 open, marshy plain, entirely bare of trees, bordered the bay 
 at this point. The splendid orchards ceased ; the road 
 crossed some low hills overgrown with ilex and pine, a 
 turbid, roaring stream, with poplars on its banks ; and then 
 a glimmer of the sea on either hand showed that we had 
 reached the peninsula. There were Moorish atalayas, or 
 watch-towers, on the summits nearest the sea, and a large 
 ruined fortress of the Middle Ages on a hill inland. 
 Alcudia, with its yellow walls, its cypress and palm trees, 
 now appeared at the foot of the barren heights, oriental in 
 every feature. It was a picture from the Syrian coast, 
 needing only the old Majorcan costume for the laborers in 
 the fields to be perfect. 
 
 Contrasted with those parts of the island which I had 
 seen, the country appeared singularly lonely and deserted. 
 Few persons met us on the road, and we passed none on 
 their way to the town. Grass grew on the huge walls of 
 defense, the stones were slipping from the arch of the gate- 
 way, and we passed into a silent street without seeing a liv- 
 ing thing. My coachman stopped before a mean-looking 
 house, with no sign or other indication of its character, and 
 informed me that it was the only fonda in the place. A 
 woman who came to the door confirmed this statement, 
 modestly adding, " We are not very fine, but we will give 
 you what we have." A narrow room on the ground-floor 
 was at once entrance-hall, dining-room, and kitchen; it 
 
206 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 contained one table, three chairs, much dirt, and very nim- 
 ble insects. The inmates were two women, and a small 
 dog with a bell on his neck, which, whenever he scratched 
 his head with his hind foot, rang a peal of alarm through 
 the house. Feeling the need of consolation, I summoned 
 a boy from the street, and gave him some money to bring 
 me cigars from the estanco ; but the hostess, taking the 
 coin, cried out in great excitement : " Don't send that ! 
 Holy Mother, don't send that ! You'll lose a 'chavo on 
 it ! " The coachman burst into a laugh, repeating, " Lose 
 a 'chavo ! " — which is about the eighth part of a cent ; but 
 the woman was so horrified at the idea that I gave the boy 
 another coin. . 
 
 While the eggs and tough scraps of beef destined for 
 my meal were simmering in pans of strong oil, the hostess 
 conducted me into a room above, which contained a large 
 and very ancient bed, five blue chests, and twenty-three 
 pictures of saints. " There ! " she exclaimed, with a wave 
 of the arm and a look of triumph, " my own room, but you 
 shall have it ! We may not be very fine, but we give what 
 we have." Whatever my thoughts may have been, it was 
 quite impossible to avoid expressing my entire satisfaction. 
 
 I took my books, went outside the walls to a tower which 
 I had noticed on the ridge, and there found the very view 
 of the town, the mountains, and the bay, which a stranger 
 would desire to take home with him. In the full noonday 
 sunshine, there was scarcely shadow enough to relieve the 
 clear golden tints of the landscape ; but the place was en- 
 tirely deserted, which was a better fortune than I enjoyed 
 at Valldemosa. Three peasants were reaping wheat in a 
 little field behind the tower ; now and then a donkey and 
 rider jogged slowly along the distant highway ; but no one 
 seemed to notice the mysterious stranger. I had an undis- 
 turbed dream of two hours, for the forms before me, half 
 borrowed from my memories of Oriental life, half drawn 
 from those landscapes which rise in our minds as we read 
 
BALEAEIC DAYS. 207 
 
 the stories of the Middle Ages, satisfied both the eye and 
 the fancy. Some scenes suggest the sound of a flute and 
 Theocritan idyls ; others, horns and trumpets, and frag- 
 ments of epic poetry ; but here the only accompaniment 
 was cymbals, the only poems suggested were " Fatima " 
 and " Rudel to the Lady of Tripoli." 
 
 In the aflernoon I walked around the city walls, climbed 
 upon them, ^-isited the deserted monastery of San Diego, 
 and wandered at will through its picturesque ruins. The 
 place is surrounded by double walls of great strength, 
 divided by a moat cut out of the solid rock. The caper- 
 plant, the ivy, and the wild fig-tree have taken possession 
 of the parapet and the rifts between the stones, goats 
 browse in the bottom of the moat, and children's faces 
 peep forth from the watch-towers on the ramparts. Out- 
 side the principal gate, I came upon a Gothic cross, rest- 
 ing on an octagonal base, so very old and weather-beaten 
 that it must certainly have been erected during the first 
 years of the conquest. The walls of the city are said to be 
 Saracenic; but the people are poor authority on this or 
 any other historical point It is certain, at least, that 
 Alcudia was formerly much more important than now. Its 
 bay was a naval station, whence expeditions were sent out 
 to Africa or the Levant ; and there were times when the 
 kings of Spain built whole fleets from the forests of the 
 island. 
 
 Of late, a little fresh life has begun t» flow into the silent 
 old town. On the shore of the bay, a few miles off", an 
 English company has undertaken agricultural operations 
 on a grand scale. Many square leagues of the former use- 
 less, pestiferous marshes have been drained, steam-engines 
 erected to supply water for irrigation, and an attempt made 
 to cultivate cotton. Concerning the success of the under- 
 taking, I heard the most contradictory accounts. The 
 people could only tell me of the immense sums expended, 
 — sums which appeared almost fabulous to them. The 
 
208 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 agents, of course, claimed to be entirely successful, not- 
 withstanding the cotton-plants, this year, will scarcely pro- 
 duce enough to pay for the seed. Last year (1866), I was 
 informed, the yield was very fine ; the staple being equal to 
 that of our Sea-island cotton. The intention of the Eng- 
 lish capitalists was probably to produce a similar article, 
 and it cannot be denied that they have shrewdly chosen 
 the spot for the experiment. 
 
 When the afternoon shadow filled the street, I seated 
 myself at the door of the fonda, and amused myself with 
 the movements of some carpenters in an opposite shop. 
 Two lusty apprentices were engaged in the slow labor of 
 sawing beams into boards, while the master fitted together 
 the parts of a door. The former used an upright saw, one 
 standing on a frame overhead, and the other on the floor 
 below ; they were just an hour and a half in sawing five 
 boards from a beam a foot wide and sixteen feet long. 
 Whenever a neighbor dropped in to gossip with the master, 
 the saw stopped, and the apprentices took an active part 
 in the conversation. There was also a boy of twelve years 
 old, who did no work except in the way of singing. With 
 his head thrown back, and his mouth open to its fullest ex- 
 tent, he poured forth an endless succession of piercing cries, 
 recommencing, at the end of each lamentable close of the 
 measure, with a fury and frenzy which nearly drove me 
 wild. The little dog in the fonda, from time to time, rang 
 a suggestive peal upon his bell, and echoes from other 
 streets, and distant bells from other tormented dogs, filled 
 up the pauses of the performance. 
 
 At sunset the other inmates of the fonda began to collect. 
 First, there arrived two French workmen, of mean aspect ; 
 then a Spanish cavalier, who was evidently a person of some 
 importance, for he invited nobody to partake of his supper. 
 He was a large, olive-colored man, with a loud voice and 
 opaque gray eyes, in which, as he fixed them upon my face, 
 I read the question, " Are you not going to salute me ? " I 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 209 
 
 returned the look, and my eyes answered, " Who art thou, 
 that I should salute thee ? " After these remarks, which 
 both understood, we spoke no more. Several natives came, 
 during the evening, to be paid for some service ; but they 
 received no money. The two Frenchmen supped with the 
 hostess and her family, but the important Spaniard and 
 myself had our meals apart. Finally the comedy became 
 tiresome, and I went to bed. 
 
 Not to sleep, alas ! The little dog's bell was silent 
 through the night, but had there been one around my neck 
 it would have chimed the quarter-hours without a single 
 failure. The steamer for Minorca was expected in the bay 
 at sunrise ; so I arose with the first stir in the house, and 
 found two gentlemen who had come from Palma during the 
 night, and three man-of-war's men, waiting in the street for 
 an omnibus which was to carry us to the mole. We all 
 waited together an hour, took chocolate, and then, after an- 
 other half-hour, were requested to climb into a two-wheeled 
 cart, drawn by a single horse. The hostess said to me, '• We 
 are not very fine, and I don't know how much you ought 
 to pay, but I will take what you think right," — which she 
 did, with honest thanks, and then we clattered out of the gate. 
 
 A descent of two miles between fields of wheat and olives 
 brought us to the mole, where we found only a few lazy 
 boatmen lying upon heaps of iron castings, which were 
 waiting, apparently, for the English engineers. Shoals of 
 young sardines sprinkled the clear green deeps of the sea 
 with a million points of light, and some dead flounders lay 
 like lozenges of silver among the dark weeds of the bottom. 
 A new fish-crate, floating beside the pier, was a mild evi- 
 dence of enterprise. The passengers sat in the sun until 
 it became too powerful, then in the shade, and so another 
 hour and a half rolled away. With the first appearance of 
 the steamer, we got into a boat, and slowly floated out be- 
 tween two crystal atmospheres (so transparent is the sea) 
 into the roadstead. 
 14 
 
210 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 The extent of the Bay of Alcudia cannot be less than 
 fifteen miles, for our deliberate steamer was nearly two 
 hours in getting its southern headland abeam. Once out- 
 side, the eastern coast of Majorca opened finely with a/ long, 
 diminishing group of mountains, and the dim, nearly level 
 outline of Minorca appeared in front. The sea was like a 
 mirror, broken only at times by a floating turtle or the leap 
 of a dolphin. I found the Mahonese on board to be a very 
 different class of persons from the Majorcans in whose com- 
 pany I had left Barcelona. Port Mahon was for twenty 
 years our Mediterranean naval station; and although for 
 twenty years it has ceased to be so, there are still traces of 
 intelligence, of sympathy, of language, and of blood, which 
 our quasi-occupation has left behind. Two of the passen- 
 gers had visited America, one had an American wife in 
 Minorca, and all became friendly and communicative when 
 my nationality was announced. They had faithfully fol- 
 lowed the history of our navy through the war, and took 
 especial pains to claim Admiral Farragut as a countryman. 
 His father, they said, was a Minorcan, and the farm in the 
 interior of the island upon which he once lived still bears 
 the family name. I was brought back suddenly from the 
 times of Tancred (which had faded out of sight with the 
 walls of Alcudia) to our stormy politics and the new names 
 they have given to history. 
 
 All the afternoon we skirted the southern coast of Mi- 
 norca. The town of Ciudadela, at its western extremity? 
 showed like a faint white mark in the distance ; then some 
 groups of hills interrupted the level table of the island, and, 
 farther eastward, the solitary mountains of El Toro. The 
 two gentlemen of Palma, neither of whom had ever before 
 made a journey, went below and slept the sleep of indiffer- 
 ence. Many of the Mahonese followed their example ; and, 
 the quarter-deck being lefl clear, I stretched myself out over 
 the cabin skylight, and quietly watched the moving shore, as 
 if it were some immense diorama unrolled for ray eyes only. 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 211 
 
 The white cliffs along the sea, the tawny harvest-fields, the 
 gray olives embosoming villages and country-houses, and the 
 occasional shafts of cypress or palm, slowly photographed 
 themselves upon my consciousness, and became enduring 
 pictures. Had I climbed and hammered the cliffs as a 
 geologist, scoured the fields as a botanist, analyzed the soil, 
 or even measured its undulations, I could not have obtained 
 a completer impression of Minorca. 
 
 El Toro was drifting astern, and the island of Ayre 
 showed its light-house in front, when the sound of a guitar 
 disturbed my comfortable process of absorption, and brought 
 the sleepy passengers upon deck. The performer was a 
 blind Spaniard, a coarse-featured, clumsy man, whose life 
 and soul had gone into his instrument, separating light, 
 beauty, and refinement from earthy darkness. When he 
 played, the guitar really seemed to be the man, and his 
 body a mere holder, or music-stand. The Mahonese, I was 
 glad to see, not only appreciated the performance, but were 
 very liberal in their contributions. 
 
 The island of Ayre lies off the southeastern extremity of 
 Minorca. In the intervening strait, the sea was so wonder- 
 fully transparent that the alternations of bare limestone floor 
 and fields of sea-weed far below our keel, changed the color 
 of the water from a turquoise so dazzling that I can only 
 call it blue fire to an emerald gloom pierced with golden 
 lightnings. JEven that southern temperament which cares 
 so little for Nature, was aroused by the sight of these splen- 
 dors. The passengers hung over the railing with cries of 
 admiration, and the blind minstrel was left to soliloquize on 
 his guitar. Against a headland in front, the smooth sea 
 suddenly rose in a crest of foam, behind which a gleam of 
 darker sapphire denoted the mouth of a harbor. In a few 
 minutes more we were abreast of the entrance to Port Ma- 
 hon, with a great ascending slope of new fortifications on the 
 north. Hundreds of men are now employed on defenses 
 which the new developments in naval warfare have rendered 
 
212 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 useless ; and the officials conceal, with the most jealous fear, 
 the plan of a system of forts and batteries which no other 
 nation need care to know. 
 
 The lower ground, on the southern side of the entrance 
 to the inner harbor, is entirely covered with the ruins of the 
 immense fortress of San Felipe, built by the English during 
 their occupation of Minorca from 1708 to 1802. The fate 
 of Admiral Byng, executed for a naval victory over the 
 French, gives a tragic interest to these ruins, which, in 
 their extent, resemble those of a city. All governments 
 (our own included) know how to make their individual ser- 
 vants the scapegoats for their blunders or their incapacity ; 
 but I know not, in all history, of a case so flagrant as that 
 of Byng. The destruction of Fort San Felipe cost nearly 
 half a million of dollars, and yet it appears to be only partial. 
 
 On passing the channel between the fort and Cape Mola, 
 we found ourselves in the port, but only at its entrance ; the 
 city was not yet visible. A bright white town crowned the 
 low cliffs of the southern shore — the former Georgetown 
 of the English, the present Villa Carlos of the Spaniards. 
 Opposite to it, the long quarantine island divided the in- 
 tensely blue water ; and my fellow-passengers claimed with 
 pride that it was capable of accommodating a whole fleet. 
 Beyond this island the harbor bends southward, shutting out 
 of sight the sea entrance ; it becomes a still lake, inclosed 
 by bare, bright hills. The Isle of the King, with a splendid 
 military hospital ; the ship-yard, with a vessel of a thousand 
 tons on the stocks, and various other public constructions, 
 appeared successively on our right. The nearer southern 
 shore, a wall of dark gray rock, broken by deep gashes in 
 which houses were hidden and steep roads climbed to the 
 summit, increased in height : as we approached the end of 
 the harbor, quays along the water, and a fresh, many-colored, 
 glittering town on the rocks, showed that we had reached 
 Port Mahon. Nature has made this basin as picturesque 
 as it is secure. The wild cliffs of the coast here pierce 
 
BALEAEIC DAYS. 213 
 
 inland, but they are draped with splendid gardens ; fields 
 of wheat climb the hills, and orchards of olive clothe their 
 feet ; over the table-land of the island rises in the distance 
 the purple peak of El Toro ; and the city before you, raised 
 on a pedestal a hundred feet in height, seems to be one of 
 the most beautiful of the Mediterranean. " Did you ever 
 see a place like that ? " asked a Mahonese at my elbow. 
 
 " Captain , of your navy, used to say that there were 
 
 only three good harbors in the Mediterranean, — the 
 months of July and August, and Port Mahon ! " Captain 
 , however, as my friend perhaps did not know, bor- 
 rowed the remark from Admiral Andrea Doria, who made 
 it centuries ago. 
 
 The " Fonda del Oriente " looked down upon me invit- 
 ingly from the top of the rock, which was made accessible 
 by a road carried up in steep, zigzag ramps. At the door 
 of the hotel I was received by a stout old man with a cos- 
 mopolitan face, who, throwing his head on one shoulder, 
 inspected me for a few moments with a remarkably know- 
 ing air. Then, with a nod of satisfaction at his own acute- 
 ness, he said, "Walk in, sir; how do you find yourself?'* 
 Ushering me into a chamber furnished with an old mahog- 
 any secretary, heavy arm-chairs, and antiquated prints, — 
 the atmosphere of Portsmouth or Gravesend hanging over 
 everything, — he continued, after another critical survey, 
 " Mr. Alexander, I believe ? " 
 
 " That is not my name," I said. 
 
 " Not Alexander ! Then it must be Sykes ; they are 
 brothers-in-law, you know," persisted the stout old man. 
 
 I answered him with a scrutinizing stare, and the words, 
 i* Your name is Bunsby, I think ? " 
 
 " no ! " he exclaimed ; " I am Antonio. You can't be 
 Mr. Sykes, either, or you'd know me." 
 
 " You are talking of Englishmen ; I am not English." 
 
 " Not English ? " he cried. " H'm, well, that's queer ; 
 but, to be sure, you must be American. I know all the 
 
214 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 American officers that ever were here, and they know me. 
 Ask Commodore and if they don't know An- 
 tonio ! The greatest mistake I ever made was that I didn't 
 move to Spezia with the squadron." 
 
 " Can you give me dinner ? " I asked, cutting off the 
 coming yarn. 
 
 " Stop ! " he said ; " don't tell me ; I can guess what you 
 want. A beefsteak rare, hey ? and mixed pickles, hey ? and 
 potatoes with their jackets on, hey ? But it's too late to 
 make a pudding, and there's no Stilton cheese ! Never 
 mind! let me alone; nobody in Port Mahon can come 
 nearer the real thing than I can." 
 
 In vain I declared my willingness to take the Minorcan 
 dishes. Such a taste had probably never before been ex- 
 pressed in all Antonio's experience of English and Ameri- 
 cans ; and my meals then and thenceforth were a series of 
 struggles to reproduce Portsmouth or Gravesend. But the 
 hotel was large, airy, and perfectly clean ; Antonio honestly 
 endeavored to make me comfortable ; he knew a great many 
 of my naval friends, and I had no complaint to make with 
 his reckoning at the close of my stay. He was, moreover, 
 a man of progress ; he corned beef, and cured hams, and 
 introduced the making of butter (not very successfully), 
 and taught the people how to cook potatoes. He even 
 dispatched a cheese, as a present, to Marshal Serrano, 
 before I left Port Mahon. 
 
 Refreshed by a long sleep, which was not disturbed by 
 any little dog with a bell on his neck, or that which the 
 sound of the latter suggested, I sallied forth in the morning 
 without any objective point. The city must first be seen, 
 because it lay between me and the country. I was delighted 
 to find wide, well-paved streets as compared with those of 
 Palma, clean, cheerful houses, and an irregularity sufficient 
 for picturesque effect, without being bewildering to a stran- 
 ger. Very few of the buildings appeared to be older than 
 the last century ; there was nothing characteristic in their 
 
ALEARIC DAYS. 215 
 
 architecture ; but the city, from end to end, was gay, sunny, 
 full of color, riante, and without a trace of the usual Spanish 
 indolence and uncleanliness. It has somewhat fallen from 
 its former estate. Grass grows in many of the streets, and 
 there is less noise and movement than one would look for 
 with the actual population — some fifteen thousand. Three 
 or four small craft in the harbor did not indicate an active 
 commerce, and I presume the place is kept alive mainly 
 by the visits of foreign men-of-war. A great many of the 
 common people speak a few words of English, arid you 
 may even read " Adams, Sastre," over the door of a native 
 tailor ! 
 
 The climate, although considered harsh by the Spaniards, 
 seemed to me perfect. The sun of June shone in a cloud- 
 less sky, flooding the sharp, clear colors of the town with a 
 deluge of light ; yet a bracing wind blew from the north, 
 and the people in the fields and gardens worked as steadily 
 as Connecticut farmers. I saw no loafers upon the island ; 
 and I doubt whether there are enough of them to form a 
 class among the native population. While there was evi- 
 dently a great deal of poverty, I encountered no beggars. 
 I felt, as in Majorca, that I was among a simple-minded, 
 ignorant, but thoroughly honest and industrious people. 
 
 The street I had chosen gradually rose as I proceeded 
 inland ; walled gardens succeeded to the houses, and then 
 fields of wheat or vines, separated by huge agglomerations 
 of stones. I looked over an undulating table-land, cov- 
 ered with such lines and mounds of rocky debris, that they 
 seemed to be the ruins of a city. Every patch of grain or 
 fruit was inclosed by a cannon-proof fortification, and the 
 higher ridges terminated in bald parapets, whereon the 
 dark mounds of box and ilex held fast and flourished with- 
 out any appearance of soil. At the foot of these wild 
 growths the fig-tree grew with wonderful luxuriance, and 
 very often the foliage of the untamable rock was mingled 
 with that of the gardens. Here every foot of ground had 
 
216 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 been won by the rudest, the most patient toil. Even the 
 fields conquered centuries ago are not yet completely man- 
 ageable ; hundreds of stony fangs still protrude from the 
 surface, and the laborer is obliged to follow the plough 
 with hoe and spade. Thus, in spite of the almost incred- 
 ible triumphs of agriculture with which the island is covered, 
 its general aspect is that of a barren, torn, hopeless wilder- 
 ness. Without broad or grand features of landscape, it is 
 crowded with startling contrasts and picturesque details. 
 
 I wandered southward between the high, loose walls, 
 towards a mound which promised me a wider inland view ; 
 but on approaching it, the road entered an impenetrable 
 shade, and passed beyond. There was no gate or entrance 
 of any kind into the fields, so I took advantage of a jagged 
 corner of the wall, and climbed to the top. On the other 
 side there was a wheat-field, in which three men were reap- 
 ing. I now saw that what I had taken for a mound was a 
 circular tower, the top of which had been torn down, form- 
 ing a slope around its base, which was covered with rank 
 thickets of mastic and myrtle. I asked the men, who had 
 stopped work, and were curiously regarding me, whether I 
 might cross their field and visit the ruin. " Certainly, 
 Seiior," said the master ; " come down and walk about 
 where you please." He then called, in a loud voice, 
 " Miguel ! " and presently a small boy came to light from 
 behind a pile of rocks. " Miguel," said he, " go with the 
 Seiior to the atalaya, and show him the steps." 
 
 I clambered down into the little field, which, sunken 
 between enormous walls of stone, somewhat resembled a 
 volcanic crater. Miguel piloted me silently across the 
 stubble, between solid mounds of ilex, which seemed no 
 less ancient and indestructible than the rocks upon which 
 they grew, and by a gap in an outer wall into the bed of a 
 dry moat around the tower. The latter, though only ten 
 feet wide, stood thick with ripe wheat ; but it was bridged 
 in one place by a line of stones, and we thus crossed with- 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 217 
 
 out trampling down the precious stalks. There were no 
 steps to the tower, but a zigzag path had been trampled 
 among the ruins, at the foot of which I dismissed Miguel, 
 and then mounted to the summit., I first looked abroad 
 upon the bright, busy, wild, savage, wonderfully cultivated 
 fields and gardens, the white towers and tiled roofs of the 
 city behind me, and a single blue fragment of the sea (like 
 a piece chipped out of the edge of a bowl) in the east. The 
 characteristics of Minorcan scenery, which I have already 
 described, gave the view a character so novel and so re- 
 markable, that I studied them for a long time before ex- 
 amining more closely the ruin upon which I stood. 
 
 The farmer had called it an atalaya^ and the tower was 
 clearly of Moorish construction. Its height must have 
 been originally much greater, or it could not have answered 
 its purpose of watching the sea. The hollow interior is en- 
 tirely filled with the fragments, so that nothing of the struc- 
 ture remains except its circular form. Outside of the dry 
 moat there is a massive pentangular wall, with a lozenge- 
 shaped pile of solid masonry at each corner ; the whole 
 evidently designed for defense, and of later date than the 
 tower itself. Such quantities of stones had been heaped 
 upon the old foundations by the farmers, in clearing spaces 
 for their crops, that very little of the masonry was to be 
 seen. To be of service, however, the walls must have been 
 at least twenty feet higher than at present. Many of the 
 stones have no doubt been carried away for buildings, and 
 there are still huge piles of them in the adjacent fields. 
 Towering out of one of these piles I caught a glimpse of 
 another relic of a still remoter past — an object so unex- 
 pected that I at first took it for an accidental disposition 
 of the stones. I descended to the moat, clambered over 
 the outer wall, and made my way to the spot. 
 
 It was a Celtic tor, or altar — a large upright block of 
 gray limestone, supporting a horizontal block about ten 
 feet in length. The pillar was so buried in fragments 
 
218 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 which had been piled about it, that I could not ascertain 
 its height ; but the character of the monument was too dis- 
 tinctly marked to admit of a question. After returning to 
 Port Mahon, I found that its existence was well known. 
 In fact, the first question asked me was, " Have you seen 
 the Phoenician altar?" When and by whom these re- 
 markable monuments — which are found in all the Medi- 
 terranean islands between Greece and Gibraltar — were 
 erected, is a point which I will leave antiquarians to dis- 
 cuss. It pleased me, as I sat under a fig-tree which shot 
 up through the stones, to fancy that the remains of three 
 memorable phases in the history of man were before me, 
 — of the Druids in the crumbling altar, of the Saracens in 
 the watch-tower, and of the house of Aragon or Castile in 
 the fortress enclosing it. 
 
 According to Strabo, the Balearic Islands were colonized 
 by the Rhodians ; but Strabo probably knew less about the 
 matter than any respectable antiquarian of our own day. 
 The people of Minorca firmly believe that Magon, the 
 brother of Hannibal, founded Port Mahon, and they attrib- 
 ute the Druidic stones and the Cyclopean constructions 
 (which are here found side by side) to the Phoenicians. 
 The English occupation, which left at least a good map be- 
 hind it, led to no historic investigations ; and I cannot learn 
 that any detailed account of the antiquities of the island 
 has ever been published. Those remains which v/e call 
 Druidic are very numerous ; some of the upright monoliths 
 are more than twenty feet in height, supporting horizontal 
 stones of nearly equal dimensions. Nothing but the lack 
 of archaeological knowledge prevented me from making a 
 journey through the interior for the purpose of examining 
 the other monuments. 
 
 I made use of my brief visit, however, to test the truth of 
 another story, which is among the permanent traditions of 
 the American navy. Every one has read the account of a 
 captain's son leaping from the main-truck of a frigate ; and 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 219 
 
 in the days when Morris was popular, his verses commen- 
 cing — 
 
 " Old Ironsides at anchor lay 
 In the harbor of Mahon," 
 
 went the rounds of all the country newspapers. There 
 was a melodramatic air about the incident which made me 
 suspicious. I suppose the lines recalled themselves to my 
 mind from the fact that Port Mahon is nowhere else noted 
 in song. The Consul, who kindly seconded my curiosity 
 in a matter of so little importance, went to an old 
 Mahonese, who has had the greatest experience of our ves- 
 sels and officers, and questioned him, taking care not to 
 suggest the story in advance. But the old man instantly 
 said : " O yes ! I remember all about it. Fifty years ago, 
 or more, when the Constitution frigate was here, a boy 
 climbed to the very top of the mainmast, and was obliged to 
 jump into the harbor, as there was no other way of getting 
 down. Not many persons saw the act, but it was much 
 talked about, and nobody doubted that the boy had done 
 it." Whether the captain forced his son to take the ter- 
 rible leap by threatening to shoot him with a rifle, the old 
 man could not tell. 
 
 The next morning the Consul accompanied me on an- 
 other excursion into the country. We passed through the 
 town, and descended to an alameda which skirts the har- 
 bor to its western end, where the highway to Ciudadela 
 strikes off towards the centre of the island. The harbor 
 once penetrated a mile deeper into the country than at 
 present, so the people say ; but it must have been a shal- 
 low, marshy basin, as the hills around could not possibly 
 spare enough soil to fill up and make fruitful the valley 
 which one now enters after leaving the harbor-wall. This 
 valley is the largest tract of unbroken garden land which 
 I saw in Minorca. Its productiveness is apparently un- 
 limited. Maize, cabbages, sweet potatoes, hemp, vines, 
 vegetables of all kinds, covered the surface ; date-palms 
 
220 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 and orange-trees, so overwhelmed with fruit that scarcely 
 a green leaf showed through the dazzling gold, turned it 
 into a garden of the tropics ; while precipitous walls of 
 limestone, resting on rough natural vaults and arches, shut 
 out the rocky upper plateau from view. The laborers were 
 planting new crops in the place of the old ; so valuable is 
 this rich basin that no part of its surface is allowed to lie 
 fallow for a day. 
 
 On the left, the inclosing walls were broken by the 
 mouth of a glen, the sides of which — regular terraces of 
 rock, resting on arched foundations — seemed at first sight 
 to be the work of art. Here, in the shade of a group of 
 poplars and sycamores, stood the chapel of San Juan, 
 white, cool, and solitary. A fountain, issuing from the base 
 of the rocks near it, formed a little pool in which some 
 women were washing clothes. The picture was Oriental 
 in every feature, — so much so that I was surprised not to 
 hear " Saba' el-kheyr ! " when the women said to us, " Bon 
 di' tenga ! " 
 
 Entering the glen behind the chapel, a few paces 
 brought us into a different world. Except upon some 
 painfully constructed shelf of soil, built up or rescued in 
 some way from the rocks, there was no cultivation. Our 
 path was a natural pavement, torn by the occasional rains ; 
 bare cliffs of gray limestone, vaulted at the base, overhung 
 us on either side, and the mounds of box on the summit 
 sparkled against the sky. Every feature of the scenery 
 bore the marks of convulsion. Enormous blocks had been 
 hurled from above ; the walls were split with deep, irregu- 
 lar crevices; and even the stubborn evergreen growths 
 took fantastic shapes of horns, fluttering wings, tufts of 
 hair, or torn garments. Now and then a dry-leaved ilex 
 rustled and rattled in the breeze ; and the glen, notwith- 
 standing it brimmed over with intensest sunshine, would 
 have seemed very drear and desolate but for the incessant 
 songs of the nightingales. While I crept under a rock to 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 221 
 
 sketch a singularly picturesque combination of those crag- 
 forms, — every one of which was a study, — the joyous 
 birds made the place ring with their paeans. The day- 
 song of the nightingale is as cheerful as that of the lark ; 
 its passion and sorrow is kept for the night. 
 
 If I had been an artist, I should have spent a fortnight 
 in the glen of San Juan ; but as it was, having only an- 
 other day in Minorca, I could not linger there beyond an 
 hour. At the point where I sat it divides into two 
 branches, which gradually rise, as they wind, to the level 
 of the table-land ; and the great stone-heaps commence 
 immediately behind the topmost fringe of box. The 
 island, in fact, is a single rock, upon the level portions of 
 which a little soil has lodged. Wherever one may travel 
 in the interior, it presents the same appearance. The dis- 
 tance from Port Mahon to the old town of Chidadela, at 
 the western extremity of Minorca, is about twenty-five 
 miles ; and the Consul informed me that I should find 
 the same landscapes all the way. There is nothing re- 
 markable in Ciudadela except a cathedral of the thirteenth 
 century, and some Saracenic walls. On the way are the 
 three other principal towns of the island — Alayor, Mer- 
 cadal, and Ferrerias, — all of which are rudely built, and 
 have an equal air of poverty. It was for a moment a ques- 
 tion with me whether I should employ my little remaining 
 time in a rapid journey to Ciudadela and back, or in stroll- 
 ing leisurely through the country around Port Mahon, and 
 setting down my observations as typical of all Minorca. 
 The reports of the Consul justified me in adopting the lat- 
 ter and easier course. 
 
 In the afternoon we walked to the village of San Luis, 
 about four miles distant, and recently made accessible by 
 a superb highway. The great drought which has prevailed 
 in all the Balearic Islands during the past two years has 
 seriously injured the crops, and there is much suffering in 
 Minorca, which is so much less favored by nature than its 
 
222 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 larger sister island. I heard of families of five persons 
 living for months on less than twenty-five cents a day. 
 Agriculture is profitable in good seasons, on account of the 
 excellent quality of the wheat, oil, and oranges ; but the 
 deposit of soil, as I have already explained, is very shallow, 
 there is no sheltering range of mountains as in Majorca, 
 no supply of water for irrigation, and the average produc- 
 tion is therefore much less certain. The price of land is 
 high, for the reason that the proprietors are satisfied if it 
 yields them annually two per cent, of its value. Shoe- 
 making is one of the principal branches of industry in 
 Port Mahon ; but of late the foreign market has been dis- 
 turbed, and the profits are so slight — whether through 
 slow and imperfect labor or the sharpness of contractors I 
 did not ascertain — - that any check in the trade brings im- 
 mediate suffering. The people, nevertheless, are very 
 patient ; they invariably prefer work to mendicancy, and 
 are cheerful and contented so long as they succeed in 
 clothing and feeding themselves. 
 
 The Minorcans seemed to me even more independent 
 and original in character than the Majorcans. There is 
 still less of the Spaniard, but also less of the Moor, about 
 them. I should guess their blood to be mostly Vandal, 
 but I stand ready to be corrected by any ethnologist who 
 knows better. They have a rugged, sturdy air, little grace 
 and elegance, either of body or of manner, and a simpli- 
 city which does not exclude shrewdness or cunning. It is 
 considered almost an insult if the stranger speaks of them 
 as Spaniards. The Governor of the island said to Mar- 
 shal Serrano, the other day, when the latter was in Port 
 Mahon in temporary exile : " The Minorcans are a curious 
 people. You probably find that they do not take off" their 
 hats to you in the street, as you are accustomed to be 
 saluted in Madrid ? " " Yes," answered the Marshal, " I 
 have already learned that they care nothing whatev^ for 
 either you or me." The older people look back on the 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 223 
 
 English occupation with regret ; the younger generation 
 would be exceedingly well satisfied if Spain would sell the 
 island to the United States for a naval station. But all ' 
 unite in calling themselves Minorcans, or Mahonese, and 
 in drawing a very broad line between themselves and the 
 Spaniards of the Peninsula. 
 
 The Consul confirmed my first impressions of the hon- 
 esty of the people. " You may walk on any road in the 
 island," said he, " at any hour of the day or night, with 
 the most perfect security." He also gave them the highest 
 praise for cleanliness and order in their domestic life, 
 which are certainly not Spanish qualities. The young 
 men and women who are betrothed save every penny of 
 their earnings, and invest them in the articles of furniture 
 necessary to the establishment of a household. Simple 
 as are these latter, many years often elapse before they are 
 all procured and the nuptials may be celebrated, the par- 
 ties remaining steadfastly constant to each other during 
 the long time of waiting. They are a people in whom 
 almost any honest system of education, any possible sound 
 ideas of progress, would take immediate root ; but under 
 the combined shadow of Spain and Rome, what progress 
 is possible ? 
 
 I have never seen Broek, in Holland, but I think San 
 Luis must be the cleanest village in Europe. I attributed 
 its amazing brightness, as we approached, to the keen, 
 semi-African sun and the perfectly clear air ; but I found 
 that all the houses had been whitewashed that very after- 
 noon, as they regularly are every Saturday. The street 
 was swept so conscientiously that we might have seated 
 ourselves and taken our dinner anywhere, without getting 
 more than each man's inevitable proportion of dust in the 
 dishes. In the open doors, as I passed, I saw floors of 
 shining tiles, clean wooden furniture, women in threadbare 
 but decent dresses, and children — no, the children were 
 dirty, and I confess I should not have been pleased to see 
 
224 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 them otherwise. The sand and fig-stains on those little 
 faces and hands were only health-marks, and they made 
 the brightness of the little village endurable. It would 
 else have seemed to be struck with an unusual disease. 
 We went into a house where two old women — very, very 
 poor they were, but uncomplaining — received us with 
 simple, unaffected friendliness. I spoke in Spanish and 
 they in Minorcan, so that the conversation was not very in- 
 telligible ; but the visit gave me a fleeting impression of 
 the sterling qualities of the people, inasmuch as it harmo- 
 nized with all that I had previously seen and heard. 
 
 The Consul conducted me to a little casino^ where re- 
 freshments, limited in character, were to be procured. The 
 maestro, a stout fellow, with the air of a Bowery butcher, 
 opened his heart on learning that we were Americans. He 
 had served a year on board one of our men-of-war, and re- 
 peated, over and over again, " The way things were man- 
 aged there satisfied me, — it corresponded with my own 
 ideas!" He made me read, around a spiral pillar, the 
 words, " Casino del Progreso," saying, " That 's what I go 
 for ! " There was a church nearly opposite, and from its 
 architecture a man with half an eye could see that the 
 Jesuits had had a hand in building it. This I sketched, 
 and the progressive host, leaning over my shoulder, inter- 
 preted the drawing correctly. His extravagant admiration 
 made me feel that I had done well, and we parted mutually 
 satisfied. Indeed, this little village interested me even 
 more than Port Mahon, because it was more purely Minor- 
 can in character. 
 
 The quantities of the fig-bearing cactus about the coun- 
 try-houses surprised me, until I learned that the fleshy 
 leaves are used during the dry season as food for the mules 
 and asses. The fruit, which is said to be remarkably fine 
 on the island, is eaten by the inhabitants, and must form, 
 in times of wan>t, an important article of their food ; yet 
 so much space would not be given to the plant, or rather 
 
BALEARIC DAYS. 225 
 
 tree, if the animals had not been taught to subsist upon 
 it. I have never before heard, in any part of the world, 
 of the cactus being made useful in this way. Its huge, 
 grotesque masses are an inseparable part of every land- 
 scape on the island. 
 
 We walked back to Port Mahon in the face of a north 
 wind which was almost cold, which blew away the rich 
 color from the sunset sky, leaving it pale, clear, and melan- 
 choly in tone ; yet thunder and violent rain followed in the 
 night. T spent my last evening with the Consul and his 
 agreeable family, and embarked on the steamer for Bar- 
 celona in the morning. As we passed out of the harbor, 
 Antonio's daughter waved her handkerchief from the win- 
 dow high above, on the cliff. The salute was not intended 
 for me, but for her husband, who was bound for Madrid, 
 carrying with him the cheese for Marshal Serrano. Rocked 
 on a rough sea, and with a keen wind blowing, we again 
 coasted along the southern shore of Minorca, crossed the 
 strait, touched at Alcudia, and then, passing the mouth of 
 the Bay of Pollenza, reached the northern headland of 
 Majorca at sunset. Here the mountain-chain falls off in 
 perpendicular walls a thousand feet in height, the bases of 
 which are worn into caverns and immense echoing vaults. 
 The coast-forms are as grand and wonderful as those of 
 Norway. Point after point, each more abrupt and distorted 
 than the last, came into view as we cleared the headland — 
 all growing luminous in the mist and the orange light of 
 the setting sun. 
 
 Then the light faded ; the wild mountain-forms were 
 fused together in a cold gray mass above the sea ; the stars 
 came^out, and my last Balearic day was at an end. 
 
 15 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 
 
 " And mule-bells tinkling down the mountain-paths of Spain." 
 
 Whittieu 
 
I LEAENED Something of the bridle-roads of Catalonia 
 in defiance of advice and warning, and almost against my 
 own inclination. My next point of interest, after leaving 
 the Balearic Islands, was the forgotten Republic of Andorra, 
 in the Pyrenees ; and the voice of the persons whom I 
 consulted in Barcelona — none of whom had made the 
 journey, or knew any one who had — was unanimous that 
 I should return to France, and seek an entrance from that 
 side. Such a course would certainly have been more com- 
 fortable; but the direct route, from the very insecurity 
 which was predicted, offered a prospect of adventure, the 
 fascination of which, I regret to say, I have not yet entire- 
 ly outgrown. " It is a country of smugglers and robbers," 
 said the banker who replenished my purse ; " and I serious- 
 ly advise you not to enter it. Moreover, the roads are al- 
 most impassable, and there is nothing to be seen on the 
 way." 
 
 These words, uttered with a grave face by a native Cata- 
 lan, ought to have decided the matter, yet they did not. 
 To be sure, I thanked the man for his warning, and left 
 him to suppose that I would profit by it, rather than enter 
 into any discussion ; but when I quitted his office, with 
 fresh funds in my pocket, and corresponding courage in 
 my bosom, my course was already decided. Had I not 
 heard the same warnings, in all parts of the world, and had 
 not the picturesque danger always fled as I approached it ? 
 Nevertheless, there came later moments of doubt, the sug- 
 gestions of that convenient life which we lead at home, and 
 the power of which increases with our years. Fatigue and 
 hardship do not become lighter from repetition, but the re- 
 
230 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 verse; the remembrance of past aches and past hunger 
 returns whenever the experience is renewed, and aggra- 
 vates it. 
 
 So, when I had descended from Montserrat, and was 
 waiting in the cool of the evening at the door of the rudest 
 possible restaurant, at the railway station of Monistrol, a 
 little imp whispered : " The first train is for Barcelona. 
 Take it and you will be in France to-morrow night. This 
 way is safe and speedy; you know not what the other may 
 ,be." I watched the orange-light fade from the topmost 
 pinnacles of Montserrat ; a distant whistle sounded, and 
 the other pilgrims hurried towards the ticket-office. I 
 followed them as far as the door, paused a moment, and 
 then said to myself: "No, if I back out now, I shall never 
 be sure of myself again ! " Then I returned to my seat 
 beside the door, and saw the train go by, with the feeling 
 pf a man who has an appointment with a dentist. 
 
 In another hour came the upward train, which would 
 carry me as far as the town of Manresa, where my doubt- 
 ful journey commenced. It was already dusk, and deli- 
 ciously cool after the fierce heat of the day. A full moon 
 shone upon the opposite hills as I sped up the valley of 
 the Llobregat, and silvered the tops of the olives ; but I 
 only saw them in glimpses of unconquerable sleep, and 
 finally descended at the station of Manresa not fully awake. 
 
 A rough, ragged porter made a charge upon my valise, 
 which I yielded to his hands. " Take it to the best hotel," 
 I said. " Ah, that is the ^ Chicken ! ' " he replied. Now, the 
 driver of the omnibus from Montserrat had recommended 
 the " San Domingo," which had altogether a better sound 
 than the " Chicken ; " but I did not think of resisting my 
 fate. I was conscious of a wonderful moonlight picture,— 
 of a town on a height, crowned by a grand cathedral ; of a 
 winding river below ; of steep slopes of glimmering houses ; 
 of lofty hills, seamed with the shadows of glens ; and of 
 the sparkle of orange-leaves in the hanging gardens. This 
 
CATALONIAN BEIDLE-EOADS. 231 
 
 while we were crossing a suspension-bridge ; at the end, we 
 plunged into narrow, winding streets, full of gloom and dis- 
 agreeable odors. A few oil-lamps burned far apart ; there 
 were lights in the upper windows of the houses, and the 
 people were still gossiping with their neighbors. When 
 y7e emerged into a plaza, it was more cheerful ; the single 
 cafe was crowded, the estanco for the sale of tobacco, and 
 the barber's shop were still open. A little farther and we 
 reached the " Chicken," which was an ancient and uninvit- 
 ing house, with a stable on the ground-floor. Here the 
 porter took his fee with a grin, and saying, " You will want 
 me in the morning ! " wished me good night. 
 
 I mounted to a dining-room nearly fifty feet in length, in 
 which a lonely gentleman sat, waiting for his supper. When 
 the hostess had conducted me to a bedroom of equal dimen- 
 sions, and proceeded to put clean sheets upon a bed large 
 enough for four Michigan soldiers, I became entirely recon- 
 ciled to my fate. After trying in vain to extract any intel- 
 ligence from a Madrid newspaper, I went to bed and slept 
 soundly ; but the little imp was at my ear when I woke, say- 
 ing : " Here you leave the railway ; after this it will not be 
 so easy to turn back." " Very well," I thought, " I will go 
 back now." I opened the shutters, let the full morning sun 
 blaze into the room, dipped my head into water, and then 
 cried out : " Begone, tempter ! I go forwards." But, alas ! 
 it was not so once. There is a difference between spring- 
 ing nimbly from one's rest with a " Hurrah ! there's another 
 rough day before me ! " and a slow clinging to one's easy 
 pillow, with the sigh, " Ah ! must I go through another 
 rough day ? " However, that was my last moment of weak- 
 ness, and physical only — being an outcry of the muscles 
 against the coming aches ^and strains, like that of the pack- 
 camel before he receives his load. 
 
 The first stage of my further journey, I learned, could be 
 made by a diligence which left at eleven o'clock. In the- 
 mean time I wandered about the town, gathering an im- 
 
232 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 pression of its character quite distinct from that of the pre- 
 vious evening. It has no architectural monuments ; for the 
 cathedral, like all such edifices in Spain, is unfinished, inter- 
 nally dark, and well supplied with bad pictures. Its posi- 
 tion, nevertheless, is superb, and the platform of rock upon 
 which it stands looks over a broad, bright, busy landscape. 
 The sound of water-wheels and the humming looms of fac- 
 tories fills the air ; however primitive the other forms of 
 labor may be, the people all seem to be busy. The high 
 houses present an agreeable variety of color, although a 
 rich brown is predominant ; many of them have balconies, 
 and the streets turn at such unexpected angles that light and 
 shade assist in making pictures everywhere. Manresa has 
 a purely Spanish aspect, and the groups on the plaza and in 
 the shady alleys are as lively and glowing as any in Anda- 
 lusia. 
 
 I read the history of the place, as given in the guide- 
 books, but will not here repeat it. According to my En- 
 glish guide, it was sacked and its inhabitants butchered by 
 the French, during the Peninsular War ; according to the 
 French guide, nothing of the kind ever took place. As I 
 read the books alternately, I came to the conclusion that 
 both sides must have been splendidly victorious in the 
 battles which were fought in Spain. When the Englishman 
 said : " Here our army, numbering only eighteen thousand 
 men (of whom eight thousand were Spanish allies, of doubt- 
 ful service), encountered thirty-seven thousand French, and 
 completely routed them," the Frenchman had : " Here our 
 army, numbering only fifteen thousand, including seven 
 thousand Spaniards, put to flight thirty-three thousand 
 English — one of the most brilliant actions of the war." 
 At this rate of representation, it will be a disputed ques- 
 tion, in the next century, whether Soult or Wellington was 
 driven out of Spain. 
 
 My porter of the night before made his appearance, and 
 as I had suspected him of interested motives in conducting 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 233 
 
 me to the " Chicken," I tested his character by giving a 
 smaller fee for an equal service ; but he took it with the same 
 thanks. Moreover^ the diligence office was in the " San Do- 
 mingo Hotel," and I satisfied myself that the " Chicken " was 
 really better than the Saint. Two lumbering yellow coaches 
 stood in the spacious stable, which was at the same time en- 
 trance-hall and laundry. On one side some lean mules were 
 eating their barley ; on another, a pump and stone trough 
 supplied the house with water ; a stone staircase led to the 
 inhabited rooms, and three women* were washing clothes at 
 a tank in the rear. Dogs ran about scratching themselves ; 
 country passengers, with boxes and baskets, sat upon stone 
 posts and did the same ; and now and then a restless horse 
 walked forth from the stalls, snuffing at one person after 
 another, as if hoping to find one who might be eatable. 
 Two mayorals or coachmen, followed by two grooms, bustled 
 about with bits of harness in their hands, and the washer- 
 women made a great clatter with their wooden beetles ; but 
 the time passed, and nothing seemed to be accomplished on 
 either side. The whole scene was so thoroughly Spanish 
 that no one would have been surprised had the Don and 
 Sancho ridden into the doorway. One of the women at the 
 tank was certainly Maritornes. 
 
 At length, after a great deal of ceremony, one of the 
 vehicles drove off. " It's going to Berga," said a man in 
 faded velvet, in answer to my question ; " and all I know is, 
 that that 's the way to Puigcerda." The mules were now 
 harnessed to our diligence and we took our places — m}'' 
 friend in velvet ; two stout women, one of whom carried 
 six dried codfish tied in a bundle ; a shriveled old man, a 
 mild brown soldier, and myself It was an hour behind the 
 appointed time, but no one seemed to notice the delay. We 
 rolled out of the ammoniated shadows of the stable into a 
 blaze which was doubled on the white highway, and thrown 
 back to us from the red, scorched rocks beside it. The 
 valley of the Cardoner, which we entered on leaving Man- 
 
234 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 resa, quivered in the breathless heat : the stream was almost 
 exhausted in its bed, and the thin gray foliage of the poplars 
 and olives gave but a mockery of shadow. Everywhere the 
 dry, red soil baked in the sunshine. The only refreshing 
 thing I saw was a break in an irrigating canal, which let 
 down a cascade over the rocks into the road. No water in 
 the world ever seemed so cool, so fresh, so glittering ; in the 
 thirsty landscape it flashed like a symbol of generous, prod- 
 igal life. Who could fling gold around him with so beauti- 
 ful a beneficence ? 
 
 The features of the scenery, nevertheless, were too bold 
 and picturesque to be overlooked. As we gained a longer 
 vista, Montserrat lifted his blue horns over the nearer hills, 
 and a dim streak of snow, far in the northwest, made signal 
 for the Pyrenees. Abrupt as were the heights inclosing the 
 valley, they were cultivated to the summit, and the brown 
 country-houses, perched on projecting spurs, gave them a 
 life which the heat and thirsty color of the soil could not 
 take away. Our destination was Cardona, and after a 
 smothering ride of two hours we reached the little village 
 of Suria, half-way in distance, but by no means in time. 
 Beyond it, the country became rougher, the road steep and 
 toilsome; and our three mules plodded slowly on, with 
 drooping heads and tails, while, inside, the passengers nod- 
 ded one after the other, and became silent. We crossed the 
 Cardoner, and ascended a long slope of the hills, where the 
 view, restricted to the neighboring fields, became so monot- 
 onous that I nodded and dozed with the rest. 
 
 We were all aroused by the diligence stopping beside a 
 large farm-house. There was a general cry for water, and 
 the farmer's daughter presently came out with a stone 
 pitcher, cool and dripping from the well. The glass was 
 first given to me, as a stranger ; and I was about setting it 
 to my lips, when two or three of the passengers suddenly 
 cried out, " Stop ! " I paused, and looked around in sur- 
 prise. The man in velvet had already dropped a piece of 
 
CATALONIAiN BEIDLE-EOADS. 235 
 
 sugar into the water, and the old woman opposite took a 
 bottle from her basket, saying, " This is better ! " and added 
 a spoonful of anise-seed brandy. " Now," exclaimed both at 
 the same time, " you can drink with safety." The supply of 
 sugar and anise-seed held out, and each passenger was re- 
 galed at the expense of the two Samaritans. After thisj con- 
 versation brightened, and we all became talkative and friend- 
 ly. The man in velvet, learning my destination, exclaimed : 
 *' O, you ought to have gone by way of Berga ! It is a dread- 
 ful country about Solsona and the Rio Segre." But the old 
 woman leaned over and whispered : " Don't mind what he 
 says. T come from Solsona, and it's a good country — a 
 very good country, indeed. Go on, and you will see ! " 
 
 The valley of the Cardoner had become narrower, the 
 mountains were higher, and there were frequent ruins of 
 mediaeval castles on the summits. "When we had reached 
 the top of the long ascent, the citadel of Cardona in front 
 suddenly rose sharp and abrupt over the terraced slopes of 
 vine. It appeared to be within a league, but our coachman 
 was so slow and the native passengers so patient, that we did 
 not arrive for two hours. Drawing nearer, the peculiar colors 
 of the earth around the base of an isolated mountain an- 
 nounced to us the celebrated salt-mines of the place. Red, 
 blue, purple, yellow, and gray, the bare cliffs glittered in the 
 sun as if frosted over with innumerable crystals. This mass . 
 of native salt is a mile and a half in circumference, with a 
 height of about two hundred and fifty feet. The action of 
 the atmosphere seems to have little effect upon it, and the 
 labor of centuries has no more than tapped its immense 
 stores. As in Wieliczka, in Poland, the workmen in the 
 mines manufacture cups, ornaments, pillars, and even chan- 
 deliers, from the pure saline crystal — objects which, 
 although they remain perfect in the dry atmosphere of 
 Spain, soon melt into thin air when carried to Northern 
 lands. 
 
 The town of Cardona occupies the crest of a sharp hill, 
 
236 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 rising above the mountain of salt. Between it and the river, 
 on the north, stands the citadel, still more loftily perched, 
 like a Greek acropolis. Our road passed entirely around 
 the latter and mounted to the town on the opposite side, 
 where the diligence set us down in front of a rude fonda. 
 The old gate was broken down, the walls ruined, and the 
 first houses we passed were uninhabited. There was no 
 longer an octroi ; in fact, the annoyances of travel in Spain 
 diminish in proportion as one leaves the cities and chief 
 thoroughfares. As I dismounted, the coachman took hold 
 of my arm, saying, " Cavalier, here is a decent man who will 
 get a horse for you, and travel with you to the Seo de Urgel. 
 I know the man, and it is I who recommend him." The per- 
 son thus introduced was a sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow, 
 with short black hair, and hard, weather-beaten features. 
 He touched his red Catalan cap, and then looked me stead- 
 ily in the face while, in answer to my inquiries, he offered to 
 be ready at four o'clock the next morning, and demanded 
 six dollars for himself and horse, the journey requiring two 
 days. Tljere were two or three other arrieros present, but 
 I plainly saw that none of them would enter into competi- 
 tion with a man recommended by the coachman. More- 
 over, as far as appearances went, he was the best of the lot, 
 and so I engaged him at once. 
 
 While the fat hostess of ihe fonda was preparing ray din- 
 ner, I strolled for an hour or two about the town.' The 
 church is renowned for having been founded in the year 
 820, immediately after the expulsion of the Moors from this 
 part of Spain, and for containing the bodies of St. Celadonio 
 and St. Emeterio — whoever those holy- personages may 
 have been. I confess I never heard of them before. What 
 I admired in the church was the splendid mellow brown tint 
 of its massive ancient front. Brown is the characteristic 
 color of Spain, from the drapery of Murillo and the walls 
 of cathedrals to the shadow of cypresses and the arid soil 
 of the hills. Whether brightening into gold or ripening 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 237 
 
 into purple, it always seems to give the key of color. In 
 the streets of Cardona, it was the base upon which endless 
 picturesque groups of people were painted, — women spin- 
 ing flax, children cooling their bare bodies on the stones, 
 blacksmiths and cobblers forging and stitching in the open 
 air — all with a keen glance of curiosity, but also a respect- 
 ful greeting for the stranger. The plaza, which was called, 
 like all plazas in Catalonia, de la Gonstitucion, overhung the 
 deep ravine at the foot of the salt mountain. From its 
 parapet I looked upon the vineyard-terraces into which the 
 hills have been fashioned, and found them as laboriously 
 constructed as those of the Rheingau. A cliff of salt below 
 sparkled like prismatic glass in the evening light, but all the 
 nearer gardens lay in delicious shadow, and the laden asses 
 began to jog homewards from the distant fields. There was 
 a cafe on the plaza patronized only by two or three military 
 idlers ; the people still worked steadily while the daylight 
 lasted, charming away their fatigue by the most melancholy 
 songs. 
 
 The inn was not an attractive place. The kitchen was 
 merely one corner of the public room, in which chairs lay 
 overturned and garments tumbled about, as if the house 
 had been sacked. The members of the family sat and 
 chattered in this confusion, promising whatever I de- 
 manded, but taking their own time about getting it. I had 
 very meagre expectations of dinner, and was therefore not 
 a little surprised when excellent fresh fish, stewed rabbits, 
 and a roasted fowl were set successively before me. The 
 merry old landlady came and went, anxious to talk, but 
 prevented by her ignorance of the pure Spanish tongue. 
 However, she managed to make me feel quite at home, 
 and well satisfied that I had ventured so far into the re- 
 gion of ill-repute. 
 
 What was going on in the town that night I cannot ima- 
 gine ; but it was a tumult of the most distracting kind. 
 First, there were drums and — as it seemed to me — tin 
 
238 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 pans beaten for an hour or two in the street below ; then 
 a chorus of piercing, dreadfully inharmonious voices ; then 
 a succession of short cries or howls, like those of the 
 oriental dervishes. Sometimes the noises moved away, 
 and I settled myself to sleep, whereupon they came back 
 worse than before. " O children of Satan ! " I cried, " will 
 ye never be still ? " Some time after midnight the voices 
 became hoarse : one by one dropped off, and the charivan 
 gradually ceased, from the inability of the performers to 
 keep it up longer. Then horses were led forth from the 
 stable on the ground-floor, whips were violently cracked, 
 and the voices of grooms began to be heard. At three 
 o'clock Juan, my new guide, came into the room with a 
 coarse bag, in which he began packing the contents of my 
 valise, which could not otherwise be carried on horseback, 
 and so my rest was over before it had commenced. 
 
 I found the diligence about starting on its return to 
 Manresa, and my horse, already equipped, standing in the 
 stable. The sack, valise, and other articles were so packed, 
 before and behind the saddle, that only a narrow, deep 
 cleft remained for me to sit in. The sun had not yet risen, 
 and the morning air was so cool that I determined to walk 
 down the hill and mount at the foot. Stepping over two 
 grooms who were lying across the stable door on a piece of 
 hide, sound asleep, we set forth on our journey. 
 
 The acropolis rose dark against the pearly sky, and the 
 valley of the Cardoner lay cool and green in the lingering 
 shadows. Early as was the hour, laborers were already on 
 their way to the fields j and when we reached the ancient 
 bridge of seven arches, I saw the two old ladies of Solsona 
 in advance, mounted on mules, and carrying their baskets, 
 boxes, and dried codfish with them. Although my French 
 guide-book declared that the road before me was scarcely 
 practicable, the sight of these ladies was a better authority 
 to the contrary. I mounted at the bridge, and joined the 
 cavalcade, which was winding across a level tract of land, 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 239 
 
 between walled fields and along the banks of irrigating 
 canals. Juan, however, found the mules too slow, and 
 soon chose a side-path, which, in the course of a mile or 
 two, brought us into the main track,- some distance in ad- 
 vance of the old ladies. By this time the sun was up and 
 blazing on all the hills ; the wide, open country about Car- 
 dona came to an end, and we struck into a narrow glen, 
 covered with forests of pine. Juan directed me to ford 
 the river and follow the track on the opposite side, while 
 he w^ent on to a foot-bridge farther up. " In a few mi- 
 nutes," he said, " you will find a carretera" — a cart-road, 
 which proved to be a superb macadamized highway, yet 
 virgin of any wheel. Men were working upon it, smooth- 
 ing the turf on either side, and leveling the gravel as care- 
 fully as if the Queen's mail-coach travelled that way ; but 
 the splendid piece of workmanship has neither beginning 
 nor end, and will be utterly useless until it touches a fin- 
 ished road somewhere. 
 
 A short distance farther the glen expanded, and I re- 
 crossed the river by a lofty new bridge. The road was 
 carried over the bottom-land on an embankment at least 
 forty feet high, and then commenced ascending the hills 
 on the northern bank. After passing a little village on the 
 first height, we entered a forest of pine, which continued 
 without interruption for four or five miles. The country 
 became almost a wilderness, and wore a singular air of 
 loneliness, contrasted with the busy region I had left be- 
 hind. As I approached the summit, the view extended 
 far and wide over a dark, wooded sweep of hills, rarely 
 broken by a solitary farm-house and the few cleared fields 
 around it. On the nearer slope below me there was now 
 and then such a house; but the most of them were in 
 ruins, and young pines were shooting up in the deserted 
 vineyards. The Catalans are so laborious in their habits, 
 so skilled in the art of turning waste into fruitful land, 
 that there must have been some special reason for this 
 
240 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 desolation. My guide either could not or would not ex- 
 plain it. 
 
 When we reached the northern side of the mountain, 
 cultivation again commenced, and I saw the process of 
 clearing woodland and preparing the soil for crops. The 
 trees are first removed, the stumps and roots dug up, and 
 then all the small twigs, brambles, weeds, and dry sticks, 
 — everything, in fact, which cannot be used for lumber 
 and firewood, — are gathered into little heaps all over the 
 ground, and covered with the top soil. A year, probably, 
 must elapse, before these heaps are tolerably decomposed ; 
 then they are spread upon the surface and ploughed under. 
 The virgin soil thus acquired is manured after every crop, 
 and there is no such thing as an exhausted field. 
 
 The fine highway came to an end as suddenly as it had 
 commenced, in the rough forest, with no village near. The 
 country became broken and irregular, and the bridle-path 
 descended continually through beautiful groves of oak, 
 with an undergrowth of box and lavender, the odors from 
 which filled the air. I was nearly famished, when, after 
 a journey of five or six leagues, we emerged from the 
 woods, and saw the rich valley-basin of Solsona before us, 
 with the dark old town in its centre. Here, again, every 
 available foot of soil was worked into terraces, drained or 
 irrigated as the case might be, and made to produce its 
 utmost. As I rode along the low walls, the ripe, heavy 
 ears of wheat leaned over and brushed my head. Although 
 there is no wheeled vehicle — not even a common cart — 
 in this region, all the roads being the rudest bridle- paths, 
 the town is approached by a magnificent bridge of a dozen 
 arches, spanning a grassy hollow, at the bottom of which 
 flows a mere thread of a brook. 
 
 At the farther end of the bridge, a deserted gateway 
 ushers the traveller into Solsona. Few strangers, I sus- 
 pect, ever enter the place ; for labor ceased as I passed 
 along the streets, and even Don Basilio, on his way home 
 
CATALONIAN BEIDLE-ROADS. 241 
 
 from morning mass, lifted his shovel hat, and bowed pro- 
 foundly. Many of the houses were in ruins, and bore the 
 marks of fire and balls. I rode into the ground-floor of a 
 dark house which bore no sign or symbol over the door, 
 but Juan assured me that it was an inn. A portly, digni- 
 fied gentleman advanced out of the shadows, and addressed 
 me in the purest Castilian ; he was the landlord, and his 
 daughter was cook and waiting-maid. The rooms above 
 were gloomy and very ancient ; there was scarcely a piece 
 of furniture which did not appear to be two centuries old ; 
 yet everything was clean and orderly. 
 
 " Can we have breakfast ? " I asked. 
 
 " Whatever we have is at your disposition," said the land- 
 lord. " What would you be pleased to command ? " 
 
 " Eggs, meat, bread, and wine ; but nothing that cannot 
 be got ready in a few minutes." 
 
 The landlord bowed, and went into the kitchen. Pres- 
 ently he returned and asked, " Did I understand you to 
 wish for meat, Cavalier .^ " 
 
 " Certainly, if you have it," I replied. 
 
 " Yes, we have it in the house," said he ; " but I didn't 
 know what your custom was." 
 
 I did not guess what he meant until a plate of capital 
 mutton-chops was smoking under my .nose. Then it 
 flashed across my mind that the day was Friday, and I no 
 better than a heathen in the eyes of my worthy host. Ac- 
 cording to the country custom of Spain, master and groom 
 fare alike, and Juan took his seat beside me without wait- 
 ing for an invitation. I ought to have invited the landlord, 
 but I was too hungry to remember it. To my surprise — 
 and relief also — Juan ate his share of the chops, and there 
 was a radiant satisfaction on his countenance. I have no 
 doubt he looked upon me as the responsible party, and did 
 not even consider it worth while to confess afterwards. 
 
 " You have a beautiful country here," I remarked to the 
 16 
 
242 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 landlord, knowing that such an expression is always ac- 
 cepted as a half-compliment. 
 
 " It is a country," he exclaimed with energy, " que nada 
 falta, — which lacks nothing! There is everything you 
 want ; there is not a better country under the sun ! No, it 
 is not the country that we complain of." 
 
 "What then?" I asked. 
 
 For a moment he made no reply, then, apparently chang- 
 ing the subject, said, " Did you see the houses in ruins as 
 you came into Solsona? That was done in the Carlist 
 wars. We suffered terribly : nearly half the people of this 
 region were slaughtered." 
 
 " What good comes of these wars ? " I asked. " Is any- 
 thing better than it was before ? What have you to offset 
 all that fire and murder ? " 
 
 « That's it ! " he cried ; " that was what I meant." 
 
 He shook his head in a melancholy way, drank a glass 
 of wine, and said, as if to prevent my continuing the sub- 
 ject : " You understand how to travel, or you would not 
 come into such wild parts as these. But ,here, instead of 
 having the rattling of cart-wheels in your ears all day, you 
 have the songs of the nightingales. You don't have dust in 
 your nose, but the smell of grain and flowers ; you can 
 start when you please, and ride as far as you like. That's 
 my way to travel, and I wish there were more people of the 
 same mind. We don't often see a foreign cavalier in 
 Solsona, yet it's not a bad country, as you yourself say." 
 
 By this time Juan and I had consumed the chops and 
 emptied the bottle ; and, as there were still six leagues to 
 be travelled that day, we* prepared to leave Solsona. The 
 town, of barely two thousand inhabitants, has an ancient 
 church, a deserted palace of the former Dukes of Cardona, 
 and a miraculous image of the Virgin — neither of which 
 things is sufficiently remarkable in its way to be further 
 described. The age of the place is apparent,; a dark, cool, 
 mournful atmosphere of the Past fills its streets, and the 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 243 
 
 traces of recient war seem to have been left from mediaeval 
 times. 
 
 The sky was partly overcast, but there was an intense, 
 breathless heat in the air. Our path led across the boun- 
 teous valley into a wild ravine, which was spanned by two 
 ancient aqueducts. The pointed arch of one of them 
 hinted of Moorish construction, as well as the platform and 
 tank of a fountain in a rocky nook beyond. Here the 
 water gushed out in a powerful stream, as in those foun- 
 tains of the Anti-Lebanon in the country of Galilee. 
 Large plane-trees shaded the spot, and the rocks overhung 
 it on three sides, yet no one was there to enjoy the shade 
 and coolness. The place was sad, because so beautiful 
 and so lonely. 
 
 At the farther end of the ravine we entered a forest of 
 pine, with an undergrowth of box, and commenced ascend- 
 ing the mountain-range dividing the Valley of Solsona from 
 that of the Rio Salado. It might have been the Lesser 
 Atlas, and the sky that of Africa, so fierce was the heat, so 
 dry and torn the glens up the sides of which toiled my 
 laboring horse. Birds and insects were alike silent : the 
 lizard, scampering into his hole in the red bank of earth, 
 was the only living thing. For an hour or more we slowly 
 plodded upward ; then, emerging from the pine wood upon 
 a barren summit, I looked far and wide over a gray, for- 
 bidding, fiery land. Beyond the Salado Valley, which lay 
 beneath me, rose a range of uninhabited mountains, half 
 clothed with forest or thicket, and over them the outer 
 Pyrenees, huge masses of bare rock, cut into sharp, irreg- 
 ular forms. A house or two, and some cultivated patches, 
 were visible along the banks of the Salado ; elsewhere, 
 there was no sign of habitation. 
 
 The hajada, or descent to the river, was so steep and 
 rough that I was forced to dismount and pick my way 
 down the zigzags of burning sand and sliding gravel. At 
 the bottom I forded the river, the water of which is saline. 
 
244 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 and then hastened to a mill upon the further bank, to pro- 
 cure a cup of water. The machinery was working in 
 charge of a lusty girl, who shut off the water while she ran 
 to a spring in the ravine behind, and filled an earthen jar. 
 There was nothing of Spanish grace and beauty about her. 
 She had gray eyes, a broad, flat nose, brown hair, broad 
 shoulders, and the arms and legs of a butcher. But she 
 was an honest, kind-hearted creature, and the joyous good- 
 will with which she served me was no less refreshing than 
 the water. 
 
 The path now followed the course of the Rio Salado, 
 under groves of venerable ilex, which fringed the foot of 
 the mountain. Thickets of box and tamarisk overhung 
 the stream, and the sight of the water rushing and mur- 
 muring through sun and shade, made the heat more endur- 
 able. Another league, however, brought me to the little 
 hamlet of Ojern, where my road took to the hills again. 
 Nature has given this little place a bay of rich soil between 
 the river and the mountains, man has blackened it with 
 fire and riddled it with shot ; and between the two it has 
 become a complete and surprising picture. Out of superb 
 gardens of orange and fig trees, over hedges of roses and 
 wild mounds of woodbine, rise the cracked and tottering 
 walls — heaps of ruin, but still inhabited. Nothing could 
 be finer than the contrast of the riotous vegetation, strug- 
 gling to grow away from the restraining hand into its sav- 
 age freedom, with the firm texture, the stubborn forms and 
 the dark, mellow coloring of the masonry. Of course the 
 place was dirty, and offended one sense as much as it de- 
 lighted the other. It is a pity that neatness and comfort 
 cannot be picturesque. 
 
 I knew that the Rio Segre could not be very distant, but 
 I was far from guessing how much the way might be 
 lengthened by heat and almost impracticable roads. This 
 ascent was worse than the former, since there was no forest 
 to throw an occasional shade. A scrubby chaparral covered 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 245 
 
 the red and flinty slopes, upon which the sun beat until 
 the air above them quivered. My horse was assailed with 
 a large gad-fly, and kicked, stamped, and whirled his head 
 as if insane. I soon had occasion to notice a physiological 
 fact — that the bones of a horse's head are more massive 
 than those of the human shin. When we reached the sum- 
 mit of the mountain, after a long, long pull, I was so 
 bruised, shaken, and exhausted that Juan was obliged to 
 help me out of the saddle, or rather, the crevice between 
 two piles of baggage in which I was wedged. The little 
 imp came back chuckling, and said, " I told you so ! " In 
 such cases, I always recall Cicero's consolatory remark, and 
 go on my way with fresh courage. 
 
 Moreover, far below, at the base of the bare peaks of 
 rock which rose against the western sky, I saw the glitter 
 of the Rio Segre, and knew that my day's labor was nearly 
 at an end. The descent was so rugged that I gave the 
 reins to Juan, and went forward on foot. After getting 
 down the first steep, the path fell into and followed the 
 dry bed of a torrent, which dropped rapidly towards the 
 river. In half an hour I issued from the fiery ravine, and 
 was greeted by a breeze that had cooled its wings on the 
 Pyrenean snow. Olive-trees again shimmered around me, 
 and a valley-bed of fruitful fields expanded below. A mile 
 further, around the crest of the lower hills, I found myself 
 on a rocky point, just over the town of Oliana. It was the 
 oldest and brownest place I had seen, up to this time ; but 
 there was shade in its narrow streets, and rest for me under 
 one of its falling roofs. A bell in the tall, square tower of 
 the church chimed three ; and Juan, coming up with the 
 horse, insisted that I should mount, and make my entrance 
 as became a cavalier. 
 
 I preferred comfort to dignity ; but when everybody can 
 see that a man has a horse, he really loses nothing by 
 walking. The first houses we passed appeared to be de- 
 serted ; then came the main street, in which work, gossip, 
 
246 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 and recreation were going on in the open air. Here there 
 was a swinging sign with the word " Hostal " over the inn 
 door, and most welcome was that inn, with its unwashed 
 floors, its fleas, and its odors of garlic. I was feverish with 
 the absorption* of so much extra heat, and the people 
 gave me the place of comfort at an open window, with a 
 view of green fields between the poplars. Below me there 
 was a garden belonging to the priest, who, in cassock and 
 shovel-hat, was inspecting his vegetables. Gathering up 
 his sable skirts, he walked mincingly between the rows of 
 lettuce and cauliflower, now and then pointing out a lan- 
 guishing plant, which an old woman in attendance then 
 proceeded to refresh by flinging water upon it with a pad- 
 dle, from a tank in a corner- of the garden. Browning's 
 " Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister " came into my head, and 
 I think I should have cried out, could the padre have un- 
 derstood the words : " O, that rose has prior claims ! " I 
 must say, however, that the garden was admirably kept, 
 and the priest's table was all the better for his horticultural 
 tastes. 
 
 There were three or four jolly fellows in the inn, who 
 might have served in Sherman's army, they were so tall 
 and brown and strong. My attention was drawn from the 
 priest by their noise and laughter, and I found them gath- 
 ered about a wild-looking man, dressed in rags. The lat- 
 ter talked so rapidly, in the Catalan dialect, that I could 
 understand very little of what he said ; but the landlady 
 came up and whispered, " He's a loco (an idiot), but he 
 does no harm." To me he seemed rather to be a genius, 
 with a twist in his brain. He was very quick in retort, 
 and often turned the laugh upon his questioner ; while 
 from his constant appeals to " Maria Santissima," a strong 
 religious idea evidently underlay his madness. The land- 
 lord gave him a good meal, and he then went on his way, 
 cheerful, perhaps happy, in his isolation. 
 
 I suppose Juan must have been well satisfied to eat 
 
CATALONIAN BBIDLE-ROADS. 247 
 
 meat on a Friday without the sin being charged to his per- 
 sonal account, and must therefore have given a hint to the 
 landlord ; for, without my order, a chicken was set before 
 me at dinner, and he took the drumsticks as of right. 
 When the sun got behind the tall mountain opposite, I 
 wandered about the town, seeing nothing that seems worthy 
 of being recorded, yet every view was a separate delight 
 which I cannot easily forget. There were no peculiarities 
 of architecture or of costume ; but the houses were so 
 quaintly irregular, the effects of light and shade so bold 
 and beautiful, the colors so balanced, that each street with 
 its inhabitants might have been painted without change. 
 There was a group before the shoemaker's door — the 
 workman on his bench, a woman with a shoe, a young fel- 
 low in a scarlet cap, who had paused to say a word, and 
 two or three children tumbling on the stones ; another at 
 the fountain — women filling jars, coming and going with 
 the load on hip or head ; another at the barber's, and all 
 framed by houses brown as Murillo's color, with a back- 
 ground of shadow as rich as Rembrandt's. These are sub- 
 jects almost too simple to paint with the pen ; they require 
 the pencil. 
 
 In the evening, the sultry vapors which had been all day 
 floating in the air settled over the gorge, and presently 
 thunder-echoes were buffeted back and forth between the 
 rocky walls. The skirts of a delicious rain trailed over the 
 valley, and Night breathed odor and coolness and healing 
 balsam as she came down from the western peaks. Rough 
 and dirty as was the guests' room of the " hostal," my bed- 
 room was clean and pleasant. A floor of tiles, a simple 
 iron washstand resembling an ancient tripod, one chair, 
 and a bed, coarsely, but freshly spread — what more can a 
 reasonable man desire ? The linen (though it is a bull to 
 say so) was of that roughly woven cotton which one finds 
 only in southern Europe, Africa, and the Orient, which al- 
 ways seems cool and clean, and has nothing in common 
 
248 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 with the frouzy, flimsy stuff we find in cheap places at 
 home. Whoever has slept in a small new town (I beg par- 
 don, " city ") on an Illinois prairie, knows the feeling of 
 soft, insufficient sheets and flabby pillows, all hinting of 
 frequent use, between which he thinks, ere sleep conquers 
 his disgust, of the handkerchief which awaits him as towel 
 in the morning. In the poorest inn in Spain I am better 
 lodged than in the Jimplecute House in Roaring City. 
 
 Juan called me at three o'clock, for another severe day 
 was before us. Our road followed the course of the Rio 
 Segre, and there were no more burning mountains to 
 climb ; but both M. de Lavigne and Mr. Ford, in the little 
 which they vouchsafed to say of this region, mentioned the 
 frightful character of the gorges through which the river 
 breaks his way downward to the Ebro ; and their accounts, 
 if the timid traveller believes them, may well deter him 
 from making the journey. In the cool half-hour before 
 sunrise, as I rode across the circular valley, or conque, of 
 Oliana, towards the gloomy portals of rock out of which 
 the river issues, my spirits rose in anticipation of the wild 
 scenery beyond. The vineyards and orchards were wet 
 and fresh, and the air full of sweet smells. Clouds rested 
 on all the stony summits, rising or falling as the breeze 
 shifted. The path mounted to the eastern side of the 
 gorge, where, notched along the slanting rock, it became a 
 mere thread to the eye, and finally disappeared. 
 
 As I advanced, however, I found that the passage was 
 less dangerous than it seemed. The river roared far 
 below, and could be reached by a single plunge ; but there 
 was a good, well-beaten mule-track — the same, and prob- 
 ably the only one, which has been used since the first 
 human settlement. Soon after entering the gorge, it de- 
 scended to within a hundred feet of the river, and then 
 crossed to the opposite bank by a bold bridge of a single 
 arch, barely wide enough for a horse to walk upon. The 
 parapet on either side was not more than two feet high, 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-EOADS. 249 
 
 and it was not a pleasant sensation to look down from the 
 saddle upon the roaring and whirling flood. Yet the feel- 
 ing was one which must be mastered ; for many a mile of 
 sheer precipice lay before me. The Segre flows through a 
 mere cleft in the heart of the terrible mountains, and the 
 path continuously overhangs the abyss. Bastions of naked 
 rock, a thousand feet high, almost shut out the day ; and 
 the traveller, after winding for hours in the gloom of their 
 shadows, feels as if buried from the world. 
 
 The sides of the gorge are nearly perpendicular, and the 
 dark gray rock is unrelieved by foliage, except where soil 
 enough has lodged to nourish a tuft of box ; yet here and 
 there, wherever a few yards of less abrupt descent occur, 
 in spots not entirely inaccessible, the peasants have built 
 a rude wall, smoothed the surface, and compelled a scanty 
 tribute of grass or grain. Tall, wild-looking figures, in 
 brown jackets and knee-breeches, with short, broad-bladed 
 scythes flashing on their shoulders, met us; and as they 
 leaned back in the hollows of the rock to let us pass, with 
 the threatening implements held over their heads, a very 
 slight effort of the imagination made them more dangerous 
 than the gulf which yawned on the opposite side of the 
 path. They were as rough and savage as the scenery in 
 appearance ; but in reality they were simple-hearted, honest 
 persons. All that I saw of the inhabitants of this part of 
 Catalonia assured me that I was perfectly safe among them. 
 After the first day of my journey, I gave up the prospect 
 of finding danger enough to make an adventure. 
 
 By and by the path, so lonely for the first hour after 
 starting, began to be animated. The communication be- 
 tween the valleys of the Spanish Pyrenees and the lower 
 Segre, as far as Lerida, is carried on through this defile, 
 and pack-mules were met from time to time. Juan walked 
 in advance, listening for the tinkling bells of the coming 
 animals, and selecting places were the road was broad 
 enough for us to pass without danger. Sometimes I waited, 
 
250 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 sometimes they — one leaning close against the rock, one 
 pacing slowly along the brink, with the river below boom- 
 ing into caverns cut out of the interlocking bases of the 
 mountains. As the path sank or rose, accommodating it- 
 self to the outline of the cliffs, and the bells of the unseen 
 mules or horses chimed in front around some corner of the 
 gorge, they chimed to my ears the words of another, who 
 foresaw as well as remembered. 
 
 O, dear and distant Friend and Poet ! henceforth I shall 
 hear your voice in this music of Spain. All that day, in 
 the wild and wonderful canons of the Segre, you rode with 
 me ; and poetical justice demanded that I should have paid, 
 like Uhland to his boatman, for the other spirit who sat 
 upon my weary steed. I tried to look with your clear eyes, 
 so quick to detect and interpret beauty ; and I try now to 
 write of the scenery, so that you may behold it through 
 mine. As turn after turn of the winding gorge disclosed 
 some grander conformation of the overhanging heights, 
 some new pinnacle of rock piercing the air, or cavern 
 opening its dark arch at the base of a precipice, I drew 
 you from your quiet cottage by the Merrimack, and said, as 
 we paused together in a myrtle-roofed niche in the rocks, 
 " All this belongs to us, for we alone have seen it ! " 
 
 But, alas ! how much of subtle form, of delicate grada- 
 tion of color, of fleeting moods of atmosphere, escapes us 
 when we try to translate the experience of the eyes ! I 
 endeavor to paint the living and breathing body of Nature, 
 and I see only a hard black silhouette, like those shadows 
 of grandfathers which hang in old country homes. Only 
 to minds that of themselves understand and can guess is 
 the effort not lost. A landscape thus partly describes it- 
 self; and so, in this case, I must hope that something of 
 the grand and lonely valley of the Rio Segre may have 
 entered into my words. 
 
 Perhaps the best general impression of the scenery may 
 be suggested by a single peculiarity. Two hours after 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-EOADS. 251 
 
 entering the defile, I issued from it into the conque of 
 Nargo — an open circular basin some three miles in 
 breadth, beyond which the mountains again interlock. 
 The term conque (shell ?) is applied to these valleys, which 
 occur regularly at intervals of from six to ten miles ; and 
 their arrangement is picturesquely described in French as 
 as being en chapelet, for they are literally strung like beads 
 on the thread of the river. No part of Europe is so old 
 (to the eye) as these valleys. There seems to have been 
 no change for a thousand years. If the air were not so 
 dry, one could fancy that the villages would be gradually 
 buried under a growth of moss and lichens. The brown 
 rust on their masonry is almost black, the walls of the ter- 
 raced fields are as secure in their places as the natural rock, 
 and the scars left by wars are not to be distinguished from 
 those of age. Whenever there is a surplus of population it 
 must leave, for it cannot be subsisted. There may be 
 mountain-paths leading inland from these valleys, but none 
 are visible ; each little community is inclosed by a circle 
 of tremendous stony walls and pinnacles, which the river 
 alone has been able to pierce. 
 
 At the further end of the conque of Nargo lay the vil- 
 lage, perched upon a bold crag. Several sharp, isolated 
 mountains, resembling the horns and needles of the Alps, 
 rose abruptly out of the open space ; and their lower faces 
 of dark vermilion rock made a forcible contrast with the 
 splendid green of the fields. We did not pause in the 
 village, but descended its ladder of a street to the river- 
 wall, and plunged at once into a second gorge, as grand 
 and savage as the first, though no more than a league in 
 extent. Juan again went ahead and warned the coming 
 muleteers. In another hour I reached the conque of Or- 
 gana, a rich and spacious tract of land, with the village of 
 the same name on a rock, precisely like Nargo. A high, 
 conical peak on the left appeared to be inaccessible, yet 
 there was a white chapel on its very summit. " Look 
 there ! '* said Juan, " that saint likes a cool place." 
 
252 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 Fine old walnut-tree made their appearance in this 
 valley ; water was everywhere abundant, and the gardens 
 through which I approached the village were filled with 
 shade and the sound of streams. Indeed, the terraces of 
 ancient vines and fruit-trees, mixed with cypresses and 
 bosky alleys of flowering shrubs, might have belonged to 
 the palaces of an extinct nobility; but the houses which 
 followed were those of peasants, smoky with age, low, dark, 
 and dirty. A pack of school-children, in the main street, 
 hailed me with loud shouts, whereat the mechanics looked 
 up from their work, and the housewives came to the doors. 
 There was a dusky inn, with a meek, pinched landlady, 
 who offered eggs and a guisado (stew) with tomatoes. 
 While these were cooking, she placed upon the table a 
 broad-bellied bottle with a spout, something like an old- 
 fashioned oil-can in shape. I was not Catalan enough to 
 drink without a glas^ ; but Juan raising the bottle above 
 his head, spirted a thin stream of wine into his open mouth, 
 and drank long and luxuriously. When he was satisfied, a 
 dexterous turn of the wrist cut off the stream, and not a 
 drop was spilled. At the table, these bottles pass from 
 hand to hand — one cannot say from mouth to mouth, for 
 the lips never touch them. I learned to drink in the same 
 fashion without much difficulty, and learned thereby that 
 much of the flavor of the wine is lost. The custom seems 
 to have been invented to disguise a bad vintage. 
 
 While we were breakfasting, a French peasant, whom I 
 had seen at Oliana, arrived. He was on foot, and bound 
 for Foix, by way of Andorra. This was also my route, and 
 I accepted his offer of engaging another horse for me at 
 Urgel, in the evening, and accompanying me over the Pyr- 
 enees. He was not a very agreeable person, but it was a 
 satisfaction to find some one with whom I could speak. I 
 left him at the table, with a company of Spanish muleteers, 
 and never saw him afterwards. 
 
 Before leaving Organ a, I was stopped in the street by a 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-ROADS. 253 
 
 man who " demanded money, saying something about the 
 " Pons " which I could not comprehend. It finally oc- 
 curred to me that the defile through which I was about to 
 pass is named Los tres Pons (The Three Bridges) on the 
 old maps of Catalonia, and that the man was asking for 
 toll — which proved to be the case. The three cuartos 
 which I paid were the veriest trifle for the privilege of 
 passing over such a road as followed. The mountains were 
 here loftier, and therefore more deeply cloven ; the former 
 little attempts at cultivation ceased, for even Catalonian 
 thrift shrank from wresting any profit out of walls so bare 
 and bluff that scarcely a wild goat could cling to their 
 ledges. Two hundred feet below, the river beat against 
 the rocks with a sullen, mysterious sound, while, from one 
 to two thousand feet above, the jagged coping of the pre- 
 cipices cut the sky. A cool, steady wind drew down the 
 cleft, filling it with a singular humming sound. The path 
 crossed to the eastern side by a tremulous wooden bridge 
 laid flat upon natural abutments ; then, a mile further, re- 
 crossed by a lofty stone arch, under which there was a 
 more ancient one, still perfect. Several miles of the same 
 wonderful scenery succeeded — scenery the like of which 
 I know not where to find in Switzerland. The gorge of 
 Gondo, on the Italian side of the Simplon, is similar in 
 character, but less grand and majestic. Far up in the enor- 
 mous clifls, I saw here and there the openings of cav- 
 erns, to which no man has ever climbed ; cut into the 
 heart of inaccessible walls were unexpected glens, green 
 nests of foliage, safe from human intrusion, where the 
 nightingales sang in conscious security ; and there were 
 points so utterly terrible in all their features that the ex- 
 istence of a travelled path was the greatest wonder of all. 
 In the preceding defiles, Nature had accidentally traced 
 out the way, but here it had been forced by sheer labor 
 and daring. Sometimes it was hewn into the face of the 
 upright rock ; sometimes it rested on arches built up from 
 
254 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 below, the worn masonry of which threatened to give way 
 as I passed over. Now, fortunately, the tinkling of mule- 
 bells was rare, for there were few points where travellers 
 could safely meet. Convulsion was as evident in the struc- 
 ture of the mountains themselves as in their forcible sep- 
 aration. In some places the perpendicular strata were 
 curiously bent, as if the top had cooled rapidly and begun 
 to lean over upon the fluid ascending mass. The summits 
 assumed the wildest and most fantastic forms, especially 
 about the centre of the mountain range. When I had 
 crossed the third bridge, which is more than a league 
 above the second, the heights fell away, the glen gradually 
 opened, and I saw before me the purple chain of the Pyr- 
 enees, mottled with dark patches of forest, and crested 
 with snow. 
 
 The pass of The Three Bridges has its tragic episode 
 of recent history, in addition to those which the centuries 
 have forgotten. Here, forty years ago, the Count of Spain, 
 who governed Catalonia in the name of Ferdinand VII., 
 was betrayed by his own adjutant, by whom, and by a priest 
 named Ferrer, he was murdered. The deed is supposed to 
 have been committed at the instigation of Don Carlos. A 
 stone was tied to the corpse, and it was flung from the 
 rocks into the torrent of the Segre. The place breathes 
 of vengeance and death ; and one seems to inhale a new 
 air when he emerges into the conque of Le Pla, after 
 being inclosed for two hours within those terrible gates. 
 
 It was a double delight to me to come upon lush mead- 
 ows, and smell the vernal sweetness of the flowering grass., 
 Leaving the river on my left, I struck eastward along the 
 sides of clayey hills, with slopes of vine above me, and the 
 broad green meadows below. The vegetation had already 
 a more northern character ; clumps of walnut, poplar, and 
 willow grew by the brooksides, and the fields of wheat were 
 not yet ripe for harvest. I passed a picturesque, tumbling 
 village called Arfa, crossed the Segre for the last time, and 
 
CATALONIAN BRIDLE-EOADS. 255 
 
 then rode onward into a valley several miles in diameter, 
 the bed of which was broken by rounded hills. This was 
 the Valley of Urgel, or " the See," — el seu, as it is called 
 by the people in their dialect. The term recalls the days 
 when the Bishop was a sovereign prince, and his see a 
 temporal, as well as ecclesiastical government. 
 
 Juan pointed out a fortress in advance, which I supposed 
 to be the town. Near it, on the slope of the hill, there was 
 a mass of buildings, baking in the afternoon sun ; and I 
 know not which was most melancholy, the long lines of 
 cracked, deserted ramparts on the hill, or the crumbling, 
 uninhabited houses on the slope below. I did not see six 
 persons in the place, which was not Urgel, but Castel 
 Ciudad. The former city is a mile further, seated in the 
 centre of the plain. I saw, on my left, the mouth of a glen 
 of the Pyrenees, and guessed, before the groom said so, 
 that within its depths lay the forgotten Republic of An- 
 dorra. The Valira, the one stream of the Republic, poured 
 upon the plain its cold green waters, which I forded, in 
 several channels, before reaching the gates of Urgel. 
 
 Juan had cheered me with the promise of a good inn. 
 The exterior of the house was, if anything, a trifle meaner 
 than that of the neighboring houses ; the entrance was 
 through a stable, and the kitchen and public room very 
 dirty ; yet, these once passed, I entered a clean, spacious, 
 and even elegant bedroom. A door therefrom opened 
 upon a paved terrace, with a roof of vine and a superb 
 view of the Pyrenees ; and hither, as I sat and rested my 
 weary bones, came the landlord, and praised the country. 
 There was inexhaustible coal in the mountains, he said ; 
 there was iron in the water ; the climate was the best in 
 Spain ; people were healthy and lived long — and the only 
 thing wanting was a road to some part of the world. 
 
 The towns through which I had passed seemed as old 
 and lonely as any towns could well be ; but they are tame 
 beside the picturesque antiquity of Urgel. Nothing seems 
 
266 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 to have been changed here since the twelfth century. The 
 streets are narrow and gloomy, but almost every house 
 rests on massive arches, which form continuous arcades, 
 where the mechanics sit and ply their avocations. The 
 vistas of these arched passages are closed either with a 
 single building of very primitive and ponderous architec- 
 ture, or by the stones of a wall as old as the times of the 
 Moors. The place is like a gallery of old sepia drawings. 
 I attracted the usual wonder, as I loitered through the 
 gloom of the arcades ; work was suspended while I passed, 
 and tongues were silent. When I entered the venerable 
 cathedral, which was finished six hundred years ago, the 
 solitary worshipper stopped in the midst of an ave^ and 
 stared at me with open mouth. The spacious Gothic nave, 
 however, was less attractive than the pictures outside ; so I 
 passed from the interior to the exterior shadows — one 
 about as dense as the other. Presently I came upon a 
 massive house, with a magnificent flat-roofed arbor of 
 grapes beside it, and was saying to myself that there was 
 one fortunate person in the poverty-stricken capital, when 
 the door opened and Don Basilio came forth with sweeping 
 cassock and enormous hat. A little further, I found my- 
 self in a small plaza, one side of which was occupied by a 
 building resembling a fortress. Over the door I read the 
 inscription, " Princeps soberan del Vails de Andorra." 
 This was the residence of the bishop, who claims the title 
 of sovereign of the little republic ; his powers, in fact, being 
 scarcely more than nominal. 
 
 I was tempted to present myself to his Reverence, and 
 state my intention of visiting Andorra ; but my information 
 with regard to the republic was so vague that I knew not 
 how such a visit might be regarded. I might be creating 
 difficulty where none existed. With this prudent reflec- 
 tion I returned to the inn, and engaged a fresh horse and 
 guide for the morrow, sending Juan back to Cardona. It 
 was but an hour's ride, the landlord said, to the frontier. 
 
CATALONIAN BEIDLE-ROADS. 257 
 
 The region of ill-repute lay behind me ; the difficult bridle- 
 roads were passed, and all evil predictions had come to 
 naught. By-ways are better than highways, and if an in- 
 telligent young American, who knows the Spanish language, 
 will devote a year to the by-ways of Spain, living with the 
 people and in their fashion,. he will find that all the good 
 books of observation and adventure have not yet been 
 written. 
 
 17 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 
 
There are remote, forgotten corners of history, as there 
 are of geography. When Hal^vy brought out his opera Le 
 Val d'Andorre, the name meant no more to the most of 
 those who heard it than the Valley of Rasselas to our ears, 
 — a sound, locating a fiction. But the critic, who must 
 seem to know everything, opened one of his lexicons, and 
 discovered that Andorra was an actual valley, buried in the 
 heart of the Pyrenees. Furthermore, he learned, for the 
 first time, that its territory was an independent republic, 
 preserved intact since the days of Charlemagne ; that both 
 France and Spain, incredible as the fact may appear, have 
 always scrupulously respected the rights granted to its 
 inhabitants more than a thousand years ago. While the 
 existence of every other state ha^ in turn been menaced, 
 while hundreds of treaties have been made only to be 
 broken, here is a place where, like the castle of the Sleep- 
 ing Beauty, time has stood still, and History shut up her 
 annals. 
 
 Napoleon, when a deputation from the little republic 
 visited him in Paris, said : " I have heard of this Andorra, 
 and have purposely abstained from touching it, because I 
 thought it ought to be preserved as a political curiosity." 
 Louis Philippe, thirty years later, exclaimed : " What ! is it 
 possible that I have a neighbor whose name I never heard 
 before ? " I suspect that the name of Andorra on the ex- 
 cellent German maps, which overlook nothing, was the 
 first indication of the existence of the state to many of those 
 who are now acquainted with it. It was so in my case. 
 From noting its position, and seeing its contracted bound- 
 aries, so carefully marked out, I went further, and picked 
 
262 BY-WATS OF EUROPE. 
 
 up what fragments of information could be found in French 
 and German geographical works. These were sufficiently 
 curious to inspire me with the design of visiting the valley. 
 
 On reaching Urgel, in the Spanish Pyrenees, I was 
 within a league of the Andorran frontier. My way thither 
 lay through the deep gorge out of which the river Yalira 
 issues, on its way to the Segre. The bald, snow-streaked 
 summits in the north belonged to the territory of the re- 
 public, but whatever of life and labor it contained was 
 buried out of sight in their breast. Nevertheless, the 
 vague and sometimes threatening reports of the people 
 which had reached me at a distance here vanished. Every- 
 body knew Andorra, and spoke well of it. I had some 
 difficulty in finding a horse, which the landlord declared 
 was on account of the unpractical shape and weight of my 
 valise ; but, when I proposed going on foot, an animal was 
 instantly produced. The arrieros could not let a good 
 bargain slip out of their hands. 
 
 It was a wonderful morning in mid June. The shadow 
 of the Pyrenees still lay cool upon the broad basin of 
 Urgel ; but the brown ramparts of Castel Ciudad on the 
 rocks, and all the western heights, sparkled in sunshine. 
 I found a nimble mountain pony waiting for me at the door 
 of the inn, and Julian, my guide, a handsome fellow of 
 twenty, in rusty velvet jacket and breeches, and scarlet 
 Phrygian cap. A skin as brown as an Arab's ; an eye full 
 of inexpressible melancholy ; a grave, silent, but not gloomy 
 nature — all these had Julian ; yet he was the very com- 
 panion for such a journey. He strode from the gate of 
 Urgel with a firm, elastic step, and I followed through the 
 gray olive orchards across the plain. The lower terraces 
 of the mountain were silvery with the olive ; but when 
 the path turned into the gorge of the Valira, the landscape 
 instantly changed. On one side rose a rocky wall ; on the 
 other, meadows of blossoming grass, divided by thickets of 
 alder and willow, slanted down to the rapid stream, the 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 263 
 
 noise of which could scarcely be heard for the songs of the 
 nightingales. Features like these, simple as they may 
 seem, sometimes have a singular power to warm one's an- 
 ticipations of what lies beyond. There is a promise in 
 certain scenery ; wherein it exists I cannot tell, but I have 
 felt it frequently, and have never yet been disappointed. 
 
 After I had threaded the gorge for two miles, it expanded 
 into a narrow valley, where the little Spanish village of 
 Arcacel lay huddled among the meadows. Beyond it, the 
 mountains closed together again, forming an almost impas- 
 sable canon, along the sides^of which the path was labo- 
 riously notched. There were a great many people abroad, 
 and Julian was obliged to go in advance, and select spots 
 where my horse could pass their mules without one or the 
 other being pushed into the abyss below. Some of those 
 I met were probably Andorrans, but I found as yet no 
 peculiarities of face or costume. This is the only road 
 from Spain into the republic, and is very rarely, if ever, 
 traversed by a foreign tourist. The few persons who have 
 visted Andorra, made their way into the valley from the 
 side of France. 
 
 As I rode forward, looking out from time to time, for 
 some mark which would indicate the frontier, I recalled 
 what little I had learned of the origin of the republic. 
 There is not much which the most patient historian could 
 establish as positive fact ; but the traditions of the people 
 and the few records which they have allowed to be pub- 
 lished run nearly parallel, and are probably as exact as 
 most of the history of the ninth century. On one point 
 all the accounts agree — that the independence of the val- 
 ley sprang indirectly from the struggle between the Franks 
 and Saracens. When the latter possessed themselves of the 
 Peninsula, in the beginning of the eighth century, a rem- 
 nant of the Visigoths took refuge in this valley, whence, 
 later, they sent to Charlemagne, imploring assistance. 
 After Catalonia had been reconquered, the Emperor — so 
 
264 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 runs the popular tradition — gave them the valley as a re- 
 ward for their bravery in battle. The more probable ac- 
 count is, that Charlemagne sent his son, Louis le Debon- 
 naire, who followed the last remnants of the Saracen army 
 up the gorge of the Valira, and defeated them on the spot 
 where the town of Andorra now stands. After the victory, 
 he gave the valley to certain of his soldiers, releasing them 
 from all allegiance except to himself. This was in the 
 year 805. What i^ called the " Charter of Charlemagne," 
 by some of the French writers, is evidently this grant of 
 his son. 
 
 Within the following century, however, certain difficulties 
 arose, which disturbed the inhabitants of the little state less 
 than their powerful neighbors. Charlemagne had pre- 
 viously given, it appears, the tithes of all the region to 
 Possidonius, Bishop of Urgel, and the latter insisted on 
 retaining his right. Moreover, Charles the Bald, in 843, 
 presented to Siegfrid, Count of Urgel, the right of sove- 
 reignty over Andorra, which Louis le Debonnaire had re- 
 served for himself and his successors. Thus the spiritual 
 and temporal lords of Urgel came in direct conflict, and 
 the question remained undecided for two centuries; the 
 Andorrans, meanwhile, quietly attending to their own af- 
 fairs, and consolidating the simple framework of their gov- 
 ernment. Finally, at the consecration of the Cathedral of 
 Urgel, in the year 1040, the widowed Countess Constance 
 publicly placed the sovereignty claimed by her house in the 
 hands of Bishop Herihald. (How curious it seems to find 
 the name of Garibaldi occurring in this obscure history !) 
 But this gift of Constance was not respected by her suc- 
 cessors, and the trouble broke out anew in the following 
 century. We have but a meagre chain of detached inci- 
 dents, yet what passion, what intrigue, what priestly thirst 
 of power and jealous resistance on the part of the nobles 
 are suggested, as we follow the scanty record ! The 
 Bishop of Urgel triumphs to this* day, as he reads the in- 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 265 
 
 scription over his palace-door : " Princeps soberan del Vails 
 de Andorra." 
 
 At the end of the twelfth century, Arnald, Count of 
 Castelbo, purchased certain privileges in the valley from 
 Ermengol, Count of Urgel. The sale was resisted by the 
 bishop, and a war ensued, in which the latter was defeated. 
 Raymond- Roger, Count of Foix, was then called to aid the 
 episcopal cause — his promised reward being a share in 
 the sovereignty of Andorra, the territory of which bordered 
 his own. Notwithstanding he was victorious, having taken 
 and sacked the city of Urgel, he seems to have considered 
 his claim to the reward still insecure. In the year 1202 
 he married his son and successor, Roger-Bernard II., to 
 the daughter and only child of the Count of Castelbo. 
 Thus the Bishop of Urgel saw the assumption of sove- 
 reignty which he had resisted transferred to the powerful 
 house of Foix. It is stated, however, that, in all the wars 
 which followed, both parties refrained from touching the 
 disputed territory, in order that the value of the revenue 
 expected from it might not be diminished. The Andor- 
 rans themselves, though certainly not unconcerned, re- 
 mained perfectly passive. The fastnesses of the Pyrenees 
 on all sides of them resounded with the noise of war, while 
 they, one generation after another, tended their flocks and 
 cultivated their fields. 
 
 The quarrel (and it is almost the end of all history re- 
 lating to Andorra) came to a close in the year 1278. 
 Roger-Bernard III. of Foix, before the gates of Urgel, 
 which must soon have yielded to him, accepted the pro- 
 posal for an arbitration — Don Pedro of Aragon having 
 offered his name as security for the fulfillment of the terms 
 which might be agreed upon. Two priests and four knights 
 were the arbitrators ; and the Pariatges (Partitions) which 
 they declared on the 7th of September of the year already 
 mentioned settled the question of the sovereignty of An- 
 dorra from that day to this. Its principal features were 
 
266 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 that a slight tribute should be paid by the people, on alter- 
 nate years, to the Counts of Foix and the Bishops of Urgel ; 
 and that certain officials of the Valley should, in like man- 
 ner, be named alternately by the two parties. In all other 
 respects, the people were left free. The neutrality of their 
 territory, which had been so marvelously preserved for 
 four centuries and a half, was reaffirmed ; and it has never 
 since been violated. During the wars of Napoleon, a 
 French army appeared on the frontiers of the republic 
 with the intention of marching through it into Spain ; but 
 on the judges and consuls representing to the commanding 
 general the sacred neutrality of their valley, he turned 
 about and chose another route. 
 
 The house of Foix became merged in that of Beam, and 
 the inheritance of the latter, in turn, passed into the hands 
 of the Bourbons. Thus the crown of France succeeded to 
 the right reserved by Louis le Debonnaire, and presented 
 by Charles the Bald to Siegfrid, Count of Urgel. The 
 Andorrans, who look upon their original charter as did 
 the Hebrews on their Ark of the Covenant, consider that 
 the Pariatges are equally sanctioned by time and the favor 
 of God ; and, so far from feeling that the tribute is a sign 
 of subjection, they consider that it really secures their in- 
 dependence. They therefore do not allow the revolutions, 
 the change of dynasties which France has undergone, to 
 change their relation to the governing power. They were 
 filled with dismay, when, in 1793, the representative of the 
 French Republic in Foix refused to accept the tribute, on 
 the ground that it was a relic of the feudal system. For 
 six or seven years thereafter they feared that the end of 
 things was at hand ; but the establishment of the Empire, 
 paradoxical as it may appear, secured to them their repub- 
 lic. They seem never to have considered that the refusal 
 of the French authorities gave them a valid pretext to 
 cease the further payment of the tribute. 
 
 This is the sum and substance of the history of Andorra. 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 267 
 
 No one can help feeling that a wholly exceptional fortune 
 has followed this handful of people. All other rights given 
 by Charlemagne and his successors became waste paper 
 long since : the Counts of Urgel, the houses of Foix and 
 Beam, have disappeared, and the Bourbons have ceased to 
 reign in France, — yet the government of the little re- 
 public preserves the same forms which were established in 
 the ninth century, and the only relations which at present 
 connect it with the outer world date from the year 1278. 
 I endeavored to impress these facts upon my mind, as the 
 gorge opened into a narrow green valley, blocked up in 
 front by the Andorran mountains. I recalled that pic- 
 turesque legend of the knight of the Middle Ages, who, 
 penetrating into some remote nook of the Apennines, found 
 a forgotten Roman city, where the people still kept their 
 temples and laid their offerings on the altars of the gods. 
 The day was exquisitely clear and sunny ; the breezes of 
 the Pyrenees blew away every speck of vapor from the 
 mountains, but I saw everything softly through that veil 
 which the imagination weaves for us. 
 
 Presently we came upon two or three low houses. At 
 the door of the furthest two Spanish soldiers were standing, 
 one of whom stepped forward when he saw me. A picture 
 of delay, examination, bribery, rose in my mind. I as- 
 sumed a condescending politeness, saluted the man gravely, 
 and rode forward. To my great surprise no summons fol- 
 lowed. I kept on my way without looking back, and in 
 two minutes -was out of Spain. Few travellers have ever 
 left the kingdom so easily. 
 
 The features of the scenery remained the same — nar- 
 row, slanting shelves of grass and grain, the Valira foam- 
 ing below, and the great mountains of gray rock towering 
 into the sky. In another half-hour I saw the little town 
 of San Julian de Loria, one of the six municipalities of 
 Andorra. As old and brown as Urgel, or the villages 
 along the Rio Segre, it was in no wise to be distinguished 
 
268 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 from them. The massive stone, walls of the houses were 
 nearly black ; the roofs of huge leaves of slate were cov- 
 ered with a red rust ; and there were no signs that any- 
 thing had been added or taken away from the place for 
 centuries. As my horse clattered over the dirty paving- 
 stones, mounting the one narrow, twisted street, the people 
 came to the doors, and looked upon me with a grave curi- 
 osity. I imagined at once that they were different from 
 the Catalans, notwithstanding they spoke the same dialect, 
 and wore very nearly the same costume. The expression 
 of their faces was more open and fearless ; a cheerful gravity 
 marked their demeanor. I saw that they were both self- 
 reliant and contented. 
 
 While Julian stopped to greet some of his friends, I rode 
 into a very diminutive plaza, where some thirty or forty of 
 the inhabitants were gossiping together. An old :r.an, 
 dressed in pale blue jacket and knee-breeches, with a red 
 scarf around his waist, advanced to meet me, lifting his 
 scarlet cap in salutation. 
 
 " This is no longer Spain ? " I asked. 
 
 "It is neither France nor Spain," said he; "it is An- 
 dorra." 
 
 "The Republic of Andorra?" 
 
 " They call it so." 
 
 " I am also a citizen of a republic," I then said ; but, 
 although his interest was evidently excited, he asked me no 
 questions. The Andorran reserve is proverbial throughout 
 Catalonia ; and as I had already heard of it, I voluntarily 
 gave as much information respecting myself as was neces- 
 sary. A number of men, young and old, had by this time 
 collected, and listened attentively. Those who spoke Span- 
 ish mingled in the conversation, which, on my part, was 
 purposely guarded. Some degree of confidence, however 
 seemed to be already established. They told me that they 
 were entirely satisfied with their form of government 
 and their secluded life ; that they were poor, but much 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 269 
 
 wealth would be of no service to them, and, moreover 
 (which was true), that they were free because they were 
 poor. When Julian appeared, he looked with surprise upon 
 the friendly circle around me, but said nothing. It was still 
 two hours to Andorra la Vella (Old Andorra), the capital, 
 which I had decided to make my first resting-place ; so I 
 said, " Adios ! " — all the men responding, " Dios guarda ! " 
 
 Beyond the village I entered upon green meadow-land, 
 shaded by grand walnut-trees, mounds of the richest fo- 
 liage. The torrent of Avina came down through a wild 
 glen on the left, to join the Valira, and all the air vibrated 
 with the sound of waters and the incessant songs of the 
 nightingales. People from the high, unseen mountain 
 farms and pasture-grounds met me on their way to San 
 Julian ; and their greeting was always " God guard you ! " 
 — hinting of the days when travel was more insecure than 
 now. When the mountains again contracted, and the path 
 clung to the sides of upright mountain walls, Julian went 
 in advance, and warned the coming muleteers. Vegetation 
 ceased, except the stubborn clumps of box, which had fas- 
 tened themselves in every crevice of the precipices ; and 
 the nightingales, if any had ventured into the gloomy gorge, 
 were silent. For an hour I followed its windings, steadily 
 mounting all the while ; then the rocks began to lean away, 
 the smell of flowering grass came back to the air, and .1 
 saw, by the breadth of blue sky opening ahead, that we 
 were approaching the Valley of Andorra. 
 
 The first thing that met my eyes was a pretty pastoral 
 picture. Some rills from the melting snows had been caught 
 and turned into an irrigating canal, the banks of which 
 were so overgrown with brambles and wild-flowers that it 
 had become a natural stream. Under a gnarled, wide- 
 armed ilex sat a father, with his two youngest children ; two 
 older ones gathered flowers in the sun ; and the mother, 
 with a basket in her hand, paused to look at me in the 
 meadow below. The little ones laughed and shouted ; the 
 
270 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 father watched them with bright, happy eyes, and over and 
 around them the birds sang without fear. And this is the 
 land of smugglers and robbers ! I thought. Turning in 
 the saddle, I watched the group as long as it was visible. 
 
 When I set my face forward again, it was with a sudden 
 catch of the breath and a cry of delights The promise of 
 the morning was fulfilled ; beautiful beyond anticipation 
 was the landscape expanded before me. It was a valley 
 six miles in length, completely walled in by immense moun- 
 tains, the bases of which, withdrawn in the centre, left a 
 level bed of meadows, nearly a mile broad, watered by the 
 winding Valira. Terraces of grain, golden below, but still 
 green above, climbed far up the slopes ; then forest and 
 rock succeeded ; and finally the gray pinnacles, with snow 
 in their crevices, stood mantled in their own shadows. 
 Near the centre of the valley, on a singular rocky knoll, 
 the old houses and square tower of Andorra were perched, 
 as if watching over the scene. In front, where the river 
 issued from a tremendous split between two interlocking 
 mountains, I could barely distinguish the houses of Escal- 
 das from the cliffs to which they clung. Nothing could be 
 simpler and grander than the large outlines of the scene, 
 nothing lovelier than its minuter features, — so wonderfully 
 suggesting both the garden and the wilderness, the fresh 
 green of the North and the hoary hues and antique forms 
 of the South. Brimming with sunshine and steeped in 
 delicious odors, the valley — after the long, dark gorge I 
 had threaded — seemed to flash and sparkle with a light 
 unknown to other lands. 
 
 Shall I ever forget the last three miles of my journey ? 
 Crystal waters rushed and murmured beside my path ; 
 great twisted ilex-trees sprang from the masses of rock . 
 mounds of snowy eglantine or purple clematis crowned the 
 cliffs or hung from them like folded curtains ; and the dark 
 shadows of walnut and poplar lay upon the lush fields of 
 grass and flowers. The nightingale and thrush sang on 
 
THE EEPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 271 
 
 the earth, and the lark in the air ; and even the melan- 
 choly chant of the young farmer in his fields seemed to be 
 only that soft undercurrent of sadness which was needed 
 to make the brightness and joy of the landscape complete. 
 
 Climbing the rocks to the capital, I was pleasantly sur- 
 prised to see the sign " Hostal " before I had made more 
 than two turns of the winding street. The English guides, 
 both for France and Spain, advise the adventurous tourist 
 who wishes to visit Andorra to take his provender with 
 him, since nothing can be had in the valley. A friendly 
 host came to the door, and welcomed me. Dinner, he said, 
 would be ready in an hour and a half; but the appearance 
 of the cheerful kitchen into which I was ushered so pro- 
 voked my already ravenous hunger that an omelette was 
 made instantly, and Julian and I shared it between us. 
 An upper room, containing a coarse but clean bed, which 
 barely found room for itself in a wilderness of saddles and 
 harness, was given to me, and I straightway found myself 
 at home in Andorra. So much for guide-books ! 
 
 I went forth to look at the little capital before dinner. 
 Its population is less than one thousand ; the houses are 
 built of rudely broken stones of schist or granite, and 
 roofed with large sheets of slate. The streets seem to 
 have been originally located where the surface of the rock 
 rendered them possible ; but there are few of them, and 
 what the place has to show may be speedily found. I felt 
 at once the simple, friendly, hospitable character of the 
 people : they saluted me as naturally and genially as if I 
 had been an old acquaintance. Before I had rambled 
 many minutes, I found myself before the Casa del Vails, 
 the House of Government. It is an ancient, cracked build- 
 ing, but when erected I could not ascertain. The front is 
 simple and massive, with three irregular windows, and a 
 large arched entrance. A tower at one corner threatens 
 to fall from want of repair. Over the door is the inscrip- 
 tion: "Domus consilii, sedes justitiae." There is also a 
 
272 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 marble shield, containing the arms of the Republic, and 
 apparently inserted at a more recent date. The shield is 
 quartered with the mitre and crosier of the Bishop of Ur- 
 gel, the four crimson bars of Catalonia, the three bars on 
 an azure field of Foix, and the cows of Beam. Under the 
 shield is sculptured the Latin verse : — 
 
 " Suspice : sunt vallis neutrius stemmata ; sunt que 
 Eegna, quibus gaudent nobiliora tegi : 
 Singula si populos alios, Andorra, beabunt, 
 , Quidni juncta ferent aurea seel a tibi ! " 
 
 I suspect, although I have no authority for saying so, that 
 this verse comes from Fiter, the only scholar Andorra ever 
 produced, who flourished in the beginning of the last cen- 
 tury. The ground-floor of the building consists of stables, 
 where the members of the council lodge their horses when 
 they meet officially. A tumbling staircase leads to the 
 second story, which is the council-hall, containing a table 
 and three chairs on a raised platform, a picture of Christ 
 between the windows, and oaken benches around the walls. 
 The great object of interest, however, is a massive chest, 
 built into the wall, and closed with six strong iron locks, 
 connected by a chain. This contains the archives of An- 
 dorra, including, as the people devoutly believe, the origi- 
 nal charters of Charlemagne and Louis le Debonnaire. 
 Each consul of the six parishes is intrusted with the keep- 
 ing of one key, and the chest can only be opened when all 
 six are present. It would be quite impossible for a stran- 
 ger to get a sight of the contents. The archives are said 
 to be written on sheets of lead, on palm-leaves, on parch- 
 ment, or on paper, according to the, age from which they 
 date. The chest also contains the " Politar," or Annals 
 of Andorra, with a digest of the laws, compiled by the 
 scholar Fiter. The government did not allow the work to 
 be published, but there is another manuscript copy in the 
 possession of the Bishop of Urgel. 
 
 I climbed the huge mass of rock behind the building, 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 273 
 
 and sat down upon its crest to enjoy the grand, sunny pic- 
 ture of the valley. The mingled beauty and majesty of 
 the landscape charmed me into a day-dream, in which the 
 old, ever-recurring question was lazily pondered, whether 
 or not this plain, secluded, ignorant life was the happiest 
 lot of man. But the influences of the place were too sweet 
 and soothing for earnest thought, and a clock striking noon 
 recalled me to the fact that a meal was ready in the hostal. 
 The host sat down to the table with Julian and myself, and 
 the spout of the big-bellied Catalonian bottle overhung our 
 mouths in succession. We had a rough but satisfactory 
 dinner, during which I told the host who I was and why I 
 came, thereby winning his confidence to such an extent 
 that he presently brought me an old, dirty Spanish pam- 
 phlet, saying, " You may read this." 
 
 Seeing that it was a brief and curious account of An- 
 dorra, I asked, " Cannot I buy this or another copy ? " 
 
 " No," he answered ; " it is not to be bought. You can 
 read it ; but you must give it to me again." 
 
 I selected a dark corner of the kitchen, lit my cigar? 
 and read, making rapid notes when I was not observed. 
 The author was a nephew of one of the bishops of Urgel, 
 and professed to have seen with his own eyes the charter 
 of Louis le Debonnaire. That king, he stated, defeated 
 the Saracens on the plain towards Escaldas, where the 
 western branch of the Valira comes down from the Valley 
 of Ordino. Before the battle, a passage from the Book of 
 Kings came into his mind : " Endor, over against Mount 
 Tabor, where the children of Israel, preparing for war 
 against the heathen, pitched their camp " ; and after the 
 victory he gave the valley the name of Endor, whence An- 
 dorra. The resemblance, the author innocently remarks, 
 is indeed wonderful. In both places there are high moun- 
 tains ; the same kinds of trees grow (!) ; a river itows 
 through each ; there are lions and leopards in Endor, and 
 bears and wolves in Andorra ! He then gives the following 
 18 
 
274 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 quotation from the charter, which was written in Latin ; 
 "The* men who actually live in this country are Licindo, 
 Laurentio, Obaronio, Antimirio, Guirinio, Suessonio, Bar- 
 rulio, rustic laborers, and many others." Louis le Debon- 
 naire returned to France by the present Porte de Fontar- 
 gente, where, on the summit of the Pyrenees, he caused 
 a chain to be stretched from rock to rock. The holes 
 drilled for the staples of the rings are still to be seen, the 
 people say. 
 
 When I had finished the book, I went out again, and 
 in the shade of a willow in the meadow below, made a 
 rough sketch of the town and the lofty Mont Anclar {mons 
 clavus) behind it. As I returned, the lower part of the 
 valley offered such lovely breadths of light and shade that 
 I sought a place among the tangle of houses and rocks to 
 make a second drawing. The women, with their children 
 around them, sat at their doors, knitting and chatting. One 
 cried out to another, as I took my seat on the ground, 
 " Why don't you bring a chair for the cavalier ? " The 
 chair was brought immediately, and the children gathered 
 around, watching my movements. The mothers kept 
 them in good order, every now and then crying out, *' Don't 
 go too near, and don't stand in front ! " Among themselves 
 they talked freely about me ; but, as they asked no ques- 
 tions, I finally said, " I understand you ; if you will ask, I 
 will answer," — whereupon they laughed and were silent. 
 
 I have already said that reserve is a marked character- 
 istic of the Andorrans. No doubt it sprang originally 
 from their consciousness of their weakness, and their fear 
 to lose their inherited privileges by betraying too much 
 about themselves. When one of them is questioned upon 
 a point concerning which he thinks it best to be silent, he 
 assumes a stupid expression of face, and appears not to 
 understand. That afternoon a man came to me in the inn, 
 produced a rich specimen of galena, and said, " Do you 
 know what that is ? " " Certainly," I answered ; " it is the 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 275 
 
 ore of lead. Where did you get it ? " He put it in his 
 pocket, looked up at the sky, and said, " "What fine weather 
 we have ! " It is known that there is much lead in the 
 mountains, yet tlie mines have never been worked. The 
 people say, " We must keep poor,^ as our fathers have been. 
 If we become rich, the French will want our lead and the 
 Spaniards our silver, and then one or the other will rob us 
 of our independence." 
 
 So well is this peculiarity of the inhabitants understood, 
 that in Catalonia to assume ignorance is called "to play 
 the Andorran." A student from the frontier, on entering 
 a Spanish theological seminary, was called upon to trans- 
 late the New Testament. When he came to the words, 
 " Jesus autem tacebat," he rendered them, in perfect good 
 faith, " Jesus played the Andorran." For the same reason, 
 the hospitality of the people is of a passive rather than of 
 an active character. The stranger may enter any house in 
 the valley, take his seat at the family board, and sleep 
 under the shelter of the roof; he is free to come and go; 
 no questions are asked, although voluntary information is 
 always gladJy received. They would be scarcely human if 
 it were not so. 
 
 The principal features of the system of government 
 which these people have adopted may be easily described. 
 They have no written code of laws, the Politar being only 
 a collection of precedents in certain cases, accessible to the 
 consuls and judges, and to them alone. When we come to 
 examine the modes in which they are governed, — proce- 
 dures which, based on long custom, have all the force of 
 law, — we find a singular mixture of the elements of de- 
 mocracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. The sovereignty of 
 France and the Bishop of Urgel is acknowledged in the 
 appointment of the two viguiers (vicarii), who, it is true, 
 are natives of the valley, and devoted to its interests. In 
 all other respects the forms are democratic ; but the cir- 
 cumstance that the officials are unpaid, that they must be 
 
276 BY-WAYS OF EXJEOPE. 
 
 married, and that they must be members of families in 
 good repute, has gradually concentrated the government in 
 the hands of a small number of families, by whom it is 
 virtually inherited. Moreover, the law of primogeniture 
 prevails to the fullest extent, still further lessening the 
 number of qualified persons. 
 
 The Republic consists of six communes, or parishes, each 
 of which elects two consuls and two councillors, whose 
 term of service is four years; one official of each class 
 being elected every two years. There is no restriction of 
 the right of suffrage. The twenty-four oflicials form the 
 deliberative body, or Grand Council, who alone have the 
 power of electing the Syndic, the executive head of the 
 government. He is chosen for life ; he presides over the 
 Council, and carries its decisions into effect, yet is respon- 
 sible to it for his actions. Only half the Council being 
 chosen at one time, the disadvantage of having an entirely 
 new set of men suddenly placed in office is obviated. The 
 arrangement, in fact, is the same which we have adopted in 
 regard to the election of United States Senators. 
 
 The consuls, in addition, have their municipal duties. 
 Each one names ten petty magistrates, called decurions, 
 whose functions are not much more important than those 
 of our constables. They simply preserve order, and assist 
 in bringing offenses to light. All the persons of property, 
 or who exercise some useful mechanical art, form what is 
 called the Parish Council, whose business it is to raise the 
 proportionate share of the tribute, to apportion the pastures, 
 fix the amount of wood to be sold (part of the revenue of 
 Andorra being derived from the forests), and to regulate 
 all ordinary local matters. These councils, of course, are 
 self-existing ; every person who is not poor and insignifi- 
 cant taking his place naturally in them. No one can be 
 chosen as consul who is under thirty years of age, who has 
 not been married, who is blind, deaf, deformed, or epileptic, 
 who is addicted to drink, or who has committed any offense 
 against the laws. 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 277 
 
 The functions of the parish councils and the Grand 
 Council of the Republic are carefully separated. The 
 former have charge of inns, forges, bakeries, weaving, and 
 the building of dwelling-houses ; the latter has control 
 of the forests, the ways of communication, the chase, the 
 fisheries, the finances, and the building of all edifices of a 
 public character. It has five sessions a year. Its mem- 
 bers are not paid, but they are lodged and fed, during these 
 sessions, at the public expense. Each parish owns two 
 double-beds in the upper story of the Casa del Vails at 
 Andorra ; in each bed sleep two consuls or two councillors. 
 There is a kitchen, with an enormous pot, in which their 
 frugal meals are cooked, and a dining-room in which they 
 are served. Formerly their sessions were held in the 
 church-yard, among the tombs, as if to render them more 
 solemnly impressive ; but this practice has long been dis- 
 continued. 
 
 The expenses of the state, one will readily guess, must be 
 very slight. The tribute paid to France is nineteen hun- 
 dred and twenty francs ; that to the Bishop of Urgel, eight 
 hundred and forty-two francs — an average of two hundred 
 and seventy-five dollars per annum. The direct tax is five 
 cents annually for each person ; but a moderate revenue is 
 derived from the sale of wood and charcoal, and the rent 
 of pastures on the northern slope of the Pyrenees. Im- 
 port, export, and excise duties, licenses, and stamps are 
 unknown, although, in civil cases, certain moderate fees are 
 established. The right of tithes, given by Charlemagne to 
 Possidonius, remains in force ; but they are generally paid 
 in kind ; and in return the Bishop of Urgel, who appoints 
 the priests, contributes to their support. The vicars, of 
 whom there is one to each parish, are paid by the govern- 
 ment. The inhabitants are, without exception, devout Cath- 
 olics, yet it is probably ancient custom, rather than the 
 influence of the priests, which makes them indifferent to 
 education. The schools are so few that they hardly de- 
 
278 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 serve to be mentioned. Only one man in a hundred, and 
 one woman in five hundred, can read and write. 
 
 The two viguiers, one of whom is named by France and 
 the other by the Bishop of Urgel, exercise the functions of 
 judges. They are the representatives of the two sovereign 
 powers, and their office is therefore surrounded with every 
 mark of respect. Although nominally of equal authority, 
 their activity is in reality very unequally divided. Usually 
 some prominent official of the Department de FAriege is 
 named on the part of France, and contents himself with an 
 annual visit to the valley. The Bishop, on the other hand, 
 always names a native Andorran, who resides among the 
 people, and performs the duties of both viguiers. When a 
 new viguier is appointed, he must be solemnly installed at 
 the capital. The members of the Grand Council then ap- 
 pear in their official costume — a long surtout of black 
 cloth, with crimson facings, a red shawl around the waist, 
 gray knee-breeches, sky-blue stockings, and shoes with 
 silver buckles. The Syndic of the Republic wears a crim- 
 son mantle ; but the viguier is dressed in 'black, with a 
 sword, cocked hat, and gold-headed staff. As the tribute 
 paid to France is much larger than that paid to the Bishop, 
 the people have voluntarily added to the latter a Christmas 
 offering of the twelve best hams, the twelve richest cheeses, 
 and the twelve fattest capons to be found in the six par- 
 ishes. 
 
 The sovereign powers have two other representatives in 
 addition to the viguiers. These are the hatlles (bailes, 
 bailiffs ?) who are chosen from a list of six persons selected 
 by the Grand Council. Their principal duty is to hear 
 and decide, in the first instance, all civil and criminal cases, 
 except those which the government specially reserves for 
 its own judgment. The batlles, however, are called upon 
 to prevent, rather than solve litigation. When a case oc- 
 curs, they first endeavor to reconcile the parties, or substi- 
 tute a private arbitration. If that fails, the case is con- 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 279 
 
 sidered ; and, after the help of God is solemnly invoked, 
 judgment is pronounced. Where the dispute involves a 
 delicate or doubtful point, the batlle consults separately 
 the three men of best character and most familiar with the 
 laws who are to be found in the parish, and decides as the 
 judgment of two of them may coincide. It rarely happens 
 that any serious lawsuit occurs, or that any capital crime is 
 committed. The morals of the people are guarded with 
 equal care ; any slip from chastity is quietly looked after 
 by the priests and officials, and the parties, if possible, 
 legally united. 
 
 The more important cases, or appeals from the decision ' 
 of the batlles, come before the Supreme Tribunal of Jus- 
 tice, which is composed of the two viguiers, a judge of ap- 
 peal (chosen to give the casting vote when there is a dif- 
 ference of opinion between the viguiers), a government 
 prosecutor, and two rahonadors (pleaders) chosen for the 
 defense by the Grand Council. This tribunal has the 
 power to pronounce a capital sentence, which is then car- 
 ried out by an executioner brought either from France or 
 Spain. 
 
 The army, if it may be called such, consists of six hun- 
 dred men, or one from each family. They are divided into 
 six companies, according to the parishes, with a captain for 
 each ; the decurions acting as subaltern officers. The only 
 special duty imposed upon them, beyond the occasional 
 escort and guard of prisoners, is an annual review by the 
 viguiers and the Grand Council, which takes place on the 
 meadow below Andorra. The officials are seated in state 
 around a large table, upon which a muster-roll of the army 
 is laid. When the first name is read, the soldier to whom 
 it belongs steps forward, discharges his musket in the air, 
 then advances to the table and exhibits his ammunition, 
 which must consist of a pound of powder, twenty-four balls, 
 and as many caps. Each man is called in turn, until the 
 whole six hundred have been thus reviewed. 
 
280 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 Such is an outline of the mode of government and the 
 forms of judicial procedure in this little republic. I have 
 not thought it necessary to add the more minute details 
 which grow naturally out of the peculiarities already de- 
 scribed. Two things will strike the reader : first, the suffi- 
 ciency of the system, quaint and singular as it may be in 
 some respects, to the needs of the people ; secondly, the 
 skill with which they have reconciled the conditions im- 
 posed upon them by the Pariatges, in 1278, with the struc- 
 ture of government they had already erected. For a people 
 so ignorant, so remote from the movement of the world, 
 and so precariously situated, their course has been directed 
 by a rare wisdom. No people value independence more ; 
 they have held it, with fear and trembling, as a precious 
 gift ; and for a thousand years they have taken np single 
 step which did not tend to secure them in its possession. 
 
 According to the host's volume, the population of the 
 towns is as follows : Andorra, 850 inhabitants ; San Julian 
 de Loria, 620 ; Encamp, 520 ; Canillo, 630 ; Ordino, 750 ; 
 and Massana, 700. The population of the smaller hamlets, 
 and the scattered houses of the farmers and herdsmen, will 
 probably amount to about as many more, which would give 
 eight thousand persons as the entire population of the state. 
 I believe this estimate to be very nearly correct. It is a 
 singular circumstance, that the number has not materially 
 changed for centuries. Emigration from the valley has 
 been rare until recent times ; the climate is healthy ; the 
 people an active, vigorous race ; and there must be some 
 unusual cause for this lack of increase. A young man, a 
 native of the parish of Ordino, with whom I had a long 
 conversation in the evening, gave me some information 
 upon this point. The life of families in Andorra is still 
 regulated on the old patriarchal plan. The landed prop- 
 erty descends to the oldest son or daughter, or, in default 
 of direct issue, to the nearest relative. This, indeed, is not 
 the law, which gives only a third to the chief inheritor, and 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 281 
 
 divides the remainder equally among the other members 
 of the family. But it has become a custom stronger than 
 law — a custom which is now never violated — to preserve 
 the old possessions intact. The caps, or heads of families, 
 are held in such high estimation, that all other family and 
 even personal rights are subordinate to theirs. They are 
 rich and respected, while the younger brothers and sisters, 
 who, by this arrangement, may be left too poor to marry, 
 cheerfully accept a life of celibacy. " I am a younger son," 
 said my informant ; " but I have been able to marry, be- 
 cause I went down into Catalonia, entered into business, 
 and made some money." When a daughter inherits, she 
 is required to marry the nearest relative permitted by 
 canonical law, who takes her family name and perpetuates 
 it. 
 
 In the course of centuries, however, the principal fami- 
 lies have become so inter-related that their interests fre- 
 quently require marriages within the prohibited degrees. 
 In this case the Andorran undertakes a journey to Rome, 
 to procure a special dispensation from the Pope. He is 
 generally the representative of other parties, similarly sit- 
 uated, who assist in defraying the expenses of the journey. 
 After a collective dispensation has been issued, all the 
 marriages must be celebrated by proxy — the Andorran 
 and a Roman woman who is paid for the service represent- 
 ing, in turn, each bridal pair at home. The latter must 
 afterwards perform public penance in church, kneeling 
 apart from the other worshippers, with lighted tapers in 
 their hands and ashes upon their heads. 
 
 Owing to the strictness of these domestic laws, the re- 
 markable habit of self-control among the people, and the 
 careful guard over their morals exercised by the officials, 
 they have become naturally virtuous, and hence great free- 
 dom of social intercourse is permitted among the sexes. 
 Their sports and pleasures are characterized by a pastoral 
 simplicity and temperance. Excesses are ve.ry rare because 
 
282 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 all ages and classes of both sexes meet together, and the 
 presence of the priests and caps grosses (chief men) acts 
 as a check upon the young men. At the festival of some 
 patron saint of the valley, mass in the chapel is followed 
 by a festive meal in the open air, after which the priest 
 himself gives the signal for the dances to commence. The 
 lads and lasses then assemble on a smooth piece of turf, 
 where the sounds of bagpipe and tambourine set their feet 
 in motion. The old people are not always gossiping spec- 
 tators, speculating on the couples that move before them 
 in the rude, wild dances of the mountains ; they often enter 
 the lists, and hold their ground with the youngest. 
 
 Thus, in spite of acquired reserve and predetermined 
 poverty, the life of the Andorrans has its poetical side. 
 The republic has produced one historian (perhaps I should 
 say compiler), but no author ; and only Love, the source 
 and soul of Art, keeps alive a habit of improvisation in the 
 young which they appear to lose as they grow older. Dur- 
 ing Carnival, a number of young men in the villages as- 
 semble under the balcony of some chosen girl, and praise, 
 in turn, in words improvised to a familiar melody, her 
 charms of person and of character. When this trial of the 
 Minnesingers begins to lag for want of words or ideas, the 
 girl makes her appearance on the balcony, and with a cord 
 lets down to her admirers a basket containing cakes of 
 her own baking, bottles of wine, and sausages. Before 
 Easter, the unmarried people make bets, which are won by 
 whoever, on Easter morning, can first catch the other and 
 cry out, " It is Easter, the eggs are mine ! " Tricks, false- 
 hoods, and deceptions of all kinds are permitted : the young 
 man may even surprise the maiden in bed, if he can suc- 
 ceed in doing so. Afterwards they all assemble in public, 
 relate their tricks, eat their Easter eggs, and finish the day 
 with songs and dances. 
 
 Two ruling ideas have governed the Andorrans for cen- 
 turies past, and seem to have existed independent of any 
 
THE EEPUBLIC OF THE PYEENEES. 283 
 
 special tradition. One is, that they must not become rich ; 
 the other, that no feature of their government must be 
 changed. The former condition is certainly the more diffi- 
 cult of fulfillment, since they have had frequent opportu- 
 nities of increasing their wealth. There is one family which, 
 on account of the land that has fallen to it by inheritance, 
 would be considered rich in any country; half a dozen 
 others possessing from twenty to thirty thousand dollars ; 
 and a large number who are in comfortable circumstances 
 simply because their needs are so few. I had heard that a 
 party opposed to the old traditional ideas was growing up 
 among the young men, but it was not so easy to obtain 
 information on the subject. When I asked the gentleman 
 from Ordino about it, he " acted the Andorran," — put on 
 an expression of face almost idiotic, and talked of something 
 else. He and two others with whom I conversed during the 
 evening admitted, however, that a recent concession of the 
 government (of which I shall presently speak) was the 
 entering wedge by which change would probably come 
 upon the hitherto changeless republic. 
 
 With the exception of this incommunicativeness, — in 
 itself rather an interesting feature — no people could have 
 been more kind and friendly. When I went to bed among 
 the saddles and harness in the little room, I no longer felt 
 that I was a stranger in the place. All that I had heard of 
 the hospitality of the people seemed to be verified by their 
 demeanor. I remembered how faithfully they had asserted 
 the neutrality of their territory in behalf of political exiles 
 from France and Spain. General Cabrera, Armand Carrel, 
 and Ferdinand Flocon have at different times found a ref- 
 uge among them. Although the governmen-t reserves the 
 right to prohibit residence to any person whose presence 
 may threaten the peace of the valley, I have not heard that 
 the right was ever exercised. Andorra has been an ark of 
 safety to strangers, as well as an inviolate home of freedom 
 to its own inhabitants. 
 
284 . BY-WAYS OF EUROPE, 
 
 Julian called me at four o'clock, to resume our journey 
 up the valley, and the host made a cup of chocolate while 
 my horse was being saddled. Then I rode forth into the 
 clear, cold air, which the sun of the Pyrenees had not yet 
 warmed. The town is between three and four thousand 
 feet above the sea, and the limit of the olive tree is found 
 in one of its sheltered gardens. As I issued from the 
 houses, and took a rugged path along the base of Mont 
 Anclar, the village of Escaldas and the great gorge in front 
 lay in a cold, broad mantle of shadow, while the valley was 
 filled to its topmost brims with splendid sunshine. I looked 
 between the stems of giant ilexes upon the battle-field of 
 Louis le Debonnaire. Then came a yawning chasm, down 
 which foamed the western branch of the Valira, coming 
 from an upper valley in which lie the parishes of Ordino 
 and Massana. The two valleys thus form a Y, giving the 
 territory of Andorra a rough triangular shape, about forty 
 miles in length — its base, some thirty miles in breadth, 
 overlapping the Pyrenees, and its point nearly touching the 
 Rio Segre, at Urgel. 
 
 A bridge of a single arch spanned the chasm, the bottom 
 of which was filled with tumbling foam ; while every ledge 
 of rock, above and below, was draped with eglantine, wild 
 fig, clematis, and ivy. Thence, onward towards Escaldas? 
 my path lay between huge masses which had fallen from 
 the steeps, and bowers completely snowed over with white 
 roses, wherein the nightingales were just beginning to 
 awaken. Then, one by one, the brown houses above me 
 clung like nests to the rocks, with little gardens hanging on 
 seemingly inaccessible shelves. I entered the enfolding 
 shadows, and, following the roar of waters, soon found my- 
 self at Escaldas — a place as wonderfully picturesque as 
 Ronda or Tivoli, directly under the tremendous perpen- 
 dicular walls of the gorge ; the arrowy Valira sweeping the 
 foundations of the houses on one side, while the dark 
 masses of rock crowded against and separated them on the 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 285 
 
 other. From the edge of the river, and between the thick 
 foliage of ilex and box behind the houses, rose thin columns 
 of steam, marking the hot springs whence the place (agua» 
 caldas) was named. 
 
 Crossing the river, I halted at the first of these springs, 
 and took a drink. Some old people who collected informed 
 me that there were ten in all, besides a number of cold 
 mineral fountains, furnishing nine different kinds of water 
 — all of which, they said, possessed wonderful healing prop- 
 erties. There were both iron and sulphur in that which I 
 tasted. A little further, a rude fulling-mill was at work in 
 the open air ; and in a forge on the other side of the road 
 three blacksmiths were working the native iron of the 
 moqntains. A second and third hot spring followed ; then 
 a fourth, in which a number of women were washing clothes. 
 All this in the midst of a chaos of rock, water, and foliage. 
 
 These springs of Escaldas have led to the concession 
 which the Andorrans described to me as opening a new, 
 and, I fear, not very fortunate, phase of their history. The 
 exploiters of the gambling interest of France, on the point 
 of being driven from Wiesbaden, Homburg, and Baden- 
 Baden, ransacked Europe for a point where they might at 
 the same time ply their business and attract the fashionable 
 world. They detected Andorra; and by the most consum- 
 mate diplomacy they have succeeded in allaying the sus- 
 picions of the government, in neutralizing the power of its 
 ancient policy, and in acquiring privileges which, harmless 
 as they seem, may in time wholly subvert the old order of 
 things. It is impossible that this result could have been 
 accomplished unless a party of progress, the existence of 
 which has been hinted, has really grown up among the 
 people. The French speculators, I am told, undertake to 
 build a carriage-road across the Pyrenees ; to erect bathing- 
 establishments and hotels on a magnificent scale at Escal- 
 das, and to conduct the latter, under the direction of the 
 authorities of Andorra, for a period of forty years, at the 
 
286 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 end of which time the latter shall be placed in possession 
 of the roads, buildings, and all other improvements. The 
 expense of the undertaking is estimated at ten millions of 
 francs. A theatre and a bank (faro ?) are among the 
 features of the speculation. Meanwhile, until the carriage- 
 road shall be built, temporary hotels and gaming-houses 
 are to be erected in the valley of the Ariege, on the French 
 side of the Pyrenees, but within the territory belonging to 
 Andorra. 
 
 I do not consider it as by any means certain that the plan 
 will be carried out ; but if it should be, the first step towards 
 the annexation of Andorra to France will have been taken. 
 In any case, I am glad to have visited the republic while it 
 is yet shut from the world. 
 
 Behind Escaldas an affluent of the Valira dashed down 
 the mountain on the right, breaking the rich masses of 
 foliage with silver gleams. I halted on the summit of the 
 first rocky rampart, and turned to take a last view of the 
 valley. What a picture ! I stood in the deep shadow of 
 the mountains, in the heart of a wilderness of rocks which 
 towered out of evergreen verdure, and seemed to vibrate 
 amidst the rush, the foam, and the thunder of streams. 
 The houses of the village, clinging to and climbing the 
 sides of the opening pass, made a dark frame, through 
 which the green and gold of the splendid valley, drowned 
 in sunshine, became, by the force of contrast, limpid and 
 luminous as a picture of the air. The rocks and houses of 
 Old Andorra and the tower of the House of Government 
 made the central point of the view; dazzling meadows 
 below and mountain terraces above basked in the faint 
 prismatic lustre of the morning air. High up, in the rear 
 of the crowning cliffs, I caught glimpses of Alpine pastures ; 
 and on the right, far away, streaks of snow. It was a vision 
 never to be forgotten : it was one of the few perfect land- 
 scapes of the world. 
 
 As the path rose in rapid zigzags beside the split through 
 
THE REPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 287 
 
 which the river pours, I came upon another busy village. 
 In an open space among the rocks there were at least a 
 hundred bee-hives, formed of segments of the hollowed 
 trunks of trees. They stood in rows, eight or ten feet 
 apart ; and the swarms that continually came and went 
 seemed to have their separate paths marked out in the air. 
 They moved softly and swiftly through each other without 
 entanglement. After passing the gateway of the Valira, 
 the path still mounted, and finally crept along the side of a 
 deep trough, curving eastward. There were fields on both 
 slopes, wherever it was possible to create them. Here I 
 encountered a body of road-makers, whom the French 
 speculators had set to work. They were engaged in widen- 
 ing the bridle-path, so that carts might pass to Escaldas 
 from the upper valleys of Encamp and Cxinillo. The rock 
 was blasted on the upper side ; while, on the lower, work- 
 men were basing the walls on projecting points of the preci- 
 pice. In some places they hung over deep gulfs, adjusting 
 the great masses of stone with equal skill and coolness. 
 
 In an hour the gorge opened upon the Valley of Encamp^ 
 which is smaller, but quite as wild and grand in its features 
 as that of Andorra. Here the fields of rye and barley were 
 only beginning to grow yellow, the flowers were those of an 
 earlier season, and the ilex and box alone remained of the 
 southern trees and shrubs. Great thickets of the latter 
 fringed the crags. A high rock on the left served as a 
 pedestal for a church, with a tall, square belfry, which 
 leaned so much from the perpendicular that it was not 
 pleasant to ride under it. The village of Encamp occupied 
 a position similar to that of Escaldas, at the farther end of 
 the valley, and in the opening of another gorge, the sides of 
 which are so closely interfolded that the river appears to 
 issue out of the very heart of the mountain. It is a queer, 
 dirty, mouldy old place. Even the immemorial rocks of 
 the Pyrenees look new and fresh beside the dark rust of 
 its walls. The people had mostly gone away to their fields 
 
288 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 and pastures; only a few old men and women, and the 
 youngest children, sunned themselves at the doors. The 
 main street had been paved once, but the stones were now 
 displaced, leaving pits of mud and filth. In one place the 
 houses* were built over it, forming dark, badly smelling 
 arches, under which I was forced to ride. 
 
 The path beyond was terribly rough and difficult, climb- 
 ing the precipices with many windings, until it reached a 
 narrow ledge far above the bed of the gorge. There were 
 frequent shrines along the way, at the most dangerous 
 points; and Julian, who walked ahead, always lifted his 
 cap and muttered a prayer as he passed them. After three 
 or four miles of such travel, I reached the church of 
 Merichel, on an artificial platform, cut out of the almost 
 perpendicular side of the mountain. This is the shrine of 
 most repute in Andorra, and the goal of many a summer 
 pilgrimage. Here the mass, the rustic banquet, and the 
 dance draw old and young together from all parts of the 
 republic. 
 
 I climbed another height, following the eastern curve of 
 the gorge, and finally saw the village of Canillo, the capital 
 of one of the six parishes, lying below me, in the lap of 
 a third valley. It had a brighter and fresher ai'r than En- 
 camp ; the houses were larger and cleaner, and there were 
 garden-plots about them. In this valley the grain was quite 
 green ; the ilex had disappeared, making way for the pop- 
 lar and willow, but the stubborn box still held its ground. 
 In every bush on the banks of Valira sat a nightingale ; 
 the little brown bird sings most lustily where the noise of 
 water accompanies his song. I never saw him so fearless ; 
 I could have touched many of the minstrels with my hand 
 as I passed. 
 
 At Canillo I crossed the Valira, and thenceforward the 
 path followed its western bank. This valley was closed, 
 like all the others, by a pass cloven through the mountains. 
 Upon one of the natural bastions guarding it there is an 
 
THE EEPUBLIC OF THE PYRENEES. 289 
 
 ancient tower, which the people say was built by the Sara- 
 cens before the Frank conquest. The passage of the gorge 
 which followed was less rugged than the preceding ones, — 
 an indication of my approach to the summit of the Pyre- 
 nees. In following the Rio Segre and the Valira, I had 
 traversed eight of those tremendous defiles, varying from 
 one to six miles in length ; and the heart of the mountain 
 region, where the signs of force and convulsion always 
 diminish, was now attained. One picture on the way was 
 so lovely that I stopped and drew it. In the centre of the 
 valley, on a solitary rock, stood an ancient church and 
 tower, golden-brown in the sun. On the right were moun- 
 tains clothed with forests of pine and fir ; in the distance, 
 fields of snow. All the cleared slopes were crimson with 
 the Alpine-rose, a dwarf variety of rhododendron. Per- 
 fect sunshine covered the scene, and the purest of breezes 
 blew over it. Here and there a grain-field clung to the 
 crags, or found a place among their tumbled fragments, but 
 no livinor beinor was to be seen. 
 
 The landscapes were now wholly northern, except the 
 sun and sky. Aspens appeared on the heights, shivering 
 among the steady pines. After a time I came to a point 
 where there were two valleys, two streams, and two paths. 
 Julian took the left, piloting me over grassy meadows, 
 where the perfume from beds of daffodil was almost too 
 powerful to breathe. On one side, all the mountain was 
 golden with broom-flowers ; on the other, a mass of fiery 
 crimson, from the Alpine-rose. The valley was dotted 
 with scattered cottages of the herdsmen, as in Switzerland. 
 In front there were two snowy peaks, with a " saddle " be- 
 tween — evidently one of the partes of the Pyrenees ; yet 
 I saw no indications of the hamlet oi Sol deu, which we 
 must pass. Julian shouted to a herdsman, who told us we 
 had taken the wrong valley. The porte before us was that 
 of Fontargente, across which Louis le Debonnaire stretched 
 his chain on leaving Andorra. 
 19 
 
290 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 We retraced our steps, and in half an hour reached Sol- 
 deu, in a high, bleak pasture-valley, where cultivation 
 ce'ases. It is at least six thousand feet above the sea, and 
 the vegetation is that of the high Alps. We were nearly 
 famished, and, as there was no sign of a "hostal," entered 
 the first house. The occupant, a woman, offered to give 
 us what she had, but said that there was another family 
 who made a business of entertaining travellers, and we 
 would there be better served. We found the house, and 
 truly, after waiting an hour, were refreshed by a surprising 
 dinner of five courses. There was another guest, in the 
 person of a French butcher from the little town of Hos- 
 pitalet, in the valley of the Ariege. It was so cold that we 
 all crowded about the kitchen fire. Two Andorrans came 
 in, and sat down to the table with us. I have dined at 
 stately entertainments where there was less grace and re- 
 finement among the company than the butcher and the 
 two peasants exhibited. There was a dessert of roasted 
 almonds and coffee (with a chasse) ; and after the meal we 
 found the temperature of the air very mild and balmy. 
 
 Hospitalet being also my destination, I accepted the 
 butcher's company, and at one o'clock we set forth for the 
 passage of the Pyrenees. On leaving Soldieu I saw the 
 last willow, in which sat and sang the last nightingale." 
 The path rose rapidly along the steep slopes of grass, with 
 an amphitheatre of the highest summits around us. The 
 forests sank out of sight in the glens ; snow-fields multi- 
 plied far and near, sparkling in the thin air, and the scenery 
 assumed a bleak, monotonous grandeur. I traced the Va- 
 lira, now a mere thread, to its source in seven icy lakes, 
 fed by the snow : in those lakes, said the butcher, are the 
 finest trout of the Pyrenees. The Porte de VaMra was 
 immediately above us, on the left ; a last hard pull up the 
 steep, between beds of snow, and we stood on the summit. 
 
 The elevation of the pass is nearly eight thousand feet 
 above the sea. On either hand you descry nothing but the 
 
THE EEPUBLIC OF THE PYEENEES. 291 
 
 irregular lines of the French and Spanish Pyrenees, rising 
 and falling in receding planes of distance. Eocks, grass, 
 and snow make up the scenery, which, nevertheless, im- 
 presses by its very simplicity and severity. 
 
 The descent into France is toilsome, but not dangerous. 
 A mile or two below the crest we saw the fountain of the 
 Ariege, at the base of a grand escarpment of rock. Thence 
 for two hours we followed the descending trough of the 
 river through bleak, grassy solitudes, uncheered by a single 
 tree, or any sign of human life except the well-worn path. 
 Finally the cottage of a grazing-farm came into view, but 
 it was tenantless — all thd inhabitants having been over- 
 whelmed by an avalanche three years ago. Then I dis- 
 covered signs of a road high up on the opposite mountain, 
 saw workmen scattered along it, and heard a volley of ex- 
 plosions. This was the new highway to Porte St. Louis and 
 Puigcerda. On a green meadow beside the river walked 
 two gentlemen and two ladies in round hats and scarlet 
 petticoats. 
 
 "They are picking out a spot to build their gaming- 
 houses upon," said the butcher ; " this is still Andorra." 
 
 A mile further there was a little bridge — the Pont de 
 Cerda. A hut, serving as a guard-house, leaned against 
 the rocks, but the gens d'armes were asleep or absent, and 
 I rode unquestioned into France. It was already sunset 
 in the valley, and the houses of Hospitalet, glimmering 
 through the shadows, were a welcome sight. Here was the 
 beginning of highways and mail-coaches, the movement of 
 the living world again. I supped and slept (not very com- 
 fortably, I must confess) in the house of my friend the 
 butcher, said good-by to Julian in the morning, and by 
 noon was resting from my many fatigues in the best inn of 
 Foix. 
 
 But henceforth the Valley of Andorra will be one of my 
 enthusiasms. 
 
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 
 
On my way from the Pyrenees to Germany, I turned 
 aside from the Rhone highway of travel to make acquaint- 
 ance with a place of which everybody has heard, yet which 
 seems to have been partly dropped from the rapid itinera- 
 ries which have come into fashion with railways. This is 
 the celebrated monastery called the " Grande Chartreuse," 
 situated in an Alpine wilderness known as the " Desert," 
 on the borders of Savoy. During the last century, when 
 Gray and Horace Walpole penetrated into those solitudes, 
 it was a well-known point of interest in the " grand tour ; " 
 but it seems to have been neglected during and since the 
 great upheaval of the French Revolution and the Napo- 
 leonic Empire. The name, however, is kept alive on 
 the tongues of gourmands by a certain greenish, pungent, 
 perfumed liquor, which comes upon their tables at the end 
 of dinner. 
 
 The traveller from Lyons to Marseilles passes within a 
 six-hours' journey of the Grande Chartreuse. If he leave 
 the train at Valence, the branch road to Grenoble will 
 take him up the Valley of the Isere, and he will soon ex- 
 change the rocky vine-slopes of the Rhone for Alpine 
 scenery on a scale hardly surpassed in Switzerland. This 
 was the route which I took, on my way northward. The 
 valley of the Isere, at first broad, and showing on its flat, 
 stony fields traces of frequent inundations, gradually con- 
 tracted ; the cultivation of silk gave place to that of grain 
 and vines, and the meadows of deep grass, studded with 
 huge walnut-trees, reproduced, but on a warmer and richer 
 scale, the character of Swiss scenery. Night came on 
 before I reached the Vale of Gresivaudan, which is consid- 
 
296 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 ered the paradise of Dauphine, and when the train halted 
 at the station of Voreppe, it was pitch-dark under a gather- 
 ing rain. There was a rustic omnibus in waiting, into 
 which I crowded with a priest and two farmers, all of whom 
 recommended the " Petit Paris " as the best inn, and 
 thither, accordingly, I went when we reached the village. 
 
 It was a primitive, but picturesque and inviting place. 
 1 was ushered into a spacious kitchen, with a paved floor, 
 and a huge stone range standing in the centre. The land- 
 lady stood before her pans and gave the finishing touch to 
 some cutlets while she received my orders and those of the 
 priest. The latter, when he came into the light, proved to 
 be a young man, pale, thin, and melancholy, with a worn 
 breviary under his arm. He asked to have a bed imme- 
 diately. In an adjoining room, a company of peasants were 
 drinking cider and thin wine, and discussing crops around 
 a deal table. I listened awhile, but finding it impossible 
 to understand their dialect, followed the example of the 
 priest. The landlady gave me a clean bed in a clean room, 
 and I speedily slept in spite of rain and thunder. 
 
 I had barely taken cofiee in the morning before an om- 
 nibus drove up, on its way to St. Laurent du Pont, a vil- 
 lage at the mouth of the ravine which descends from the 
 Grande Chartreuse. There was a place inside, between 
 two sharp-featured women and opposite another priest, who 
 was middle-aged and wore an air of cheerful resignation. 
 This place I occupied, and was presently climbing the 
 long mountain road, with a glorious picture of the Vale 
 of Gr^sivaudan deepening and widening below. Half- 
 way up the mountains beyond the Isere floated shining 
 belts of cloud, the shadows of which mottled the sunlit 
 fields and gardens. Above us, huge walls of perpendicular 
 rock, crowned with forests, shut out the morning sky, but 
 the glens plunging down from their bases were filled with 
 the most splendid vegetation. Our way upward was 
 through the shadows of immense walnut-trees, beside the 
 
THE GRANDE CHABTREUSE. 297 
 
 rushing of crystal brooks, and in the perfume of blossom- 
 ing grass and millions of meadow flowers. It seemed 
 incredible that we should be approaching a " Desert " 
 through such scenery. 
 
 My fellow-travellers were inclined to "be social. We lost 
 the women at the first little hamlet above Voreppe, and 
 there only remained the priest and a stout, swaggering 
 person, wh© had the appearance and manners of a govern- 
 ment contractor. The former told us that he had a parish 
 on the high, windy table-lands of Champagne, and had 
 never before seen such wonderful mountain landscapes. 
 He was now on his way to Rome — one of the army of 
 six thousand " migratory ravens " (as the Italians called 
 them), who took part in the Festival of St. Peter. He was 
 cheerful and tolerant, with more heart than intellect, and 
 we got on very agreeably. The contractor informed us 
 that the monks of the Chartreuse had an income of a mil- 
 lion francs a year, a part of which they spend in building 
 churches and schools. They have recently built a new 
 church for the village of St. Laurent du Pont. 
 
 In an hour or more we had reached the highest point of 
 the road, which now ran eastward along the base of a line 
 of tremendous mountains. On the topmost heights, above 
 the gray ramparts of rock, there were patches of a bright 
 rosy color, which I at first took to be the Alpine rhododen- 
 dron in blossom, but they proved to be forests of beech, 
 which the recent severe frosts had scorched. The streams 
 from the heights dropped into gulfs yawning at the base 
 of the mountains, making cataracts of several hundred 
 feet. Here the grain, already harvested in the valley of 
 the Rhone, was still green, and the first crop of hay uncut. 
 
 St. Laurent du Pont is a little village directly in the 
 mouth of the gorge. The omnibus drew up before the 
 cafe, and my clerical friend got into a light basket wagon 
 for the journey to the monastery, two leagues distant. I 
 preferred to climb the gorge leisurely, on foot, and set 
 
298 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 about engaging a man as companion rather than guide. 
 The sky was full of suspicious clouds, there were mutter- 
 ings of thunder in the mountains, and the sun stung with 
 an insupportable power ; but after breakfast I set out with 
 a middle-aged man, who had an eye to profit, followed the 
 stream for a mile, and found myself in the heart of a ter- 
 rific wilderness of rock and forest. In front the mountains 
 closed, and only a thin line of shadow revealed the split 
 through which we must pass. Before reaching it, there is 
 an ancient forge on the left, and a massive building on the 
 right, which the monks have recently erected for the man- 
 ufacture of the liqueur which bears the name of their mon- 
 astery. 
 
 Just beyond the forge are the remains of an ancient gate, 
 which once closed the further passage. The road is hewn 
 out of the solid rock, and the sides of the cleft are so near 
 together that the masonry supporting the road is held firm 
 by timbers crossing the abyss and morticed into the op- 
 posite rock. Formerly there was only a narrow and dan- 
 gerous mule-path, and the passage must have had an exhil- 
 arating character "of danger which the present security of 
 the road destroys. It was so in Gray's time, inspiring him 
 with these almost Horatian lines : — 
 
 " Per invias rupes, fera per juga, 
 Clivosque praeruptos, sonantes 
 
 Inter aquas, nemorumque noctem." 
 
 This closed throat of the mountains is short : it soon ex- 
 pands a little, allowing the splendid deciduous forests to 
 descend to the water's brink. But above, on all sides, the 
 rocks start out in sheer walls and towers, and only a nar- 
 row strip of sky is visible between their crests. After a 
 mile of this scenery I reached a saw-mill, beside which 
 there was some very fine timber. Still another mile, and 
 the road was carried across the defile by a lofty stone 
 bridge of a single arch. " This is the bridge of San 
 
THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 299 
 
 Bruno," said the guide, " and we are now just half-way to 
 the monastery." In spite of the shadows of the forests, the 
 air was almost stifling in its still heat, and I sat down on 
 the parapet of the bridge to take breath. This was the 
 " Desert," whither the Bishop of Grenoble directed San 
 Bruno to fly from the temptations of the world. At that 
 time it could have been accessible only with great labor 
 and danger, and was much more secluded than the caves 
 of the Thebaid. But the word conveys no idea of the 
 character of the scenery. For the whole distance it is a 
 deep cleft in the heart of lofty mountains, overhung with 
 precipices a thousand feet high, yet clothed, whenever a 
 root can take hold, by splendid forests. Ferns and wild 
 flowers hang from every ledge, and the trees are full of 
 singing birds. 
 
 Still climbing, we mounted high above the stream, and 
 in twenty minutes reached a natural gateway, formed by a 
 solitary pillar of rock, three hundred feet high, and not 
 more than forty feet in diameter. Here, six weeks before, 
 a wagon with six young peasants went over the brink, and 
 fell into the terrible abyss. The driver, whose carelessness 
 occasioned the accident, leaped from the wagon ; the other 
 five went down, and were dashed to pieces. Between the 
 aiguille (needle), as it is called, and the mountain- wall, 
 there was formerly a gate, beyond which no woman was 
 allowed to pass. The sex is now permitted to visit the 
 monastery, but not to enter its gates. This part of the 
 road is almost equal to the famous Via Mala. A series of 
 tunnels have been cut through the sheer, projecting crags, 
 the intervening portions of the road being built up with 
 great labor from below. One hangs in mid-air over the 
 dark chasm, where the foam of the rushing waters shines 
 like a phosphoric light. 
 
 P'inally, the slope of the mountains becomes less abrupt, 
 the shattered summits lean back, and the glen grows 
 brighter under a broader field of sky. On the right the 
 
300 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 forests are interrupted by pasture grounds ; the road is now 
 safe, though v6ry steep, and the buildings of the monastery 
 presently come into view, a mass of quadrangular piles of 
 masonry, towers, and pyramidal roofs, inclosed by a high 
 wall which must be considerably more than a mile in cir- 
 cuit. The place, in fact, resembles a fortified city. The 
 gateway was closed on the side by which I approached, but 
 an old monk, with shaven head and flowing beard, who was 
 driving an ox-cart (the first time I ever saw one of his 
 class so usefully employed), directed me to go around to 
 the eastern front. An isolated house, shaded by a group 
 of old linden-trees, is set apart for the use of the female 
 visitors, who are attended by an old woman, usually a sister 
 of some conventual order. 
 
 My guide rang the bell at the entrance, and the door 
 was immediately opened by a young monk in a long, brown 
 gown. " Can I be admitted ? " T asked. " Yes," said he 
 in a whisper, " the guide will take you to the father who 
 receives strangers." I was conducted across a grassy 
 court-yard, in which there were two large stone fountains, 
 to the main building. Several brethren in brown were 
 pas3ing swiftly to and fro in the cool, spacious corridors, 
 but they took no notice of me. I found the father in a 
 comfortable chamber, hung with maps. He was a bright, 
 nimble man of sixty, with shaven head and face ; but for 
 his keen eyes, he would not have seemed more than half 
 alive, his complexion and his shroud-like gown being 
 nearly the same color. I told him who I was, why I came, 
 and asked permission to stay until the next day. " Cer- 
 tainly," he whispered, " as long as you please. I will show 
 you into the refectory, and order that you have a room." 
 
 I was somewhat unwell, and the heat and fatigue had 
 made me weak, which the father probably noticed, for on 
 reaching the refectory — a great, bare apartment, with an 
 old-fashioned chimney-place for burning logs — he said: 
 " You must have a glass of our liqueur, the green kind, 
 
THE GRANDE CHARTEEUSE. 301 
 
 which is the strongest." It was like an aromatic flame, 
 but it really gave me a different view of life, in the space 
 of fifteen minutes. The gargon was a sturdy fellow in a 
 blue blouse, evidently a peasant hired for the season. His 
 services were confined to the refectory. Another brother 
 in brown, with a mild, ignorant countenance, conducted me 
 to an upper chamber, or rather cell, containing a bed, a 
 table, a chair, and bowl of water, with a large private altar 
 SLiid prie-dieu. Having taken possession and put the key 
 in my pocket, I returned to the refectory, where the white 
 father begged me to make myself at home, and likewise 
 vanished. There are fixed hours when strangers are con- 
 ducted through the buildings, and, as I had still some time 
 to wait, I went forth from the monastery and set to work 
 at a sketch of the place. 
 
 The monks of the Chartreuse now belong to the order 
 of La Trappe. San Bruno first came hither in the year 
 1084, and the foundation of the monastery dates from 1137. 
 The Trappist, or silent system, arose in the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, but I am ignorant of the date when it was here in- 
 troduced. It is probably the severest and most unnatural 
 of all forms of monastic discipline. Isolation is cruel 
 enough in itself, without the obligation of silence. The 
 use of monasteries, as conservatories of learning, as sanc- 
 tuaries of peace in the midst of normal war, has long since 
 ceased : they are now an anachronism and they will soon 
 become an offense. The grand pile of buildings before me 
 was ravaged during the French Revolution, and the monks 
 turned adrift. Although the government still keeps its 
 hold on the greater part of the property then sequestrated, 
 it has favored the monastery in every other possible way. 
 France swarms with black robes, as it has not before for a 
 hundred years. The Empress Eugenie is a petted daughter 
 of the Church of Rome, and the willing instrument of its 
 plans, so far as her influence extends. The monks of La 
 Chartreuse, however, to judge from what I saw of their 
 
302 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 industry and business talent, are far less objectionable than 
 those of their brethren who are not bound to solitude and 
 silence. 
 
 At the appointed hour I was again admitted with a whis- 
 per, and joined three dark priests (also on their way to 
 Rome) for a tour of the interior. The mild brother in 
 brown was our guide. After calling our attention to a 
 notice which requested that all visitors to the monastery 
 would neither stand still nor speak above their breath, he 
 unlocked a gate and ushered us into the inner corridors. 
 We walked down the dim echoing vaults of solid masonry, 
 and paused at a door, through which came the sound 
 of a sepulchral chant. It was the church, wherein two 
 ancient fathers were solemnly intoning a service which 
 seemed like a miserere. The brother conducted us to an 
 upper gallery, dipped his fingers into the font, and pre- 
 sented the holy water to me with a friendly smile. I am 
 afraid he was cut to the heart when I shook my head, say- 
 ing : " Thank you, I don't need it." There was an ex- 
 pression of stupefaction in his large, innocent eyes, and 
 thenceforward he kept near me, always turning to me with 
 a tender, melancholy interest, as if hoping and praying that 
 there might, for me, be some escape from the hell of 
 heretics. 
 
 There was nothing worthy of notice in the architecture 
 of the church, or the various chapels. That for the dead 
 was hung with skulls and cross-bones, on a ground of 
 black ; the grave-yard, in which the dead monks lie, like 
 the Quakers, under unmarked mounds, was more cheerful. 
 Here, at least, grass and wild-flowers are not prohibited, 
 the sweetest mountain breezes find their way over the 
 monastic walls, and the blue sky above is filled with a 
 silence, in which there is nothing painful. The most in- 
 teresting thing I saw was the Hall of the Order, filled with 
 portraits of its generals, and with frescoes illustrating the 
 life of San Bruno. A statue of the Saint represents him 
 
THE GEANDE CHARTEEUSE. 303 
 
 as a venerable man, of pure, nSoble, and benevolent aspect. 
 The head, I suspect, is imaginary, but it is very fine. As 
 works of art, the pictures have no merit ; the three priests, 
 however, looked upon them with awful reverence. So 
 much depends on place, circumstance, and sentiment! 
 The brush of Raphael could have added nothing to the 
 impression which these men drew from the stiff workman- 
 ship of some unknown painter. 
 
 I was astonished at the extent of the buildings. There 
 is a single corridor, Gothic, of solid stone, six hundred and 
 sixty feet in length. Looking down it, the perspective 
 dwindles almost to a point. Opening from it and from the 
 other intersecting corridors are the cells of the monks, each 
 with a Biblical sentence in Latin (generally of solemn im- 
 port) painted on the doors. The furniture of these cells is 
 very simple, but a human skull is always part of it. In the 
 rear of each is a small garden, inclosed by a wall, where 
 the fathers and brothers attend to their own flowers and 
 vegetables. They must have, it seems, some innocent- sol- 
 ace ; the silence, the fasting, the company of the skull, and 
 the rigid ceremonials, would else, I imagine, drive the most 
 of them mad. Those whom we met in the corridor walked 
 with an excited, flying step, as if trying to outrun their own 
 thoughts. Their faces were pale and stern ; they rarely 
 looked at us, and, of course, never spoke. The gloom and 
 silence, the hushed whispers of the priests and guide, and 
 the prohibition put upon my own tongue, oppressed me 
 painfully at last. I longed to startle the dead repose of 
 the corridors by a shout full of freedom and rejoicing. 
 
 There are at present forty patres and t\y e,nty fratres in the 
 monastery. The direction of external matters is intrusted 
 to a few, who enjoy more contact with the world, and must 
 be absolved from the obligation of silence. Moreover the 
 rules in this respect are not so strenuously enforced as 
 formerly. The monks are allowed to converse slightly on 
 Sundays and saints' days, and once a week, when they walk 
 
304 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 in procession to the Chapel of St. Bruno, higher up the 
 mountain. An experienced father has charge of the manu- 
 facture of the liqueur, which is made, I learned, from the 
 young shoots of the mountain fir, mixed with certain 
 aromatic herbs. Some parts of the process are kept secret. 
 The Chartreuse is sold, even on the spot, at a high price, 
 and is sent to all parts of the world. 
 
 When we returned to the refectctry, I found several 
 gentlemen from Chambery in waiting. They, also, in- 
 tended to stay all night, and to start at one in the morning for 
 the ascent of the Grand Somme, the highest pinnacle of the 
 mountain. I predicted rain, but they were not to be dis- 
 couraged. The result was, as I learned next morning, that 
 they rose at the appointed time, groped about in the for- 
 est in perfect darkness, and came back in half an hour 
 drenched to the skin. The servitor informed me that two 
 Englishmen had arrived, and were entertained in another 
 part of the monastery. I learned for the first time that, the 
 better to preserve quiet and order, the guests are separated 
 according to their nationalities. This explained the mean- 
 ing of " Salle de la France " on the door of the hall in which 
 I found myself. Americans are rare visitors, and I presume 
 they thought it safest to put me with the Frenchmen. 
 
 It is always Lent in the Grand Chartreuse. Neverthe- 
 less, the dinner of eggs, fish, fruits, cheese, and wine which 
 was served to us was of excellent quality. The bed was 
 coarse but clean, and after putting out my lamp to hide the 
 reproachful eyes of the Virgin, I slept soundly. Breakfast, 
 however, was a little too lean for my taste. Instead of coffee 
 they gave me half-cooked cabbage soup and a lump of black 
 bread. The bill was five francs. Herein, I think, the monks 
 are right. They make .a moderate charge for what they 
 furnish, instead of expecting the traveller (as in other 
 monasteries) to give five times the worth of it as a dona- 
 tion. Living in such a wilderness, at the height of 4,300 
 feet above the sea, it is a great labor to keep the requisite 
 
THE GEANDE CHAETREUSE. 305 
 
 supplies on hand. Poor travellers are not only lodged and 
 fed gratuitously, but sometimes receive a small addition to 
 their funds. 
 
 Nevertheless, while I felt a positive respect for the indus- 
 try, fortitude, and charity of the monks of the Chartreuse, I 
 drew a long breath of relief as I issued from its whispering 
 corridors. I believe I talked to my guide in a much louder 
 voice than usual, as we returned down the gorge. The visit 
 had been full of interest, yet I could not have guessed, in 
 advance, how oppressive was the prohibition of speech. I 
 shall never again admire the silent and solitary system of 
 some of our penitentiaries. 
 
 At St. Laurent du Pont I took the omnibus, getting a 
 front seat beside the coachman, which I kept, not only to 
 Voreppe, but down the magnificent valley of Gresivaudan 
 to Grenoble. The mountains, on the side toward the Isere, 
 appear to be absolutely inaccessible. No one would guess, 
 on looking up at them from below, what a remarkable settle- 
 ment has existed for centuries within their solitudes. 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 
 
Thuringia, " The Heart of Germany," has for many a 
 century ceased to be a political designation, yet it still lives 
 in the mouths and the songs of the people as the well- 
 beloved name for all that middle region lying between the 
 Hartz on the north and the mountain-chain stretching from 
 the Main to the Elbe on the south. A few points, such as 
 Eisenach, Weimar, and Jena, are known to the tourist ; the 
 greater part, although the stage whereon many of the most 
 important events in early and mediaeval German history 
 were enacted, has not yet felt the footstep of the curious 
 stranger. From the overthrow of its native monarchy by 
 the Franks, in the sixth century, to the close of the Thirty 
 Years' War, in the seventeenth, the fortunes of this land 
 ' symbolized, in a great measure, those of the Teutonic race. 
 Behind battle and crime and knightly deed sprang up those 
 flowers of legend whose mature seed is poetry. In no part 
 of Europe do they blossom so thickly as here. 
 
 I had already stood in the hall of the Minnesingers on the 
 Wartburg ; had crept into the Cave of Venus, on the moun- 
 tain of Tannhauser ; had walked through the Valley of Joy, 
 where the two wives of the Count of Gleichen first met face 
 to face; and had stood on the spot where Winfried, the 
 English apostle, cut down the Druid oaks, and set up in 
 their stead the first altar to Christ. But on the northern 
 border of Thiiringia, where its last mountains look across 
 the Golden Mead towards the dark summits of the Hartz, 
 there stands a castle, in whose ruins sleeps the favorite 
 tradition of Germany, — a legend which, changing with the 
 ages, became the embodiment of an idea, and now repre- 
 sents the national unity, strength, and freedom. This is 
 
310 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 the KyfFhauser; and the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa 
 sleeps under it, in a crypt of the mountain, waiting for the 
 day when the whole land, from the Baltic to the Alps, shall 
 be ready to receive a single ruler. Then he will come forth, 
 and the lost Empire will be restored. 
 
 Many a time, looking towards the far-away Brocken from 
 the heights of the Thliringian Forest, had I seen the tower 
 of the Kyff hauser like a speck on the horizon, and as often 
 had resolved to cross the twenty intervening leagues. The 
 day was appointed and postponed — for years, as it hap- 
 pened ; but a desire which is never given up works out its 
 own fulfillment in the course of time, and so it was with 
 mine. It is not always best to track a legend too closely. 
 The airy brow of Tannhauser's Mountain proved to be very 
 ugly rock and very tenacious clay, when I had climbed it ; 
 and I came forth from the narrow slit of a cavern torn, 
 squeezed out of breath, and spotted with tallow. Some- 
 thing of the purple atmosphere of the mountain and the 
 mystery of its beautiful story has vanished since then. But 
 the day of my departure for the Kyff hauser was meant for 
 an excursion into dream-land. When the Summer, depart- 
 ing, stands with reluctant feet ; when the Autumn looks 
 upon the land, yet has not taken up her fixed abode ; when 
 the freshness of Spring is revived in every cloudless morn- 
 ing, and the afternoons melt slowly into smoke and golden 
 vapor, — then comes, for a short space, the season of illu- 
 sion, of credulity, of winsome superstition. 
 
 On such a day I went northward from Gotha into a 
 boundless, undulating region of tawny harvest and stubble 
 fields. The plain behind me, stretching to the foot of the 
 Thiiringian Forest, was covered with a silvery, shimmering 
 atmosphere, on which the scattered villages, the orchards, 
 and the poplar-bordered highways were dimly blotted, like 
 the first timid sketch of a picture, which shall grow into 
 clear, confident color. Far and' wide, over the fields, the 
 peasants worked silently and steadily among their flax, 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 311 
 
 oats, and potatoes, — perhaps rejoicing in the bounty of the 
 sunshine, but too much in earnest to think of singing. 
 Only the harvest of the vine is gathered to music. The 
 old swallows collected their flocks of young on the 
 ploughed land, and drilled them for the homeward flight. 
 The sheep, kept together in a dense gray mass, nibbled 
 diligently among the stubble, guarded only by a restless 
 dog. At a corner of the field the box-house of the shep- 
 herd rested on its wheels, and he was probably asleep 
 within it. Wains, laden with sheaves, rumbled slowly 
 along the road towards the village barns. Only the ravens 
 wheeled and croaked uneasily, as if they had a great deal 
 of work to do, and couldn't decide what to undertake first. 
 
 I stretched myself out luxuriously in the carriage, and 
 basked in the tempered sunshine. I had nothing to do but 
 to watch the mellow colors of the broadening landscape, as 
 we climbed the long waves of earth, stretching eastward and 
 westward out of sight. Those mixed, yet perfect moods, 
 which come equally from the delight of the senses and 
 the release of the imagination, seem to be the very essence 
 of poetry, yet how rarely do they become poetry ! The 
 subtile spirit of song cannot often hang poised in thin air ; 
 it must needs rest on a basis, however slender, of feeling 
 or reflection. Eichendorjff is the only poet to whom com- 
 pletely belongs the narrow border-land of moods and sen- 
 sations. Yet the key-note of the landscape around me 
 was struck by Tennyson in a single fortunate word, — 
 
 " In looking on the happy Autumn-fields." 
 The earth had finished its summer work for man, and now 
 breathed of rest and peace from tree, and bush, and shorn 
 stubble, and reviving grass. It was still the repose of lusty 
 life ; the beginning of death, the sadness of the autumn 
 was to come. 
 
 In crossing the last hill, before descending to the city of 
 Langensalza, I saw one of the many reverse sides of this 
 fair picture of life. A peasant girl, ragged, dusty, and 
 
812 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 tired, with a young child in her lap, sat on a stone seat by 
 the wayside. She had no beauty ; her face was brown and 
 hard, her hair tangled, her figure rude and strong, and she 
 held the child with a mechanical clasp, in which there was 
 instinct, but not tenderness. Yet it needed but a single 
 glance to read a story of poverty, and of shame and de- 
 sertion ignorantly encountered and helplessly endured. 
 Here was no acute sense of degradation ; only a blind? 
 brutish wretchedness. It seemed to me, as I saw her, 
 looking stolidly into the sunny air, that she was repeating 
 the questions, over and over, without hope of answer : 
 " "Why am I in the world ? What is to become of me ? " 
 
 At Langensalza, I took a lighter carriage, drawn by a 
 single horse, which was harnessed loosely on the left side 
 of a long pole. Unfortunately I had a garrulous old driver 
 who had seen something of last year's battle, and supposed 
 that nothing could interest me more than to know precisely 
 where certain Prussian regiments were posted. Before I 
 had divined his intention, he left the highway, and carried 
 me across the fields to the top of the Jews' Hill, which was 
 occupied at the commencement of the battle by the Prus- 
 sian artillery. The turf is still marked with the ragged 
 holes of the cannon-balls. In the plain below, many trees 
 are slowly dying from an overdose of lead. In the fields 
 which the farmers were ploughing one sees here and there 
 a headstone of granite or an iron crucifix ; but all other 
 traces of the struggle have disappeared. The little mill, 
 which was the central point of the fight, has been well re- 
 paired ; only some cannon-balls, grim souvenirs, are left 
 sticking in the gable-wall. A mile further, across the 
 Unstrut, at the commencement of the rising country, is the 
 village of Merxleben, where the Hanoverians were posted. 
 Its streets are as dull and sleepy as ever before. Looking 
 at the places where the plaster has been knocked off the 
 houses, one would not guess the instruments by which it 
 was done. 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 313 
 
 Some distance further, at a safe height, my old man 
 halted beside two poplars. " Here," he said, " the King 
 of Hanover stood." Did he keep up the mimicry of sight, 
 I wonder, while the tragedy was going on ? This blind 
 sovereign represents the spirit of monarchy in its purest 
 essence. Though totally blind, from a boy, he pretends 
 to see, because — the people must perceive no defect in a 
 king. When he rides out, the adjutants on both sides are 
 attached to his arms by fine threads ; and he is thus 
 guided, while appearing to guide himself. He visits pic- 
 ture-galleries, admires landscapes, and makes remarks 
 upon the good or ill appearance of his courtiers. After 
 the battle of Langensalza, which he pretended to direct, 
 he sent his uniform to the museum at Hanover, with some 
 straws and wheat-blades from the field where he stood 
 sewed upon it in various places ! Other monarchs of 
 Europe have carried the tattered trappings of absolutism 
 into a constitutional form of government, but none of them 
 has been so exquisitely consistent as this man. 
 
 We plodded forward over vast tawny waves of land- 
 scape, as regular as the swells of the sea. All this terri- 
 tory, once so rich and populous, was reduced to a desert 
 during the Thirty Years' War, and two centuries have 
 barely sufficed to reclaim it. After that war, Germany 
 possessed only twenty-five per cent, of the men, the cattle, 
 and the dwellings which she owned when it began, and 
 this was the least of the evil. The new generation had 
 grown up in insecurity, in idleness, immorality, and crime ; 
 the spirit of the race was broken, its blood was tainted, 
 and it has ever since then been obliged to struggle from 
 decadence into new power. We must never lose sight of 
 these facts when we speak of the Germany of the present 
 day. Well for us that we have felt only the shock and 
 struggle, the first awakening of the manly element, not the 
 later poison of war ! 
 
 After more than two hours on the silent, lonely heights, 
 
814 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 — scarcely a man being here at work in the fields or 
 abroad on the road, — I approached a little town called 
 Ebeleben, in the principality of Schwarzburg-Sondershau- 
 sen. The driver insisted on baiting his horse at the " mu- 
 nicipal tavern," as it was called ; and I remembered that 
 in the place lived a gentleman whom I had met nine years 
 before. Everybody knew the Amtsrath ; he was at home j 
 it was the large house beside the castle. Ebeleben was 
 a former residence of the princess ; but now its wonderful 
 rococo gardens have run wild, the fountains and waterfalls 
 are dry, the stone statues have lost their noses and arms, 
 and the wooden sentries posted at all the gates have rotted 
 to pieces. The remains are very funny. Not a particle 
 of melancholy can be attached to the decayed grotesque. 
 
 I went into the court-yard of the house- to which I had 
 been directed. A huge parallelogram of stone and steep 
 roofs inclosed it ; there were thirteen ploughs in a row on 
 one side, and three mountains of manure on the other. 
 As no person was to be seen, I mounted the first flight of 
 steps, and found myself in a vast, antiquated kitchen. A 
 servant, thrusting her head from behind a door, told me to 
 go forward. Pantries and store-rooms followed, passages 
 filled with antique household gear, and many a queer nook 
 and corner ; but I at last reached the front part of the 
 building, and found its owner. His memory was better 
 than I had ventured to hope ; I was made welcome so 
 cordially, that only the sad news that the mistress of the 
 house lay at the point of death made my visit brief. The 
 Amtsrath, who farms a thousand acres, led me back to the 
 tavern through his garden, saying, " We must try and bear 
 all that comes to us," as I took leave. 
 
 A few years ago there was a wild, heathery moorland, 
 the haunt of gypsies and vagabonds, beyond Ebeleben. 
 Now it is all pasture and grain-field, of thin and barren 
 aspect, but steadily growing better. The dark-blue line I 
 had seen to the north, during the day, now took the shape 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 815 
 
 of hills covered with forest, and the road passed between 
 them into the head of a winding valley. The green of 
 Thiiringian meadows, the rich masses of beech and oak, 
 again refreshed my eyes. The valley broadened as it fell, 
 and the castle and spires of Sondershausen came into view. 
 An equipage, drawn by four horses, came dashing up from 
 a side-road. There were three persons in it ; the short, 
 plain-faced man in a felt hat was the reigning prince, Giin- 
 ther von Schwarzburg. There was not much of his illus- 
 trious namesake, the Emperor, in his appearance ; but he 
 had an honest, manly countenance, and I thought it no 
 harm to exchange greetings. 
 
 I think Sondershausen must be the quietest capital in 
 Europe. It is said to have six thousand inhabitants, about 
 two hundred of whom I saw. Four were walking in a 
 pleasant, willow-shaded path beside the mills ; ten were 
 wandering in the castle-park ; and most of the remainder, 
 being children, were playing in the streets. When I left, 
 next morning, by post for the nearest railway station, be- 
 yo'nd the Golden Mead, I was the only passenger. But the 
 place is well built, and has 'an air of contentment and 
 comfort. 
 
 I was here on the southern side of the mountain ridge 
 which is crowned by the Kyff hauser, and determined to 
 cross to Kelbra, in the Golden Mead, at its northern base. 
 The valley was draped in the silver mists of the morning 
 as I set out ; and through them rose the spire of Jecha- 
 burg, still bearing the name of the Druid divinity there 
 overthrown by the apostle Winfried. But there was an- 
 other point in the landscape where my fancy settled — the 
 Trauenberg, at the foot of which was fought the first great 
 Hunnenschlacht (battle of the Huns). When that gallant 
 emperor, Henry the Bird-Snarer, sent a mangy dog to 
 Hungary, instead of the usual tribute, he knew and pre- 
 pared for th^ consequences of his act. The Huns burst 
 into Germany ; he met and defeated them, first here, and 
 
316 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 then near Merseburg (a. d. 933), so utterly that they 
 never again atterppted invasion. Kaulbach's finest cartoon 
 represents one or the other of these battles. Those fierce 
 groups of warriors, struggling in a weird atmosphere, made 
 the airy picture which I saw. One involuntarily tries to 
 vivify history, and the imagination holds fast to any help. 
 
 After an hour and a half among the hills, I saw the 
 Golden Mead, — so bright, so beautiful, that I compre- 
 hended the love which the German emperors, for centuries, 
 manifested for it. I looked across a level valley, five or 
 six miles wide, meadows green as May interrupting the 
 bands of autumnal gold, groves and winding lines of trees 
 marking the watercourses, stately towns planted at inter- 
 vals, broad, ascending slopes of forest beyond, and the 
 summit of the Brocken crowning all. East and west, the 
 Mead faded out of sight in shining haze. It is a favored 
 region. Its bounteous soil lies low and warm, sheltered 
 by the Hartz ; it has an earlier spring and a later sum- 
 mer than any other part of Northern Germany. This I 
 knew, but I was not prepared'to find it, also, a delight to 
 the eye. Towards Nordhausen the green was dazzling, 
 and there was a blaze of sunshine upon il which recalled 
 the plain of Damascus. 
 
 At Kelbra, I looked in vain for the Kyff hauser, though 
 so near it; an intervening summit hides the tower. On 
 the nearest headland of the range, however, there is a 
 ruined castle called the Rothenburg, which has no history 
 worth repeating, but is always visited by the few who find 
 their way hither. I procured a small boy as guide, and 
 commenced my proper pilgrimage on foot. An avenue of 
 cherry-trees gave but scanty shade from the fierce sun, 
 while crossing the level of the Golden Mead ; but, on 
 reaching the mountain, I found a path buried in forests. 
 It was steep, and hard to climb ; and I soon found reason 
 for congratulation in the fact that the summit has an alti- 
 tude of only fifteen hundred feet. It was attained at last ; 
 
THE KYFFHXUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 317 
 
 the woods, which had been nearly impenetrable, ceased, 
 and I found myself in front of a curious cottage, with a 
 thatched roof, built against the foot of a tall round tower 
 of other days. There were benches and tables under the 
 adjoining trees ; and a solid figure, with a great white 
 beard, was moving about in a semi-subterranean apartment, 
 inserted among the foundations of the castle. 
 
 Had it been the KyfFhauser, I should have taken him 
 for Barbarossa. The face reminded me of Walt Whitman, 
 and, verily, the man proved to be a poet. I soon discov- 
 ered the fact ; and when he had given us bread and beer, 
 he brought forth, for my purchase, the third edition of 
 " Poems by the Hermit of the Rothenburg," published by 
 Brockhaus, Leipzig. His name is Friedrich Beyer. His 
 parents kept an inn on ground which became the battle- 
 field of Jena, three or four years after he was born. His 
 first recollection is of cannon, fire, and pillage. This is all 
 that I learned of his history; his face suggests a great deal 
 more. The traces of old passions, ambitions, struggles, 
 and disappointments have grown faint from the exercise of 
 a cheerful philosophy. He is proud to be called a poet, yet 
 serves refreshments* with as much alacrity as any ordinary 
 hellner. 
 
 After a time he brought an album, saying : '• I keep this 
 for such poets as happen to come, but there are only two 
 names, perhaps, that you have ever heard — Ludwig Storch 
 and Miiller von der Werra. Uhland was once in the Hartz, 
 but he never came here. Riickert and a great many others 
 have written about the Kyffhauser and Barbarossa; but 
 the poets, you know, depend on their fancies, rather than 
 on what they see. I can't go about and visit them, so I 
 can only become acquainted with the few who travel this 
 way." 
 
 He then took an immense tin speaking-trumpet, stationed 
 himself on a rock, pointed the trumpet at an opposite ridge 
 of the mountain, and bellowed forth four notes which 
 
318 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 sounded like the voice of a dying bull. But, after a pause 
 of silence, angels replied. Tones of supernatural sweet- 
 ness filled the distant air, fading slowly upwards, until the 
 blue, which seemed to vibrate like a string that has been 
 struck, trembled into quiet again. It was wonderful ! I 
 have heard many echoes, but no other which so marvel- 
 ously translates the sounds of earth into the language of 
 heaven. " Do you notice," said the poet, " how one tone 
 grows out of the others, and silences them ? Whatever 
 sound I make, that same tone is produced — not at first, 
 but it comes presently from somewhere else, and makes it- 
 self heard. I call it reconciliation — atonement ; the prin- 
 ciple in which all human experience must terminate. You 
 will find a poem about it in my book." 
 
 The Rothenburg has been a ruin for about three hundred 
 years. It was a small castle, but of much more elegant 
 and symmetrical architecture than most of its crumbling 
 brethren. The trees which have grown up in court-yard 
 and hall have here and there overthrown portions of the 
 walls, but a number of handsome Gothic portals and win- 
 dows remain. The round tower appears to have belonged 
 to a much earlier structure. The present picturesque 
 beauty of the place compensates for the lack of history and 
 tradition. Its position is such that it overlooks nearly the 
 whole extent of the Golden Mead and the southern slope 
 of the Hartz — a hemisphere of gold and azure at the time 
 of my visit. It was a day which had strayed into Septem- 
 ber out of midsummer. Intense, breathless heat filled the 
 earth and sky, and there was scarcely a wave of air, even 
 upon that summit. 
 
 The Kyff hauser is two or three miles further eastward, 
 upon the last headland of the range, in that direction. 
 The road connecting the two castles runs along the crest, 
 through forests of the German oak, as is most fit. Taking 
 leave of the poet, and with his volume in my pack, I plod- 
 ded forward in the shade, attended by " spirits twain," in- 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 319 
 
 visible to my young guide. Poetry walked on my right 
 hand, Tradition on my left. History respectfully declined 
 to join the party ; the dim, vapory, dreamful atmosphere 
 did not suit her. Besides, in regard to the two points con- 
 cerning which I desired to be enlightened she could have 
 given me little assistance. Why was the dead Barbarossa 
 supposed to be enchanted in a vault under the Kyffhauser, 
 a castle which he had never made his residence ? Fifteen 
 years ago, at the foot of the Taurus, in Asia Minor, I had 
 stood on the banks of the river in which he was drowned ; 
 and in Tyre I saw the chapel in which, according to such 
 history as we possess, his body was laid. Then, why should 
 he, of all the German emperors, be chosen as the symbol 
 of a political resurrection ? He defied the power of the 
 popes, and was placed under the ban of the Church ; he 
 gained some battles and lost others; he commenced a 
 crusade, but never returned from it ; he did something 
 towards the creation of a middle class, but in advance of 
 the time when such a work could have been appreciated. 
 He was evidently a man of genius and energy, of a noble 
 personal presence, and probably possessed that individual 
 magnetism, the effect of which survives so long among the 
 people ; yet all these things did not seem to constitute a 
 sufficient explanation. 
 
 The popularity of the Barbarossa legend, however, is not 
 to be ascribed to anything in the Emperor's history. In 
 whatever way it may have been created, it soon became 
 the most picturesque expression of the dream of German 
 unity — a dream to which the people held fast, while the 
 princes were doing their best to make its fulfillment impos- 
 sible. Barbarossa was not the first, nor the last, nor the 
 best of the great Emperors ; but the legend, ever willful in 
 its nature, fastened upon him, and Art and Literature are 
 forced to accept what they find already accepted by the 
 people. This seemed to me, then, to be the natural ex- 
 planation, and I am glad to find it confirmed in the main 
 
S20 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 points by one of the best living 'writers of Germany. The 
 substance of the popular tradition is embodied in this little 
 song of Ruckert : — 
 
 " The Ancient Barbarossa, 
 
 Friedrich, the Kaiser great, 
 Within the castle-cavern 
 Sits in enchanted state. 
 
 " He did not die ; but ever 
 
 Waits in the chamber deep, 
 Where, hidden under the castle, 
 He sat himself, to sleep- 
 
 " The splendor of the Empire 
 He took with him away, 
 And back to earth will bring it 
 When dawns the chosen day. 
 
 " The chair is ivory purest 
 
 Whereof he makes his bed ; 
 The table is of marble 
 
 Whereon he props his head. 
 
 " His beard, not flax, but burning 
 With iierce and tiery glow. 
 Right through the marble table 
 Beneath his chin doth grow. 
 
 " He nods in dreams, and winketh 
 
 With dull, half-open eye, ' 
 And, once an age, he beckons 
 A page that standeth by. 
 
 " He bias the boy in slumber: 
 ' dwarf, go up this hour, 
 And see if still the ravens 
 
 Are flying round the tower. 
 
 " ' And if the ancient ravens 
 
 Still wheel above me here. 
 Then must I sleep enchanted 
 For many a hundred year.' " 
 
 Half-way from the Rothenburg, after passing a curious 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 321 
 
 pyramid of petrified wood, I caught sight of the tower of 
 the KyfFhauser, a square dark-red mass, looming over the 
 oak woods. The path dwindled to a rude forest road, and 
 the crest of the mountain, on the left, hid from view the 
 glimmering level of the Golden Mead. I saw nothing but 
 the wooded heights on the right, until, after climbing a 
 space, I found myself suddenly in the midst of angular 
 mounds of buried masonry. The " Kaiser Friedrich's 
 tower," eighty feet high and about thirty feet square, ap- 
 peared to be all that remained of the castle. But the ex- 
 tensive mounds over which I stumbled were evidently 
 formed from the debris of roofs and walls, and something 
 in their arrangement suggested the existence of vaults 
 under them. The summit of the mountain, four or five 
 hundred feet in length, is entirely covered with the ruins. 
 A cottage in the midst, occupied by three wild women, is 
 built over an ancient gateway, the level of which is con- 
 siderably below the mounds ; and I felt sure, although the 
 women denied it, that there must be subterranean cham- 
 bers. They permitted me, in consideration of the pay- 
 ment of three cents, to look through a glass in the wall, 
 and behold a hideous picture of the sleeping Emperor. 
 Like Macbeth's witches, they cried in chorus : — 
 
 "Show! show! 
 Show his eyes and grieve his heart; 
 Take his money, and let him depart! " 
 
 That, and a bottle of bad beer, which my small boy 
 drank with extraordinary facility, was all the service they 
 were willing to render me. But the storied peak was de- 
 serted ; the vast ring of landscape basked in the splendid 
 day ; the ravens were flying around the tower ; and there 
 were seats at various points where I could rest at will and 
 undisturbed. The Kyffhauser was so lonely that its 
 gnomes might have allowed the wonder-flower to grow for 
 me, and have opened their vaults without the chance of a 
 21 
 
322 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 profane foot following. I first sketched the tower, to sat- 
 isfy Duty ; and then gave myself up to the guidance of 
 Fancy, whose face, on this occasion was not to be distin- 
 guished from that of Indolence. There was not a great 
 deal to see, and no discoveries to make ; but the position 
 of the castle was so lordly, the view of the Golden Mead so 
 broad and beautiful, that I could have asked nothing more. 
 I remembered, as I looked down, the meadows of Tarsus, 
 and pictured to myself, in the haze beyond the Brocken, 
 the snowy summits of the Taurus. " What avails the truth 
 of history ? " I reflected ; " I know that Barbarossa never 
 lived here, yet I cannot banish his shadowy figure from my 
 thoughts. Nay, I find myself on the point of believing the 
 legend." 
 
 The word " Kyfl'hauser " means, simply, " houses on the 
 peak" [hippe or kuppe). The people, however, have a 
 derivation of their own. They say that, after Julius Caesar 
 had conquered the Thuringian land, he built a castle for 
 his praetor on this mountain, and called it Gonfusio, to 
 signify the state to which he had reduced the ancient mon- 
 archy. Long afterwards, they add, a stag was found in the 
 forest, with a golden collar around its neck, on which were 
 the words : " Let no one hurt me ; Julius gave me my 
 liberty." The date of the foundation of the castle cannot 
 be determined. It was probably a residence, alternately, 
 of the Thiiringians and Franks, in the early Christian cen- 
 turies ; the German emperors afterwards occasionally in- 
 habited it ; but it was ruined in the year 1189, just before 
 the departure of Barbarossa for the Orient. Afterwards 
 rebuilt, it appears to have been finally overthrown and de- 
 serted in the fourteenth century. It is a very slender his- 
 tory which I have to relate ; but, as I said before, History 
 did not accompany me on the pilgrimage. 
 
 The Saga, however, — whose word is often as good as 
 the written record, — - had a great deal to say. She told 
 me, first, that the images and ideas of a religion live among 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 323 
 
 the people for ages after the creed is overthrown ; that the 
 half of a faith is simply transferred, not changed. Here is 
 the thread by which the legend of the Kyff hauser may be 
 unraveled. The gods of the old Scandinavian and Teutonic 
 mythology retreated into the heart of certain sacred moun- 
 tains during the winter, and there remained until the 
 leaves began to put forth in the forests, when the people 
 celebrated their reappearance by a spring festival, the 
 Druid Pentecost. When Christianity was forced upon the 
 land, and the names of the gods were prohibited, the prom- 
 inent chiefs and rulers took their place. Charlemagne sat 
 with his paladins in the Untersberg, near Salzburg, under 
 the fortress of Nuremberg, and in various other mountains. 
 Two centuries later, Otto the Great was, in like manner, 
 invested with a subterranean court; then, after an equal 
 space of time, came Barbarossa's turn. Gustav Freytag,^ 
 to whom I am indebted for some interesting information on 
 this point, read to me, from a Latin chronicle of the year 
 1050, the following passage: "This year there was great 
 excitement among the people, from the report that a ruler 
 would come forth and lead them to war. Many believed 
 that it would be Charlemagne ; but many also believed 
 that it would be another, whose name cannot be men- 
 tioned." This other was Wuotan (Odin), whose name the 
 people whispered three centuries after they had renounced 
 his worship. 
 
 This explanation fits every particular of. the legend. 
 The Teutonic tribes always commenced their wars in the 
 spring, after the return of the gods to the surface of the 
 earth. The ravens flying around the tower are the well- 
 known birds of Odin. When Barbarossa comes forth, he 
 will first hang his shield on the barren tree, which w^ill 
 then burst into leaf The mediaeval legend sprang natu- 
 rally from the grave of the dead religion. Afterwards, — 
 
 1 The well-known author of Debit and Credit^ and Pictures of the German 
 Past. 
 
324 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 probably during the terrible depression which followed the 
 Thirty Years' War, — another transfer took place. The 
 gods were at last forgotten ; but the aspirations of the peo- 
 ple, connecting Past and Future, found a new meaning in 
 the story, which the poets, giving it back to them in a glo- 
 rified form, fixed forever. 
 
 We have only two things to assume, and they will give 
 us little trouble. The Kyff hauser must have been one of 
 those sacred mountains of the Teutons in which the gods 
 took up their winter habitation. Its character corresponds 
 with that of other mountains which were thus selected. It 
 is a projecting headland, partly isolated from the rest of 
 the range, — like Tabor, " a mountain apart." This would 
 account for the location of the legend. The choice of 
 Barbarossa may be explained partly by the impression 
 which his personal presence and character made upon the 
 people (an effect totally independent of his place in his- 
 tory), and partly from the circumstance, mysterious to 
 them, that he went to the Holy Land, and never returned. 
 Although they called him the " Heretic Emperor," on ac- 
 count of his quarrel with the Pope, this does not appear to 
 have diminished the power of his name among them. The 
 first form of the legend, as we find it in a fragment of 
 poetry from the fourteenth century, says that he disap- 
 peared, but is not dead ; that hunters or peasants some- 
 times meet him as a pilgrim, whereupon he discovers him- 
 self to them, saying that he will yet punish the priests, and 
 restore the Holy Poman Empire. A history, published in 
 the year 1519, says : " He was a man of great deeds, mar- 
 velously courageous, lovable, severe, and with the gift of 
 speech, — renowned in many things as was no one before 
 him save Carolus the Great, — and is at last lost, so that 
 no man knows what is become of him." 
 
 I know not where to look for another tradition made up 
 of such picturesque elements. Although it may be told in 
 a few words, it contains the quintessence of the history of 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 325 
 
 two thousand years. Based on the grand Northern my- 
 thology, we read in it the foundation of Christianity, the 
 Crusades, that hatred of priestcraft which made the Refor- 
 mation possible, the crumbling to pieces of the old German 
 Empire, and finally that passionate longing of the race 
 which is now conducting it to a new national unity and 
 power. For twenty years the Germans have been collect- 
 ing funds to raise a monument to Herrmann, the Cheru- 
 skian chief, the destroyer of Varus and his legions in the 
 Teutoburger Forest; yet Germany, after all, grew great 
 from subjection to the laws and learning of Rome. The 
 Kyff hauser better deserves a monument, not specially to 
 Barbarossa, but to that story which for centuries symbolized 
 the political faith of the people. 
 
 The local traditions which have grown up around the 
 national one are very numerous. Some have been trans- 
 planted hither from other places, — as, for instance, that 
 of the key-flower, — but others, very naive and original, 
 belong exclusively here. It is possible, however, that they 
 may also be found in other lands ; the recent researches in 
 fairy lore teach us that scarcely anything of what we pos- 
 sess is new. Here is one which suggests some passages 
 in Wieland's " Oberon." 
 
 In Tilleda, a village at the foot of the Kyff hauser, some 
 lads and lasses were met, one evening, for social diversion. 
 Among them was a girl whom they were accustomed to 
 make the butt of their fun — whom none of them liked, 
 although she was honest and industrious. By a secret 
 understanding, a play of pawns was proposed ; and when 
 this girl's turn came to redeem hers, she was ordered to 
 go up to the castle and bring back three hairs from the 
 sleeping Emperor's beard. She set out on the instant, 
 while the others made themselves merry over her sim- 
 plicity. To their great surprise, however, she returned in 
 an hour, bringing with her three hairs, fiery-red in color 
 and of astonishing length. She related that, having en- 
 
326 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 tered the subterranean chambers, she was conducted by a 
 dwarf to the Emperor's presence, where, after having 
 drained a goblet of wine to his health, and that of the 
 Frau Empress, she received permission to pluck three 
 hairs from the imperial beard, on condition that she would 
 neither give them away nor destroy them. She faithfully 
 kept the promise. The hairs were laid away among her 
 trinkets ; and a year afterwards she found them changed 
 into rods of gold, an inch in diameter. Of course the 
 former Cinderella then became the queen. 
 
 There are several stories, somewhat similar in character, 
 of which musicians or piping herdsmen are the heroes. 
 'Now it is a company of singers or performers, who, passing 
 the KyfFhauser late at night, give the sleeping Emperor a. 
 serenade ; now it is a shepherd, who saying- to himself, 
 " This is for the Kaiser Friedrich " plays a simple melody 
 upon his flute. In each case an entrance opens into the 
 mountain. Either a princess comes forth with wine, or a 
 page conducts the musicians into the Emperor's presence. 
 Sometimes they each receive a green bough in payment, 
 sometimes a horse's head, a stick, or a bunch of flax. All 
 are either dissatisfied with their presents, or grow tired of 
 carrying them, and throw them away, — except one (gener- 
 ally the poorest and silliest of the company), who takes his 
 home with him as a souvenir of the adventure, or as an 
 ironical present to his wife, and finds it, next morning, 
 changed into solid gold. How faithful are all these legends 
 to the idea of compensation ! It is always the poor, the 
 simple, the persecuted to whom luck comes. 
 
 I have two more stories, of a different character, to re- 
 peat. A poor laborer in Tilleda had an only daughter, 
 who was betrothed to a young man equally poor, but good 
 and honest. It was the evening before the wedding-day ; 
 the guests were already invited, and the father suddenly 
 remembered with dismay that there was only one pot, one 
 dish, and two plates in the house. " What shall we do ? '' 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 327 
 
 he cried. " You must go up to the KyfFhauser, and ask 
 the Princess to lend us some dishes." Hand in hand the 
 lovers climbed the mountain, and at the door of the cavern 
 found. the Princess, who smiled upon them as they came. 
 They made their request timidly and with fear ; but she 
 bade them take heart, gave them to eat and drink, and 
 filled a large basket with dishes, spoons, and everything 
 necessary for a wedding feast. When they returned to the 
 village with their burden, it was day. All things were 
 strange ; they recognized neither house nor garden : the 
 people were unknown to them, and wore a costume they 
 had never before seen. Full of distress and anxiety, they 
 sought the priest, who, after hearing their story, turned 
 over the church-books, and found that they had been ab- 
 sent just two hundred years. 
 
 The other legend is that of Peter Klaus, the source from 
 which Irving drew his liip Van Winkle. I had read it 
 before (as have, no doubt, many of my readers), but was 
 not acquainted with its local habitation until my visit to 
 the KyfFhauser. It was first printed, so far as I can learn, 
 in a collection made by Otmar, and published in Bremen 
 in the year 1800. Given in the briefest outline, it is as 
 follows : Peter Klaus, a shepherd of Sittendorf, pastured 
 his herd on the KyfFhauser, and was in the habit of collect- 
 ing the animals at the foot of an old ruined wall. He 
 noticed that one of his goats regularly disappeared for 
 some hours every day ; and, finding that she went into an 
 opening between two of the stones, he followed her. She 
 led him into a vault, where she began eating grains of oats 
 which fell from the ceiling. Over his head he heard the 
 stamping and neighing of horses. Presently a squire in 
 ancient armor appeared, and beckoned to him without 
 speaking. He was led up stairs, across a court-yard, and 
 into an open space in the mountain, sunken deep between 
 rocky walls, where a company of knights, stern and silent 
 were playing at bowls. Peter Klaus was directed by ges- 
 
328 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 tures to set up the piris, which he did in mortal fear, until 
 the quality of a can of wine, placed at his elbow, stimulated 
 his courage. Finally, after long service and many deep 
 potations, he slept. When he awoke, he found himself 
 lying among tall weeds, at the foot of the ruined wall. 
 Herd and dog had disappeared ; his clothes were in tatters, 
 and a long beard hung upon his breast. He wandered 
 back to the village, seeking his goats, and marveling that 
 he saw none but strange faces. The people gathered 
 around him, and answered his questions, but each name he 
 named was that upon a stone in the church-yard. Finally, 
 a woman who seemed to be his wife pressed through the 
 crowd, leading a wild-looking boy, and with a baby in her 
 arms. " What is your name "^ " he asked. 
 
 "Maria." 
 
 " And your father ? " 
 
 "He was Peter Klaus, God rest his soul ! who went up 
 the KyfFhauser with his ' herd, twenty years ago, and has 
 never been seen since." 
 
 Irving has taken almost every feature of his story from 
 this legend ; but his happy translation of it to the Catskills, 
 and the grace and humor which he has added to it, have 
 made it a new creation. Peter Klaus is simply a puppet of 
 the people's fancy, but Rip Van Winkle has an immortal 
 vitality of his own. Few, however, who look into the wild 
 little glen, on climbing to the Catskill Mountain House, 
 suspect from what a distance was wafted the thistle-down 
 which there dropped and grew into a ^new plant, with the 
 richest flavor and color of the soil. Here, on the Kyffhau- 
 ser, I find the stalk whence it was blown by some fortunate 
 wind. 
 
 No doubt some interesting discoveries might be made, 
 if the ruins were cleared and explored. At the eastern 
 end of the crest are the remains of another tower, from 
 which I detected masses of masonry rising through the 
 oaks, on a lower platform of the mountain. The three 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 329 
 
 wild women informed me that there was a chapel down 
 there ; but my small boy had never heard of it, and didn't 
 know the way. 
 
 " Where do you come from, boy ? " the woman asked. 
 
 « From Kelbra." 
 
 " O ! ah ! To be sure you don't know ! The Kelbra 
 people are blockheads and asses, every one of 'em. They 
 think their Rothenburg is everything, when the good Lord 
 knows that the Kaiser Red-beard never lived there a day 
 of his life. From Kelbra, indeed ! It's the Tilleda people 
 that know how to guide strangers ; you've made a nice 
 mess of it, Herr, taking a Kelbra boy ! " 
 
 Perhaps I had ; but it wasn't pleasant to be told of it in 
 that way. So I took my boy, said farewell to Barbarossa's 
 tower, and chmbed down the steep of slippery grass and 
 stones to the ruins of the lower castle. The scrubby oaks 
 and alder thickets were almost impenetrable ; a single path 
 wound among them, leading me through three ancient 
 gateways, but avoiding several chambers, the walls of which 
 are still partially standing. However, I finally reached the 
 chapel — a structure more Byzantine than Gothic, about 
 fifty feet in length. It stands alone, at the end of a court- 
 yard, and is less ruined than any other part of the castle. 
 The windows remain, and a great part of the semicircular 
 chancel, but I could find no traces of sculpture. The floor 
 had been dug up in search of buried treasure. Looking 
 through an aperture in the wall, I saw another inclosure 
 of ruins on a platform further below. The castle of Kyff- 
 hauser, then, embraced three separate stages of buildings, 
 all connected, and forming a pile nearly a quarter of a mile 
 in length. Before its fall it must have been one of the 
 stateliest fortresses in Germany. 
 
 I descended the mountain in the fierce, silent heat which 
 made it seem so lonely, so far removed from the bright 
 world of the Golden Mead. There were no flocks on the 
 dry pasture-slopes, no farmers in the stubble-fields under 
 
330 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 them ; and the village of Tilleda, lying under my eyes, 
 bared its deserted streets to the sun. There, nevertheless, 
 I found rest and refreshment in a decent inn. My desti- 
 nation was the town of Artern, on the Unstrut, at the east- 
 ern extremity of the Golden Mead ; and I had counted on 
 finding a horse and hay-cart, at least, to carry me over the 
 intervening nine or ten miles. But no ; nothing of the 
 kind was to be had in Tilleda — even a man to shoulder 
 my pack was an unusual fortune, for which I must be grate- 
 ful. " Wait till evening," said the landlady, after describing 
 to me the death of her husband, and her business troubles, 
 " and then Hans Meyer will go with you." 
 
 The story being that the family of Goethe originally came 
 from Artern, and that some of its members were still living 
 in the neighborhood, I commenced my inquiries at Tilleda. 
 
 " Is there anybody of the name of Goethe in the village ?" 
 I asked the landlady. 
 
 " Yes," said she, " there 's the blacksmith Goethe, but I 
 believe he 's the only one." 
 
 The poet's great-grandfather having been a blacksmith, 
 and the practice of a certain trade or profession being so 
 frequently hereditary among the Germans, I did not doubt 
 but that this was a genuine branch of the family. All that 
 the landlady could say of the man, in reply to my questions, 
 was, " He 's only a blacksmith." 
 
 The sun had nearly touched the tower on the KyfFhauser 
 when Hans Meyer and I set out for Artern ; but the fields 
 still glowed with heat, and the far blue hills, which I must 
 reach, seemed to grow no nearer, as I plodded painfully 
 along the field-roads. The man was talkative enough, and 
 his singular dialect was not difficult to understand. He 
 knew no tradition which had not already been gathered, 
 but, like a genuine farmer, entertained me with stories of 
 hail-storms, early and late frosts, and inundations. He was 
 inveterately wedded to old fashions, and things of the past, 
 had served against the Republicans in 1849, and not a glim- 
 
THE KYFFHAUSER AND ITS LEGENDS. 331 
 
 mering idea of the present national movement had ever 
 entered his mind. I had heard that this region was the 
 home of conservative land-owners, and ignorant peasants 
 who believe in them, but I am not willing to take Hans 
 Meyer as a fair specimen of the people. 
 
 It is wearisome to tell of a weary journey, The richest 
 fields may be monotonous, and the sweetest pastoral scenery 
 become tame, without change. I looked over the floor of 
 the Golden Mead, with ardent longing towards the spire of 
 Artern in the east, and with a faint interest towards the 
 castle of Sachsenberg, in the south, perched above a gorge 
 through which the Unstrut breaks its way. The sun went 
 down in a splendor of color, the moon came up like a 
 bronze shield, grain-wagons rolled homewards, men and 
 women flocked into the villages, with rakes and forks on 
 their shoulders, and a cool dusk slowly settled over the 
 great plain. Hans Meyer was silent at last, and I was in 
 that condition of tense endurance when an unnecessary re- 
 mark is almost as bad as an insult ; and so we went over 
 the remaining miles, entering the gates of Artern by moon- 
 light. 
 
 The first thing I did in the morning, was to recommence 
 my inquiries in regard to Goethe. " Yes," said the land- 
 lord, "his stammhaus (ancestral house) is here, but the 
 family don't live in it any longer. If you want to see it, 
 one of the boys shall go with you. There was formerly a 
 smithy in it ; but the smiths of the family left, and then it 
 was changed." 
 
 I followed the boy through the long, roughly-paved main 
 street, until we had nearly reached the western end of the 
 town, when he stopped before an old yellow house, two 
 stories high, with a steep tiled roof Its age, I should 
 guess, was between two and three hundred years. The 
 street-front, above the ground floor, — which, having an 
 arched entrance and only one small window, must have 
 been the former smithy, — showed its framework of timber, 
 
332 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 as one sees in all old German houses. Before the closely 
 ranged windows of the second story there were shelves with 
 pots of gilliflowers and carnations in blossom. It was a 
 genuine mechanic's house, with no peculiar feature to dis- 
 tinguish it particularly from the others in the street. A 
 thin-faced man, with sharp black mustache, looked out of 
 one of the windows, and spoke to the boy, who asked 
 whether I wished to enter. But as there was really nothing 
 to be seen, 1 declined. 
 
 According to the chronicles of Artern, the great-grand- 
 father Goethe, the blacksmith, had a son who was appren- 
 ticed to a tailor, and who, during his wanderschaft, sojourned 
 awhile in Frankfort-on-the-Main. He there captivated the 
 fancy of a rich widow, the proprietress of the Willow-Bush 
 Hotel (the present " Hotel Union"), and married her, — or 
 she married him, — a fact which presupposes good looks, 
 or talents, or both, on his part. His son, properly edu- 
 cated, became in time the Councillor Goethe, who begat 
 the poet. The latter, it is said, denied that the tailor was 
 his grandfather, whence it is probable that an additional 
 generation must be interpolated; but the original black- 
 smith has been accepted, I believe, by the most of Goethe's 
 biographers. A generation, more or less, makes no differ- 
 ence. Goethe's ancestry, like that of Shakespeare, lay in 
 the ranks of the people, and their strong blood ran in the 
 veins of both. 
 
 No author ever studied himself with such a serene, ob- 
 jective coolness as Goethe ; but when he speaks to the 
 world, one always feels that there is a slight flavor of dich- 
 tung infused into his wahrheit. Or perhaps, with the arro- 
 gance natural to every great intellect, he reasoned outward, 
 and assumed material from spiritual facts. , Fiction being 
 only Truth seen through a different medium, the poet who 
 can withdraw far enough from his own nature to contem- 
 plate it as an artistic study, works under a different law 
 from that of the autolSiographer. So when Goethe illus- 
 
THE KYFFHAUSEE AND ITS LEGENDS. 833 
 
 trates himself, we must not always look closely for facts. 
 The only instance, which I can recall at this moment, 
 wherein he speaks of his ancestors, is the poetical frag- 
 ment : — 
 
 " Stature from father, and the mood 
 
 Stern views of life compelling; 
 From mother I take the joyous heart, 
 
 And the love of story-telling; 
 Great-grandsire's passion was the fair — 
 
 What if I still reveal it? 
 Great-grandam's was pomp, and gold, and show, 
 
 And in my bones I feel it." 
 
 It is quite as possible, here, that Goethe deduced the 
 character of his ancestors from his own, as that he sought 
 an explanation of the latter in their peculiarities. The 
 great-gran dsire may have been Textor, of his mother's 
 line ; it is not likely that he knew much of his father's 
 family-tree. The burghers of Frankfurt were as proud, in 
 their day, as the nobility of other lands ; and Goethe, at 
 least in his tastes and habits, was a natural aristocrat. It 
 is not known that he ever visited Artern. 
 
 Concerning the other members of the original fauuly, the 
 landlord said ; " Not one of them lives here now. The last 
 Goethe in the neighborhood was a farmer, who had a lease 
 of the scharfrichterei " (an isolated property, set apart for 
 the use of the government executioner), " but he left here 
 some six or eight years ago, and emigrated to America." 
 " Was he the executioner ? " I asked. " 0, by no means ! " 
 the landlord answered ; " he only leased the farm ; but it 
 was not a comfortable place to live upon, and, besides, he 
 didn't succeed very well." So the blacksmith in Tilleda 
 and the American Goethe are the only representatives left. 
 What if a great poet for our hemisphere should, in time, 
 spring from the loins of the latter ? 
 
 I ordered a horse and carriage with no compunctions of 
 conscience, for I was really unable to make a second day's 
 journey on foot. The golden weather had lasted just long 
 
334 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 enough to complete my legendary pilgrimage. The morn- 
 ing at Artern came on with cloud and distant gray sweeps 
 of rain, which soon blotted out the dim headland of the 
 Kyffhauser. I followed the course of the Unstrut, which 
 here reaches the northern limit of his wanderings, and 
 winds southward to seek the Saale. The valley of the river 
 is as beautiful as it is secluded, and every hour brings a 
 fresh historical field to the traveller. No highway enters 
 it ; only rude country roads lead from village to village, and 
 rude inns supply plain cheer. Tourists are here an unknown 
 variety of the human race. 
 
 I passed the ruins of Castle Wendelstein, battered during 
 the Thirty Years' War, — a manufactory of beet-sugar now 
 peacefully smokes in the midst of its gray vaults and but- 
 tresses, — and then Memleben, where Henry the Bird- 
 Snarer lived when he was elected Emperor, and Otto II. 
 founded a grand monastery. Other ruins and ancient 
 battle-fields followed, and finally Nebra, where, in 531, the 
 Thuringians fought with the Franks three days, and lost 
 their kingdom. On entering Nebra, I passed an inn with 
 the curious sign of " Care " (Sorge), — represented by a 
 man with a most dismal face, and his head resting hope- 
 lessly upon his hand. An inn of evilest omen ; and, as- 
 suredly, I did not stop there. 
 
 Further down the valley, green vineyards took the place 
 of the oak forests, and the landscapes resembled those of 
 the Main and the Neckar. There were still towns, and 
 ruined castles, and battle-fields, but I will not ask the 
 reader to explore the labyrinthine paths of German history. 
 The atmosphere of the legend had faded, and I looked with 
 an indifferent eye on the storied scenes which the windings 
 of the river unfolded. At sunset, I saw it pour its waters 
 into those of the Saale, not far from the railway station of 
 Naumburg, where I came back to the highways of travel. 
 
A WEEK ON CAPEI. 
 
 k 
 
Looking seaward from Naples, the island of Capri lies 
 across the throat of the bay like a vast natural breakwater, 
 grand in all its proportions, and marvelously picturesque in 
 outline. The fancy is at once excited, and seeks to find 
 some definite figure therein. Long ago, an English traveller 
 compared it to a couchant lion ; Jean Paul, on the strength 
 of some picture he had seen, pronounced it to be a sphinx ; 
 while Gregorovius, most imaginative of all, finds that it is 
 " an antique sarcophagus, with bas-reliefs of snaky-haired 
 Eumenides, and the figure of Tiberius lying upon it." 
 
 Capri is not strictly a by-way of travel, inasmuch as most 
 of the tourists who come to Naples take the little bay- 
 steamer, visit the Blue Grotto, touch an hour at the marina^ 
 or landing-place, and return the same evening via Sorrento. 
 But this is like reading a title-page, instead of the volume 
 behind it. The few who climb the rock, and set themselves 
 quietly down to study the life and scenery of the island, find 
 an entire poem, to which no element of beauty or interest 
 is wanting, opened for their perusal. Like Venice, Capri is 
 a permanent island in the traveller's experience — detached 
 from the mainland of Italian character and associations. It 
 is not a grand dramatic epic, to which light waves keep time, 
 tinkling on the marble steps ; but a bright, breezy pastoral 
 of the sea, with a hollow, rumbling undertone of the Past, 
 like that of the billows in its caverns. Venice has her 
 generations, her ages of heroic forms : here one sole figure, 
 supremely fierce and abominable, usurps the historic back- 
 ground. Not only that : its shadow is projected over the 
 life of the island, now and for all time to come. Here* 
 where Nature has placed terror and beauty side by side> 
 
338 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 the tragedy of one man is inextricably blended with the 
 idyllic annals of a simple, innocent people. To feel this, 
 one must live a little while on Capri. 
 
 It was nearly the end of January, when Antonio, our boat- 
 man, announced that we had the " one day out of a dozen,'* 
 for crossing the ten miles of sea between Sorrento and the 
 island. I had my doubts, placing my own weather-instinct 
 against the boatman's need of making a good fare in a dull 
 season ; but we embarked, nevertheless. The ripple of a 
 sirocco could even then be seen far out on the bay, and a 
 cloudy wall of rain seemed to be rising from the sea. " Non 
 c'e paura" said the sailors ; " we have a god-mother at the 
 marina of Capri, and we are going to burn a lamp for her 
 to-night. She will give us good weather." They pulled 
 gayly, and we soon passed the headland of Sorrento, beyond 
 which the mouth of the Bay of Naples opened broadly to 
 view. Across the water, Ischia was already dim with rain ; 
 and right in front towered Capri, huge, threatening, and to 
 the eye inaccessible but for the faint glimmer of houses at 
 the landing-place. 
 
 Here we met the heavy swell rolling in from the sea. 
 The men bent to their oars, with cries of " Hal-li ! mac- 
 cheroni a Capri ! " The spray of the coming rain struck 
 us, but it was light and warm. Antonio set the sail, and we 
 steered directly across the strait, the sky becoming darker 
 and wilder every minute. The bold Cape of Minerva, with 
 its Odyssean memories, and the Leap of Tiberius, on Capri^ 
 were the dim landmarks by which we set our course. It 
 was nearly two hours before we came to windward of the 
 latter, and I said to Antonio : " It is one day out of a dozen 
 for cold and wet." He was silent, and made an attempt to 
 look melancholy. However, the rocks already overhung us ; 
 in front was a great curving sweep of gardens, mounting 
 higher and ever higher in the twilight ; and the only boat 
 we had seen on the deserted bay drew in towards us, and 
 made for the roadstead. 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 339 
 
 The row of fishermen's houses on the beach beckoned 
 welcome after the dreary voyage. At first I saw no human 
 being, but presently some women and children appeared, 
 hurrying to the strand. A few more lifts on the dying 
 swell, and our keel struck the shore. The sailors jumped 
 into the water; one of the women planted a tall bench 
 against the bow, and over this bridge we were landed. 
 There was already a crowd surrounding us with clamors 
 for gifts and service. The woman with the bench was the 
 noisiest : " It is mine ! " she continually cried, — "/brought 
 it ! " I gave her a copper coin, expecting, after my Nea- 
 politan experiences to hear wilder cries for more ; but she 
 only uttered, "j&A f due hajocchi! " in an indescribable tone, 
 shouldered her bench, and walked away. Antonio picked 
 out two maidens, piled our baggage upon their heads, and 
 we set off for the town of Capri. The clamorous crowd 
 dissolved at once ; there was neither insult nor pursuit. It 
 was a good-humored demonstration of welcome — nothing 
 more. 
 
 It was but a single step from the strand — the only little 
 fragment of beach on ten miles of inaccessible shore — to 
 the steep and stony pathway leading up the height. It still 
 rained, and the night was rapidly falling. High garden 
 walls further darkened the way, which was barely wide 
 enough to allow two persons to pass, and the bed of which, 
 collecting the rain from the steeps on either side, was like 
 that of a mountain torrent. Before us marched the bare- 
 legged porteresses, with astonishing lightness and swiftness, 
 while we plodded after, through the rattling waters, often 
 slipping on the wet stones, and compelled to pause at every 
 corner to regain our breath. The bright houses on the 
 ridge overhead shone as if by their own light, crowning the 
 dusky gardens, and beckoning us upwards. 
 
 After nearly half an hour of such climbing, we emerged 
 from between the walls. A vast, hollow view opened dimly 
 down to the sea for a moment ; then we passed under an arch, 
 
340 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 and found ourselves in the little square of the town, which 
 is planted on the crest of the island, at its lowest point. 
 Thei'e are not forty feet of level ground ; the pavement 
 falls to both shores. A few paces down the southern slope 
 brought us to a large white mansion, beside which the 
 crown of a magnificent palm-tree rustled in the wind. 
 This was the hostelry of Don Michele Pagano, known to 
 all artists who have visited Capri for the last twenty years. 
 A stately entrance, an ample staircase, and lofty, vaulted 
 chambers, gave the house a palatial air, as we came into it 
 out of the stormy night. The two maidens, who had car- 
 ried forty pounds apiece on their heads, were not in the 
 least flushed by their labor. The fee I gave seemed to me 
 very small, but they were so well pleased that Antonio's 
 voice, demanding, " Why don't you thank the Signore ? " 
 made them start out of a dream, — perhaps of pork and 
 macaroni. At once, like children saying their lessons, they 
 dipped a deep courtesy, side by side, saying, " Grazie^ Sig- 
 nore ! " I then first saw how pretty they were, how bright 
 their eyes, how dazzling their teeth, and how their smiles 
 flashed as they said " Good-night ! " Meanwhile, Don 
 Michele's daughter had kindled a fire on the hearth, there 
 was a promise of immediate dinner, and we began to like 
 Capri from that moment. 
 
 My first walk satisfied me that no one can make ac- 
 quaintance with the island, from a boat. Its sea-walls of 
 rock are so enormous, that they hide almost its entire habit- 
 able portion from view. In order to make any description 
 of its scenery clear to the reader, the prominent topograph- 
 ical features must be first sketched. Capri lies due south 
 of Naples, its longer diameter running east and west, so 
 that it presents its full broadside to the capital. Its out- 
 line, on the ground plan, is that of a short, broad-topped 
 boot, the toe pointing towards the Sorrentine headland. 
 The breadth, across the top, or western end, is two miles, 
 and the length of the island is about four miles. The town 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 341 
 
 of Capri lies just at the top of the instep, where the ankle 
 is narrowest, occupying also the crest between the northern 
 and southern shores. Immediately to the west of it rises a 
 tremendous mountain-wall, only to be scaled at one point. 
 All the island beyond this wall is elevated considerably 
 above the eastern half, the division being also municipal 
 and social. The eastern part, however, possesses the only 
 landing-places on both shores, whence it is the most ani- 
 mated and populous, claiming at least two thirds of the 
 entire number of five thousand souls on the island. The 
 most elevated points are the Salto (leap) di Tiberio, the 
 extreme eastern cape, which rises nearly a thousand feet 
 above the sea ; and Monte Solaro, a part of the dividing 
 wall which I have just mentioned, about double the height 
 of the Salto. In addition to the landing-place on the 
 northern shore, there is a little cove just opposite, below 
 the town, where boats can land in still weather. Else- 
 where, the rocks descend to the water in a sheer wall, from 
 one to eight hundred feet in height. Although so near 
 Naples, the winds from the mountains of the Peninsula are 
 somewhat softened in crossing the bay, and the winter 
 temperature is about ten degrees higher in consequence. 
 
 When we crossed the little square of the town to the 
 entrance-gate, on the morning after our arrival, there was a 
 furious tramontana blowing. The whole circuit of the Bay 
 of Naples was visible, drawn in hard, sharp outlines, and 
 the blue basin of water was freckled with thousands of 
 shifting white-caps. The resemblance of the bay to a vast 
 volcanic crater struck my fancy: the shores and islands 
 seem to be the ruins of its rim. Such a wind, in Naples, 
 would have been intolerable: here it was only strong at 
 exposed points, and its keen edge was gone. We turned 
 eastward, along the narrow, dirty street, to get into the 
 country. In a hundred yards the town ceased, and the 
 heavy walls gave place to enormous hedges of cactus. A 
 boy, walking the same way, asked : " Are you going to 
 
842 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 Timberio " (Tiberius) ? The ruins of the Villa Jovis, the 
 principal palace of the Emperor, were already to be seen, 
 on the summit of the eastern headland of the island. 
 Along a roughly paved lane, under the shade of carob and 
 olive trees, we finally came to a large country-house in a 
 most picturesque state of ruin. A crumbling archway, 
 overhung by a fringe of aloes, which had thrust their roots 
 between the stones, attracted my attention, and I began to 
 sketch it. Not many minutes elapsed before fite or six 
 boys came out, and watched me from the arch. They 
 would have been good accessories, but, w'henever I looked 
 at one, he got out of the way. Presently they brought an 
 aloe, and set it upon the rocks ; but, seeing that I paid no 
 attention to it, one of them remarked with a grimace, " No 
 butiglia," — meaning that he expected no gratuity from me. 
 They were lively, good-natured imps, and so it was a pleas- 
 ure to disappoint them agreeably. 
 
 We went also down the southern slope of the island, and 
 came at random into the Val Tragara, — a peaceful sol- 
 itude, where twenty-five centuries of labor have turned the 
 hostile rocks into tiers of ever-yielding gardens. One range 
 of these is supported upon arches of masonry that formerly 
 upheld the highway which Tiberius constructed between 
 his palaces. I afterwards found other traces of the road, 
 leading in easy zigzags to the site of the fourth palace on 
 San Michele. Descending deeper in the Val Tragara we 
 missed the main path, and stumbled down the channels of 
 the rain between clumps of myrtle and banks whereon the 
 red anemone had just begun to open its blossoms. The 
 olive-trees, sheltered from the wind, were silent, and their 
 gray shadows covered the suggestive mystery of the spot. 
 For here Tiberius is supposed to have hidden those rites of 
 the insane Venus to which Suetonius and Tacitus so darkly 
 
 allude. 
 
 " Non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa." 
 
 A single almond-tree, in flower, made its own sunshine 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 343 
 
 in the silvery gloom ; and the secluded beauties of the 
 place tempted us on, until the path dropped into a ravine, 
 which fell towards the sea. Following the line of the an- 
 cient arches theue is another path — the only level walk on 
 the island — leading to a terrace above the three pointed 
 rocks off the southern coast, called the Faraglioni. In the 
 afternoon, when all the gardens and vineyards from the 
 edge of the white cliffs to the town along the ridge lie in 
 light, and the huge red and gray walls beyond, literally 
 piled against the sky, are in hazy shadow, the views from 
 this path are poems written in landscape forms. One does 
 not need to remember that here once was Rome ; that 
 beyond the sea lie Sicily and Carthage ; that Augustus con- 
 secrated the barren rock below to one of his favorites, and 
 jested with Thrasyllus at one of his last feasts. The de- 
 light of the eye fills you too completely ; and Capri, as you 
 gaze, is released from its associations, classic and diabolic. 
 If Nature was here profaned by man, she has long ago 
 washed away the profanation. Her pure air and healthy 
 breezes tolerate no moral diseases. Such were brought 
 hither ; but they took no root, and have left no trace, ex- 
 cept in the half-fabulous " Timberio " of the people. 
 
 It is time to visit the Villa Jovis, the Emperor's chief 
 residence. The tramontana still blew when we set out; 
 but, as I said, it had lost its sharp edge in coming over the 
 bay, and was deliciously bracing. As the gulf opened 
 below us, afler passing Monte San Michele, we paused to 
 look at the dazzling panorama. Naples was fair in sight ; 
 and the smoke of Vesuvius, following the new lava, seemed 
 nearly to have reached Torre del Greco. While we were 
 studying the volcano through a glass, a tall man in Scotch 
 cap and flannel shirt came up, stopped, and addressed us 
 in Italian. 
 
 " You see that white house yonder on the cliff? " said 
 he ; "a Signore Inglese lives there. It's a nice place, a 
 beautiful situation. There's the place for the cows, and 
 
344 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 there are the cohimbaria, and all sorts of things. It's what 
 they call a quinta in Portugal." 
 
 " Is the Englishman married ? " I asked. 
 
 " I don't know," he replied ; " I believe there's a certain 
 woman in the house." 
 
 I handed him the glass, which he held to his eyes for 
 five minutes, without saying a word. Suddenly he broke 
 out in English : " Yes, as you say, the powdery appearance 
 — the — ah, the sudden change ! Boreal weather, you 
 know ; but the indications seem to me, having watched and 
 kept the thing in view, quite — ah — quite of your opin- 
 ion : " 
 
 I was speechless, as may easily be imagined ; and, before 
 I could guess what to reply, he handed me the glass, took 
 off his cap, said : " Here's hoping — ah, wishing that we 
 may meet again — 'perha'ps!^^ and went off with tremen- 
 dous strides. 
 
 *' Who is that, Augusto ? " I asked of the small Caprese 
 boy who carried our books and umbrellas. 
 
 " Un Signo* Inglese'' 
 
 " Is anything the matter with him ? " 
 
 " E un po' fazzo " (a little cracked). 
 
 " Where does he live ? " 
 
 " Yonder ! " said Augusto, pointing to the very house, 
 and place for the cows, and the columbaria, to which the 
 gentleman himself had called my attention. It was his 
 own house ! The " certain woman," I afterwards learned, 
 was his legal wife, a girl of Capri. As for himself, he 
 bears a n^me noted in literature, and is the near relative 
 of three authors. 
 
 Two pleasant girls kept us company a little further, and 
 then we went on alone, by a steep, slippery path, paved 
 with stone, between the poor little fields of fig and olive. 
 The patches of wheat were scarcely bigger than cottage 
 flower-beds, and in many places a laborious terrace sup- 
 ported only ground enough to produce a half-peck of grain. 
 
A WEEK ON CAPBL 345 
 
 Lupines and horse-beans are the commonest crop at this 
 season. Along our path bloomed " the daisy-star that 
 never sets," with anemone and golden broom. The Villa 
 Jo vis was full in view, and not distant ; but the way first 
 led us to the edge of the cliffs on the southeastern side of 
 the island. From a rough pulpit of masonry we looked 
 down on the wrinkled sea near a thousand feet below. 
 The white-caps were but the tiniest sprinkles of silver on 
 its deep-blue ground. 
 
 As we mounted towards the eastern headland, the tremen- 
 dous walls of the western half of Capri rose bold and bright 
 against the sky ; but the arcs of the sea horizon, on either 
 side, were so widely extended that they nearly clasped be- 
 hind Monte Solaro. It was a wonderful, an indescribable 
 view ; how can I give it in words ? Here I met an old man, 
 in a long surtout, who stopped and conversed a minute in 
 French. He was a soldier of Napoleon, now the keeper of 
 a little restaurant at the Salto di Tiberio, and had just been 
 made happy by the cross and a pension. The restaurant 
 was opened by a peasant, and we passed through it to the 
 Salto. A protecting rampart of masonry enables you to 
 walk to the very brink. The rock falls a thousand feet, 
 and so precipitously that the victims flung hence must 
 have dropped into the waves. We looked directly across the 
 strait to the Cape of Minerva, and towards Salerno as well 
 as Naples. The snow-crowned Monte Sant* Angelo, rising 
 in the centre, gave the peninsula a broad pyramidal form, 
 buttressed by the headlands on either side. The Isles of 
 the Sirens were full in view ; and, beyond them, the whole 
 curve of the Salernic gulf, to the far Calabrian cape of 
 Licosa. The distance was bathed in a flood of airy gold, 
 and the gradations in the color of the sea, from pale ame- 
 thyst to the darkest sapphire below us, gave astonishing 
 breadth and depth to the immense perspective. . But the 
 wind, tearing round the point in furious gusts, seemed try- 
 ing to snatch us over the rampart, and the horror of the 
 height became insupportable. 
 
346 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 Much of the plan of the Villa Jovis may still be traced. 
 As we approached the ruins, which commence a few paces 
 beyond the Salto, a woman made her appearance, and 
 assumed the office of guide. " Here lived Timberio," said 
 she ; " he was a great man, a beautiful man, but 0, he was 
 a devil ! Down there are seven chambers, which you can 
 only see by a torch-light ; and here are the piscine, one for 
 salt water and one for fresh ; and now I'll show you the 
 mosaic pavement — all made by Timberio. 0, the devil 
 that he was ! " Timberio is the favorite demon of the 
 people of Capri. I suspect they would not give him up for 
 any consideration. A wine of the island is called the " Tears 
 of Tiberius " (when did he ever shed any, I wonder ? ), just 
 as the wine of Vesuvius is called the Tears of Christ. When 
 I pointed to the distant volcano, whose plume of silver smoke 
 was the sign of the active eruption, and said to the woman, 
 " Timberio is at work yonder ! " she nodded her head, and 
 answered : " Ah, the devil ! to be sure he is." 
 
 We picked our way through the ruins, tracing three 
 stories of the palace, which must have been four, if not 
 five stories high on the land side. Some drums of marble 
 columns are scattered about, bits of stucco remain at the 
 bases of the walls ; there is a corridor paved with mosaic, 
 descending, curiously enough, in an inclined plane, and the 
 ground-plan of a small theatre ; but the rubbish left does 
 not even hint of the former splendor. It is not one of those 
 pathetic ruins which seem to appeal to men for preserva- 
 tion ; it rather tries to hide itself from view, welcoming the 
 broom, the myrtle, and the caper-shrub to root-hold in its 
 masses of brick and mortar. 
 
 On the topmost platform of ruin is the little chapel of 
 Santa Maria del Soccorso, together with the hermitage of 
 a good-natured friar, who brings you a chair, offers you bits 
 of Tiberian marble, and expects a modest alms. Here I 
 found the wild Englishman, sitting on a stone bench beside 
 the chapel. He pointed over the parapet to the awful 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 347 
 
 precipice, and asked me: "Did you ever go over there ? / 
 did once — to get some jonquils. You know the rock- 
 jonquils are the finest." Then he took my glass, looked 
 through it at the distant shores, and began to laugh. '' This 
 reminds me," said he, " of a man who was blown up with his 
 house several hundred feet into the air. He was immensely 
 frightened, when, all at once, he saw his neighbor's house 
 beside him — blown up too. And the neighbor called out : 
 * How long do you think it will take us to get down again ? ' 
 Cool — wasn't it ? " Thereupon he went to the ladies of 
 the party, whom he advised to go to the marina., and see the 
 people catch shrimps. " It's a beautiful sight," he said. 
 " The girls are so fresh and rosy — but, then, so are the 
 shrimps ! " 
 
 It is no lost time, if you sit down upon a block of marble 
 in the Villa Jovis, and dream a long, bewildering day-dream. 
 Here it is almost as much a riot for the imagination to 
 restore what once was, as to create what might be. The 
 temples of Minerva and Apollo, across the strait, were both 
 visible from this point. Looking over Capri, you place the 
 second palace of Tiberius on the summit of Monte Tuoro, 
 which rises against the sea on your right; the third on the 
 southern side of the island, a little further ; the fourth on 
 Monte San Michele ; the fifth and sixth beyond the town 
 of Capri, near the base of the mountain wall. Roads con- 
 necting these piles of splendor cross the valleys on high 
 arches, and climb the peaks in laborious curves. Beyond 
 the bay, the headland of Misenum and the shores of Baiae 
 are one long glitter of marble. Villas and temples crown 
 the heights of Puteoli, and stretch in an unbroken line to 
 Neapolis. Here the vision grows dim, but you know what 
 magnificence fills the whole sweep of the shore — Portici 
 and Pompeii and Stabiae, growing visible again as the pal- 
 aces shine above the rocks of Surrentum! 
 
 After the wonder that such things were, the next greatest 
 wonder is that they have so utterly vanished. What is 
 
848 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 preserved is so fresh and solid that Time seems to have 
 done the least towards their destruction. The masonry of 
 Capri can scarcely have been carried away, while such 
 quarries — still unexhausted — were supplied by the main- 
 land ; and the tradition is probably correct, that the palaces 
 of Tiberius were razed to the ground immediately after his 
 fall. The charms of the island were first discovered by 
 Augustus. Its people were still Greek, in his day ; and it 
 belonged to the Greek Neapolis, to which he gave the larger 
 and richer Ischia in exchange for it. The ruins of the Villa 
 Jovis are supposed to represent, also, the site of his palace ; 
 and Tiberius, who learned diplomacy from the cunning 
 Emperor, and crime from the Empress, his own mother, 
 first came hither with him. A period of twenty or thirty 
 years saw the splendors of Capri rise and fall. After 
 Tiberius, the island ceased to have a history. 
 
 Every walk on these heights, whence you look out far 
 over bays, seas, and shores, is unlike anything else in the 
 world. It is surprising what varieties of scenery are 
 embraced in this little realm. In the afternoon we saw 
 another phase of it on the southern shore, at a point 
 called the Marina Piccola. After passing below the town 
 and the terraced fields, we came upon a wild slope, grown 
 with broom and mastic and arbutus, among which cows 
 were feeding. Here the island shelves down rapidly be- 
 tween two near precipices. The wind was not felt ; the air 
 was still and warm, and the vast, glittering sea basked in the 
 sun. At the bottom we found three fishers' houses stuck 
 among the rocks, more like rough natural accretions than 
 the work of human hand ; a dozen boats hauled up on the 
 stones in a cove about forty feet in diameter ; and one soli- 
 tary man. Silence and savage solitude mark the spot. East- 
 ward, the Faraglioni rise in gray-red, inaccessible cones ; 
 the ramparts of the Castello make sharp, crenelated zigzags 
 on the sky, a thousand feet above one's head ; and only a 
 few olive-groves, where Monte Tuoro falls into the Val 
 
A WEEK ON GAPBI. MB 
 
 Tragara, speak of cultivation. One might fancy himself to 
 be upon some lone Pacific island. The fisher told us that 
 in tempests the waves are hurled entirely over the houses, 
 and boats in the cove are then dashed to pieces. But in 
 May, the quails, weary with their flight from Africa, laud on 
 the slope above, and are caught in nets by hundreds and 
 thousands. 
 
 We had not yet exhausted the lower, or eastern half of 
 the island. Another morning was devoted to the Arco 
 Naturale, on the southern coast, between Monte Tuoro and 
 the Salto. Scrambling along a stony lane, between the 
 laborious terraces of the Capri farmers, we soon reached 
 the base of the former peak, where, completely hidden from 
 view, lay a rich circular basin of level soil, not more than a 
 hundred yards in diameter. Only two or three houses were 
 visible ; some boys, hoeing in a field at a distance, cried out, 
 " Signo\ un haioc' ! " with needless iteration, as if the words 
 were a greeting. Presently we came upon a white farm- 
 house, out of which issued an old woman and four wild, 
 frouzy girls — all of whom attached themselves to us, and 
 would not be shaken off. 
 
 We were already on the verge of the coast. Over the 
 jagged walls of rock we saw the plain of Paestum beyond 
 the sea, which opened deeper and bluer beneath us with 
 every step. The rich garden-basin and the amphitheatre 
 of terraced fields on Monte Tuoro were suddenly shut from 
 view. A perpendicular cliff of white rock arose on the 
 right ; and below some rough shelves wrought into fields 
 stood the Natural Arch, like the front of a shattered Gothic 
 cathedral. Its background was the sea, which shone through 
 the open arch. High up on the left, over the pointed crags, 
 stood a single rock shaped like a Rhine-wine beaker, hold- 
 ing its rounded cup to the sky. There is scarcely a wilder 
 view on Capri. 
 
 Following the rough path by which the people reach their 
 little fields, we clambered down the rocks, along the brink 
 
350 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 of steeps which threatened danger whenever the gusts of 
 wind came around the point. The frouzy girls were at hand, 
 and eager to help. When we declined, they claimed money 
 for having given us their company, and we found it prudent 
 to settle the bill at once. The slope was so steep that every 
 brink of rock, from above, seemed to be the last between us 
 and the sea. Our two boy-attendants went down somewhere, 
 out of sight ; and their song came up through the roar of 
 the wind like some wild strain of the Sirens whose isles we 
 saw in the distance. The rock is grandly arched, with a 
 main portal seventy or eighty feet high, and two open 
 windows at the sides. 
 
 Half-way down the cliff on the right is the grotto of 
 Mitromania — a name which the people, of course, have 
 changed into " Matrimonio," as if the latter word had an 
 application to Tiberius ! There were some two hundred 
 steps to descend, to a little platform of earth, under the 
 overhanging cliffs. Here the path dropped suddenly into 
 a yawning crevice, the floor of which was traversed with 
 cracks, as if ready to plunge into the sea which glimmered 
 up through them. Passing under the gloomy arch, we came 
 upon a chamber of reticulated Roman masonry, built in a 
 side cavity of the rock, which forms part of the main grotto 
 or temple of Mithras. The latter is about one hundred feet 
 deep and fifty wide, and opens directly toward^ the sunrise. 
 
 Antiquarians derive the name of the grotto from Magnum 
 Mithrce Antrum. There seems to be no doubt as to its 
 character : one can still perceive the exact spot where the 
 statue of the god was placed, to catch the first beams of his 
 own luminary, coming from Persia to be welcomed and 
 worshipped on the steeps of Capri. It is difficult to say 
 what changes time and earthquakes may not have wrought ; 
 but it seems probable that the ancient temple extended to 
 the front of the cliffs, and terminated in a platform hanging 
 over the sea. A Greek inscription found in this grotto 
 associates it both with the superstition and the cruelty of 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 851 
 
 Tiberius. I have not seen the original, which is in the 
 Museum at Naples, but here repeat it from the translation 
 of Gregorovius: — 
 
 " Ye who inhabit the Stygian land, beneficent demons. 
 Me, the unfortunate, take ye also now to your Hades, — 
 Me, whom not the will of the gods, but the power of the Ruler, 
 Suddenly smote with death, which, guiltless, I never suspected. 
 Crowned with so many a gift, enjoying the favor of Caesar, 
 Now he destroyeth my hopes and the hopes of my parents. 
 Not tifteen have I reached, not twenty the years I have numbered. 
 Ah ! and no more I behold the light of the beautiful heavens. 
 Hypatos am I by name : to thee I appeal, my brother, — 
 Parents, also, I pray you, unfortunate, mourn me no longer! " 
 
 A. human sacrifice is here clearly indicated. This mys- 
 terious cavern, with its diabolical associations, the giddy 
 .horror of the Sal to, and the traces of more than one con- 
 cealed way of escape, denoting the fear which is always 
 allied with cruelty, leave an impression which the efforts of 
 those historiasters who endeavor to whitewash Tiberius 
 cannot weaken with all their arguments. Napoleon was 
 one of his admirers, but his opinion on such matters is of 
 no great weight. When Dr. Adolf Stahr, however, devotes 
 a volume to the work of proving Tiberius to have been a 
 good and much-abused man, we turn to the pages of Sue- 
 tonius and the Spintrian medals, and are not convinced. 
 The comment of the old woman at the Villa Jovis will 
 always express the general judgment of mankind, — " 0, 
 che diavolo era Timherio ! " 
 
 If you stand at the gate of the town, and look eastward 
 towards the great dividing wall, you can detect, on the 
 corner nearest the sea, the zigzag line of the only path 
 which leads up to Anacapri and the western part of the 
 island. One morning when the boy Manfred, as he brought 
 our coffee, told us that the tramontana had ceased blowing, 
 we sent for horses, to make the ascent. We had been 
 awakened by volleys of musketry ; the church-bells were 
 chiming, and there were signs of a festa, — but Felice, the 
 
352 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 owner of the horses, explained the matter. Two young 
 men, mariners of Capri, had recently suffered shipwreck on 
 the coast of Calabria. Their vessel was lost, and they only 
 saved their lives because they happened, at the critical 
 moment, to call on the Madonna del Carmine. She heard 
 and helped them : they reached home in safety, and on this 
 day they burned a lamp before her shrine, had a mass said 
 in their names, and invited their families and friends to 
 share in the thanksgiving. I heard the bells with delight, 
 for they expressed the poetry of superstition based on 
 truth. 
 
 We set out, in 
 
 " The halcyon morn 
 To hoar February bom." 
 
 Indeed, such a day makes one forget tramontana, sirocco, 
 and all the other weather-evils of the Italian winter. Words 
 cannot describe the luxury of the air, the perfect stillness 
 and beauty of the day, and the far, illuminated shores of 
 the bay as they opened before us. We saw that the season 
 had turned, in the crocusses and violets which blossomed 
 beside the path — the former a lovely pale-purple flower, 
 with fire-tinted stamens. With Felice came two little girls, 
 Luigia and Serafina, the former of whom urged on a 
 horse, while the other carried on her head the basket of 
 provisions. Our small factotum, Augusto, took charge of 
 the bottles of wine, and Felice himself bore the shawls 
 and books. Beyond the town, the path wound between 
 clumps of myrtle, arbutus, and the delicate white erica, 
 already in bud. Under us lay the amphitheatre of vine- 
 yards and orange-groves; and the town of Capri, behind, 
 stretching from San Michele to the foot of the Castello, 
 seemed a fortified city of the Middle Ages. Over the 
 glassy sea rose Vesuvius, apparently peaceful, yet with a 
 demon at work under that silvery cloud ; Monte St. Angelo, 
 snowy and bleak ; and the rich slopes of Sorrento and 
 
A WEEK ON CAPKI. 353 
 
 One of the giumente (as Felice called his horses) turned 
 on seeing the rocky staircase, and tried to escape. But it 
 was a sign of protest, not of hope. They were small, un- 
 shod, very peaceful creatures, doomed to a sorry fate, but 
 they never had known anything better. Their horse-ideal 
 was derived from the hundred yards of wnstony path below 
 Capri, and the few fresh turnips and carrots which they get 
 on holidays. It was, perhaps, a waste of sympathy to pity 
 them ; yet one inclines to pity beasts more readily than men. 
 
 At the foot of the staircase we dismounted, and prepared 
 to climb the giddy steep. There are five hundred and 
 sixty steps, and they will average more than a foot in 
 height. It is a fatiguing but not dangerous ascent, the 
 overhanging side being protected by a parapet, while the 
 frequent landings afford secure resting-places. On the 
 white precipices grew the blue " flower of spring " {Jiore 
 della primaverd)^ and the air was sweet with odors of un- 
 known buds. Up and still up, we turned at each angle to 
 enjoy the wonderful aerial view, which, on such a morning, 
 made me feel half-fledged, with sprouting wings which ere- 
 long might avail to bear me across the hollow gulf. We 
 met a fellow with a splendid Roman head, whereon he was 
 carrying down to the marina the huge oaken knee of some 
 future vessel. Surprised at the size of the timber, I asked 
 Felicfe whether it really grew upon the island, and he said 
 there were large oaks about and beyond Anacapri. 
 
 Half-way up, the chapel of Sant' Antonio stands on a 
 little spur, projecting from the awful precipices. Looking 
 down, you see the ruins of the Palazzo a' Mare of Tiberius, 
 the bright turquoise patches where the water is shallow, 
 and its purple tint in shadow. White sails were stretching 
 across from the headland of Sorrento, making for the Blue 
 Grotto. There were two more very long and steep flights 
 of steps, and then we saw the gate on the summit, arched 
 against the sky. Hanging from the rocks, but inaccessible, 
 were starry bunches of daffodils. It had seemed to me, on 
 23 
 
354 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 looking at the rocky walls from Capri, that an easier point 
 of ascent might have been chosen, and I believe it is settled 
 that Tiberius visited his four western palaces by a differ- 
 ent path ; but I now saw that the islanders (not possessing 
 despotic power) have really chosen the most accessible 
 point. The table-land beyond does not, as I had imagined, 
 commence at the summit of the cliffs, but far below them, 
 and this staircase strikes the easiest level. 
 
 There are few equal surprises on Capri. Not many 
 more steps, and we found ourselves on a rich garden-plain, 
 bounded on the left by stony mountains, but elsewhere 
 stretching away to sky and sea, without a hint of the tre- 
 mendous cliffs below. Indeed, but for the luminous, trem- 
 bling haze around the base of the sky, one would not sur- 
 mise the nearness of the sea, but rather think himself to 
 be in some inland region. The different properties are 
 walled, but there is no need of terraces. Shining white 
 houses, with domed roofs, stand in the peaceful fields. The 
 fruit-trees grow rank, huge oaks and elms with ivied trunks 
 rise above them, and* the landscape breathes a sweet, idyllic 
 air. I noticed many cherry-trees of great size. The oaks, 
 though deciduous, still wore the green leaves of last sum- 
 mer, which will only be pushed from the twigs when this 
 year's buds open. High over this pleasant land, on a bare 
 rock, are the towers of a mediaeval castle, now named after 
 Barbarossa — the corsair, not the Emperor. 
 
 Presently we came to Anacapri, cleanest, most pictur- 
 esque and delightful of Italian villages. How those white 
 houses, with their airy loggias, their pillared pergolas, diud. 
 their trim gardens, wooed us to stay, and taste the delight 
 of rest, among a simple, beautiful, ignorant, and honest peo- 
 ple ! The streets were as narrow and shady as those of 
 any oriental city, and the houses mostly presented a blank 
 side to them ; but there were many arches, each opening 
 on a sunny picture of slim, dark-haired beauties spinning 
 silk, or grandams regulating the frolics of children. The 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 855 
 
 latter, seeing us, begged for hajocchi ; and even the girls 
 did the same, but laughingly, with a cheerful mimicry of 
 mendicancy. The piazza of the village is about as large as 
 the dining-room of a hotel. A bright little church occu- 
 pies one side ; and, as there was said to be a view from the 
 roof, we sent for the key, which was brought by three girls. 
 T made out the conjectured location of the ninth, tenth, 
 eleventh, and twelfth palaces of Tiberius, whereof only a 
 few stones remain, and then found that the best view was 
 that of the three girls. They had the low brow, straight 
 nose, short upper lip, and rounded chin which belongs to 
 the Caprese type of beauty, and is rather Hellenic than 
 Roman. Their complexion was dark, sunburnt rather than 
 olive, and there was a rich flush of blood on their cheeks ; 
 the eyes long and large, and the teeth white as the kernels 
 of fresh filberts. Their bare feet and hands, spoiled by 
 much tramping and hard work, were out of keeping with 
 their graceful, statuesque beauty. A more cheerful picture 
 of Poverty (for they are all miserably poor), it would-be 
 difficult to find. 
 
 It was but a mile further to the headland of Damecuta. 
 Felice, however, advised us rather to visit the tower of 
 Lima, above the Punta della Carena,' the northwestern 
 extremity of the island, and his advice proved to be good 
 in the end. We descended a stony steep into a little val- 
 ley, shaded by superb olive-groves, under which the crops 
 of lupines were already beginning to blossom. The dell 
 fell deeper as we advanced ; the grass was starred with red 
 anemones, and there were odors of concealed violets. A 
 mile further, we came upon a monastery, with a square, 
 crenelated tower, beyond which the fields gave place to a 
 narrow strip of stony down. All at once the shore yawned 
 beneath us, disclosing the extremity of the island, with 
 three deserted batteries on as many points of rock, a new 
 light-house, and the little cove where the troops of Murat 
 landed, when they surprised the English and recaptured 
 
856 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 Capri, in 1808. Westward, there was a wide sweep of 
 sunny sea ; northward, Ischia, Procida with its bright town, 
 Baiae and Pozzuoli. Here, at the foot of an old martello 
 tower, we made our noon halt, relieving Serafina of the 
 weight of her basket, and Augusto of his bottles. 
 
 The children and young girls, going out to their work in 
 the fields, begged rather pertinaciously. " We are very 
 poor," they cried ; " and you are so grand and beautiful you 
 can surely give us something." On the return, we met a 
 group of lively maidens coming up from Capri, who said, 
 when I told them there were no more hajocchi in my pock- 
 ets : " Well, then, give us a franc, and we will divide it 
 among us ! " Nevertheless, begging is not the nuisance 
 on Capri that it is on the main-land. It is always good- 
 humored, and refusal is never followed by maledictions. 
 The poor are positively and certainly poor, and they seem 
 to think it no shame to take what they can get over and 
 above their hard earnings. When one sees how very in- 
 dustrious and contented they are, it is rather a pleasure to 
 add a few coppers to the little store laid aside for their 
 holidays. 
 
 With every day, every hour, of our residence, we more 
 fully realized the grandeur and variety of the landscapes 
 of Capri. The week which I thought sufficient to enable 
 us to see the island thoroughly drew towards its close ; and 
 although we had gone from end to end of the rocky shores, 
 climbed all the principal peaks, and descended into every 
 dell and ravine, our enjoyment was only whetted, not ex- 
 hausted. The same scenes grow with every repetition. 
 There is not a path or crooked lane among the old houses, 
 which does not keep a surprise in reserve. The little 
 town, with only here and there a stone to show for the 
 Past, with no architectural interest whatever, is neverthe- 
 less a labyrinth of picturesque effects. In the houses, all 
 the upper chambers are vaulted, and the roofs domed above 
 them as in the Orient ; while on one or more sides there 
 
A WEEK ON CAPEI. 357 
 
 is a loggia or arched veranda, overhung with cornice of 
 grapevines, or gay with vases of blooming plants. Thick 
 walls, narrow windows, external staircases, palm-trees in 
 the gardens, and raised platforms of masonry placed so as 
 to catch the breezes of summer nights, increase the resem- 
 blance to the Orient. Living there, Syria seems to be 
 nearer than J^aples. 
 
 In the Val Tragara, near the sea, there is a large de- 
 serted monastery, the Certosa, dating from the fourteenth 
 century. Here, as elsewhere, the monks have either picked 
 out the choicest spot for their abode or have made it beau- 
 tiful by their labor. The Certosa is still stately and im- 
 posing in its ruin. In the church the plaster is peeling off, 
 leaving patches of gay fresco on the walls and ceiling. 
 The sacristy and an adjoining chapel are riddled with can- 
 non-balls; and two recumbent marble statues of the foun- 
 ders, resting on their sarcophagi, look at each other from 
 opposite sides, and seem to wonder what the desolation 
 means. The noble court-yard, surrounded with arched cor- 
 ridors, is dug up for a garden ; there is straw and litter in 
 the crumbling cells ; and the prior's apartment, with its 
 wonderful sea and coast views, is without an occupant. 
 The garden only has not forgotten its former luxury. Its 
 vines and fig-trees equal those of Crete and Syria ; and its 
 cactuses have become veritable trees, twenty feet in height. 
 The monks succeeded in getting hold of the best land on 
 the island ; yet I have no doubt that the very people they 
 impoverished wish them back again. 
 
 The Caprese are very devout and superstitious. They 
 have two devils (" Timberio " being one), and a variety of 
 saints. The beautiful little church in the town, externally 
 so much like a mosque, is filled with votive offerings, 
 painted or modeled in wax, each of which has its own 
 story of miraculous interposition and escape. On one side 
 of the nave sits in state the Madonna del Carmine, — a 
 life-sized doll, with fair complexion, blue eyes, and a pro- 
 
358 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 fusion of long curling tresses of real blonde hair. In her 
 lap she holds a dwarfish man, with hair of nearly equal 
 length. A dozen wax-candles were burning before her, in 
 anticipation of her coming festa, which took place before 
 we left Capri. She is the patron saint of the coral-fishers, 
 none of whom neglected to perform their share of the cel- 
 ebration. 
 
 The day was ushered in with volleys of musketry, and 
 the sounds, or rather cries, of the worst brass band I ever 
 heard, which went from house to house, blowing, and col- 
 lecting coppers. After the forenoon mass, the procession 
 was arranged in the church, and then set out to make the 
 tour of the town. First came the members of a confrater- 
 nity, mostly grizzly old men, in white gowns, with black 
 capes, lined with red ; then followed a number of small 
 boys, behind whom marched the coral-fishers, forty or fifty 
 in number — brown, weather-beaten faces, burned by the 
 summers of the African coast. They were dressed with 
 unusual care, and their throats seemed ill at ease inside of 
 collar and cravat. Every one in the procession carried a 
 taper, which he shielded from the wind with the hollow left 
 hand, while his right managed also to collect the melted 
 wax. Next appeared the Madonna, on her litter of state, 
 followed by six men, who bore her silken canopy. In her 
 train were the priests, and about a hundred women and 
 girls brought up the rear. 
 
 Among the latter there were some remarkably lovely 
 faces. The mixture of yellow, blue, and scarlet colors 
 which they delight to wear contrasted brilliantly with the 
 glossy blackness of their hair and the sunny richness of 
 their complexion. The island costume, however, is begin- 
 ning to disappear. Only a few girls wore the mucadore, or 
 folded handkerchief, on the head, while several were grand 
 in wide silk skirts and crinolines. The people are not en- 
 vious, but many a longing glance followed these progres- 
 sive maidens. 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 359 
 
 In so small a domain as Capri, all that happens is known 
 to everybody. A private romance is not possible ; and so, 
 on this occasion, the crowd on the little piazza were moved 
 by a curiosity which had no relation to the Madonna del 
 Carmine. The story, as I received it, is this : Nearly a 
 year ago, the aunt of a beautiful girl who was betrothed to 
 one of the young coral-fishers was visited by an Englishman 
 then staying at the Hotel Tiberio, who declared to her his 
 violent love for the niece, and solicited her good offices to 
 have the previous engagement broken off. Soon after tliis 
 the Englishman left ; the aunt informed the girl's father of 
 the matter, the betrothal with the coral-fisher was sus- 
 pended, and the father spent most of his time in frequent- 
 ing the hotels to ascertain whether a rich young English- 
 man had arrived. A few days before our visit to Capri, 
 the girl received presents from her unseen and unknown 
 wooer, with a message requesting her not to appear in the 
 procession of the Madonna del Carmine. The Englishmaa 
 stated that he was at the Hotel Tiberio, and only waited 
 the arrival of certain papers in order to claim her as his 
 bride. Thereupon the father came to the hotel, but failed 
 to discover the mysterious stranger. Two artists, and 
 several ladies who were there, offered to assist him ; but 
 the mystery still remained unsolved. Other letters and 
 presents came to the girl ; but no young, rich Englishman 
 could be found on the island. The artists and ladies took 
 up the matter (determined, I am very glad to say, to drive 
 away the Englishman, if there were one, and marry the 
 girl to the coral-fisher), but I have not yet heard of any 
 denouement. The young fisher appeared in the procession, 
 but the girl did not ; consequently, everybody knew that the 
 mysterious letters and presents had made her faithless. 
 For my part, I hope the coral-fisher — a bright, stalwart, 
 handsome young fellow — will find a truer sweetheart. 
 
 After making the complete tour of the town, which oc- 
 cupied about half an hour, the procession returned to the 
 
360 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 church. The coral-fishers were grave and devout; one 
 could not question their sincerity. I was beginning to 
 find the scene touching, and to let my sympathy go forth 
 with the people, when the sight of them dropping on their 
 knees before the great, staring doll of a Madonna, as she 
 bobbed along on the shoulders of her bearers, turned all my 
 softness into granite. The small boys, carrying the tapers 
 before her, were employed in tryhig to set fire to each other's 
 shocks of uncombed hair. Two of them succeeded, and 
 the unconscious victims marched at least a dozen steps with 
 blazing heads, and would probably have been burned to 
 the scalp had not a humane by-stander extinguished the 
 unfragrant torches. Then everybody laughed ; the victims 
 slapped those who had set fire to them ; and a ridiculous 
 comedy was enacted in the very presence of the Madonna, 
 who, for a moment, was the only dignified personage. The 
 girls in the rear struck up a hymn without the least regard 
 to unison, and joked and laughed together in the midst of 
 it. The procession dissolved at the church door, and not 
 a moment too soon, for it had already lost its significance. 
 
 I have purposely left the Blue Grotto to the last, as for' 
 me it was subordinate in interest to almost all else that I 
 saw. Still it was part of the inevitable programme. One 
 calm day we had spent in the trip to Anacapri, and another, 
 at this season, was not to be immediately expected. Never- 
 theless, when we arose on the second morning afterwards, 
 the palm-leaves hung silent, the olives twinkled without 
 motion, and the southern sea glimmered with the veiled 
 light of a calm. Vesuvius had but a single peaceful plume 
 of smoke, the snows of the Apulian Mountains gleamed 
 rosily behind his cone, and the fair headland of Sorrento 
 shone in those soft, elusive, aerial grays, which must be the 
 despair of a painter. It was a day for the Blue Grotto, 
 and so we descended to the marina. 
 
 On the strand, girls with disordered hair and beautiful 
 teeth offered shells and coral. We found mariners readily 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 361 
 
 and, after a little hesitation, pushed off in a large boat, 
 leaving a little one to follow. The tramontana had left a 
 faint swell behind it, but four oars carried us at a lively 
 speed along the shore. We passed the ruins of the baths 
 of Tiberius (the Palazzo a' Mare), and then slid into the 
 purple shadows of the cliffs, which rose in a sheer wall five 
 hundred feet above the water. Two men sat on a rock, 
 fishing with poles ; and the boats further off the shore were 
 sinking their nets, the ends of which were buoyed up with 
 gourds. Pulling along in the shadows, in less than half an 
 hour we saw the tower of Damecuta shining aloft, above a 
 slope of olives which descended steeply to the sea. Here, 
 under a rough, round bastion of masonry, was the entrance 
 to the Blue Grotto. 
 
 We were now transshipped to the little shell of a boat 
 which had followed us. The swell rolled rather heavily 
 into the mouth of the cave, and the adventure seemed a 
 little perilous, had the boatmen been less experienced. We 
 lay flat in the bottom ; the oars were taken in, and we had just 
 reached the entrance, when a high wave, rolling up, threat- 
 ened to dash us against the iron portals. " Look out ! " 
 cried the old man. The young sailor held the boat back 
 with his hands, while the wave rolled under us into the 
 darkness beyond ; then, seizing the moment, we shot in 
 after it, and were safe under the expanding roof. At first, 
 all was tolerably dark : I only saw that the water near the 
 entrance was intensely and luminously blue. Gradually, 
 as the eye grew accustomed to the obscurity, the irregular 
 vault of the roof became visible, tinted by a faint reflection 
 from the water. The effect increased, the longer we re- 
 mained ; but the rock nowhere repeated the dazzling sap- 
 phire of the sea. It was rather a blue-gray, very beautiful, 
 but far from presenting the effect given in the pictures 
 sold at Naples. The silvery, starry radiance of foam or 
 bubbles on the shining blue ground was the loveliest phe- 
 nomenon of the grotto. To dip one's hand in the sea, and 
 
362 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 scatter the water, was to create sprays of wonderful, phos- 
 phorescent blossoms, jewels of the Sirens, flashing and 
 vanishing garlands of the Undines. 
 
 A chamber, and the commencement of a gallery leading 
 somewhere, — probably to the twelfth palace of Tiberius, 
 on the headland of Damecuta, — were to be distinguished 
 near the rear of the cavern. But rather than explore fur- 
 ther mysteries, we watched our chance and shot out, after 
 a full-throated wave, into the flood of white daylight Keep- 
 ing on our course around the island, we passed the point of 
 Damecuta, — making a chord to the arc of the shore, — to 
 the first battery, beyond which the Anacapri territory 
 opened fairly to view. From the northern to the north- 
 western cape the coast sinks, like the side of an amphithea- 
 tre, in a succession of curving terraces, gray with the 
 abundant olive. Two deep, winding ravines, like the 
 wadies of Arabia, have been worn by the rainfall of thou- 
 sands of years, until they have split the shore-wall down to 
 the sea. Looking up them, we could guess the green banks 
 where the violets and anemones grew, and the clumps of 
 myrtle that perfumed the sea-breeze. 
 
 Broad and grand as was this view, it was far surpassed 
 by the coast scenery to come. No sooner had we passed 
 the pharos, and turned eastward along the southern shore 
 of the island, than every sign of life and" laborious industry 
 ceased. The central mountain-wall, suddenly broken off 
 as it reached the sea, presented a face of precipice a thou- 
 sand feet high, not in a smooth escarpment, as on the 
 northern side, but cut into pyramids and pinnacles of ever- 
 changing form. Our necks ached with gazing at the far 
 summits, piercing the keen blue deeps of air. In one 
 place the vast gable of the mountain was hollowed into 
 arches and grottos, from the eaves of which depended 
 fringes of stalactite ; it resembled a Titanic cathedral in 
 ruins. Above the orange and dove-colored facets of the 
 cliff, the jagged topmost crest wore an ashen tint which no 
 
A WEEK ON CAPRI. 863 
 
 longer suggested the texture of rock. It seemed rather a 
 soft, mealy substance, which one might crumble between 
 the fingers. The critics of the realistic school would damn 
 the painter who should represent this effect truly. 
 
 Under these amazing crags, over a smooth, sunny sea, 
 we sped along towards a point where the boatman said we 
 should find the Green Grotto. It lies inside a short, pro- 
 jecting cape of the perpendicular shore, and our approach 
 to it was denoted by a streak of emerald fire flashing along 
 the shaded water at the base of the rocks. A few more 
 strokes on the oars carried us under an arch twenty feet 
 high, which opened into a rocky cove beyond. The water 
 being shallow, the white bottom shone like silver ; and the 
 pure green hue of the waves, filled and flooded with the 
 splendor of the sun, was thrown upon the interior facings 
 of the rocks, making the cavern gleam like transparent 
 glass. The dance of the waves, the reflex of the " netted 
 sunbeams," threw ripples of shifting gold all over this 
 green ground ; and the walls and roof of the cavern, so 
 magically illuminated, seemed to fluctuate in unison with 
 the tide. It was a marvelous surprise, making truth of 
 Undine and the Sirens, Proteus and the foam-born Aphro- 
 dite. The brightness of the day increased the illusion, and 
 made Ihe incredible beauty of the cavern all the more 
 startling, because devoid of gloom and mystery. It was 
 an idyl of the sea, born of the god-lore of Greece. To 
 the light, lisping whisper of the waves, — the sound near- 
 est to that of a kiss, — there was added a deep, dim, sub- 
 dued undertone of the swell caught in lower arches beyond : 
 and the commencement of that fine posthumous sonnet of 
 Keats chimed thenceforward in my ears : — 
 
 " It keeps eternal whisperings around 
 Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell 
 Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell 
 Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sounds 
 
 After this, although the same enormous piles of rock 
 
364 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 overhung us, there were no new surprises. The sublimity 
 and the beauty of this southern coast had reached their 
 climax ; and we turned from it to lean over the gunwale 
 of the boat, and watch the purple growth of sponges 
 through the heaving crystal, as we drew into the cove of 
 the piccola marina. There A^ugusto was waiting our ar- 
 rival, the old fisher was ready with a bench, and we took 
 the upper side of Capri. 
 
 My pen lingers on the subject, yet it is time to leave. 
 When the day of our departure came, I wished for a tramon- 
 tana, that we might be detained until the morrow ; but no, 
 it was a mild sirocco, setting directly towards Sorrento, and 
 Antonio had come over, although, this time, without any 
 prediction of a fine day. At the last fatal and prosaic mo- 
 ment, when the joys that are over must be paid for, we found 
 Don Michele and Manfred as honest as they had been kind 
 and attentive. Would we not come back some time? 
 asked the Don. Certainly we will. 
 
 When the sail was set, and our foamy track pointed to 
 the dear isle we were leaving, I, at least, was conscious of a 
 slight heart-ache. So I turned once more and cried out, 
 "Addio, Capri!" but the stern Tiberian rocks did not 
 respond, ^^EitornateP' and so Capri passed into memory. 
 
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 
 
The island of Ischia, rising like a loftier Salamis at the 
 northern entrance of the Bay of Naples, is so unlike its op- 
 posite sentinel, Caprj, that the landscape-painter, to whom 
 the peculiarities of mountain forms are as familiar as to 
 the geologist, would pronounce as readily on the diversity 
 of its origin. The latter might say : " This island is Plu- 
 tonic, that Neptunic ; " and the former : " Here are long, 
 finely broken outlines, and sharp, serrated summits ; yon- 
 der, broad masses and sudden, bold escarpments;" but 
 both would express the same fact in different dialects. 
 The two islands are equidistant from the main land ; they 
 occupy the same relative position to the bay and to the 
 central Vesuvian peak ; they are equally noble land-marks 
 to the mariners coming from the Tyrrhene or the Ionian 
 Sea. Here the resemblance ends. Capri is the resort of 
 artists, Ischia of invalids. Tiberius and the Blue Grotto ' 
 belong to the litany of travel ; but Ischia — larger, richer, 
 more accessible than Capri — has no such special attrac- 
 tions to commend it. It must be sought for its own sake. 
 
 The little steamer upon which I embarked at Naples 
 was called the Tifeo^ from Typhoeus, the Titan who lies 
 buried under Epomeo, like Enceladus under Etna. The 
 decks were crowded ; but every face was Italian, and every 
 tongue uttered the broad, barbaric dialect of Southern 
 Italy. Priests, peasant- women, small traders, sailors, and 
 fishermen were mingled in a motley mass, setting their 
 faces together in earnest gossip, and turning their backs 
 upon sea, shore, and sky. As we passed Castell' dell' Ovo, 
 the signs of the recent terrible land-slide on the rock of 
 Pizzofalcone drew their attention for a minute ; and I, too, 
 
368 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 looked with a shudder at the masses of rock under which 
 I had lived, unsuspectingly, until within three days of the 
 catastrophe. The house wherein we had chosen quarters 
 was crushed to atoms ; and, although nearly a month had 
 elapsed, the great pile of ruin was not yet cleared away. 
 
 Onward over the bright blue sea, — past the shores of 
 Posilippo, the marine villa of Lucullus, and the terraced 
 steep, yonder, where the poet Silius Italicus kept sacred 
 the tomb of his master, Virgil, — past the burnt-out crater 
 of Nisida, and the high, white houses of Pozzuoli, until the 
 bay of Baiae opens to the right, and we fetch a compass 
 for the ancient Cape Misenum. How these names stir the 
 blood ! Yet my fellow-voyagers never lifted their eyes to 
 the shores ; and if they mentioned the names, it was, per- 
 haps, to say, " I bought some pigs at Baise the other day," 
 or, " What is land worth about Lake Avernus ? " or, " Do 
 you raise pumpkins at Cumae ? " 
 
 Between Cape Misenum and the island of Procida there 
 is a strait two or three miles in width. The town of Pro- 
 cida rests on the water like a long, white wedge, the butt of 
 which bears up the immense old fortress. Approaching 
 from Naples, the whole island lies before the loftier Ischia 
 like Imbros before Samothrace, and seems to belong to it, 
 as ancient geographers declare that it once did. The town 
 is like a seaport of the Grecian Archipelago, and, as seen 
 from the water, one could not wish it cleaner or less irreg- 
 ular. Fronting the sea, it presents a crescent of tall white 
 houses, broken with arched balconies, and deep, scattered 
 windows, and stained with patches of gray and moss-green. 
 Over the domed roofs rises here and there a palm. The 
 castle to the left, on its rock, rejoices in its ancient strength, 
 and seems to command the Bay of Gaeta as well as that of 
 Naples. 
 
 I tried to recall something of the history of Procida, 
 and struck in the middle of the thirteenth century on the 
 famous Giovanni, — " John of Procida," — before and after 
 
A TRIP TO ISCfflA. 369 
 
 whom there was a blank. The island once belonged to 
 him in toto, and must have been a goodly possession. I 
 believe he lost it for a time, on account of the part which 
 he took in the Sicilian Vespers. Meanwhile the steamer 
 came to a stop in the little port, and boats crowded about 
 the gangways. I determined to go the length of the island 
 towards Ischia by land, and so scrambled down with the rest. 
 
 I landed on a narrow quay, so filthy and malodorous that 
 I made, haste to accept the guidance of the first boy who 
 aflfered his services. He led me into a street just as bad ; 
 but, as we mounted towards the castle, the aspect of the 
 town improved. This is the only place in Italy where the 
 holiday costume is Greek, and one might therefore expect 
 to find faces of the Hellenic type ; yet such are fewer than 
 on Capri. The costume disappears more and more, and 
 only on grand festas do the women appear in bodices em- 
 broidered with gold, and gowns edged with the ancient 
 labyrinth pattern. They have splendid eyes, like all the 
 islanders ; but I saw no beauties in my rapid march across 
 Procida. 
 
 After the view from the castle, there is really nothing of 
 interest in the little town. The island is low and nearly 
 level, so that the high walls which inclose the road shut 
 out all view of its vineyards and gardens. The eastern 
 shore, near which my path led, is formed by three neighbor- 
 ing craters, the rims of which are broken down on the sea- 
 side, and boats anchor on the lava of the bottoms. The 
 road was almost a continuous street, the suburb of Procida 
 running into that of the large village of L' Olmo. A crowd 
 of wayfarers went to and fro, and in all the open arches, 
 women sat spinning in the sun. There were no beggars ; 
 one of the women, indeed, called across the road to another, 
 as I passed, " Ask him for a bajocco ! " but the latter 
 laughed, and turned her head aside. Although so little of 
 the island was to be seen, there was no end to the pictures 
 made by the windings of the road, the walls draped with 
 24 
 
370 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 fern and ivy, the deep arches of shade with bright, sunlit 
 court-yards behind them, and the quaint terraces overhung 
 with vines. 
 
 A walk of two miles brought me to the western shore? 
 where the road descended to the fishing hamlet of Chiai- 
 olella. The place seemed to be deserted ; I walked be- 
 tween the silent old houses, and had nearly reached the 
 beach, when a brown old mariner glided out from the 
 shadow of a buttress, and followed me. Some boats lay on 
 the sand in the little land-locked crater-bay ; and presently 
 three other men, who had been sleeping somewhere in the 
 corners, came forward, scenting a fee. Of course they asked 
 too much ; but, to my surprise, they gradually abated the 
 demand, although there was no competition. The old man 
 said, very frankly, " If you give us a franc apiece, we shall 
 only make ten sous, and we should like to earn a little 
 more." We thereupon soon came to terms ; two of them 
 carried me into the boat, and we set off for Ischia. 
 
 Just beyond the last point of Procida rises the rocky 
 island of Vivara, which is nothing but a fragment left from 
 the ruin of a volcanic crater. Its one slanting side is 
 covered with olive-trees, and a single house stands on the 
 summit. The landing-place is a rocky shelf a yard or so in 
 width, only accessible when the sea is quite smooth. The 
 island belongs to Signor Scotti, of Procida, so the boatmen 
 told me, but he is too shrewd to live upon it. As we floated 
 past it into the open strait, the Bay of Gaeta opened broadly 
 on the right, stretching away to the far Cape of Circe, 
 beyond Terracina. In front Ischia, grand in its nearness, 
 possessed the sea. One is here still in Odyssean waters. 
 Here Homer once sailed, so sure as there ever was a 
 Homer, and heard Typhoeus groaning under Inarime. 
 What Kinglake so finely says of the Troad is here equally 
 true. The theories of scholars go to the winds ; one learns 
 to believe in Homer, no less than in Moses. 
 
 The picture of Ischia, from the sea, is superb. In front 
 
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 871 
 
 towers the castle, on a thrice bolder and broader wedge of 
 
 rock than that of Procida ; withdrawn behind it, as if for 
 
 protection, the white crescent of the town sweeps along the 
 
 water ; garden-groves rise in the rear, then great, climbing 
 
 slopes of vine, and, high over all, Monte Epbmeo converges 
 
 the broken outlines of the island, and binds them together 
 
 in his knotted peak. The main features are grandly broad 
 
 and simple, yet there is an exquisite grace and harmony in 
 
 the minor forms of the landscape. As we ran under the 
 
 shadows of the castle-rock, whereon the Marquis Pescara 
 
 was born, my thoughts were involuntarily directed to two 
 
 women, — his sister, the heroic Costanza, whose defense of 
 
 the castle gave the governorship of Ischia to her family for 
 
 two hundred and fifty years ; and his wife, Vittoria Colonna. 
 
 Her, however, we remember less as the Marchesa Peseara 
 
 than as the friend of Michael Angelo, in whose arms she 
 
 died. Theirs was the only friendship between man and 
 
 woman, which the breath of that corrupt age did not dare 
 
 to stain, — noble on both sides, and based on the taste and 
 
 energy and intellect of both. Vittoria, of whom Ariosto 
 
 says, — 
 
 "Vittoria 6 '1 nome; e ben conviensi a nata 
 Fra le vittorie," 
 
 retired to this castle of Ischia to mourn her husband's 
 death. Strange that her sorrow excites in us so little 
 sympathy ; while, at this distance of time, the picture of 
 Michael Angelo after her death gives us a pang. Moral, — 
 it is better to be the friend of a great artist than the wife of 
 a great general. 
 
 The landing at Ischia is as attractive as that at Procida 
 is repulsive. The town comes down to the bright, sunny 
 quay in a broad, clean street ; the houses are massive, and 
 suggestive of comfort, and there are glimpses of the richest 
 gardens among them. " You must go to the locanda nobile" 
 said the sailors ; and to make sure they went with me. It 
 is, in fact, the only tolerable inn in the place ; yet my first 
 
872 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 impression was not encouraging. The locanda consisted of 
 a large hall, filled with mattresses, a single bare bedroom, 
 and the landlord's private quarters. The only person I saw 
 was a one-eyed youth, who came every five minutes, while I 
 sat watching the splendid sunset illumination of the castle 
 and sea, to ask, " Shall I make your soup with rice or mac- 
 aroni?" "Will you have your fish fried or in umidof" 
 Notwithstanding all this attention, it was a most meagre 
 dinner which he finally served, and I longed for the flesh- 
 pots of Capri. In spite of Murray, artists are not stoics, 
 and where they go the fare is wont to be good. The Eng- 
 lish guide says, very complacently : " Such or such an hotel 
 is third-rate, patronized by artists ! " or, " The accommoda- 
 tions are poor ; hut artists may find them sufficient! " — as if 
 " artists " had no finer habits of palate or nerves ! When I 
 contrasted Pagano's table in Capri with that of the nohile 
 locanda of Ischia, I regretted that artists had not been stay- 
 ing at the latter. 
 
 In walking through the two cold and barren rooms of the 
 hotel I had caught a glimpse, through an open door, of a 
 man lying in bed, and an old Franciscan friar, in a brown 
 gaberdine, hanging over him. Now, when my Lenten 
 dinner (although it was Carnival) was finished, the padrona 
 came to me, and said : " Won't you walk in and see Don 
 Michel e ? He's in bed, sick, but he can talk, and it will 
 pass away the time for him." 
 
 " But the Frate " — here I hesitated, thinking of extreme 
 unction. 
 
 " 0, never mind the Frate," said the padrona ; " Don 
 Michele knows you are here, and he wants to have a talk 
 with you." 
 
 The invalid landlord was a man of fifty, who lay in bed, 
 groaning with a fearful lumbago, as he informed me. At 
 the foot of the bed sat the old friar, gray-headed, with a 
 snuffy upper lip, and an expression of amiable imbecility on 
 his countenance. The one-eyed servant was the landlord's 
 
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 373 
 
 son; and there were two little daughters, one of whom, 
 Filomena, carried the other, Maria Teresa. There was 
 also a son, a sailor, absent in Egypt. "Four left out of 
 twelve," said Don Michele ; " but you notice there will soon 
 be thirteen ; so I shall have five, if the Lord wills it." 
 
 " And so you are from America," he continued ; " my son 
 was there, but, whether in North or South, I don't know. 
 They say there is cholera in Africa, and I hope the saints 
 will protect him from it. Here on Ischia — as perhaps you 
 don't know — we never had the cholera ; we have a saint 
 who keeps it away from the island. It was San Giuseppe 
 della Croce, and nobody can tell how many miracles he has 
 wrought for us. He left a miraculous plant, — it's inside 
 the castle, — and there it grows to this day, with wonderful 
 powers of healing ; but no one dares to touch it. If you 
 were to so much as break a leaf, all Ischia would rise in 
 revolution." 
 
 " What a benefit for the island ! " I remarked. 
 
 " Ah, you may well say that ! " exclaimed Don Michele. 
 " Here everything is good, — the fish, the wine, the people. 
 There are no robbers among us, — no, indeed ! You may 
 go where you like, and without fear, as the Frate will tell 
 you. This is my brother" (pointing to the friar). " I am 
 affiliated with the Franciscans, and so he comes to keep me 
 company." 
 
 The friar nodded, took a pinch of snuff*, and smiled in the 
 vague, silly way of a man who don't know what to say. 
 
 " I have met miany of your brethren in the Holy Land," 
 I said, to the latter. 
 
 " Gran Dio ! you have been there ? " both exclaimed. 
 
 I must needs tell them of Jerusalem and Jericho, of 
 Nazareth and Tiberias ; but Don Michele soon came back 
 to America. " You are one of the nobility, I suppose ? " he 
 said. 
 
 " What ! " I answered, affecting a slight indignation ; 
 ** don't you know that we have no nobility ? All are equal 
 
374 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 before the law, and the poorest man may become the high- 
 est ruler, if he has the right degree of intelligence." (I was 
 about to add, and honesty, but checked myself in time.) 
 
 "Do you hear that?" cried Don Michele to the friar. 
 " I call that a fine thing." 
 
 " Che Bella cosa / " repeated the friar, as he took a fresh 
 pinch of snufF. 
 
 " What good is your nobility ? " I continued. " They 
 monopolize the offices, they are poor and proud, and they 
 won't work. The men who do the most for Italy are not 
 nobles." 
 
 " True ! true ! listen to that ! " said Don Michele. " And 
 so, in America, all have an equal chance ? " 
 
 " If you were living there," I answered, " your son, if he 
 had talents, might become the governor of a State, or a 
 minister to a foreign court. Could he be that here, what- 
 ever might be his intellect?" 
 
 " Gran Dio ! Che bella cosa / " said the friar. 
 
 " It is the balance of Astraea ! " cried Don Michele, for- 
 getting his lumbago, and sitting up in bed. I was rather 
 astonished at this classical allusion ; but it satisfied me that 
 I was not improvidently wasting my eloquence ; so I went 
 on : — . 
 
 " What is a title ? Is a man any the more a man for 
 having it ? He may be a duke and a thief, and, if so, I put 
 him far below an honest fisherman. ' Are there titles in 
 heaven ? " Here I turned to the friar. 
 
 " Behold ! A noble — a beautiful word ! " cried the Don 
 again. The friar lifted his hands to heaven, shook his head 
 in a melancholy way, and took another pinch of snuff. 
 
 We were in a fair way to establish the universal fraternal 
 republic, when a knock at the door interrupted us. It was 
 Don Michele's sister, accompanied by an old man, and a 
 young one, with a handsome but taciturn face. 
 
 " Ah, here is my figliuccio! " said Don Michele, beckon- 
 ing forward the latter. " He will furnish a donkey, and 
 
A TRIP TO iscmA. 375 
 
 guide you all over Ischia — up to the top of Epomeo, to 
 Fori', and Casamich'." 
 
 Now I had particularly requested a young and jovial 
 fellow, not one of your silent guides, who always hurry you 
 forward when you want to pause, and seem to consider you 
 as a bad job, to be gotten rid of as soon as possible. Gio- 
 vanni's was not the face I desired, but Don Michele in- 
 sisted stoutly that he was the very man for me ; and so the 
 arrangement was concluded. 
 
 I went to bed, feeling more like a guest of the family 
 than a stranger ; and, before sleeping, determined that I 
 would make an experiment. The rule in Italy is, that the 
 man who does not bargain in advance is inevitably cheated ; 
 here, however, it seemed that I had stumbled on an unso- 
 phisticated region. I would make no bargains, ask no mis- 
 trustful questions, and test the natural honesty of the 
 people. 
 
 Mounted on the ass, and accompanied by Giovanni, I left 
 the locanda nohile the next morning to make the tour of the 
 island. " Be sure and show him everything and tell him 
 everything ! " cried Don Michele, from his bed ; whereat 
 Giovanni, with a short "Yes ! " which promised nothing to 
 my ear, led the way out of the town. 
 
 We ascended the low hill on which the town is built, 
 under high garden walls, overhung by the most luxuriant 
 foliage of orange and olive. There were fine cypresses, — 
 a tree rare in Southern Italy, — and occasional palms. We 
 very soon emerged into the country, where Epomeo 
 towered darkly above us, in the shadow of clouds which 
 the sirocco had blown from the sea. The road was not 
 blinded by walls, as on Procida, but open and broad, wind- 
 ing forward between vineyards of astonishing growth. 
 Here the threefold crops raised on the same soil, about 
 Naples and Sorrento, would be impossible. In that rich 
 volcanic earth wheat is only the parterre or ground-floor of 
 cultivation. The thin shade of the olive, or the' young 
 
376 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 leaves of vine, do not intercept sun enough to hinder its 
 proper maturity ; and thus oil or wine (or sometimes both) 
 becomes a higher crop, a lei etage ; while the umbrella- 
 pines, towering far above all, constitute an upper story for 
 the production of lumber and firewood. Ischia has the 
 same soil, but the vine, on account of the superior quality 
 of its juice, is suffered to monopolize it. Stems of the 
 thickness of a mans leg are trained back and forth on 
 poles thirty feet high. The usual evergreen growths of 
 this region, which make a mimicry of summer, have no 
 place here ; far and wide, high and low, the landscape is 
 gray with vines and poles. I can only guess what a Bac- 
 chic labyrinth it must be in the season of vintage. 
 
 The few trees allowed to stand were generally fig or 
 walnut. There are no orange -groves, as about Sorrento, 
 for the reason that the wine of Ischia, being specially im- 
 ported to mix with and give fire and temper to other 
 Italian wines, is a very profitable production. The little 
 island has a population of about thirty thousand, very few 
 of whom are poor, like the inhabitants of Capri. During 
 my trip I encountered but a single beggar, who was an old 
 woman on crutches. Yet, although the fields were gray, 
 the banks beside the road were bright with young grass, 
 and gay with violets, anemones, and the golden blossoms 
 of the broom. 
 
 On our left lay the long slopes of Monte Campagnano, 
 which presents a rocky front to the sea. Between this 
 mountain and Epomeo the road traversed a circular valley, 
 nearly a mile in diameter, as superbly rich as any of the 
 favored gardens of Syria. The aqueduct which brings 
 water from the mountains to the town of Ischia crosses it 
 on lofty stone arches. Beyond this valley, the path entered 
 a singular winding ravine thirty or forty feet in depth, and 
 barely wide enough for two asses to pass each other. Its 
 walls of rock were completely hidden in mosses and ferns, 
 and old oak-trees, with ivied trunks, threw their arms 
 
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 377 
 
 across it. The country people, in scarlet caps and velvet 
 jackets, on their way to enjoy the festa (the Carnival) at 
 the villages, greeted me with a friendly " huon di ! '* I was 
 constantly reminded of those exquisitely picturesque passes 
 of Arcadia, which seem still to be the haunts of Pan and 
 the Nymphs. 
 
 Bishop Berkeley, whose happiest summer (not even ex- 
 cepting that he passed at Newport) was spent on Ischia, 
 must have frequently travelled that path ; and, without 
 having seen more of the island, I was quite willing to ac- 
 cept his eulogies of its scenery. I had some difficulty, 
 however, in adjusting to the reality Jean Paul's imaginary 
 description, which it is conventional to praise, in Germany. 
 The mere enumeration of orange-trees, olives, rocks, chest- 
 nut woods, vines, and blue sea, blended into a glimmering 
 whole, with no distinct outlines, does not constitute de- 
 scription of scenery. An author ventures upon dangerous 
 gi^ound, when he attempts to paint landscapes which he has 
 never seen. Jean Paul had the clairvoyant faculty of the 
 poet, and was sometimes able to " make out " (to use Char- 
 lotte Bronte's expression) Italian atmospheres and a tol- 
 erable dream of scenery ; but he would have described Is- 
 chia very differently if he had ever visited the island. 
 
 Winding on and upward through the ravine, I emerged 
 at last on the sunny hillside, whence there was a view of 
 the sea beyond Monte Campagnano. A little further, we 
 reached the village of Barano, on the southeastern slope 
 of Epomeo — a deep, gray gorge below it, and another vil- 
 lage beyond, sparkling in the sun. The people were con- 
 gregated on the little piazza, enjoying the day in the com- 
 pletest idleness. The place was a picture in itself, and I 
 should have stopped to sketch it, but Giovanni pointed to 
 the clouds which were hovering over Epomeo, and pre- 
 dicted rain. So T pushed on to Moropano, the next vil- 
 lage, the southern side ofi^the island opening more clearly 
 and broadly to view. A succession of vine-terraces 
 
378 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 mounted from the sea to a height of two thousand feet, 
 ceasing only under the topmost crags. At intervals, how- 
 ever, the slopes were divided by tremendous fissures, worn 
 hundreds of feet deep through the ashen soil and volcanic 
 rock. Wherever a little platform of shelving soil had been 
 left on the sides of the sheer walls, it was covered with a 
 growth of oaks. 
 
 The road obliged me to cross the broadest of these 
 chasms, and, after my donkey had once fallen on the steep 
 path notched along the rock, I judged it safest to climb 
 the opposite side on foot. A short distance further we 
 came to another fissure, as deep but much narrower, and 
 resembling the cracks produced by an earthquake. The 
 rocky walls were excavated into wine-cellars, the size of 
 which, and of the tuns within, gave good token of the Is- 
 chian vintages. Out of the last crevice we climbed to the 
 village of Fontana, the highest on the island. A review 
 of the National Guards was held in a narrow open space 
 before the church. There were perhaps forty men — fish- 
 ermen and vine-growers — under arms, all with military 
 caps, although only half a dozen had full uniforms. The 
 officers fell back to make room for me, and I passed the 
 company slowly in review, as I rode by on the donkey. 
 The eyes were " right," as I commenced, but they moved 
 around to left, curiously following me, while the heads re- 
 mained straight. Gallant-looking fellows they were never- 
 theless ; and moreover, it was pleasant to see a militia 
 system substituted for the former wholesale conscription. 
 
 At the end of the piazza, a dry laurel-bush hanging over 
 the door, denoted a wine-shop ; and Giovanni and I emp- 
 tied a bottle of the Fontana vintage before going further. I 
 ordered a dinner to be ready on our return from Epomeo, 
 and we then set out for the hermitage of San Nicola, on the 
 very summit. In a ravine behind the villag^ we met a man 
 carrying almost a stack of straw on his head, his body so 
 concealed by it that the mass seemed to be walking upon 
 
A TBIP TO iscmA. 379 
 
 its own feet. It stopped on approaching us, and an unin- 
 telligible voice issued from it; but Giovanni understood 
 the sounds. 
 
 " The hermit of San Nicola is sick," he said ; " this is his 
 brother." 
 
 " Then the hermit is alone on the mountain ? " I asked. 
 
 "No, he is now in Fontana. When he gets sick, he 
 comes down, and his brother goes up in his place, to keep 
 the lamp a-burning." 
 
 We were obliged to skirt another fissure for some dis- 
 tance, and then took to the open side of the mountain, 
 climbing between fields where the diminishing vines strug- 
 gled to drive back the mountain gorse and heather. In 
 half an hour the summit was gained, and I found myself in 
 front of a singular, sulphur-colored peak, out of which a 
 chapel and various chambers had been hewn. A man ap- 
 peared, breathless with climbing after us, and proved to be 
 the moving principle of the straw-stack. He unlocked a 
 door in the peak, aind allowed the donkey to enter ; then, 
 conducting me by a passage cut in the living rock, he led 
 the way througji, out of the opposite side, and by a flight 
 of rude steps, around giddy corners, to a platform about six 
 feet square, on the very topmost pinnacle of the island, 
 2,700 feet above the sea. 
 
 Epomeo was an active volcano until just before Vesuvius 
 awakened, in A. d. 79 ; and as late as the year 1302 there 
 was an eruption on Ischia, at the northern base of the 
 mountain. But the summit now scarcely retains the crater 
 form. The ancient sides are broken in, leaving four or five 
 jagged peaks standing apart ; and these, from the platform 
 on which I stood, formed a dark, blasted foreground, shaped 
 like a star with irregular rays, between which I looked down 
 and off* on the island, the sea, and the Italian shores. The 
 clouds, whose presence I had lamented during the ascent, 
 now proved to be marvelous accessories. Swooping so low 
 that their skirts touched me, they covered the whole vault 
 
380 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 of heaven, down to the sea horizon, with an impenetrable 
 veil ; yet, beyond their sphere, the sunshine poured full upon 
 the water, which became a luminous under-sky, sending the 
 reflected light upward on the island landscape. In all my 
 experience, I have never beheld such a phenomenon. 
 Looking southward, it was scarcely possible not to mistake 
 the sea for the sky ; and this illusion gave the mountain an 
 immeasurable, an incredible height. All the base of the 
 island — the green shores and shining towns visible in 
 deep arcs between the sulphury rocks of the crater — 
 basked in dazzling sunshine ; and the gleam was so intense 
 and golden under the vast, dark roof of cloud, that I know 
 not how to describe it. From the Cape of Circe to that of 
 Palinurus, two hundred miles of the main-land of Italy were 
 full in view. Vesuvius may sweep a wider horizon, but the 
 view from Epomeo, in its wondrous originality, is far more 
 impressive. 
 
 When I descended from the dizzy pinnacle, I found 
 Giovanni and the hermit's brother drying their shirts 
 before a fire of brush. The latter, after receiving a fee for 
 his services, begged for an additional fee for St. Nicholas. 
 " What does St. Nicholas want with it ? " I asked. " You 
 will buy food and drink, I suppose, but the saint needs 
 nothing." Giovanni turned away his head, and I saw that 
 he was laughing. 
 
 " O, I can burn a lamp for the saint," was the answer. 
 
 Now, as St. Nicholas is the patron of children, sailors, 
 and travellers, I might well have lit a lamp in his honor ; 
 but as I could not stay to see the oil purchased and the 
 lamp lighted, with my own eyes, I did not consider that 
 there was sufficient security in the hermit's brother for 
 such an investment. 
 
 When I descended to Fontana the review was over, and 
 several of the National Guards were refreshing themselves 
 in the wine-shop. The black-bearded host, who looked like 
 an affectionate bandit, announced that he had cooked a pig's 
 
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 381 
 
 liver for us, and straight-way prepared a table in the shop 
 beside the counter. There was but one plate, but Giovanni, 
 who kept me company, ate directly from the dish. I have 
 almost a Hebrew horror of fresh pork ; but since that day I 
 confess that a pig's liver, roasted on skewers, and flavored 
 with the smoke of burning myrtle, is not a dish to be de- 
 spised. Eggs and the good Ischian wine completed the re- 
 past ; and had I not been foolish enough to look at the host 
 as he wiped out the glasses with his unwashed fingers, I 
 should have enjoyed it the more. 
 
 The other guests were very jolly, but I could comprehend 
 little of their jargon when they spoke to each other. The 
 dialect of Ischia is not only different from that of Capri, but 
 varies on different sides of the island. Many words are 
 identical with those used on Sardinia and Majorca ; they 
 have a clear, strong ring, which — barbaric as it may be — 
 I sometimes prefer to the pure Italian. For instance, 
 freddo (with a tender lingering on the double d) suggests 
 to me only a bracing, refreshing coolness, while in the 
 Ischian frett one feels the sharp sting of frost. Filicaja's 
 pathetic address to Italy, — 
 
 " Deh fossi tu men bella, o almen piu forte ! " 
 
 might also be applied to the language. The elision of the 
 terminal vowels, which is almost universal in this part of 
 Italy, roughens the language, certainly, but gives it a more 
 masculine sound. 
 
 When the people spoke to me, they were more careful in 
 the choice of words, and so made themselves intelligible. 
 They were eager to talk and ask questions, and after one 
 of them had broken the ice by pouring a bottle of wine into 
 a glass, while he drank from the latter as fast as he poured, 
 the Captain of the Guard, with many apologies for the 
 liberty, begged to know where I came from. 
 
 " Now tell me, if you please," he continued, " whether 
 your country is Catholic or Protestant ? " 
 
382 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 " Neither," said I ; « it is better than being either." 
 
 The people pricked up their ears, and stared. " How do 
 you mean ? " some one presently asked. 
 
 " All religions are free. Catholics and Protestants have 
 equal rights ; and that is best of all — is it not ? " 
 
 There was a unanimous response. " To be sure that is 
 best of all ! " they cried ; " avete ragione^* 
 
 " But," said the Captain, after a while, " what religion is 
 your government ? " 
 
 " None at all," I answered. 
 
 " I don't understand," said he ; " surely it is a Christian 
 government." 
 
 It was easy to explain my meaning, and I noticed that 
 the village magistrate, who had entered the shop, listened 
 intently. He was cautiously quiet, but I saw that the idea 
 of a separation of Church and State was not distasteful to 
 the people. From religion we turned to politics, and I gave 
 them a rough sketch of our republican system. Moreover, 
 as a professed friend of Italian nationality, I endeavored to 
 sound them in regard to their views of the present crisis. 
 This was more delicate ground; yet two or three spoke 
 their minds with tolerable plainness, and with more judg- 
 ment and moderation than I expected to find. On two 
 points all seemed to be agreed, — that the people must be 
 educated, and must have patience. 
 
 In the midst of the discussion a mendicant friar appeared, 
 barefooted, and with a wallet on his shoulder. He was a 
 man of thirty, of tall and stately figure, and with a singu- 
 larly noble and refined countenance. He did not beg, but 
 a few bajocchi were handed to him, and the landlord placed 
 a loaf of bread on the counter. As he was passing me, 
 without asking alms, I gave him some money, which he 
 took with a slight bow and the words, "Providence will 
 requite you." Though so coarsely dressed, he was not one 
 of those friars who seem to think filth necessary to their 
 holy character. I have rarely seen a man whose features 
 
A TRIP TO ISCfflA. 383 
 
 and bearing harmonized so ill with his vocation. He looked 
 like a born teacher and leader ; yet he was a useless beggar. 
 
 The rain, which had come up during dinner, now cleared 
 away, and I resumed my journey. Giovanni, who had made 
 one or two desperate efforts at jollity during the ascent of 
 the mountain, was remarkably silent after the conversation 
 in the inn, and I had no good of him thenceforth. A mis- 
 trustful Italian is like a tortoise ; he shuts up his shell, and 
 crow-bars can't open him. I have not the least doubt that 
 Giovanni believed, in his dull way, in the temporal power 
 of the Pope and the restoration of the Bourbons. 
 
 There were no more of the great volcanic fissures to be 
 crossed. The road, made slippery by the rain, descended 
 so rapidly that I was forced to walk during the remainder 
 of the day's journey. It was a country of vines, less pic- 
 turesque than I had already passed ; but the sea and south- 
 western shore of the island were constantly in view. I first 
 reached the little village of Serrara, on a projecting spur of 
 Epomeo ; then, after many steep and rugged descents, came 
 upon the rich garden-plain of Panza. Here the surface of 
 the island is nearly level, the vegetation is wonderfully 
 luxuriant, and the large gray farm-houses have a stately 
 and commanding air. In another hour, skirting the west- 
 ern base of Epomeo, the towers of Foria, my destination for 
 the night, came into view. There were some signs of the 
 Carnival in the lively streets — here and there a mask, 
 followed by shouting and delighted children; but the 
 greater part of the inhabitants contented themselves with 
 sitting on the doorsteps and exchanging jokes with their 
 neighbors. 
 
 The guide-book says there is no inn in Foria. Don 
 Michele, however, assured me that Signor Scotti kept a 
 locanda for travellers, and I can testify that the Don is 
 right. I presume it is " noble," also, for the accommoda- 
 tions were like those in Ischia. On entering, I was re- 
 ceived by a woman, who threw back her shoulders and 
 
384 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE, 
 
 lifted her head in such an independent way that I asked, 
 "Are you the padrona?" 
 
 " No," she answered, laughing ; " I'm the modestica ; but 
 that will do just as well." (She meant domestica, but I like 
 her rendering of the word so well that I shall retain it.) 
 
 " Can you get me something for dinner ? " 
 
 " Let us see," said she, counting upon her fingers ; " fish, 
 that's one ; kid, that's two ; potatoes, that's three ; and — 
 and — surely there's something else." 
 
 « That will do," said I ; « and eggs ? " 
 
 " Stcuro / Eggs ? I should think so. And so that will 
 suit your Excellency ! " 
 
 Thereupon the modestica drew back her shoulders, threw 
 out her chest, and, in a voice that half Foria might have 
 heard, sang I know not what song of triumph as she de- 
 scended to the kitchen. Signor Scotti, for whom a messen- 
 ger had been sent, now arrived. He had but one eye, and 
 I began to imagine that I was on the track of the Arabian 
 Prince. After a few polite commonplaces, I noticed that 
 he was growing uneasy, and said, "Pray, let me not keep 
 you from the Carnival." 
 
 " Thanks to your Excellency," said he, rising ; " my pro- 
 fession calls me, and with your leave I will withdraw." I 
 supposed that he might be a city magistrate, but on ques- 
 tioning the modestica, when she came to announce dinner, 
 I found that he was a barber. 
 
 I was conducted into a bedroom, in the floor of which the 
 modestica opened a trap-door, and bade me descend a pre- 
 cipitous flight of steps into the kitchen. There the table 
 was set, and I received my eggs and fish directly from the 
 fire. The dessert was peculiar, consisting of raw stalks of 
 anise, cut off* at the root, very tough, and with a sickly sweet 
 flavor. Seeing that I rejected them, the modestica ex- 
 claimed, in a strident voice, — 
 
 " Eh ? What would you have ? They are beautiful, — 
 they are superb ! The gentry eat them, — nay, what do I 
 
A TEIP TO iscmA. 885 
 
 know ? — the King himself, and the Pope !. Behold ! " 
 And with these words she snatched a stalk from the plate? 
 and crunched it between two rows of teeth which it was 
 a satisfaction to see. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, as I was in the bedroom which 
 had been given to my use, a horribly rough voice at my back 
 exclaimed, " What do you want ? " 
 
 I turned, and beheld an old woman as broad as she was 
 short, — a woman with fierce eyes and a gray mustache on 
 her upper lip. 
 
 " What do you want ? " I rejoined. 
 
 She measured me from head to foot, gave a grunt, and 
 said, " /'m the padrona here." 
 
 I was a little surprised at this intrusion, and considerably 
 more so, half an hour afterwards, as I sat smoking in the 
 common room, at the visit of a gendarme, who demanded 
 my passport. After explaining to him that the document 
 had never before been required in free Italy, — that the law 
 did not even oblige me to carry it with me, — I handed it to 
 him. 
 
 He turned it up and down, and from side to side, with a 
 puzzled air. " I can't read it," he said, at last. 
 
 " Of course you can't," I replied ; " but there is no better 
 passport in the world, and the Governor of Naples will tell 
 you the same thing. Now," I added, turning to the padrona, 
 " if you have sent for this officer through any suspicion of 
 me, I will pay for my dinner and go on to Casamicciola, 
 where they know how to receive travellers." 
 
 The old woman lifted up her hands, and called on the 
 saints to witness that she did not mistrust me. The sen- 
 darme apologized for his intrusion, adding : " We are out 
 of the way, here, and therefore I am commanded to do this 
 duty. I cannot read your passport, but I can see that you 
 are a galantuomo" 
 
 This compliment obliged me to give him a cigar, after 
 which I felt justified in taking a little revenge. " I am a 
 25 
 
386 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 republican," I cried, " and a friend of the Italian Republi- 
 cans ! I don't believe in the temporal power of the Pope ! 
 I esteem Garibaldi ! " 
 
 " Who doesn't esteem him ? " said the old woman, but 
 with an expression as if she didn't mean it. The gendarme 
 twisted uneasily on his seat, but he had lighted my cigar, 
 and did not feel free to leave. 
 
 I shall not here repeat my oration, which spared neither 
 the Pope, nor Napoleon the Third, nor even Victor Eman- 
 uel. I was as fierce and reckless as Mazzini, and exhausted 
 my stock of Italian in advocating freedom, education, the 
 overthrow of priestly rule, and the abolition of the nobility. 
 When I stopped to take breath, the gendarme made his 
 escape, and the padrona's subdued manner showed that she 
 began to be afraid of me. 
 
 In the evening there was quite an assemblage in the 
 room, — two Neapolitan engineers, a spruce young Forian, 
 a widow with an unintelligible story of grievances, and the 
 never-failing modestica, who took her seat on the sofa, and 
 made her tongue heard whenever there was a pause. I grew 
 so tired with striving to unravel their dialect, that I fell 
 asleep in my chair, and nearly tumbled into the brazier of 
 coals ; but the chatter went on for hours after I was in bed. 
 
 In the heavenly morning that followed I walked about the 
 town, which is a shipping port of wine. The quay was piled 
 with tuns, purple-stained. The situation of the place, at the 
 foot of Epomeo, with all the broad Tyrrhene sea to the west- 
 ward, is very beautiful, and, as usual, a Franciscan monas- 
 tery has usurped the finest position. No gardens can be 
 richer than those in the rear, mingling with the vineyards 
 that rise high on the mountain slopes. 
 
 After the modestica had given me half a tumbler of coffee 
 and a crust of bread for my breakfast, I mounted the donkey, 
 and set out for Casamicciola. The road skirts the sea for a 
 short distance, and then enters a wild dell, where I saw 
 clumps of ilex for the first time on the island. After a mile 
 
A TRIP TO iscmA. 387 
 
 of rugged, but very beautiful, scenery, the dell opened on 
 the northern shore of Ischia, and I saw the bright town 
 and sunny beach of Lacco below me. There was a sudden 
 and surprising change in the character of the landscape. 
 Dark, graceful carob-trees overhung the road ; the near 
 gardens were filled with almonds in light green leaf, and 
 orange-trees covered with milky buds ; but over them, afar 
 and aloft, from the edge of the glittering sapphire to the 
 sulphur-crags of the crowning peak, swept a broad, grand 
 amphitheatre of villas, orchards, and vineyards. Gayly 
 colored palaces sat on all the projecting spurs of Epomeo, 
 rising above their piles of garden terraces ; and, as I rode 
 along the beach, the palms and cypresses in the gardens 
 above me were exquisitely pencilled on the sky. Here 
 everything spoke of old cultivation, of wealth and luxurious 
 days. 
 
 In the main street of Lacco I met the gendarme of 
 Foria, who took off his cocked hat with an air of respect, 
 which, however, produced no effect on my donkey-man^ 
 Giovanni. We mounted silently to Casamicciola, which, 
 as a noted watering-place, boasts of hotels with Neapolitan 
 prices, if not comforts. I felt the need of one, and selected 
 the Sentinella Grande on account of its lordly position. It 
 was void of guests, and I was obliged to wait two hours for 
 a moderate breakfast. The splendor of the day, the per- 
 fect beauty of the Ischian landscapes, and the soft hum- 
 ming of bees around the wall-flower blossoms, restored my 
 lost power to enjoy the dolcefar niente, and I had forgotten 
 all about my breakfast when it was announced. 
 
 From Casamicciola it is little more than an hour's ride 
 to Ischia, and my tour of the island lacked but that much 
 of completion. The season had not commenced, and the 
 marvelous healing fountains and baths were deserted ; yet 
 the array of stately villas, the luxury of the gardens, and 
 the broad, well-made roads, attested the popularity of the 
 watering-place. Such scenery as surrounds it is not sur- 
 
388 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 passed by any on the Bay of Naples. I looked longingly 
 up at the sunny mountain -slopes and shadowed glens, as I 
 rode away. What I had seen was but the promise, the 
 hint, of a thousand charms which I had left unvisited. 
 
 On the way to Ischia I passed the harbor, which is a 
 deep little crater connected with the sea by an artificial 
 channel. Beside it lies the Casino Reale, with a magnifi- 
 cent park, uninhabited since the Bourbons left. Beyond 
 it I crossed the lava-fields of 1302, which are still unsub- 
 dued. Here and there a house has been built, some pines 
 have been planted, clumps of broom have taken root, and 
 there are a few rough, almost hopeless, beginnings of fields. 
 Having passed this dreary tract, the castle of Ischia sud- 
 denly rose in front, and the bright town received me. I 
 parted from the taciturn Giovanni without tears, and was 
 most cordially welcomed by Don Michele, his wife, the one- 
 eyed son, and the Franciscan friar. The Don's lumbago 
 was not much better, and the friar's upper lip, it seemed to 
 me, was more snuffy than ever. 
 
 In the evening I heard what appeared to be a furious 
 altercation. I recognized Don Michele's voice, threaten- 
 ing vengeance, at its highest pitch, while another voice, 
 equally excited, and the screams of women, gave additional 
 breath to the tempest. But when I asked my one-eyed 
 servitor, " What in Heaven's name has happened ? '* he 
 mildly answered, " O, it's only the uncle discoursing with 
 papa ! " 
 
 I arose at dawn, the next day, to take the steamer for 
 Naples. The flaming jets of Vesuvius, even against the 
 glowing morning sky, were visible from my window, twenty- 
 five miles distant. I was preparing to bid farewell to 
 Ischia with a feeling of profund satisfaction. My experi- 
 ment had succeeded remarkably well. I had made no 
 bargains in advance, and had not been overcharged to the 
 extent of more than five francs during the whole trip. 
 But now came the one-eyed son, with a bill fifty per cent. 
 
A TRIP TO ISCHIA. 389 
 
 higher than at first, for exactly the same accommodation. 
 This, too, after I had promised to send my friends to the 
 locanda nobile, and he had written some very grotesque 
 cards, which I was to disseminate. 
 
 Don Michele was calling me to say good-by. I went to 
 his chamber, and laid the grotesque cards upon the bed. 
 " Here ! " I exclaimed ; " I have no use for these. I shall 
 recommend no friends of mine to this hotel. You ask 
 another price now for the same service." 
 
 The Don's countenance fell. " But we kept the same 
 room for you," he feebly urged. 
 
 " Of course you kept it," I said, "because you have no 
 other, and nobody came to take it ! This is not the bal- 
 ance of Astraea ! You lament over the condition of Italy, 
 — you say she has fallen behind the other nations of 
 Europe, — and here is one of the causes ! So long as you, 
 and the people of whom you are one, are dishonest, — so 
 long as you take advantage of strangers, — just so long will 
 you lack the order, the security, the moral force which 
 every people possess who are ashamed to descend to such 
 petty arts of cheating ! " 
 
 " Ma — Signore ! " pleaded Don Michele. 
 
 " It is true ! " I continued ; " I, who am a friend of Italy, 
 say it to you. You talk of corruption in high places, — 
 begin your reforms at home ! Learn to practice common 
 honesty ; teach your children to do it ; respect yourselves 
 sufficiently to be above such meanness, and others will re- 
 spect you. What were my fine, my beautiful words worth 
 to you ? I thought I was sowing seed on good ground " — 
 
 " Signore, Signore, hear me ! " cried the Don. 
 
 " I have only one word more to say, and that is Addio ! 
 and not a rivederci ! I am going, and I shall not come 
 back again." 
 
 Don Michele jumped up in bed, but I was already at the 
 door. I threw it open, closed it behind me, and dashed 
 down the stairs. A faint cry of " Signore ! " followed me. 
 
390 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 In two minutes more I was on the pier, waiting for the 
 steamer to come around the point from Casamicciola. The 
 sweet morning air cooled my excitement, and disposed me 
 to gentler thoughts. I fancied Don Michele in his bed, 
 mortified and repentant, and almost regretted that I had 
 not given him a last chance to right himself in my eyes. 
 Moreover, reviewing the incidents of my trip, I was amused 
 at the part which I had played in it. Without the least 
 intent or premeditation, I had assumed the character of a 
 missionary of religious freedom, education, and the Univer- 
 sal Republic. But does the reader suppose that I imagine 
 any word thus uttered will take root, and bring forth fruit, 
 — that any idea thus accidentally planted will propagate 
 itself further ? 
 
 No, indeed! 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 
 
The Leghorn steamer slid smoothly over the glassy Tyr- 
 rhene strait, and sometime during the night came to an- 
 chor in the harbor of Bastia. I sat up in my berth at sun- 
 rise, and looked out of the bull's eye to catch my first near 
 glimpse of Corsican scenery ; but, instead of that, a pair 
 of questioning eyes, ^et in a brown, weather-beaten face, 
 met my own. It was a boatman waiting on the gangway, 
 determined to secure the only fare which the steamer had 
 brought that morning. Such persistence always succeeds, 
 and in this case justly ; for when we were landed upon the 
 quay, shortly afterwards, the man took the proffered coin 
 with thanks, and asked for no more. 
 
 Tall, massive houses surrounded the little circular port. 
 An old bastion on the left, — perhaps that from which the 
 place originally took its name, — a church in front, and 
 suburban villas and gardens on the shoulders of the steep 
 mountain in the rear, made a certain impression of pride 
 and stateliness, notwithstanding the cramped situation of 
 the city. The Corsican coast is here very bold and abrupt, 
 and the first advantage of defense interferes with the pres- 
 ent necessity of growth. 
 
 At that early hour few persons were stirring in the 
 streets. A languid officer permitted us to pass the douane 
 and sanitary line ; a large-limbed boy from the mountains 
 became a porter for the nonce ; and a waiter, not fully 
 awake, admitted us into the " Hotel d'Europe," a building 
 with more space than cleanliness, more antiquated furni- 
 ture than comfort. It resembled a dismantled palace — 
 huge, echoing, dusty. The only tenants we saw then, or 
 later, were the waiter aforesaid, who had not yet learned 
 
39^ BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 the ordinary wants of a traveller, and a hideous old woman, 
 who twice a day deposited certain oily and indescribable 
 dishes upon a table in a room which deserved the name of 
 manger, in the English sense of the word . 
 
 However, I did not propose to remain long in Bastia ; 
 Corte, the old capital of Paoli, in the heart of the island, 
 was my destination. After ascertaining that a diligence 
 left for the latter place at noon, we devoted an hour or two 
 to Bastia. The breadth and grandeur of the principal 
 streets, the spacious new place with a statue of Napoleon 
 in a Roman toga, the ample harbor in process of con- 
 struction to the northward, and the" fine coast- views from 
 the upper part of the city, were matters of surprise. The 
 place has grown rapidly within the past fifteen years, and 
 now contains twenty-five thousand inhabitants. Its geo- 
 graphical situation is good. The dagger-shaped Cape 
 Corso, rich with fruit and vines, extends forty miles to the 
 northward ; westward, beyond the mountains, lie the fortu- 
 nate lands of Nebbio and the Balagna, while the coast 
 southward has no other harbor for a distance of seventy 
 or eighty miles. The rocky island of Capraja, once a 
 menace of the Genoese, rises over the sea in the direction 
 of Leghorn ; directly eastward, and nearer, is Elba, and 
 far to the southeast, faintly seen, Monte Cristo, — the three 
 representing mediaeval and modern history and romance, 
 and repeating the triple interest which clings around the 
 name of Corsica. 
 
 The growth of Bastia seems to have produced but little 
 effect, as yet, on the character of the inhabitants. They 
 have rather the primitive air of mountaineers ; one looks 
 in vain for the keenness, sharpness, and, alas ! the dishon- 
 esty, of an Italian seaport town. Since the time of Seneca, 
 who, soured by exile, reported of them, — 
 
 " Prima est ulcisci lex, altera vivere raptu, 
 Tertia mentiri, quarta negare Deos, " — 
 
 the Corsicans have not been held in good repute. Yet our 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 395 
 
 first experience of them was by no means unprepossessing. 
 We entered a bookstore, to get a map of the island. 
 While I was examining it, an old gentleman, with the Le- 
 gion of Honor in his button-hole, rose from his seat, took 
 the sheet from my hands, and said : " What's this ? what's 
 this ? " After satisfying his curiosity, he handed it back to 
 me, and began a running fire of questions : " Your first 
 visit to Corsica ? You are English ? Do you speak Italian ? 
 your wife also ? Do you like Bastia ? does she also ? How 
 long will you stay ? Will she accompany you ? " etc. I an- 
 swered with equal rapidity, as there was nothing obtrusive 
 in the old man's manner. The questions soon came to an 
 end, and then followed a chapter of information and advice, 
 which was very welcome. 
 
 The same naive curiosity met us at every turn. Even 
 the rough boy who acted as porter plied me with questions, 
 yet was just as ready to answer as to ask. I learned much 
 more about his situation and prospects than was really nec- 
 essary, but the sum of all showed that he was a fellow 
 determined to push his way in the world. Self-confidence 
 is a common Corsican trait, which Napoleon only shared 
 with his fellow-islanders. The other men of his time who 
 were either born upon Corsica or lived there for a while — 
 Pozzo di Borgo, Bernadotte, Massena, Murat, Sebastiani — 
 seem to have caught the infection of this energetic, self- 
 reliant spirit. 
 
 In Bastia there is neither art nor architecture. It is a 
 well-built, well-regulated, bustling place, and has risen in 
 latter years quite as much from the growth of Italian com- 
 merce as from the favor of the French government. From 
 the quantity of small coasting craft in the harbor, I should 
 judge that its trade is principally with the neighboring 
 shores. In the two book-shops I found many devotional 
 works and Renucci's History, but only one copy of the 
 Storiche Corse, which I was glad to secure. 
 
 When the hour of departure came, we found the inquis- 
 
S96 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 itive old gentleman at the diligence office. He was our 
 companion in the coupe^ and apparently a personage of 
 some note, as at least a score of friends came to bid him 
 adieu. To each of these he announced in turn : " These 
 are my travelling companions — an American gentleman 
 and his wife. They speak French and Italian ; they have 
 never been in Corsica before ; they are going to Corte ; 
 they travel for pleasure and information." Then there 
 were reciprocal salutations and remarks ; and if the pos- 
 tilion had not finally given the signal to take our places, 
 we should soon have been on speaking terms with half 
 Bastia. 
 
 The road ran due south, along the base of the moun- 
 tains. As we passed the luxuriant garden-suburbs, our 
 companion pointed out the dusky glitter of the orange- 
 trees, and exclaimed : " You see what the Corsican soil 
 produces. But this is nothing to the Balagna. There 
 you will find the finest olive culture of the Mediterranean. 
 I was prefect of the Balagna in 1836, and in that year the 
 exportation of oil amounted to six millions of francs, while 
 an equal quantity was kept for consumption in the island." 
 
 Brown old villages nestled high up in the ravines on our 
 right ; but on the left the plain stretched far away to the 
 salt lake of Biguglia, the waters of which sparkled between 
 the clumps of poplars and elms studding the meadows. 
 The beds of the mountain streams were already nearly 
 dry, and the summer malaria was beginning to gather on 
 the low fields through which they wandered. A few 
 peasants were cutting and tedding hay here and there, or 
 lazily hauling it homewards. Many of the fields were 
 given up to myrtle and other wild and fragrant shrubs ; 
 but there were far too few workers abroad for even the 
 partial cultivation. 
 
 Beyond the lake of Biguglia, and near the mouth of the 
 Golo River, is the site of Mariana, founded by Marius. 
 Except a scattering of hewn stones, there are no remains 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 397 
 
 of the Roman town ; but the walls of a church and chapel 
 of the Middle Ages are still to be seen. The only other 
 Roman colony on Corsica — Aleria, at the mouth of the 
 Tavignano — was a restoration of the more ancient Alalia, 
 which tradition ascribes to the Phoceans. Notwithstand- 
 ing the nearness of the island to the Italian coast, and 
 its complete subjection to the Empire, its resources were 
 imperfectly developed by the Romans, and the accounts of 
 it given by the ancient writers are few and contradictory. 
 Strabo says of the people : " Those who inhabit the moun- 
 tains live from plunder, and are more untamable than wild 
 beasts. When the Roman commanders undertake an ex- 
 pedition against the island, and possess themselves of the 
 strongholds, they bring back to Rome many slaves ; and 
 then one sees with astonishment the savage animal nature 
 of the people. For they either take their own lives vio- 
 lently, or tire out their masters by their stubbornness and 
 stupidity ; whence, no matter how cheaply they are pur- 
 chased, it is always a bad bargain in the end." 
 
 Here we have the key to that fierce, indomitable spirit 
 of independence which made the Genoese occupation one 
 long story of warfare ; which produced such heroes as 
 Sambucuccio, Sampieri, and Paoli ; and which exalted Cor- 
 sica, in the last century, to be the embodiment of the dem- 
 ocratic ideas of Europe, and the marvelous forerunner of 
 the American Republic. Verily, Nature is " careful of the 
 type." After the Romans, the Vandals possessed Corsica ; 
 then the Byzantine Greeks ; then, in succession, the Tuscan 
 Barons, the Pisans, and the Genoese — yet scarcely one of 
 the political forms planted among them took root in the 
 character of the islanders. The origin of the Corsican Re- 
 public lies back of all our history ; it was a natural growth, 
 which came to light after the suppression of two thousand 
 years. 
 
 As we approached the gorge through which the Golo 
 breaks its way to the sea, the town of Borgo, crowning a 
 
398 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 mountain summit, recalled to memory the last Corsican 
 victory, when Clement Paoli, on the 1st of October, 1768, 
 defeated and drove back to Bastia a French force much 
 greater than his own. Clement, the brooding monk in his 
 cloister, the fiery leader of desperate battle, is even a 
 nobler figure than his brother Pascal in the story of those 
 days. 
 
 We changed horses at an inn under the mountain of 
 Borgo, and then entered the valley of the Golo, leaving the 
 main road, which creeps onward to Bonifacio through 
 lonely and malarious lands. The scenery now assumed a 
 new aspect. No more the blue Tyrrhene Sea, with its 
 dreams of islands ; a valley wilder than any infolded 
 among the Appenines opened before us. Slopes covered 
 with chestnut groves rose on either side ; slant ravines 
 mounted between steep escarpments of rock ; a village or 
 two, on the nearer heights, had the appearance of refuge 
 and defense, rather than of quiet habitation, and the brown 
 summits in the distance held out no promise of softer 
 scenes beyond. 
 
 Our companion, the prefect, pointed to the chestnut 
 groves. "There," said he, "is the main support of our 
 people in the winter. Our Corsican name for it is 'the 
 bread tree.' The nuts are ground, and the cakes of chest- 
 nut-flour, baked on the hearth, and eaten while fresh, are 
 really delicious. We could not live without the chestnut 
 and the olive." 
 
 The steep upper slopes of the mountains were covered 
 with tbs macchia — a word of special significance on the 
 island. It is equivalent to "jungle " or " chaparral " ; but 
 the Corsican macchia has a character and a use of its own. 
 Fancy an interminable thicket of myrtle, arbutus, wild 
 laurel, lentisk, box, and heather, eight or twelve feet in 
 height, interlaced with powerful and luxuriant vines, and 
 with an undergrowth of rosemary, lavender, and sage. 
 Between the rigid, stubby stems the wild boar can scarcely 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 399 
 
 make his way;' thorns and dagger-like branches meet 
 above — yet the richest balm breathes from this impene- 
 trable wilderness. When the people say of a man, " he 
 has taken to the macchia," every one understands that he 
 has committed a murder. Formerly, those who indulged 
 in the fierce luxury of the vendetta sometimes made their 
 home for years in the thickets, comnmnicating privately, 
 from time to time, with their families. But there is now 
 no scent of blood lurking under that of the myrtle and 
 lavender. Napoleon, who neglected Corsica during his 
 years of empire (in fact, he seemed to dislike all mention 
 of the island), remembered the odors of the macchia upon 
 St. Helena. 
 
 Our second station was at a saw-mill beside the river. 
 Here the prefect left us, saying : " I am going to La Porta, 
 in the country of Morosaglia. It is a beautiful place, 
 and you must come and see it. I have a ride of three 
 hours, on horseback across the mountains, to get there." 
 
 His place in the coupe was taken by a young physician 
 bound for Pontenuovo, further up the valley. I was struck 
 by the singular loneliness of the country, as we advanced 
 further into the interior. Neither in the grain-fields be- 
 low, nor the olive-orchards above, was any laborer to be 
 seen. Mile after mile pasS'ed by, and the diligence was 
 alone on the highway. " The valley of the Golo is so un- 
 healthy," said the physician, " that the people only come 
 down to their fields at the time for ploughing, sowing, and 
 reaping. If a man from the mountains spends a single 
 night below here, he is likely to have an attack of fever." 
 
 " But the Golo is a rapid mountain stream," I remarked ; 
 " there are no marshes in the valley, and the air seems to 
 me pure and bracing. Would not the country become 
 healthy through more thorough cultivation ? " 
 
 " I can only explain it," he answered, " by the constant 
 variation of temperature. During the day there is a close 
 heat, such as we feel now, while at night the air becomes 
 
400 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 suddenly chill and damp. As to agriculture, it don't seem 
 to be the natural business of the Corsican. He will range 
 the mountains all day, with a gun on his shoulder, but he 
 hates work in the fields. Most of the harvesting on the 
 eastern coast of the island, and in the Balagna, is done by 
 the Lucchese peasants, who come over from the main- 
 land every year. Were it not for them, the grain would 
 rot where it stands." 
 
 This man's statement may have been exaggerated, but 
 further observation convinced me that there was truth in 
 it. Yet the people are naturally active and of a lively 
 temperament, and their repugnance to labor is only one 
 of the many consequences of the vendetta. When Paoli 
 suppressed the custom with an iron hand, industry revived 
 in Corsica ; and now that the French government has suc- 
 ceeded in doing the same thing, the waste and pestilent 
 lands will no doubt be gradually reclaimed. 
 
 The annals of the Corsican vendetta are truly something 
 terrible. Filippini (armed to the teeth and protected by a 
 stone wall, as he wrote) and other native historians esti- 
 mate the number of murders from revenge in the three 
 and a half centuries preceding the year 1729 at three 
 hundred and thirty-three thousand, and the number of 
 persons wounded in family feuds at an equal figure ! 
 Three times the population of the island killed or wounded 
 in three hundred and fifty years ! Gregorovius says : " If 
 this island of Corsica could vomit back all the blood of 
 battle and vendetta which it has drunk during the past 
 ages, its cities and towns would be overwhelmed, its popula- 
 tion drowned, and the sea be incarnadined as far as Genoa. 
 Verily, here the red Death planted his kingdom." France 
 has at last, by two simple, practical measures, stayed the 
 deluge. First, the population was disarmed ; then the 
 bandits and blood-outlaws were formed into a body of 
 Voltigeurs Corses, who, knowing all the hiding-places in 
 the macchia, easily track the fugitives. A few executions 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 401 
 
 tamed the thirst for blood, and within the past ten years 
 the vendetta has ceased to exist. 
 
 While we were discussing these matters with the physi- 
 cian, the diligence rolled steadily onwards, up the valley of 
 the Golo. With every mile the scenery became wilder, 
 browner, and more lonely. There were no longer villages 
 on the hill-summits, and the few farm-houses perched be- 
 side the chestnut-orchards appeared to be untenanted. As 
 the road crossed by a lofty stone arch to the southern bank 
 of the river, the physician said : " This is Pontenuovo, and it 
 is just a hundred years to-day since the battle was fought." 
 He was mistaken ; the battle of Pontenuovo, fatal to Paoli 
 and to the independence of Corsica, took place on the 9th 
 of May, 1769. It was the end of a struggle all the more 
 heroic because it was hopeless from the start. The stony 
 slopes on either side of the bridge are holy ground ; for 
 the Corsicans did not fight in vain. A stronger people 
 beyond the sea took up the torch as it fell from their 
 hands, and fed it with fresh oil. History (as it has hith- 
 erto been written) deals only with events, not with popular 
 sympathies and enthusiasms ; and we can therefore scarcely 
 guess how profoundly the heart of the world was stirred by 
 the name of Corsica, between the years 1755 and 1769. 
 To Catharine of Russia as to Rousseau, to Alfieri as to Dr. 
 Johnson, Paoli was one of the heroes of the century. 
 
 Beyond Pontenuovo the valley widens, and a level road 
 carried us speedily to Ponte alia Leccia, at the junction of 
 the Golo with its principal affluent, the Tartaglia. Ponte- 
 lech and Tartatch are the Corsican words. Here the scen- 
 ery assumes a grand Alpine character. High over the 
 nearer mountains rose the broken summits of Monte 
 Padro and Capo Bianco, the snow-filled ravines glittering 
 between their dark pinnacles of rock. On the south, a by- 
 road wandered away through the chestnut-woods to Moro- 
 saglia ; villages with picturesque belfries overlooked the 
 valley, and the savage macchia gave place to orchards 
 26 
 
402 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 of olive. Yet the character of the scenery was sombre, 
 almost melancholy. Though the myrtle flowered snowily 
 among the rocks, and the woodbine hung from the banks, 
 and the river filled the air with the incessant mellow 
 sound of its motion, these cheerful features lost their 
 wonted effect beside the sternness and solitude of the 
 mountains. 
 
 Towards the end of this stage the road left the Golo, and 
 ascended a narrow lateral valley to the village of Omessa, 
 where we changed horses. Still following the stream to 
 its sources, we reached a spur from the central chain, and 
 slowly climbed its sides to a higher region — a land of 
 rocks and green pasture-slopes, from the level of which a 
 wide sweep of mountains was visible. The summit of 
 the pass was at least two thousand feet above the sea. On 
 attaining it, a new and surprising vista opened to the south- 
 ward, into the very heart of the island. The valley before 
 us dropped in many windings into that of the Tavignano, 
 the second river of Corsica, which we overlooked for an 
 extent of thirty miles. Eastward the mountains sank into 
 hills of gentle undulation, robed with orchards and vine- 
 yards, and crowned with villages; westward they towered 
 into dark, forbidding ranges, and the snows of the great 
 central peaks of Monte Rotondo and Monte d' Oro, nearly 
 ten thousand feet in height, stood gray against the sunset. 
 Generally, the landscapes of an island have a diminished, 
 contracted character ; but here the vales were as amply 
 spread, the mountains as grandly planted, as if a continent 
 lay behind them. 
 
 For two leagues the road descended, following the bays 
 and forelands of the hills. The diligence sped downward 
 so rapidly that before it was quite dusk we saw the houses 
 and high rock fortress of Corte before us. A broad ave- 
 nue of sycamores, up and down which groups of people 
 were strolling, led into the town. We were set down at a 
 hotel of primitive fashion, where we took quarters for the 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 403 
 
 night, leaving the diligence, which would have carried us 
 to Ajaccio by the next morning. Several French officials 
 had possession of the best rooms, so that we were but indif- 
 ferently lodged ; but the mountain trout on the dinner- 
 table were excellent, and the wine of Corte was equal to 
 that of Tuscany. 
 
 While the moon, risen over the eastern mountains, 
 steeps the valley in misty silver, and a breeze from the Al- 
 pine heights deliciously tempers the air, let us briefly recall 
 that wonderful episode of Corsican history of which Pascal 
 Paoli is the principal figure. My interest in the name 
 dates from the earliest recollections of childhood. Near 
 my birthplace there is an inn and cluster of houses named 
 Paoli — or, as the people pronounce it, Peoli. Here 
 twenty-three American soldiers were murdered in cold 
 blood by the British troops, in September, 1777. Wayne's 
 'battle-cry at the storming of Stony Point was, " Remember 
 Paoli ! " The old tavern-sign was the half-length portrait 
 of an officer (in a red coat, I think), whom, I was told, was 
 " General Paoli," but I knew nothing further of him, 
 until, some years later, I stumbled on Boswell's work ; my 
 principal authority, however, is a recent volume,^ and the 
 collection of Paoli's letters published by Tommaseo. 
 
 It is unnecessary to review the long struggle of the Cor- 
 sicans to shake off the yoke of Genoa ; I need only allude 
 to the fact. Pascal, born in 1724 or 1725, was the son of 
 Hyacinth Paoli, who was chosen one of the chiefs of the 
 people in 1734, and in connection with the other chiefs, 
 Ceccaldi and Giaffbri, carried on the war for independence 
 with the greatest bravery and resolution, but with little 
 success, for two years. In March, 1736, when the Corsi- 
 cans were reduced to the last extremity, the Westphalian 
 adventurer, Theodore von Neuhoff, suddenly made his ap- 
 pearance. The story of this man, who came ashore in a 
 caftan of scarlet silk, Turkish trousers, yellow shoes, a 
 1 Histoire de Pascal Paoli, par M. Bartoli. Largentiere, 1866. 
 
404 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 Spanish hat and feather, and a sceptre in his right hand, 
 and coolly announced to the people that he had come to be 
 their king, is so fantastic as to be scarcely credible ; but 
 we cannot dwell upon it. His supplies of money and mu- 
 nitions of war, and still more his magnificent promises, 
 beguiled those sturdy republicans into accepting the cheat 
 of a crown. The fellow was not without ability, and but 
 for a silly vanity, which led him to ape the state and show 
 of other European counts, might have kept his place. His 
 reign of eight months was the cause of Genoa calling in 
 the aid of France ; and, after three years of varying for- 
 tunes, the Corsicans were obliged to submit to the condi- 
 tions imposed upon them by the French commander, 
 Maillebois. 
 
 Hyacinth Paoli went into exile, and found a refuge at 
 the court of Naples with his son Pascal. The latter was 
 carefully educated in the school of Genovesi, the first 
 Italian political-economist of the last century, and then 
 entered the army, where he distinguished himself during 
 campaigns in Sicily and Calabria. Thus sixteen years 
 passed away. 
 
 The Corsicans, meanwhile, had continued their struggle 
 under the leadership of Giaffori, another of the many he- 
 roes of the island. When, in 1753, he was assassinated, 
 the whole population met together to celebrate his obse- 
 quies, and renewed the oath of resistance to death against 
 the Genoese rule. Five chiefs (one of whom was Clement 
 Paoli, Pascal's elder brother) were chosen to organize a 
 provisional government and carry on the war. But at the 
 end of two years it was found prudent to adopt a more 
 practical system, and to give the direction of affairs into 
 the hands of a single competent man. It was no doubt 
 Clement Paoli who first suggested his brother's name. 
 The military experience of the latter gave him the confi- 
 dence of the people, and their unanimous voice called him 
 to be their leader. 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 405 
 
 In April, 1755, Pascal Paoli, then thirty years old, 
 landed at Aleria, the very spot where King Theodore had 
 made his theatrical entry into Corsica nineteen years be- 
 fore. Unlike him, Paoli came alone, poor, bringing only 
 his noble presence, his cultivated intelligence, and his fame 
 as a soldier, to the help of his countrymen. " It was a 
 singular problem," says one of the historians of Corsica ; 
 " it was a new experiment in history, and how it might 
 succeed at a time when similar experiments failed in the 
 most civilized lands would be to Europe an evidence that 
 the rude simplicity of nature is more capable of adapting 
 itself to democratic liberty than the refined corruption of 
 culture can possibly be." 
 
 Paoli, at first reluctant to accept so* important a post, 
 finally yielded to the solicitations of the people, and on the 
 15th of July was solemnly invested with the Presidency of 
 Corsica. His first step shows at once his judgment and 
 his boldness. He declared that the vendetta must instantly 
 cease ; whoever committed blood-revenge was to be 
 branded with infamy, and given up to the headsman. He 
 traversed the island, persuading hostile families to bury 
 their feuds, and relentlessly enforced the new law, although 
 one of his relatives was the first victim. But he was not 
 allowed to enter upon his government without resistance. 
 Matra, one of the Corsican chiefs, was ambitious of Paoli's 
 place, and for a year the island was disturbed with civil 
 war. Matra claimed and received assistance from Genoa, 
 and Paoli, defeated and besieged in the monastery of 
 Bozio, was almost in the hands of his rival, when rein- 
 forcements appeared, headed by Clement and by Carnoni, 
 a blood-enemy of the Paolis, forced by his noble mother 
 to forswear the family enmity, and deliver instead of slay. 
 Matra was killed, and thenceforth Paoli was the undisputed 
 chief of Corsica. 
 
 It was not difiicult for the people, once united, to with- 
 stand the weakened power of Genoa. That republic pos- 
 
406 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 sessed only Bastia, Ajaccio, and Calvi ; the garrisoning of 
 which fortresses, by a treaty with France in 1756, was 
 transferred to the latter power, in order to prevent them 
 from falling into the hands of the Corsicans. The French 
 proclaimed a neutrality which Paoli perforce was obliged 
 to respect. He therefore directed his attention to the thor- 
 ough political organization of the island, the development 
 of its resources, and the proper education of its people. 
 He had found the country in a lamentable condition when 
 he returned from his exile. The greater part of the people 
 had relapsed into semi-barbarism in the long course of 
 war ; agriculture was neglected, laws had fallen into dis- 
 use, the vendetta raged everywhere, and the only element 
 from which order and industry could be evolved was the 
 passionate thirst for independence, which had only been 
 increased by defeat and suffering. 
 
 Paoli made the completest use of this element, bending 
 it all to the purposes of government, and his success was 
 truly astonishing. The new seaport of Isola Rossa was 
 built in order to meet the necessity of immediate com- 
 merce ; manufactories of all kinds, even powder-mills were 
 established ; orchards of chestnut, olive, and orange trees 
 were planted, the culture of maize introduced, and plans 
 made for draining the marshes and covering the island 
 with a network of substantial highways. An educational 
 system far in advance of the times was adopted. All chil- 
 dren received at least the rudiments of education, and in 
 the year 1765 the University of Corsica was founded at 
 Corte. One provision of its charter was the education of 
 poor scholars, who showed more than average capacity, at 
 the public expense. 
 
 Paoli was obliged to base his scheme of government on 
 the existing forms. He retained the old provincial and 
 municipal divisions, with their magistrates and elders, mak- 
 ing only such changes as were necessary to bind the scat- 
 tered local jurisdictions into one consistent whole, to which 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 407 
 
 he gave a national power and character. He declared the 
 people to be the sole source of law and authority ; that his 
 office was a trust from their hands, and to be exercised ac- 
 cording to their will and for their general good ; and that 
 the central government must be a house of glass, allowing 
 each citizen to watch over its action. " Secrecy and mys- 
 tery in governments," he said, " not only make a people 
 mistrustful, but favor the growth of an absolute irrespon- 
 sible power." 
 
 All citizens above the age of twenty-five years were en- 
 titled to the right of suffrage. Each community elected 
 its own magistrates, but the voters were obliged to swear 
 before the officials already in power, that they would nom- 
 inate only the worthiest and most capable men as their 
 successors. These local elections were held annually, but 
 the magistrates were not eligible to immediate reelection. 
 A representative from each thousand of the population 
 was elected to the General Assembly, which in its turn 
 chose a Supreme Executive Council of nine members — 
 one from each province of the island. The latter were re- 
 quired to be thirty-five years of age, and to have served as 
 governors of their respective provinces. A majority of 
 two thirds gave the decisions of the General Assembly the 
 force of law ; but the Council, in certain cases, had the 
 right of veto, and the question was then referred for final 
 decision to the next Assembly. Paoli was President of 
 the Council and General-in-chief of the army. Both he 
 and the members of the Council, however, were responsible 
 to the nation, and liable to impeachment, removal, and 
 punishment by the General Assembly. 
 
 Paoli, while enforcing a general militia system, took the 
 strongest ground against the establishment of a standing 
 army. " In a free land," he said, " every citizen must be a 
 soldier, and ready to arm at any moment in defense of his 
 rights. But standing armies have always served Despot- 
 ism rather than Liberty." He only gave way that a lim- 
 
408 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 ited number should be enrolled to garrison the fortified 
 places. As soon as the people were sufficiently organized 
 to resist the attempts which Genoa made from time to 
 time to recover her lost dominion, he devoted his energies 
 wholly to the material development of the island. The 
 Assembly, at his suggestion, appointed two commissioners 
 of agriculture for each province. The vendetta was com- 
 pletely suppressed ; with order and security came a new 
 prosperity, and the cities held by the neutral French began 
 to stir with desires to come under Paoli's paternal rule. 
 
 The resemblance in certain forms as in the general spirit 
 and character of the Constitution of the Corsican Repub- 
 lic to that of the United States, which was framed more 
 than thirty years afterwards, is very evident. Indeed, we 
 may say that the latter is simply an adaptation of the same 
 political principles to the circumstances of a more advanced 
 race and a broader field of action. But if we justly ven- 
 erate the courage which won our independence* and the 
 wisdom which gave us our institutions, how shall we suffi- 
 ciently honor the man and the handful of half-barbarous 
 people who so splendidly anticipated the same great work ! 
 Is there anything nobler in history than the Corsican epi- 
 sode ? No wonder that the sluggish soul of Europe, then 
 beginning to stir with the presentiment of coming changes, 
 was kindled and thrilled as not for centuries before. What 
 effect the example of Corsica had upon the American 
 Colonies is something which we cannot now measure. I 
 like to think, however, that the country tavern-sign of 
 " General Paoli," put up before the Revolution, signified 
 more than the mere admiration of the landlord for a for- 
 eign hero. 
 
 At the end of ten years the Genoese Senate became 
 convinced that the recovery of Corsica was hopeless ; and 
 when Paoli succeeded in creating a small fleet, under the 
 command of Perez, Knight of Malta, they saw their Med- 
 iterranean commerce threatened with destruction. In the 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 409 
 
 year 1767 the island of Capraja was captured by the Cor- 
 sicans; then Genoa set the example which Austria has 
 recently followed in the case of Venetia. A treaty was 
 signed at Versailles on the 15th of May, 1768, between the 
 French Minister, the Duke de Choiseul, and the Genoese 
 Ambassador, whereby Genoa transferred to France all her 
 right and title to the island of Corsica. This was a death- 
 blow to the Republic ; but the people armed and organized, 
 determined to resist to the end. The splendid victory at 
 Borgo gave them hope. They asked and expected the 
 assistance of England ; but when did England ever help a 
 weak and struggling people ? The battle of Pontenuovo, 
 on the 9th of May, 1769, sealed the fate of the island. A 
 month afterwards Paoli went into exile with three hundred 
 of his countrymen. Among those who fled, after the bat- 
 tle, to the wild Alpine fastnesses of Monte Eotondo, was 
 his secretary, Carlo Bonaparte, and the latter's wife, Letitia 
 Ramolino, then seven months enceinte with the boy who 
 afterwards made Genoa and France suffer the blood-re- 
 venge of Corsica. Living in caves and forests, drenched 
 with rain, and almost washed aw«,y by the mountain tor- 
 rents, Letitia bore her burden to Ajaccio, and Napoleon 
 Bonaparte was one of the first Corsicans who were born 
 Frenchmen. 
 
 Paoli's journey through Italy and Germany to England 
 was a march of triumph. On reaching London he was re- 
 ceived by the king in private audience ; all parties joined 
 in rendering him honor. A pension of two thousand 
 pounds a year was granted to him (the greater part of 
 which he divided among his fellow exiles), and he took up 
 his residence in the country from which he still hoped the 
 liberation of Corsica. For twenty years we hear of him 
 as a member of that society which included Burke, Rey- 
 nolds, Johnson, Garrick, and Goldsmith ; keeping clear of 
 parties, yet, we may be sure, following with an interest he 
 hardly dared betray the events of the American struggle. 
 
410 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 But the French revolution did not forget him. The 
 Corsicans, in November, 1789, carried away by the repuB- 
 lican movement in France, had voted that their island 
 should be an integral part of the French nation. There 
 was a general cry for Paoli, and in April 1790, he reached 
 Paris. Lafayette was his friend and guide ; the National 
 Assembly received him with every mark of respect ; the 
 club of the Amis de la Constitution seated him beside its 
 President — Robespierre; Louis XVI. gave him an audi- 
 ence, and he was styled by the enthusiastic populace " the 
 Washington of Europe." At Marseilles he was met by a 
 Corsican deputation, two of the members of which were 
 Joseph and Napoleon Bonaparte, who sailed with him to 
 their native island. On landing at Cape Corso, he knelt 
 and kissed the earth, exclaiming, " O my country, I left 
 thee enslaved and I find thee free ! '* All the land rose to 
 receive him ; Te Deums were chanted in the churches, and 
 the mountain villages were depopulated to swell his tri- 
 umphal march. In September of the same year the rep- 
 resentatives of the people elected him President of the 
 Council and General of the troops of the island. 
 
 Many things had been changed during his twenty years* 
 absence, under the rule of France. It was not long before 
 the people divided themselves into two parties — one French 
 and ultra-republican ; the other Corsican, working secretly 
 for the independence of the island. The failure of the 
 expedition against Sardinia was charged to Paoli, and he 
 was summoned by the Convention to appear and answer 
 the charges against him. Had he complied, his head would 
 probably have fallen under the all-devouring guillotine ; he 
 refused, and his refusal brought the two Corsican parties 
 into open collision. Paoli was charged with being ambi- 
 tious, corrupt, and plotting to deliver Corsica to England. 
 His most zealous defender was the young Napoleon Bona- 
 parte, who wrote a fiery, indignant address, which I should 
 like to quote. Among other things he says, " We owe all 
 to him — even the fortune of being a republic I " 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 411 
 
 The story now becomes one of intrigue and deception, 
 and its heroic atmosphere gradually vanishes. Pozzo di 
 Borgo, the blood-enemy of Napoleon, alienated Paoli 
 from the latter. A fresh, cunning, daring intellect, he ac- 
 quired a mischievous influence over the gray-haired, sim- 
 ple-hearted patriot. That which Paoli's enemies charged 
 against him came to pass ; he asked the help of England, 
 and in 1794 the people accepted the sovereignty of that 
 nation, on condition of preserving their institutions, and 
 being governed by a viceroy, who it was presumed would 
 be none other than Pascal Paoli. The English fleet, un- 
 der Admiral Hood, speedily took possession of Bastia, 
 Calvi, Ajaccio, and the other seaports. But the English 
 government, contemptuously ignoring Paoli's services and 
 claims, sent out Sir Gilbert Elliott as viceroy; and he, 
 jealous of Paoli's popularity, demanded the latter's recall 
 to England. George III. wrote a command under the form 
 of an invitation ; and in 1795, Paoli, disappointed in all 
 his hopes, disgusted with the treatment he had received, 
 and recognizing the hopelessness of healing the new dis- 
 sensions among the people, left Corsica for the last time. 
 He returned to his former home in London, where he died 
 in 1807, at the age of eighty-two years. What little prop- 
 erty he had saved was left to found a school at Stretta, his 
 native village ; and another at Corte, for fifteen years his 
 capital. Within a year after his departure the English 
 were driven out of Corsica! 
 
 Paoli rejoiced, as a Corsican, at Napoleon's ascendency 
 in France. He illuminated his house in London when the 
 latter was declared Consul for life, yet he was never re- 
 called. During his last days on St. Helena, Napoleon 
 regretted his neglect or jealousy of the old hero ; his lame 
 apology was, " I v/as so governed by political considera- 
 tions, that it was impossible for me to obey my personal 
 impulses 1 " 
 
 Our first object, on the morning after our arrival in 
 
412 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 Corte, was to visit the places with which Paoli's name is 
 associated. The main street conducted us to the public 
 square, where stands his bronze statue, with the inscrip- 
 tion on the pedestal ; " A Pascal Paoli la Corse Re- 
 CONNAISSANTE." On onc side of the square is the Pa- 
 lazza, or Hall of Government ; and there they show you his 
 room, the/ window-shutters of which still keep their lining 
 of cork, as in the days of assassination, when he founded 
 the Republic. Adjoining it is a chamber where the Exec- 
 utive Council met to deliberate. Paoli's school, which still 
 flourishes, is his best monument. 
 
 High over the town rises the battered citadel, seated on a 
 rock which on the western side falls several hundred feet 
 sheer down to the Tavignano. The high houses of brown 
 stone climb and cling to the eastern slope, rough masses 
 of browner rock thrust out among them ; and the place 
 thus has an irregular pyramidal form, which is wonderfully 
 picturesque. The citadel was last captured from the Geno- 
 ese by Paoli's forerunner, Giaffori, in the year 1745. The 
 Corsican cannon were beginning to breach the walls, when 
 the Genoese commander ordered Giaffori's son, who had 
 previously been taken prisoner, to be suspended from the 
 ramparts. For a moment — but only for a moment — 
 Giaffori shuddered, and turned away his head ; then he 
 commanded the gunners, who had ceased firing, to renew 
 the attack. The breach was effected, and the citadel taken 
 by storm ; the boy, unhurt amidst the terrible cannonade, 
 was restored to his father. 
 
 We climbed towards the top of the rock by streets which 
 resembled staircases. At last the path came to an end in 
 some unsavory back-yards, if piles of shattered rock behind 
 the houses can be so called. I asked a young fellow who 
 was standing in the doorway, watching us, whether any 
 view was to be had by going further. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " but there is a better prospect from the 
 other house — yonder, where you see the old woman." 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 413 
 
 We clambered across the intervening rocks, and found 
 the woman engaged in shearing a goat, which a boy held by 
 the horns. " Certainly," she said, when I repeated the 
 question ; " Come into the house, and you shall look from 
 the windows." 
 
 She led us through the kitchen into a bright, plainly fur- 
 nished room, where four women were sewing. They all 
 greeted us smilingly, rose, pushed away their chairs, and 
 then opened the southern window. " Now look ! "said the 
 old woman. 
 
 We were dazzled by the brightness and beauty of the pic- 
 ture. The house was perched upon the outer angle of the 
 rock, and the valley of the Tavignano, with the gorge through 
 which its affluent, the Restonica, issues from the mountains, 
 lay below us. Gardens, clumps of walnut and groves of 
 chestnut trees, made the valley green ; the dark hues of the 
 mountains were softened to purple in the morning air, 
 and the upper snows shone with a brilliancy which I have 
 rarely seen among the Alps. The breeze came down to 
 us with freshness on its wings, and the subdued voices of 
 the twin rivers. 
 
 " Now the other window ! " the women said. 
 
 It opened eastward. There were, first, the roofs of 
 Corte, dropping away to the water-side ; then a wide, boun- 
 teous valley, green, flecked with harvest gold ; then village- 
 crowned hills, and, behind all, the misty outlines of moun- 
 tains that slope to the eastern shore. It is a fair land, 
 this Corsica, and the friendly women were delighted when 
 I told them so. 
 
 The people looked at us with a natural curiosity as we 
 descended the hill. Old women, invariably dressed in 
 black, gossiped or spun at the doors, girls carried water on 
 their heads from the fountains below, children tumbled 
 about on the warm stones, and a young mother, beside her 
 cradle, sang the Corsican lullaby : — 
 
414 
 
 " Ninni ninni, ninna nanna, 
 Ninni ninni, ninni nolu, 
 Allegrezza di la mamma, 
 Addormentati, o figliolu! " 
 
 There is another Corsican cradle song which has a sin- 
 gular resemblance to Tennyson's, yet it is quite unlikely 
 that he ever saw it. One verse runs : — 
 
 " A little pearl-laden ship, my darling, 
 Thou earnest silken stores, 
 And with the silken sails all set 
 Cora'st from the Indian shores, 
 And wrought with the finest workmanship 
 Are all thy golden oars. 
 Sleep, my little one, sleep a little while, 
 Ninni nanna, sleep ! " 
 
 The green waters of the Tavignano, plunging and foam- 
 ing down their rocky bed, freshened the warm summer air. 
 Beyond the bridge a vein of the river, led underground, 
 gushes forth as a profuse fountain under an arch of mason- 
 ry ; and here a number of people were collected to wash 
 and to draw water. One of the girls, who gave us to 
 drink, refused to accept a proffered coin, until a country- 
 man who was looking on said, " You should take it, since 
 the lady wishes it." A few paces further a second bridge 
 crosses the Restonica, which has its source in some small 
 lakes near the summit of Monte Rotondo. Its volume of 
 water appeared to me to be quite equal to that of the Tavig- 
 nano. 
 
 The two rivers meet in a rocky glen a quarter of a mile 
 below the town ; and thither we wandered in the after- 
 noon, through the shade of superb chestnut-trees. From 
 this, as from every other point in the neighborhood, the 
 views are charming. There is no threat of malaria in the 
 pure mountain air ; the trees are of richest foliage, the 
 water is transparent beryl, and the pleasant, communica- 
 tive people one meets impress one with a sense of their 
 honest simplicity. We wandered around Corte, surrender- 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 415 
 
 ing ourselves to the influences of the scenery and its asso- 
 ciations, and entirely satisfied with both. 
 
 Towards evening we climbed the hill by an easier path, 
 which brought us upon the crest of a ridge connecting 
 the citadel-rock with the nearest mountains. Directly 
 before its opened the gorge of the Tavignano, with a bridle- 
 path notched along its almost precipitous sides. A man 
 who had been sitting idly on a rock, with a pipe in his 
 mouth, came up, and stood beside me. " Yonder," said he, 
 pointing to the bridle-path, — "yonder is the road to the 
 land of Niolo. If you follow that, you will come to a forest 
 that is four hours long. The old General Arrighi — the 
 Duke of Padua, you know — travelled it some years ago, 
 and I was his guide. I see you are strangers ; you ought 
 to see the land of Niolo. It is not so rich as Corte here ; 
 but then the forests and the lakes, — ah, they are fine ! " 
 
 Presently the man's wife joined us, and we sat down to- 
 gether, and gossiped for half an hour. They gave us the 
 recipe for making hroccio, a kind of Corsican curd, or 
 junket, which we had tasted at the hotel, and found deli- 
 cious. I also learned from them many details of the coun- 
 try life of the island. They, like all the Corsicans with 
 whom I came in contact, were quite as ready to answer 
 questions as to ask them. They are not so lively as the 
 Italians, but more earnestly communicative, quick of ap- 
 prehension, and gifted with a rude humor of their own. 
 In Bastia I bought a volume of Pruverhj Corse, which con- 
 tains more than three thousand proverbs peculiar to the 
 island, many of them exceedingly witty and clever. I 
 quote a single one as a specimen of the dialect : — 
 
 " Da gattivu calzu un ne piglia magliolu, 
 Male u babbu e pegghiu u figliolu." 
 
 During our talk I asked the pair, " Do you still have 
 the vendetta in this neigborhood ? " 
 
 They both professed not to know what I meant by " ven- 
 
416 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 detta," but I saw plainly enough that they understood the 
 question. Finally the man said, rather impatiently, " There 
 are a great many kinds of vendetta." 
 
 "I mean blood-revenge — assassination — murder." 
 
 His hesitation to speak about the matter disappeared as 
 mysteriously as it came. (Was there, perhaps, a stain upon 
 his own hand?) " O," he answered, " that is all at an end. 
 I can remember when five persons were killed in a day in 
 Corte, and when a man could not travel from here to Ajac- 
 cio without risking his life. But now we have neither mur- 
 ders nor robberies ; all the roads are safe, the people live 
 quietly, and the country everywhere is better than it was." 
 
 I noticed that the Corsicans are proud of the present 
 Emperor on account of his parentage ; but they have also 
 some reason to be grateful to his government. He has 
 done much to repair the neglect of his uncle. The work 
 of Paoli has been performed over again; law and order 
 prevail from the sea-shore to the highest herdsman's hut 
 on Monte Rotondo ; admirable roads traverse the island, 
 schools have been established in all the villages, and the 
 national spirit of the people is satisfied by having a semi- 
 Corsican on the throne of France. I saw no evidence of 
 discontent anywhere, nor need there be ; for Europe has 
 nearly reached the Corsican ideal of the last century, and 
 the pride of the people may well repose for a while upon 
 the annals of their heroic past. 
 
 It was a serious disappointment that we were unable to 
 visit Ajaccio and the Balagna. We could only fix the in- 
 spiring scenery of Corte in our memories, and so make its 
 historical associations vital and enduring. There was no 
 other direct way of returning to Bastia than the road by 
 which we came ; but it kept a fresh interest for us. The 
 conductor of the diligence was one of the liveliest fellows 
 living, and entertained us with innumerable stories ; and 
 at the station of Omessa we met with a character so orig- 
 inal that I wish I could record every word he said. 
 
THE LAND OF PAOLI. 417 
 
 The man looked more like a Yankee than any Italian I 
 had seen for six months. He presented the conductor with 
 what appeared to be a bank-note for one thousand francs ; 
 but it proved to be issued by the " Bank of Content," and 
 entitled the holder to live a thousand years. Happiness 
 was the president, and Temperance the cashier. 
 
 " I am a director of the bank," said the disseminator of 
 the notes, addressing the passengers and a group of coun- 
 trymen, " and I can put you all in the way of being stock- 
 holders. But you must first bring testimonials. Four are 
 required — one religious, one medical, one legal, and one 
 domestic. What must they be ? Listen, and I will tell. 
 Religious — from a priest, vouching for four things : that 
 you have never been baptized, never preached, don't be- 
 lieve in the Pope, and are not afraid of the Devil. Medi- 
 cal — from a doctor, that you have had the measles, that 
 your teeth are sound, that you are not flatulent, and that 
 he has never given you medicine. Legal — from a law- 
 yer, that you have never been accused of theft, that you 
 mind your own business, and that you have never em- 
 ployed him. Domestic — from your wife, that you don't 
 lift the lids of the kitchen pots, walk in your sleep, or lose 
 the keyhole of your door ! There ! can any one of you 
 bring me these certificates ? " 
 
 The auditors, who had roared with laughter during the 
 speech, became suddenly grave — which emboldened the 
 man to ply them with other and sharper questions. Our 
 departure cut short the scene ; but I heard the conductor 
 laughing on his box for a league further. 
 
 At Ponte alia Leccia we breakfasted on trout, and, 
 speeding down the grand and lonely valley of the Golo, 
 reached Bastia towards evening. As we steamed out of 
 the little harbor the next day, we took the words of our 
 friend Gregoroyius, and made them ours : — 
 27 
 
418 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 " Year after year, thy slopes of olives hoar 
 Give oil, thy vineyards still their bounty pour! 
 Thy maize on golden meadows ripen well, 
 And let the sun thy curse of blood dispel. 
 Till down each vale and on each mountain-side 
 The stains of thy heroic blood be dried ! 
 Thy sons be like their fathers, strong and sure, 
 Thy daughters as thy mountain rivers pure. 
 And still thy granite crags between them stand 
 And all corruptions of the older land. 
 Fair isle, farewell ! thy virtues shall not sleep.; 
 Thy fathers' valor shall their children keep. 
 That ne'er this taunt to thee the stranger cast, — 
 Thy heroes were but fables of the Past ! " 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA, 
 
 WITH A DISTANT VIEW OF CAPEEEA. 
 
Before leaving Florence for the trip to Corsica, in which 
 I intended to include, if possible, the island of Sardinia, I 
 noticed that the Rubattino steamers touched at Maddalena, 
 on their way from Bastia to Porto Torres. The island of 
 Maddalena, I knew, lay directly over against Caprera, sep- 
 arated by a strait not more* than two of three miles in 
 breadth, and thus a convenient opportunity was offered of 
 visiting the owne'r and resident of the latter island, the 
 illustrious General Giuseppe Garibaldi. I have no special 
 passion for making the personal acquaintance of distin- 
 guished men, unless it happens that there is some point of 
 mutual interest concerning which intelligence may be given 
 or received. In this case, I imagined there was such a 
 point of contact. Having followed the fortunes of Italy 
 for the past twenty years, with the keen sympathy which 
 springs from a love for the land, and having been so near 
 the events of the last unfortunate expedition against Rome 
 as to feel from day to day the reflection of those events in 
 the temper of the Italian people, I had learned, during a 
 subsequent residence in Rome, certain facts which added 
 to the interest of the question, while they seemed still more 
 to complicate its solution. There were some things, I felt, 
 an explanation of which (so far as he would be able to 
 give it) might be asked of Garibaldi without impropriety, 
 and which he could communicate without any necessity of 
 reserve. 
 
 Another and natural sentiment was mingled with my 
 desire to meet the hero of Italian unity. I knew how 
 shamefully he had been deceived in certain respects, be- 
 fore undertaking the expedition which terminated so fruit- 
 
422 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 lessly at Mentana, and could, therefore, guess the mortifi- 
 cation which accompanied him in his imprisonment (for 
 such it virtually is) at Caprera. While, therefore, I should 
 not have sought an interview after the glorious Sicilian and 
 Calabrian campaign, or when the still excited world was 
 reading Nekton's bulletins from Spezzia, — so confounding 
 myself with the multitude who always admire the hero of 
 the day, and risk their necks to shake hands with him, — I 
 felt a strong desire to testify such respect as the visit of a 
 stranger implies, in Garibaldi's day of defeat and neglect. 
 
 " I did not praise thee, when the crowd, 
 Witched with the moment's inspiration, 
 Vexed thy still ether with hosannas loud, 
 And stamped their dusty adoration." i 
 
 Of all the people who crowded to see him at Spezzia in 
 such throngs that a false Garibaldi, with bandaged foot, 
 was arranged to receive the most of them, there is no trace 
 now. The same Americans who come from Paris chant- 
 ing paeans to Napoleon III., go to Rome and are instantly 
 stricken with sympathy for Pius IX., and a certain respect 
 for the Papacy, temporal power included. They give Ca- 
 prera a wide berth. Two or three steadfast English 
 friends do what they can to make the hero's solitude pleas- 
 ant, and he has still, as always, the small troop of Italian 
 followers, who never forsake him, because they live from 
 his substance. 
 
 Before deciding to visit Caprera, I asked the candid ad- 
 vice of some of the General's most intimate friends in 
 Florence. They assured me that scarcely any one had 
 gone to see him for months past; that a visit from an 
 American, who sympathized with the great and generous 
 aims to which he has devoted his life, could not be other- 
 wise than welcome ; and, while offering me cordial letters 
 of introduction, declared that this formality was really un- 
 necessary. It was pleasant to hear him spoken of as a 
 , 1 Lowell, Ode to Lamartine. 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 423 
 
 man whose refined amiability of manner was equal to his 
 unselfish patriotism, and who was as simple, unpretending, 
 and accessible personally, as he was rigorously democratic 
 in his political utterances. 
 
 I purposely shortened my tour in Corsica, in order to 
 take the Italian steamer which touches at Bastia, on its 
 way to Maddalena. Half smothered in the sultry heat, we 
 watched the distant smoke rounding the rocks of Capraja, 
 and the steamer had no sooner anchored outside the mole, 
 than we made haste to embark. The cloth was already 
 spread over the skylight on the quarterdeck, and seven 
 plates denoted six fellow-passengers. Two of these were 
 ladies, two Italians, with an old gentleman, who proved to>**"*~^ 
 English, although he loolfed the least like it, and an unmis- 
 takable Garibaldian, in a red shirt. The latter was my 
 vis-a-vis at table, and it was not long before he startled the 
 company by exclaiming : " In fifty years we shall have the 
 Universal Republic ! " 
 
 After looking around the table, he fixed his eyes on me, 
 as if challenging assent. 
 
 " In five, hundred years, perhaps," I said. 
 
 *' But the priests will go down soon ! " he shouted ; " and 
 as for that brute" (pointing with his fork towards Corsica), 
 " who rules there, his time is soon up." 
 
 As nobody seemed inclined to reply, he continued : 
 " Since the coming of the second Jesus Christ, Garibaldi, 
 the work goes on like lightning. As soon as the priests 
 are down, the Republic will come." 
 
 This man, so one of the passengers informed me, had 
 come on board en bourgeois, but as the steamer approached 
 Corsica, he suddenly appeared on deck in his red shirt. 
 After we left Bastia, he resumed his former costume. In 
 the capacity to swagger, he surpassed any man I had seen 
 since leaving home. His hair hung about his ears, his 
 nose was long, his beard thick and black, and he had the 
 air of a priest rather than a soldier, — but it was an air 
 
424 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 which pompously announced to everybody : " Garibaldi is 
 the Second Christ, and I am his Prophet ! " 
 
 Over the smooth sea we sped down the picturesque Cor- 
 sican coast. An indentation in the grand mountain chain 
 showed us the valley of the Golo ; then came the heights 
 of Vescovato, where Filippini wrote the history of the 
 island, and Murat took refuge after losing his Neapolitan 
 kingdom; then, Cervione, where the fantastic King The- 
 odore, the First and Last, held his capital ; after which 
 night fell upon the shores, and we saw only mountain 
 phantoms in the moonlight. 
 
 At sunrise the steward called me. 
 
 " We are passing the hocca" — the Straits of Bonifacio, 
 — said he, " and will soon be at Maddalena." 
 
 It was an archipelago of rocks in which the steamer was 
 entangled. All around us, huge gray masses, with scarcely 
 a trace of vegetation, rose from the wave ; in front, the 
 lofty, dark blue, serrated mountains of Sardinia pierced the 
 sky, and far to the right faded the southern shores of Cor- 
 sica. But, bleak and forsaken as was the scene, it had a 
 curious historical interest. As an opening between the 
 islands disclosed the white rocks, citadel, and town of Bon- 
 ifacio, some fifteen miles distant, I remembered the first 
 important episode in the life of Napoleon. It was in the 
 year 1792, while Pascal Paoli was still President of Cor- 
 sica. An expedition against Sardinia having been deter- 
 mined upon by the Republic, Napoleon, after, perhaps, the 
 severest struggle of his life, was elected second in com- 
 mand of the battalion of Ajaccio. A work^ written by M. 
 Nasica, of the latter place, gives a singular picture of the 
 fierce family feuds which preceded the election. It was 
 the commencement of that truly Corsican vendetta between 
 Pozzo di Borgo and the future emperor, which only ter- 
 minated when the former was able to say, after Waterloo : 
 " I have not killed Napoleon, but I have thrown the last 
 shovelful of earth upon him." 
 
 1 Memoir es sur VEnfance et la Jeunesse de Napoleon. Ajaccio, 1853. 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 425 
 
 The first attempt of the expedition was to be directed 
 against the island of Maddalena. A battery was planted 
 on the uninhabited rock of Santa Teresa (beside which we 
 passed), and Maddalena was bombarded, but without effect. 
 Napoleon prepared a plan for its capture, but Colonna, the 
 first in command, refused to allow him to make the at- 
 tempt. A heated discussion took place in the presence of 
 the other officers, and Napoleon, becoming at last indig- 
 nant and impatient, turned to the latter, and said : " Pie 
 doesn't know what I mean." 
 
 " You are an insolent fellow," retorted Colonna. 
 
 Napoleon muttered, as he turned away : " "We have only 
 a cheval de parade for commander." 
 
 At Bonifacio, afterwards, his career came near being 
 suddenly terminated. Some Marseilles marines who landed 
 there provoked a quarrel with the soldiers of the Corsican 
 battalion. Napoleon interfered to restore order, where- 
 upon he was seized by the fierce Marseillaise, who would 
 have hung him to a lamp-post, but for the timely aid of the 
 civil authorities. The disfavor of Paoli, who was at that time 
 under the control of Pozzo di Borgo, finally drove Napo- 
 leon from Corsica ; so that the machinations of his bitter- 
 est enemy really forced him into the field where he was so 
 suddenly and splendidly successful. 
 
 While we were recalling this fateful fragment of history, 
 the steamer entered the narrow strait between Maddalena 
 and the main land of Sardinia, and at the same moment 
 two stately French vessels made their appearance, crossing 
 tracks on the route between Marseilles and the Orient. 
 The rocky island of San Stefano, lying opposite Madda- 
 lena, forms a sheltered harbor, which Caprera, rising east- 
 ward against the sea, renders completely landlocked. But 
 what a wild, torn, distorted, desolate panorama ! A thin 
 sprinkling of lavender, rosemary, and myrtle serves but to 
 set off the cold gray of the granite rocks ; the summits 
 rise in natural bastions, or thrust out huge fangs or twisted 
 
426 BY-WAYS OF EXJROPE. 
 
 horns. There is nowhere any softening of these violent 
 outlines. They print themselves on the farthest distance, 
 and one is not surprised that the little village of Madda- 
 lena, the white house on Caprera, and two or three fishing- 
 huts on the Sardinian shore, are the only signs of human 
 habitation. 
 
 Beside the village, however, there was a little valley, 
 near the head of which a cool, white villa, perched on a 
 mass of rocks, shone against the rugged background. 
 
 " That is my place," said the old Englishman, " and I 
 shall be happy to see you there." 
 
 " I shall certainly come, if we have time enough after 
 visiting Caprera," I replied. 
 
 The Englishman, an entire stranger, was very kind in 
 his offers of service ; the Garibaldian was so pompous and 
 arrogant in his manner, that I soon perceived that no 
 assistance could be expected from him. Nevertheless, 
 chance threw us into the same boat, on landing in the 
 little harbor. I had ascertained that there was a hotel, 
 kept by one Remigio, in Maddalena ; and although one of 
 "our mutual friends" had advised me to go directly to 
 Caprera, — Garibaldi's hospitality being as certain as sun- 
 rise, or the change of the tide, — I determined to stop with 
 Remigio, and forward my letters. When the Prophet of 
 the Second Coming stepped on shore, he was accosted by 
 an old veteran, who wore a red shirt and blue goggles. 
 They embraced and kissed each other, and presently came 
 up another weather-beaten person, with an unmistakably 
 honest and amiable face, who was hailed with the name of 
 " Basso ! " 
 
 I knew the name as that of one of Garibaldi's most faith- 
 ful followers, and as the boat, meanwhile, had been re- 
 tained to convey the party to Caprera, I stepped up to 
 Basso and the Prophet and asked : " Will one of you be 
 good enough to take these letters to General Garibaldi, 
 and let the boatman bring me word when it will be con- 
 venient for him to receive me ? " 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 427 
 
 " Certainly," said the Prophet, taking the letters, and re- 
 marking, as he pointed to Basso, ^UMs is the General's 
 secretary." 
 
 The latter made a modest gesture, disclaiming the honor, 
 and said : " No ; you know that you are really his secre- 
 tary." 
 
 The boat shoved off with them. "It is a queer com- 
 pany," I said to myself, " and perhaps I ought not to have 
 inta-usted the letters to their care." One letter was from a 
 gentleman in a high diplomatic position, whose reputation 
 as a scholar is world-wide, and who possesses the most gen- 
 erous, and at the same time the most intelligent, sympathy 
 with the aspirations of the Italian people. The other was 
 from a noble woman, who has given the best energies of 
 her life to the cause, — who shared the campaigns of Sicily 
 and Calabria, and even went under fire at Monte Rotondo 
 and Mentana to succor the wounded. Probably no two 
 persons had a better right to claim the courtesy of Gari- 
 baldi in favor of one, who, though a stranger, was yet an 
 ardent friend. 
 
 The Hotel Eemigio directly fronted the quay. No sign 
 announced its character, but the first room we entered had 
 a billiard-table, beyond which was a kitchen. Here we 
 foutod La Remigia, who conducted us up a sumptuous stair- 
 case of black and white marble (unwashed) into a shabby 
 dining-room, and then left us to prepare coifee. A door 
 into an adjoining apartment stood half-open. I looked in, 
 but seeing a naked leg stretched out upon a dirty blanket, 
 made a speedy retreat. In a quarter of an hour coffee 
 came, without milk, but with a bottle of rum instead. The 
 servitress was a little girl, whose hands were of so ques- 
 tionable a complexion, that we turned away lest we should 
 see her touch the cups. I need not say that the beverage 
 was vile ; the reader will have already guessed that. 
 
 We summoned La Remigia, to ascertain whether a 
 breakfast was possible. " Eh, che vuole f " (" What can you 
 
428 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 expect ? ") said she. " This is a poor little island. What 
 would you like to have ? " 
 
 Limiting our wishes to the probabilities of the place, we 
 modestly suggested eggs and fish, whereat La Remigia 
 looked relieved, and promised that we should have both. 
 Then, although the heat was furious, I went forth for a 
 stroll along the shore. A number of bronze boys had 
 pulled off their tow shirts, and were either sitting naked 
 on the rocks, or standing in the shallow coves, and "splash- 
 ing each other with scallop-shells. Two or three fishing- 
 boats were lazily pulling about the strait, but the greater 
 part of the population of Maddalena sat in the shade and 
 did nothing. 
 
 The place contains about fifteen hundred inhabitants, 
 but scarcely one half that number were at home. The 
 others were sailors, or coral fishers, who are always absent 
 during the summer months. The low, bright-colored 
 houses are scattered along the shore, in such order as the 
 huge, upheaved masses of granite will allow, and each 
 street terminates in a stony path. In the scanty garden- 
 inclosures, bristling masses of the fruit-bearing cactus over- 
 hang the walls, repellant as the rocks from which they 
 spring. Evidently the place supplies nothing except the 
 article of fish ; all other necessaries of life must be brought 
 from Sardinia. The men are principally pensioned vet- 
 erans of the Italian navy, who are satisfied with the sight 
 of blue water and passing vessels ; the women (rock- 
 widows, one might call them), having the very simplest 
 household duties to perform, usually sit at their doors, 
 with some kind of knitting or netting, and chatter with 
 their nearest neighbors. I had scarcely walked a quarter 
 of a mile before the sleepy spirit of the place took hold of 
 my feet, and I found myself contemplating the shadowy 
 spots among the rocks, much more than the wild and 
 rugged island scenery across the strait. 
 
 Garibaldi's house on Caprera flashed in the sun, and 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 429 
 
 after a while I saw a boat pulling away from the landing- 
 place below it. I returned to the harbor to meet the boat- 
 man, and receive the answer which my letters required. 
 It was a red-headed fellow, with a face rather Scotch than 
 Italian, and a blunt, direct manner of speech which cor- 
 responded thereto. 
 
 " The General says he is not well, and can't see you," 
 said he. 
 
 " Have you a letter ? " I asked. 
 
 " No ; but he told me so.'* 
 
 V He is sick, then ? " 
 
 J- No," said the boatman, " he is not sick." 
 ^" Where did you see him ? " 
 
 " Out of doors. He went down to the sea this morning 
 and took a bath. Then he worked in the garden." 
 
 The first sensation of a man who receives an unexpected 
 blow is incredulity, and not exasperation. It required a 
 slight effort to believe the boatman's words, and the next 
 impression was that there was certainly some misunder- 
 standing. If Garibaldi were well enough to walk about 
 his fields, he was able to receive a visitor ; if he had read 
 the letters I forwarded, a decent regard for the writers 
 would have withh^d him from sending a rude verbal an- 
 swer by the mouth of a boatman. The whole proceeding 
 was so utterly at variance with all I had heard of his per- 
 sonal refinement and courtesy, that I was driven to the 
 suspicion that his followers had suppressed the letters, and 
 represented me, perhaps, as a stranger of not very repu- 
 table appearance. 
 
 Seeing that we were stranded for three days upon Mad- 
 dalena, — until the steamer returned from Porto Torres, 
 — I determined to assure myself whether the suspicion 
 was just. I could, at least, give the General a chance to 
 correct any misunderstanding. I therefore wrote a note, 
 mentioning the letters and the answer I had received 
 through the boatman ; referring to other friends of his in 
 
430 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 America and Italy, whom I knew ; assuring him that I had 
 had no intention of thrusting myself upon his hospitality, 
 but had only meant' to desire a brief personal interview. 
 I abstained, of course, from repeating the request, as he 
 would thus be able to grant it more gracefully, if a misrep- 
 resentation had really been made. Summoning the red- 
 headed boatman, I gave him the note, with the express 
 command that he should give it into Garibaldi's own 
 hands, and not into those of any of the persons about him. 
 
 La Eemigia gave us as good a breakfast as the house 
 could furnish. The wine was acutely sour, but the fish 
 were fresh and delicate. Moreover, the room had been 
 swept, and the hands of the little servant subjected to 
 a thorouglT washing. There was a dessert of cherries, 
 brought all the way from Genoa, and then the hostess, as 
 she brought the coffee, asked : " When will your Excel- 
 lencies go to Caprera? " 
 
 " If the General is sick," I remarked, " we shall prob- 
 ably not be able to see him." 
 
 " He was not well two or three weeks ago," said she ; 
 " he had the rheumatism in his hands. But now he goes 
 about his fields the same as before." 
 
 A second suspicion came into my head. What if the 
 boatman should not go to Caprera with my letter, but 
 merely sleep two or three hours in the shade, and then 
 come back to me with an invented verbal answer ? It was 
 now high noon, and a truly African sun beat down on the 
 unsheltered shores. The veterans had been chased from 
 their seats on the quay, and sat in dozing, silent rows on 
 the shady sides of the houses. A single boat, with sail 
 spread, hardly moved over the dazzling blue of the harbor. 
 There was no sign of active life anywhere, except in the 
 fleas. 
 
 Leaving my wife in La Remigia's care, I took one of the 
 rough paths behind the town, and climbed to a bold mass 
 of rocks, which commanded a view of the strait from Ca- 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 431 
 
 prera to Sardinia. Far off, beyond the singular horns and 
 needles of rock, cresting the mountains of the latter island, 
 a thunder-gust was brewing ; but the dark, cool shadows 
 there only served, by contrast, to make the breathless heat 
 on Maddalena more intense. Nevertheless, a light wind 
 finally came from somewhere, and I stretched myself out 
 on the granite, with Caprera before my eyes, and reflected 
 on the absurdity of any one human being taking pains to 
 make the acquaintance of any other particular human 
 being, while I watched the few boats visible on the surface 
 of the water below. One, rowing and sailing, rounded the 
 point of San Stefano, and disappeared ; another crept 
 along the nearer shore, looking for fish, coral, or sponges ; 
 and a third, at last, making a long tack, advanced into the 
 channel of La Moneta, in front of Garibaldi's residence. 
 It was Red-head, honestly doing his duty. Two or three 
 hours went by, and he did not return. When the air had 
 been somewhat cooled by the distant thunder, we set forth 
 to seek the English recluse. The path followed the coast, 
 winding between rocks and clumps of myrtle in blossom, 
 until the villa looked down upon us from the head of a 
 stony dell. On three sides, the naked granite rose in ir- 
 regular piles against the sky, while huge blocks, tumbled 
 from above, lay scattered over the scanty vineyards below. 
 In sheltered places there were a few pines and cedars, of 
 stunted growth. The house, perched upon a mass of rock 
 forty or fifty feet high, resembled a small fortress. As we 
 approached it, over the dry, stony soil, the bushes rustling 
 as the lizards darted through them, the place assumed an 
 air of savage loneliness. No other human dwelling was 
 visible on any of the distant shores, and no sail brightened 
 the intervening water. 
 
 The Englishman came forth and welcomed us with a 
 pleasant, old-fashioned courtesy. A dark-eyed Sardinian 
 lady, whom he introduced to us as his daughter-in-law, and 
 her father, were his temporary guests. The people after- 
 
432 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 wards told me, in Maddalena, that he had adopted and 
 educated a Neapolitan boy, who, however, had turned out 
 to be a mauvais sujet. We were ushered into a large 
 vaulted room, the walls of which, to my astonishment, were 
 covered with admirable paintings — genuine works of the 
 Flemish and Italian masters. There was a Cuyp, a Paul 
 Potter, a Ruysdael, a Massimo, and several excellent pic- 
 tures of the school of Corregio. A splendid library filled 
 the adjoining hall, and recent English and Italian news- 
 papers lay upon the table. I soon perceived that our host 
 was a man of unusual taste and culture, who had studied 
 . much and travelled much, before burying himself in this 
 remote corner of the Mediterranean. For more than 
 twenty years, he informed us, the island had been his 
 home. He first went thither accidentally, in his search for 
 health, and remained because he found it among those 
 'piles of granite and cactus. One hardly knows whether to 
 admire or commiserate such a life. 
 
 Our host, however, had long outlived his yearning for 
 the busy world of men. His little plantation, wrung from 
 Nature with immense labor and apparently great expense, 
 now absorbed all his interest. He had bought foreign 
 tree^ — Mexican, African, and Australian — and set them 
 in sheltered places, built great walls to break the sweep of 
 the wind which draws through the Straits of Bonifacio, 
 constructed tanks for collecting the rains, terraces for vine- 
 yards, and so fought himself into the possession of a little 
 productive soil. But the winds kept down the growth of 
 his pines, the islanders cut his choicest trees and carried 
 them off for fire-wood, and it was clear that the scanty be- 
 ginnings we saw were the utmost he would be able to keep 
 and hold against so many hostile influences. 
 
 After we had inspected the costly picture-gallery, and 
 partaken of refreshments, he took us to his orange-garden, 
 a square inclosure, with walls twenty feet high, at the foot 
 of the rocks. The interior was divided by high ramparts 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 433 
 
 of woven brushwood into compartments about thirty feet 
 square, each of which contained half a dozen squat, bat- 
 tered-looking trees, I should have imagined the outer 
 walls high enough to break the strongest wind, but our 
 host informed me that they merely changed its character, 
 giving to the current a spiral motion which almost pulled 
 the trees out of the earth. The interior divisions of brush- 
 wood were a necessity. Above the house there was a sim- 
 ilar inclosure for pear and apple trees. The vines, kept 
 close to the earth, and tied to strong stakes, were more 
 easily tended. But the same amount of labor and ex- 
 pense would have created a little paradise on the shores of 
 Sorrento, or the Riviera di Ponente; in fact, as many 
 oranges might have been raised in Minnesota, with less 
 trouble. 
 
 According to the traditions of the people, the whole isl- 
 and was wooded a hundred and fifty years ago. But, as 
 savage tribes worship trees, so the first inclination of the 
 civilized man is to destroy them. I still hold to the be- 
 lief that the disforested Levant might be reclothed in fifty 
 years, if the people could be prevented from interfering 
 with the young growth. 
 
 When we reached Maddalena, the boatman had re- 
 turned from Caprera. This time he brought me a note, 
 in Garibaldi's handwriting, containing two or three lines, 
 which, however, were not more satisfactory than the previ- 
 ous message. " Per motivo de* miei incomodi " (on account 
 of my ailments), said the General, he could not receive 
 me. This was an equivocation, but no explanation. His 
 motive for slighting the letters of two such friends, and re- 
 fusing to see one who had come to Maddalena to testify a 
 sympathy and respect which had nothing in common with 
 the curiosity of the crowd, remained a mystery. In the 
 little fishing-village, where nothing could long be kept 
 secret, the people seemed to be aware of all that had oc- 
 curred. They possessed too much natural tact and deli- 
 
434 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE* 
 
 cacy to question us, but it was easy to see that they were 
 much surprised. Red-head made quite a long face when 
 I told him, after reading the letter, that I should not need 
 his boat for a trip to Caprera. 
 
 After allowing all possible latitude to a man's individual 
 right to choose his visitors, the manner in which my appli- 
 cation had been received still appeared to me very rude 
 and boorish. Perhaps one's first experience of the kind is 
 always a little more annoying than is necessary ; but the 
 reader must consider that we had no escape from the burn- 
 ing rocks of Maddalena until the third day afterwards, and 
 the white house on Caprera before our eyes was a constant 
 reminder of the manner or mood of its inmate. Questions 
 of courtesy are nearly as difficult to discuss as questions of 
 taste, each man having his own private standard ; yet, I 
 think, few persons will censure me for having then and 
 there determined that, for the future, I would take no par- 
 ticular pains to seek the acquaintance of a distinguished man. 
 
 We were fast on Maddalena, as I have said, and the 
 most we could make of it did not seem to be much. I 
 sketched a little the next morning, until the heat drove me 
 indoors. Towards evening, following La Remigia's coun- 
 sel, we set forth on a climb to the Guardia Vecchia, a 
 deserted fortress on the highest point of the island. Thun- 
 der-storms, as before, growled along the mountains of Sar- 
 dinia, without overshadowing or cooling the rocks of the 
 desert archipelago. The masses of granite, among which 
 we clambered, still radiated the noonday heat, and the 
 clumps of lentisk and arbutus were scarcely less arid in 
 appearance than the soil from which they grew. Over the 
 summit, however, blew a light breeze. We pushed open 
 the door of the fort, mounted to a stone platform with ram- 
 parts pierced for six cannon, and sat down in the shade of 
 the watch-tower. The view embraced the whole Strait of 
 Bonifacio and its shores, from the peak of Incudine in Cor- 
 sica, to the headland of Terranova, on the eastern coast of 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 435 
 
 Sardinia. Two or three villages, high up on the mountains 
 of the latter island, the little fishing-town at our feet, the 
 far-off citadel of Bonifacio, and — still persistently visible 
 — the house on Caprera, rather increased than removed 
 the loneliness and desolation of the scenery. Island rising 
 behind island thrust up new distortions of rock of red or 
 hot-gray hues which became purple in the distance, and the 
 dark-blue reaches of sea dividing them were hard and life- 
 less as plains of glass. Perhaps the savage and sterile 
 forms of the foreground impressed their character upon 
 every part of the panorama, since we knew that they were 
 everywhere repeated. In this monotony lay something 
 sublime, and yet profoundly melancholy. 
 
 As we have now the whole island of Caprera full and 
 fair before us, let us see what sort of a spot the hero of 
 Italian Unity has chosen for his home. I may at the same 
 time, without impropriety, add such details of his life and 
 habits, and such illustrations of his character, as were 
 freely communicated by persons familiar with both, during 
 our stay in Maddalena. 
 
 Caprera, as seen from the Guardia Vecchia, is a little 
 less forbidding than its neighbor island. It is a mass of 
 reddish-gray rock, three to four miles in length and not 
 more than a mile in breadth, its axis lying at a right angle 
 to the course of the Sardinian coast. The shores rise 
 steeply from the water to a central crest of naked rock, 
 some twelve hundred feet above the sea. The wild shrub- 
 bery of the Mediterranean — myrtle, arbutus, lentisk, and 
 box — is sprinkled over the lower slopes, and three or four 
 lines of bright, even green, betray the existence of ter- 
 raced grain-fields. The house, a plain white quadrangle, 
 two stories in height, is seated on the slope, a quarter of a 
 mile from the landing-place. Behind it there are fields 
 and vineyards, and a fertile garden-valley called the Fon- 
 tanaccia, which are not visible from Maddalena. The 
 house, in its present commodious form, was built by Victor 
 
436 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 Emanuel, during Garibaldi's absence from the island, and 
 without his knowledge. The latter has spent a great deal 
 of money in wresting a few fields from the unwilling rock, 
 and his possession, even yet, has but a moderate value. 
 The greater part of the island can only be used as a range 
 for cattle, and will nourish about a hundred head. 
 
 Garibaldi, however, has a great advantage over all the 
 political personages of our day, in the rugged simplicity of 
 his habits. He has no single expensive taste. Whether 
 he sleeps on a spring -mattress or a rock, eats Jilet or fish 
 and macaroni, is all the same to him — nay, he prefers the 
 simpler fare. The persons whom he employs eat at the 
 same table with him, and his guests, whatever their char- 
 acter or title, are no better served. An Englishman who 
 went to Caprera as the representative of certain societies, 
 and took with him, as a present, a dozen of the finest hams, 
 and four dozen bottles of the choicest Chateau Margaux, 
 was horrified to find, the next day, that each gardener, 
 herdsman, and fisherman at the table had a generous lump 
 of ham on his plate and a bottle of Chateau Margaux 
 beside it ! Whatever delicacy comes to Garibaldi is served 
 in the same way ; and of the large sums of money contrib- 
 uted by his friends and admirers, he has retained scarcely 
 anything. All is given to " The Cause." 
 
 Garibaldi's three prominent traits of character — hon- 
 esty, unselfishness, and independence — are so marked, 
 and have been so variously illustrated, that no one in Italy 
 (probably not even Pius IX. or Antonelli) dares to dis- 
 pute his just claim to them. Add the element of a rare 
 and inextinguishable enthusiasm, and we have the qualities 
 which have made the man. He is wonderfully adapted to 
 be the leader of an impulsive and imaginative people, dur- 
 ing those periods when the rush and swell of popular senti- 
 ment overbears alike diplomacy and armed force. Such a 
 time came to him in 1860, and the Sicilian and Calabrian 
 campaign will always stand as the climax of his achieve- 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 437 
 
 ments. I do not speak of Aspromonte or Mentana now. 
 The history of those attempts cannot be written until Gari- 
 baldi's private knowledge of them may be safely made 
 known to the world. 
 
 It occurred to me, as I looked upon Caprera, that only 
 an enthusiastic, imaginative nature could be content to live 
 in such an isolation. It is hardly alone disgust with the 
 present state of Italy which keeps him from that seat in 
 the Italian Parliament, to which he is regularly reelected. 
 He can neither use the tact of the politician, nor employ 
 the expedients of the statesman. He has no patience with 
 adverse opinion, no clear, objective perception of character, 
 no skill to calculate the reciprocal action and cumulative 
 force of political ideas. He simply sees an end, and strikes 
 a bee-line for it. As a military commander he is admir- 
 able, so long as operations can be conducted under his im- 
 mediate personal control. In short, he belongs to that 
 small class of great men, whose achievements, fame, and 
 influence rest upon excellence of character and a certain 
 magnetic, infectious warmth of purpose, rather than on 
 high intellectual ability. There may be wiser Italian pat- 
 riots than he ; but there is none so pure and devoted. 
 
 From all that was related to me of Garibaldi, I should 
 judge that his weak points are, an incapacity to distin- 
 guish between the steady aspirations of his life and those 
 sudden impulses which come to every ardent and passion- 
 ate nature, and an amiable weakness (perhaps not dis- 
 connected from vanity) which enables a certain class of 
 adventurers to misuse and mislead him. His impatience 
 of contrary views naturally subjects him to the influence 
 of the latter class, whose cue it is to flatter and encourage. 
 I know an American general whose reputation has been 
 much damaged in the same way. The three men who 
 were his companions on Caprera during my stay in Mad- 
 dalena were Basso, who occasionally acts as secretary ; he 
 whom I termed the Prophet, a certain Dr. Occhipinti 
 
438 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 i 
 
 (Painted-Eyes), a maker of salves and pomatums, and 
 Guzmaroli, formerly a priest, and ignominiously expelled 
 from Garibaldi's own corps. There are other hangers-on, 
 whose presence from time to time in Caprera is a source 
 of anxiety to the General's true friends. 
 
 Caprera formerly belonged to an English gentleman, a 
 passionate sportsman, who settled there thirty years ago on 
 account of the proximity of the island to the rich game 
 regions of Sardinia. Garibaldi, dining with this gentle- 
 man at Maddalena in 1856, expressed his desire to procure 
 a small island on the coast for his permanent home, where- 
 upon the former offered to sell him a part of Caprera at 
 cost. The remainder was purchased by a subscription 
 made in England, and headed by the Duke of Sutherland. 
 I was informed that Garibaldi's faithful and noble-hearted . 
 friends, Colonel and Mrs. Chambers of Scotland, had done 
 much towards making the island productive and habitable, 
 but I doubt whether its rocks yet yield enough for the sup- 
 port of the family. 
 
 The General's oldest son, Menotti, his daughter Teresa, 
 her husband Major Canzio, and their five children, Mameli, 
 Anzani, Lincoln, Anita, and John Brown, have their home 
 at Caprera. Menotti is reported to be a good soldier and 
 sailor, but without his father's abilities. The younger son, 
 Ricciotti, spends most of his time in England. Teresa, 
 however, is a female Garibaldi, full of spirit, courage, and 
 enthusiasm. She has great musical talent, and a voice 
 which would give her, were there need, a prima donna's 
 station in any theatre. Her father, also, is an excellent 
 singer, and the two are fond of making the rocks of Ca- 
 prera resound with his Inno ai Romani. 
 
 Garibaldi was born at Nice in 1807, and is therefore now 
 sixty-one years old. His simple habits of life have pre- 
 served his physical vigor, but hQ suffers from frequent se- 
 vere attacks of rheumatism. The wound received at Aspro- 
 monte, I was told, no longer occasions him inconvenience. 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 439 
 
 In features and complexion he shows his Lombard and Ger- 
 man descent. His name is simply the Italian for Herihald, 
 " bold in war." In the tenth century Garibald I. and II. 
 were kings of Bavaria. In fact much of the best blood of 
 Italy is German, however reluctant the Italians may be to 
 acknowledge the fact. The Marquis D'Azeglio, whose 
 memoirs have recently been published, says in his Auto- 
 biographical sketch, " Educated in the hatred of the Tedes- 
 chi (Germans), I was greatly astonished to find from my 
 historical studies, that I was myself a Tedesco.^' The 
 " pride of race " really is one of the absurdest of human 
 vanities. I have heard half-breed Mexicans boast of their 
 " Gothic blood," born Englishmen who settled in Virginia 
 talk of their " Southern blood," and all the changes rung on 
 Cavalier, Norman, or Koman ancestry. The Slavic Greeks 
 of Athens call themselves " Hellenes," and Theodore of 
 Abyssinia claimed a direct descent from Solomon. Gari- 
 baldi might have become purely Italian in name, as Duca 
 di Calatafimi, if he had chosen. His refusal was scarcely a 
 virtue, because the offer of the title was no temptation. 
 
 The strait opening eastward to the sea was not wholly in 
 sight from the Guardia Vecchia, but we saw enough of it to 
 enable us to track the path of Garibaldi's escape, the previ- 
 ous October. An intervening point hid the cove of Stag- 
 natello, where he embarked in his little boat called " The 
 Snipe " (heccacino) : yet its position was shown by the Punta 
 deir Arcaccio beyond. On the Maddalena shore we saw 
 the gardens and cottage of the English lady, the " Hermit- 
 ess of La Moneta," who received him after his passage of 
 the strait, and concealed him the following day. While he 
 was thus concealed, he wrote an account of the adventure 
 for his daughter Teresa, yet so evidently with an eye to its 
 future publication, that its style unconsciously reflects the 
 vein of vanity which runs through his character. Before 
 leaving his imprisonment at Varignano, he gave permission 
 to the Frau von S , an intimate friend, to publish a 
 
440 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 German translation, from which I take the chief part of 
 the narrative. The Italian original has not yet been pub- 
 lished. 
 
 Garibaldi, who speaks of himself in the third person, 
 as " The Solitary," left his house on the evening of the 14th 
 of October (1867), accompanied by two friends, Frosci- 
 anti' and Barberini, and a boatman whom he calls Gio- 
 vanni. They descended through the valley of the Fontanac- 
 cia to the cove of Stagnatello, oif which, in the strait, the 
 Italian war-steamers lay at anchor. What followed must 
 be given in his own words : — 
 
 " Having reached the wall " (at the bottom of the culti- 
 vated fields of the Fontanaccia), " the Solitary took off his 
 poncho, and exchanged his white hat for a cap of his son, 
 Menotti. He gave the garments, which he had removed, 
 to Barberini, and after he had convinced himself that 
 there was no one on the other side of the wall, he climbed 
 upon it, and sprang down, with an astonishing activity. 
 
 " A memory of his adventurous youth inspired him, and 
 he felt himself twenty years younger. Besides, were not 
 his sons and his companions in arms already fighting 
 the mercenaries of the priestly power? Could he keep 
 quiet ? — content himself with the pruning of his trees, and 
 lead the shameful life of the moderati^ When the Sol- 
 itary was fortunately over the wall, he said to Barberini : 
 
 * It is still too bright ; we will wait a little while here, and 
 smoke half a cigar.' Thereupon he drew a match-box — 
 it was a treasured souvenir of the amiable Lady S. — out 
 of his left pocket, used it, and then offered his lighted 
 
 * cavour ' to his companion, who had a cigarette in readi- 
 ness. The Solitary is accustomed to cut these long, 
 black Tuscan cigars through the middle, and only smoke 
 half a one at a time. 
 
 " Soon the nightly shadows began to obscure the atmos- 
 phere, but in the east a faint gleam made itself seen as the 
 herald of the approaching queen of night. 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 441 
 
 " ' Within three-quarters of an hour the moon will have 
 risen behind the mountains,' remarked the Solitary ; *'we 
 dare not longer delay.' 
 
 " Both men arose and betook themselves to the little 
 harbor. Giovanni was there at his post, and with his and 
 Barberini's help, the heccacino was soon launched upon the 
 water. This is our smallest boat, designed for duck-shoot- 
 ing, and so flat that the one person who has room therein 
 must lie upon the bottom and propel it with a paddle. In 
 a moment the Solitary took his place, lying flat upon his 
 poncho. After Giovanni had pushed the light vessel into 
 the sea, and convinced himself that everything was prop- 
 erly arranged, he himself got into the hecca^ a boat built 
 exactly like the heccacino, only of greater dimensions, and 
 rowed, singing loudly, in the direction of the yacht. 
 
 " ' Halt ! who goes there ? ' called out the marines of the 
 war-vessels, degraded to alguazils, to police-servants, hail- 
 ing the boat of the Sardinian, who, meanwhile, did not 
 allow himself to be disturbed either in his song or his jour- 
 ney. 
 
 " But when a third challenge came to his ears he an- 
 swered : * I am going on board ! ' for, however without re- 
 sult the musket-shots might be in the darkness, they never 
 fail to strike an inexperienced man with terror. The Sol- 
 itary, now propelling his heccacino with strokes, now with a 
 small paddle, as is customary with the American canoes, 
 followed his course along the shore of Paviano, between 
 the cove of Stagnatello and the cape of Arcaccio ; and 
 verily the humming-bird, fluttering around the fragrant 
 flowers of the torrid zone, and sipping their honey in 
 the manner of the industrious bee, is more noisy than was 
 the light heccacino, as it rapidly shot over the bosom 
 of the Tyrrhene sea. Arrived at the Punta dell' Arcac- 
 cio, the Solitary recognized the faithful Froscianti among 
 the lofty masses of stone. * Nothing new as far as the 
 rocks of Arcaccio,' whispered the latter from a distance. 
 
442 BY-WAYS OF EUKOPE. 
 
 Then I am safe ! ' replied the Solitary, directing his 
 boat with increasing swiftness past the steep cliffs, un- 
 til he reached a point whence he could see the little Rab- 
 bit Isle (the southernmost of three which inclose the 
 harbor of Stagnatello) and then struck out boldly on the 
 sea, in a northwestern direction. 
 
 " As the Solitary perceived how fast the moonlight in- 
 creased, he paddled more rapidly, and, driven by the si- 
 rocco, his boat passed the Strait de la Moneta with a swift- 
 ness which a steamer might have envied. 
 
 " By moonlight and seen at a certain distance, each rock 
 rising out of the sea more or less resembles a vessel, and 
 since the commander of the Ratazzi squadron had laid a 
 requisition upon all the barks of Maddalena in order to 
 increase the number of boats with which he besieged 
 Caprera, it appeared as if the little archipelago of Moneta 
 swarmed with shallops and boats, all for the purpose of hin- 
 dering one man in the performance of his duty. 
 
 " As soon as the Solitary had reached the little island of 
 Giardinelli, off the northeastern coast of Maddalena, he 
 turned the heccacino into the labyrinth of rocky reefs, 
 which lift themselves like a bulwark along the shore, and 
 from out this secure concealment he sharply inspected the 
 coast, stretching before him in the light of the moon. 
 
 " When the Solitary found himself near the island of 
 Giardinelli, he saw that there were three different ways by 
 which he could reach the channel separating it from Mad- 
 dalena : by water, paddling around it either on the northern 
 or the southern side, or by landing and crossing the island 
 on foot. After full consideration, he determined to try the 
 latter plan. 
 
 " Whether it was owing to the skill of the boatman of the 
 heccacino, or the neglect of the unsuspicious, sleeping senti- 
 nels, I will not discuss ; but this is certain, that the Sol- 
 itary landed upon Giardinelli, not only with a whole skin, 
 but without being disturbed by a single * Who goes there ? * 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 443 
 
 Yet he had scarcely hauled his skiff ashore before he noticed 
 that there were many impediments in his way to the chan- 
 nel ; since the island, which serves as a pasture to the cat- 
 tle of Maddalena, is divided into several fields, all of which 
 are inclosed by high walls, covered with thorny shrubs. 
 
 " When, afler many detours and much break-neck climb- 
 ing, the Solitary was about to pass the last of these walls, 
 he imagined that he saw on the other side a row of crouch- 
 ing sailors. If this were no optical delusion, it would not 
 have surprised him in the least, since it had been reported 
 to him on Caprera, that several seamen and soldiers had 
 landed on the island in the course of the day. The loss 
 of time, which this circumstance occasioned to the Solitary 
 explained also to him, why two of his friends, whom he 
 should have found near the channel, were not at their 
 posts. 
 
 " It was not until ten o'clock, and afler he had looked 
 very sharply about him, that the Solitary undertook to cross 
 the shallow arm of the sea which divides Giardinelli from 
 Maddalena. He had not taken ten steps when loud calls 
 from the watching war-vessels, accompanied with musket- 
 shots, were heard — but this did not disconcert the Solitary 
 in his zealous passage through the salt flood. He soon had 
 the critical passage behind him, and set foot upon Madda- 
 lena. But a very fatiguing way was still before him, for 
 his boots, filled with water, creaked and incommoded him 
 on the uneven ground. 
 
 " When, finally, the sight of the house of Mrs. C. 
 showed the Solitary the vicinity of a hospitable refuge, he 
 strode more cautiously forward, through fear that the villa 
 might be surrounded by spies; and only when a cloud 
 covered the moon, did he dare to knock lightly upon one 
 of the windows with his Scotch stick. Mrs. C, however, 
 had had faith in the Solitary's lucky star. Advised in ad- 
 vance of his plan, she had been keenly listening to his foot- 
 steps, so that at the first tap on the window, she hurried 
 
444 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 from the door, and welcomed her old neighbor with her 
 accustomed gracious smile." 
 
 All the next day Garibaldi remained concealed in the 
 English lady's cottage. The following night he crossed 
 from the northern shore of Maddalena to Sardinia, where 
 his friends had a sloop in readiness. In three or four days 
 more he was in Tuscany, and the Italian Government was 
 astounded at his appearance in Florence before his escape 
 from Caprera had been discovered by the blockading 
 squadron. 
 
 While upon the rocky summits of Maddalena, we made 
 search for the former dwellings of the inhabitants, but be- 
 came bewildered in the granite labyrinth, and failed to find 
 them. The present village on the shore owes its existence 
 to Nelson. Previous to his day those waters were swept by 
 Barbary corsairs, and the people of the island, being with- 
 out protection, lived almost like troglodytes, in rude hovels 
 constructed among the rocks. Nelson, while in the Med- 
 iterranean, at the end of the last century, made Maddalena 
 one of his stations, and encouraged the inhabitants to come 
 forth from their hiding-places. On the altar of the church 
 in the town which they then began to build there are still 
 the silver candlesticks which he presented. This, and 
 Napoleon's previous attempt to gain possession of the 
 island, are the two incidents which connect Maddalena 
 with history. 
 
 We made a few other scrambles during our stay, but they 
 simply repeated the barren pictures we already knew by 
 heart. Although, little by little, an interest in the island 
 was awakened, the day which was to bring the steamer from 
 Porto Torres was hailed by us almost as a festival. But 
 the comedy (for such it began to seem) was not yet at an 
 end. I had procured the return tickets to Leghorn, and 
 was standing in Remigia's door, watching the pensioners as 
 they dozed in the shade, when two figures appeared at the 
 end of the little street. One was Painted-Eyes, the maker 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 445 
 
 of salves, and I was edified by seeing him suddenly turn 
 when he perceived me, and retrace his steps. The other, 
 .who came forward, proved to be one of Garibaldi's stanch- 
 est veterans, — a man who had been in his service twenty- 
 five years, in Montevideo, Rome, America, China, and 
 finally in the Tyrol. 
 
 " Where is the man who was with you ? " I asked. 
 
 " He was coming to the locanda," said he ; " but when 
 he saw you, he left me without explaining why." 
 
 The veteran knew so much of what had happened that 
 I told him the rest. He was no less grieved than sur- 
 prised. His general, he said, had never acted so before ; 
 he had never refused to see any stranger, even though he 
 came without letters, and he was at a loss to account for it. 
 
 There was a stir among the idlers on the quay ; a thread 
 of smoke arose above the rocky point to the westward, and 
 — welcome sight ! — the steamer swept up and anchored 
 in the roadstead. La Remigia, who had been unremitting 
 in her attentions, presented a modest bill, shook hands 
 with us heartily, and Red-head, who was in waiting with 
 his boat, carried us speedily on board. The steamer was 
 not to leave for two hours more, but now the certainty of 
 escape was a consolation. The few islanders we had 
 known parted from us like friends, and even the boatman 
 returned to the deck on purpose to shake hands, and wish 
 us a pleasant voyage. I found myself softening towards 
 Maddalena, after all. 
 
 In one of the last boats came the same Occhipinti again, 
 accompanied by Guzmaroli, the ex-priest. The former 
 was bound for Leghorn, and the prospect of having him 
 for a fellow-passenger was not agreeable. He avoided 
 meeting us, went below, and kept very quiet during the 
 passage. I felt sure, although the supposition was dispar- 
 aging to Garibaldi, that this man was partly responsible 
 for the answer I had received. 
 
446 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 A fresh breeze blew through the Strait of Bonifacio, and 
 we soon lost sight of the rocks which had been the scene 
 of our three days' Robinsoniad. The only other passen-, 
 ger, by a singular coincidence, proved to be " the Hermit- 
 ess of La Moneta," as she is called on Maddalena, — the 
 widow of the gentleman who sold Caprera to Garibaldi, 
 and herself one of the General's most trusted friends. 
 Through her, the island acquired a new interest. In the 
 outmost house on the spur which forms the harbor lay an 
 English captain, eighty years old, and ill ; in the sterile glen 
 to the north lived another Englishman alone among his 
 books and rare pictures ; and under a great rock, two miles 
 to the eastward, was a lonely cottage, opposite Caprera, 
 where this lady has lived for thirty years. 
 
 In the long twilight, as the coast of Corsica sped by, we 
 heard the story of those thirty years. They had not dulled 
 the keen, clear intellect of the lady, nor made less warm 
 one human feeling in her large heart. We heard of trav- 
 els in Corsica on horseback nearly forty years ago ; of 
 lunching with bandits in the mountains ; of fording the 
 floods and sleeping in the caves of Sardinia ; of farm-life 
 (if it can be so called) on Caprera, and of twenty years 
 passed in the cottage of La Moneta, without even a jour- 
 ney to the fishing-village. Then came other confidences, 
 which must not be repeated, but as romantic as anything 
 in the stories of the Middle Ages — yet in all, there was 
 no trace of morbid feeling, of unused affection, of regret 
 for the years that seemed lost to us. Verily, though these 
 words should reach her eyes, I must say, since the chances 
 of life will scarcely bring us together again, that the fresh- 
 ness and sweetness with which she had preserved so many 
 noble womanly qualities in solitude, was to me a cheering 
 revelation of the innate excellence of human nature. 
 
 *' Yet," she said, at the close, " I would never advise any 
 one to attempt the life I have led. Such a seclusion is 
 neither natural nor healthy. One may read, and one may 
 
THE ISLAND OF MADDALENA. 44T 
 
 think ; but the knowledge lies in one's mind like an inert 
 mass, and only becomes vital when it is actively communi- 
 cated or compared. This mental inertness or deadness is 
 even harder to bear than the absence of society. Bui 
 there always comes a time when we need the face of a 
 friend — the time that comes to all. No, it is not good to 
 be alone." 
 
 After all, we had not come to Maddalena in vain. We 
 had made the acquaintance of a rare and estimable nature 
 
 — which is always a lasting gain, in the renewed faith it 
 awakens. The journey, which had seemed so wearisome 
 in anticipation, came rapidly to an end, and there was 
 scarcely a regret left for Caprera when we parted with the 
 Hermitess of Maddalena at Leghorn, the next afternoon. 
 A few days afterwards she sent me the original manuscript 
 of Garibaldi's " Hymn to the Romans," which he had pre- 
 sented to her. I shall value it as much for the giver's, as 
 for the writer's sake. 
 
 Our friends in Florence received the news of our adven- 
 ture with astonishment and mortification ; but, up to the 
 time of this present writing, the matter remains a mystery. 
 One conjecture was made, yet it seemed scarcely credible, 
 
 — that Garibaldi was getting up a new expedition against 
 Rome. 
 
 A short time after my trip to Maddalena, a German 
 professor of note, who had a special interest in communi- 
 cating personally with Garibaldi, made the journey from 
 Germany for that sole purpose, and was similarly repelled. 
 
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 
 
 29 
 
No part of Germany is so monotonous and unlovely as 
 that plain which the receding waves of the North Sea left 
 behind them. The stranger who lands at Bremen or 
 Hamburg enters upon a dead, sandy level, where fields of 
 lean and starveling cereals interchange with heathery moor- 
 lands and woods of dwarfish pine. Each squat, ugly farm- 
 house looks as lonely as if there were no others in sight ; 
 the villages are collections of similar houses, huddled 
 around a church-tower so thick and massive that it seems 
 to be the lookout of a fortress. The patient industry of 
 the people is here manifested in its plainest and sturdiest 
 forms, and one cannot look for the external embellish- 
 ments of life, where life itself is so much of an achieve- 
 ment. 
 
 As we advance southward the scenery slowly improves. 
 The soil deepens and the trees rise ; the purple heather 
 clings only to the occasional sandy ridges, between which 
 greenest meadows gladden our eyes. Groves of oak make 
 their appearance ; brooks wind and sparkle among alder 
 thickets ; the low undulations swell into broad, gently 
 rounded hills, and at last there is a wavy blue line along 
 the horizon. If you are travelling from Hanover to Min- 
 den, some one will point out a notch, or gap, in that rising 
 mountain outline, and tell you that it is the Porta West- 
 phalica — the gateway by which the river Weser issues 
 from the Teutoburger Forest. 
 
 I had already explored nearly every nook of Middle 
 Germany, from the Hartz to the Odenwald ; yet this — the 
 storied ground of the race — was still an unknown region. 
 Although so accessible, especially from the celebrated 
 
452 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 watering-place of Pyrmont, whence any of its many points 
 of interest may be reached in a day's drive, I found little 
 about it in the guide-books, and less in books of travel. 
 Yet here, one may say, is the starting-point of German 
 history. Hermann and Wittekind are the two great rep- 
 resentatives of the race, in its struggles against Roman 
 and Christian civilization ; and the fact that it adopted both 
 the one and the other, and through them developed into 
 its later eminence, does not lessen the value of those 
 names. Indeed, the power of resistance measures the 
 power of acceptance and assimilation. 
 
 It was harvest-time as I sped by rail towards Minden, 
 along the northern base of the mountains. Weeks of 
 drought and heat had forced the fields into premature ripe- 
 ness, and the lush green meadows were already waiting 
 for the aftermath. About Biickeburg the rye-fields were 
 full of reapers, in an almost extinct costume, — the men 
 in heavy fur caps, loose white over-shirts, and boots reach- 
 ing to the knee ; the women with black head-dress, bodice, 
 and bright scarlet petticoat. These tints of white, scarlet, 
 and black shone splendidly among the sheaves, and the 
 pictures I saw made me keenly regret that progress has 
 rendered mankind so commonplace in costume. When I 
 first tramped through Germany, in 1845, every province 
 had its distinctive dress, and the stamp of the country 
 people was impressed upon the landscapes of their homes ; 
 but now a great leveling wave has swept over the country, 
 washing out all these picturesque characteristics, and leav- 
 ing the universal modern commonplace in their stead. If 
 the latter were graceful, or cheap, or practically conven- 
 ient, we might accept the change ; but it is none of these. 
 Fashion has at last combined ugliness and discomfort in 
 our clothing, and the human race is satisfied. 
 
 Soon after leaving Minden the road bends sharply south- 
 wards, and enters the Porta Westphalica — a break in the 
 Weser mountains which is abrupt and lofty enough to pos- 
 
 i 
 
IN THE TEUTOBUEGEE FOEEST. 453 
 
 sess a certain grandeur. The eastern bank rises from the 
 water in a broken, rocky wall to the height of near five 
 hundred feet ; the western slants sufficiently to allow foot- 
 hold for trees, and its summit is two hundred feet higher. 
 The latter is called " Wittekind's Mount," from a tradition 
 that the famous Saxon king once had a fortress upon it. 
 Somewhere in the valley which lies within this Westpha- 
 lian Gate is the scene of the last battle between Hermann 
 and Germanicus. Although the field of action of both 
 these leaders extended over the greater part of Northern 
 Germany, the chief events which decided their fortunes 
 took place within the narrow circle of these mountains. 
 
 I passed through Oeynhausen, — a bright, cheerful wa- 
 tering-jDlace, named after the enterprising baron who drove 
 an artesian shaft to the depth of two thousand feet, and 
 brought a rich saline stream to the surface, — and at Her- 
 ford, the next station, left the line of rail. I looked in 
 vain for the towers of Enger, a league or so to the west, 
 where Wittekind died as a Christian prince, and where his 
 bones still rest. Before turning aside for Detmold and the 
 hills of the Teutoburger Forest, let me very briefly recall 
 the career of that spiritual successor of Hermann. 
 
 Nothing certain is known of Wittekind's descent or early 
 history. We first hear of him as one of the leaders of the 
 Saxons in the invasion of Westphalia, which they under- 
 took in the year 774, while Charlemagne was occupied in 
 subduing the Lombards. Three years later, when this 
 movement was suppressed and the greater part of the 
 Saxon chiefs took the oath of fidelity to the Emperor at 
 Paderborn, Wittekind fled to the court of his brother-in- 
 law. King Siegfried of Jutland. He returned in 778, while 
 Charlemagne was in Spain, driving back the Saracens, 
 and devastated the lands of the Ehine. After carrying on 
 the war with varying success for four years, he finally sur- 
 prised and almost annihilated the Frank army at the Siin- 
 telberg, not far from Hameln, on the Weser. Enraged at 
 
454 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 his defeat, Charlemagne took a horrible revenge : he exe- 
 cuted forty-five hundred Saxons, who were in his hands. 
 All the tribes rose in revolt, acknowledged Wittekind as 
 their king, and for three years more continued the desper- 
 ate struggle, the end of which was a compromise. Witte- 
 kind received Christian baptism, was made duke of Saxony, 
 and, according to tradition, governed the people twenty 
 years longer, from his seat at Enger, as a just and humane 
 prince. The Emperor Karl IV. there built him a monu- 
 ment in the year 1377. 
 
 At Herford I took my place in the diligence for Det- 
 mold, with a horse-dealer for company on the way. It was 
 a journey of three hours, through a very pleasant and 
 beautiful country, lying broad and warm in the shelter 
 of circling mountains, veined with clear, many-branched 
 streams, and wooded with scattered groves of oak and 
 beech. If there was any prominent feature of the scenery, 
 as distinguished from that of other parts of Germany, it 
 was these groves, dividing the bright meadows and the gol- 
 den slopes of harvest, with their dark, rounded masses of 
 foliage, as in the midland landscapes of England. The 
 hills to the south, entirely clothed with forests, increased 
 in height as we followed their course in a parallel line, and 
 long before we reached Detmold I saw the monument to 
 Hermann, crowning the Grotenburg, a summit more than 
 a thousand feet above the valley. 
 
 The little capital was holding its annual horse-fair, yet I 
 had no trouble in finding lodgings at one of its three inns, 
 and should have thought the streets deserted if I had not 
 been told that they were unusually lively. The princi- 
 pality of Lippe has a population of a little more than a 
 hundred thousand, yet none of the appurtenances of a 
 court and state are wanting. There is an old ancestral 
 castle, a modern palace, a theatre, barracks and govern- 
 ment buildings — not so large as in Berlin, to be sure, 
 but just as important in the eyes of the people. A stream 
 
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 455 
 
 which comes down from the mountains feeds a broad, still 
 moat, encompassing three sides of the old castle and park, 
 beyond which the fairest meadows stretch away to the set- 
 ting sun. Ducks and geese on the water, children pad- 
 dling in the shallows, cows coming home from the pastures, 
 and men and women carrying hay or vegetables, suggested 
 a quiet country village rather than a stately residenz ; but 
 I was very careful not to say so to any Detmolder. The 
 repose and seclusion of the place took hold of my fancy : 
 I walked back and forth, through the same streets and lin- 
 den-shaded avenues in the long summer evening, finding 
 idyls at every turn ; but alas ! they floated formlessly by 
 and faded in the sunset. 
 
 Detmold is the birthplace of the poet Freiligrath, and I 
 went into the two bookstores to see if they kept his poems 
 — which they did not. Fifty years hence, perhaps, they 
 will have a statue of him. As I sat in my lonely room at 
 the inn, waiting for bedtime, my thoughts went back to 
 that morning by the lake of Zurich, when I first met the 
 banished poet ; to pleasant evenings at his house in Hack- 
 ney ; and to the triumphant reception which, at Cologne, a 
 few days before, had welcomed him back to Germany. 
 This was the end of twenty-three years of exile, the be- 
 ginning of which I remembered. Noble, unselfish, and 
 consistent as his political course had been, had he followed 
 it to his detriment as a poet, or had he bridged the gulf 
 which separates the Muses from party conflicts ? That was 
 the question, and it was not so easy to resolve. Poesy will 
 cheer as a friend, but she will not serve. She will not be 
 driven from that broad field of humanity, wherein the noise 
 of parties is swallowed up, and the colors of their banners 
 are scarcely to be distinguished. Freiligrath has written 
 the best political poems in the German language, and his 
 life has been the brilliant illustration of his principles ; yet 
 I doubt whether " The Dead to the Living " will outlive 
 the " Lion-Ride." 
 
456 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 I picked up, however, a description of the Teutoburger 
 Forest, written by the Cantor Sauerlander of Detmold — 
 a little book which no one but a full-blooded Teuton could 
 have written. Fatiguingly minute, conscientious to the last 
 degree, overflowing with love for the subject, exhaustive 
 on all points, whether important or not, the style — or, 
 rather, utter lack of style — so placed the unsuspecting au- 
 thor before the reader's mind, that it was impossible to 
 mistake him, — a mild, industrious, harmless egotist, who 
 talks on and on, and never once heeds whether you are 
 listening to his chatter. 
 
 I took him with me, but engaged, in addition, a young 
 gardener of the town, and we set out in the bright, hot 
 morning. My plan for the day embraced the monument 
 to Hermann on the Grotenburg, the conjectured field of 
 the defeat of Varus, and the celebrated Extern Rocks. 
 Cool paths through groves of oak led from the town to the 
 foot of the mountain, having reached which I took out the 
 Cantor, and read : " From this point to the near forest the 
 foot-path mounts by a very palpable grade, wherefore the 
 wanderer will find himself somewhat fatigued, besides suf- 
 fering (frequently) from the burning rays of the sun, 
 against which, however, it is possible to screen one's self 
 by an umbrella, for which reason I would venture to sug- 
 gest a moderate gait, and observant pauses at various 
 points ! " Verily, if his book had been specially prepared 
 for the reigning prince, Paul Friedrich Emil Leopold, he 
 could not have been more considerate. 
 
 The fatiguing passage, nevertheless, was surmounted in 
 ten minutes, and thenceforth we were in the shade of the 
 forest. At about two thirds of the height the path came 
 upon a Hunenring, or Druid circle, one of the largest in Ger- 
 many. It is nearly five hundred feet in diameter, with 
 openings on the north and south, and the walls of rough 
 stones are in some places twenty feet high. Large trees 
 are growing upon them. There Tvas another and greater 
 
IN THE TEUTOBUEGER FOREST. 457 
 
 ring around the crest of the mountain, but it has been 
 thrown down a;nd almost obliterated. German antiquari- 
 ans consider these remains as a sufficient evidence to prove 
 that this is the genuine Teutohurg, — the fortress of Teut, 
 or^ Tuisco, the chief personage of the original Teutonic 
 mythology. They also derive the name of Detmold from 
 " Theotmalle," the place of Teut. There can be no doubt 
 as to the character of the circles, or their great antiquity ; 
 and, moreover, to locate the Teutoburg here explains the 
 desperate resistance of the tribes of this region both to 
 Rome and to Charlemagne. 
 
 Near the summit I found some traces of the greater 
 circle, many of the stones of which were used, very appro- 
 priately, for the foundation of the monument to Hermann. 
 This structure stands in an open, grassy space, inclosed 
 by a young growth of fir-trees. It is still incomplete ; but 
 we, who long ago stopped work on the colossal Washing- 
 ton obelisk, have no right to reproach the German people. 
 Thirty years ago the Bavarian sculptor Von Bandel exhib- 
 ited the design of a statue to Hermann. The idea ap- 
 pealed to that longing for German unity the realization of 
 which seemed then so far distant ; societies were formed, 
 collections made, fairs held for the object, and the temple- 
 shaped pedestal, commenced in 1841, was finished in 
 1846, at a cost of forty thousand thalers. The colossal 
 statue which should crown it demanded an equal sum — 
 two thirds of which, I am told, has b"een contributed. 
 Parts of the figure have been already cast, and the 
 sculptor^ now nearly seventy years old, still hopes to see 
 the dream of his life fulfilled. But the impression has 
 gone abroad that the strength of the winds, sweeping un- 
 checked from the Rhine and from Norway across the 
 Northern Sea, is so great upon this Teutoburger height, 
 that the statue would probably be thrown down, if erected. 
 A committee of architects and engineers has declared that, 
 with proper anchorage, the figure will stand ; yet the con- 
 tributions have ceased. 
 
458 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 The design of the temple-base is very simple and mas- 
 sive. On a circular foundation, sixty feet in diameter by 
 eleven in height, stands a structure composed of ten clus- 
 tered pillars, connected by pointed arches, the outer spans 
 of which are cut to represent stems of oak, while heavy 
 garlands of oak-leaves are set in the triangular interspaces. 
 The first rude beginning of Gothic art is here suggested, 
 not as a growth from the Byzantine and Saracenic schools, 
 but as an autochthonous product. Over the cornice, which Is 
 fifty feet above the base, rises a solid hemisphere of ma- 
 sonry, terminating in a ring twenty-five feet in diameter, 
 which is to receive the metal base of the colossus. The 
 latter will be ninety feet in height to the point of the 
 sword, making the entire height of the monument a hun- 
 dred and eighty-two feet. 
 
 I mounted to the summit, and looked over the tops of 
 the forest upon a broad and beautiful panoramic ring of 
 landscape. The well-wooded mountains of the region 
 divided the rich valleys and harvest lands which they 
 inclosed. On all sides except the west they melted away 
 in the summer haze; there, they sank into the tawny 
 Westphalian plain, once the land of marshes, traversed 
 by the legions of Varus. While yonder, beyond the ring 
 of the forest sacred to Teut, the fields were withering 
 and the crops wasting in the sun, here they gave their 
 fullest bounty ; here the streams were full, the meadows 
 green, and the land laughed with its abundance. From 
 this point I overlooked all the great battle-fields of Her- 
 mann and Wittekind. The mountains do not constitute, as 
 1 had supposed, a natural stronghold ; but in their heart 
 lies the warmest and most fertile region of Northern Ger- 
 many. 
 
 In the neighboring hostelry there is a plaster model of 
 the waiting statue. Hermann, with the winged helmet 
 upon his head, and clad in a close leathern coat reaching 
 nearly to the knee, is represented as addressing his war- 
 
m THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 459 
 
 riors. The action of the uplifted arm is good, but the left 
 hand rests rather idly upon the shield, instead of uncon- 
 sciously repeating in the grip of the fingers the energy of 
 the rest of the figure. The face — ideal, of course — is 
 quite as much Roman as Teuton, the nose being aquiline, 
 the eyebrows straight, and the lips very clearly and regu- 
 larly cut. To me the physiognomy would indicate dark hair 
 and beard. I found the body somewhat heavy and un- 
 graceful ; but as it was to be seen from below, and in very 
 different dimensions, the effect may be all that is de- 
 signed. 
 
 In the Hall of Busts in the Museum of the Gapitol, in 
 Rome, there is a head which has recently attracted the 
 interest of German archaeologists. It stands alone amona 
 the severe Roman and the exquisitely balanced Grecian 
 heads, like a genial phenomenon of character totally distinct 
 from theirs. When I stood before it, a little puzzled, and 
 wondering at the absurd label of " Cecrops ?" affixed to 
 the pedestal, I had not learned the grounds for conjectur- 
 ing that it may be a portrait of him whom Tacitus calls 
 Arminius ; yet I felt that here was a hero, of whom history 
 must have some knowledge. It is certainly a blonde head, 
 with abundant locks, a beard sprouting thinly and later than 
 in the South, strong cheek-bones, a nose straight but not 
 Grecian, and lips which somehow express good fellowship, 
 vanity, and the habit of command. The sculptor Bandel 
 made a great mistake in not boldly accepting the conjec- 
 ture as fact, and giving Hermann this head. Dr. Emil 
 Braun considers that it is undoubtedly a bust of one of 
 the young German chiefs who were educated at the court 
 of Augustus ; and he adds, very truly, " If this can be 
 proven, it will be of great importance as a testimony of 
 the intellectual development of the German race, even in 
 those early times." 
 
 Hermann, who was born in the year 16 b. c, must have 
 gone to Rome as a boy, during the campaigns of Drusus 
 
460 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 and Tiberius in Northern Germany. He became not only 
 a citizen, but a Roman knight, was intrusted with the com- 
 mand of a German legion, and fought in Pannonia. He 
 acquired the Latin tongue, and acquainted himself with 
 the military and civil science of the Romans. Had the' 
 wise and cautious policy of Tiberius been followed, he 
 might have died as a Consul of the Empire ; but the 
 brutal rule of Varus provoked the tribes to resistance, and 
 Hermann became a German again. He turned against 
 Rome the tactics he had learned in her service, enticed 
 Varus away from the fortified line of the Rhine, across the 
 marshes of the Lippe, and on the southern slope of the 
 Teutoburger Forest, in a three days' battle fought amid 
 the autumn storms, annihilated the Roman army of fifty 
 thousand men. Well might the Imperial city tremble, and 
 the old Augustus cry out to the shade of the slain com- 
 mander, " Varus, Varus, give me back my legions ! " 
 
 For five years the sovereignty of Hermann and the in- 
 dependence of his people were not disturbed. But after 
 the death of Augustus, in the year 14 A. d., Germanicus 
 determined to restore the prestige of the Roman arms. 
 In the mean time Hermann had married Thusnelda, 
 daughter of Segestus, another chief of the Cheruski, who 
 had reclaimed her by force in consequence of a quarrel, 
 and was then besieged by his son-in-law. Segestus called 
 the Romans to his aid, and delivered Thusnelda into their 
 hands to grace, two years later, the triumph decreed to 
 Germanicus. Hermann, infuriated by the loss of a wife 
 whom he loved, summoned the tribes to war, and the 
 Roman commander collected an army of eighty thousand 
 men. The latter succeeded in burying the bones of Varus 
 and his legions, and was then driven back with great loss. 
 Returning in the year 16 with a still larger army, he met 
 the undaunted Hermann on the Weser, near Hameln. 
 The terrible battle fought there, and a second near the 
 Porta Westphalica, were claimed as victories by the 
 
IN THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 461 
 
 Romans, yet were followed by a retreat to the fortresses 
 on the Rhine. Gerrnanicus was preparing a third cam- 
 paign when he was recalled by the jealous Tiberius. The 
 Romans never again penetrated into this part of Germany. 
 
 Hermann might have founded a nation but for the fierce 
 jealousy of the other chieftains of his race. He was vic- 
 torious in the civil wars which ensued, but was waylaid and 
 murdered by members of his own family in the year 21. 
 His short life of thirty-seven years is an unbroken story 
 of heroism. Even Tacitus, to whom we are indebted for 
 these particulars, says of him : " He was undoubtedly the 
 liberator of Germany, having dared to grapple with the 
 Roman power, not in its beginnings, like other kings an(J 
 commanders, but in the maturity of its strength. He was 
 not always victorious in battle, but in war he was never 
 subdued. He still lives in the songs of the Barbarians, 
 unknown to the annals of the Greeks, who only admire 
 that which belongs to themselves — nor celebrated as he 
 deserves by the Romans, who, in praising the olden times, 
 neglect the events of the later years." 
 
 Leaving the monument, my path followed the crest of 
 the mountain for two or three miles, under a continuous roof 
 of beech. Between the smooth, clean boles I looked down 
 upon the hot and shining valley, where the leaves hung 
 motionless on the trees, but up on the shaded ridge of the 
 hills there was a steady, grateful breeze. The gardener 
 was not a very skillful guide, and only brought me to the 
 Winnefeld (Winfield) after a roundabout ramble. I found 
 myself at the head of a long, bare slope, falling to the 
 southwest, where it terminated in three dells, divided by 
 spurs of the range. The town of Lippspringe, in the dis- 
 tance, marked the site of the fountains mentioned by Taci- 
 itus. The Winnefeld lies on the course which an army 
 would take, marching from those springs to assault the 
 Teutoburg, and the three dells, wooded then as now, would 
 offer rare chances of ambuscade and attack. There is no 
 
462 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 difficulty in here locating the defeat of Varus. That the 
 Teuton victory was not solely the result of Hermann's 
 military skill is proven by the desperate bravery with 
 which his warriors confronted the legions of Germanicus 
 five years later. 
 
 Standing upon this famous battle-field, one cannot but 
 recall the subsequent relations of Germany and Rome, 
 which not only determined the history of the Middle Ages, 
 but set in action many of the forces which shape the pres- 
 ent life of the world. The seat of power was transplanted, 
 it was exercised by another race, but its elements were not 
 changed. Hermann, a knight of Rome, learned in her 
 service how to resist her, and it was still the Roman mind 
 which governed Italy while she was a defiant dependency 
 of the German Empire. Charlemagne took up the un- 
 completed work of Germanicus, and was the true avenger 
 of Varus after nearly eight hundred years. The career of 
 Hermann, though so splendidly heroic, does not mark the 
 beginning of Germany ; the race only began to develop 
 after its complete subjection to the laws and arts and ideas 
 of Rome. Thus the marvelous Empire triumphed at 
 last. 
 
 I descended the bare and burning slopes of the moun- 
 tain into a little valley, plunged into a steep forest beyond, 
 and, after plodding wearily for an hour or more, found my- 
 self, as nearly as I could guess, on the banks of a brook 
 that descends to the town of Horn. The gardener seemed 
 at fault, yet insisted on leading me contrary to my instinct 
 of the proper course. We had not gone far, however, 
 when a mass of rock, rising like a square tower above the 
 wooded ridge to the eastward, signaled our destination ; 
 and my discomfited guide turned about silently, and made 
 towards it, I following, through thickets and across swamps, 
 until we reached the highway. 
 
 The Extern Rocks {Exiey-nsteine) have a double interest 
 for the traveller. They consist of five detached masses 
 
IN THE TEUTOBUEGER FOREST. 463 
 
 of gray sandstone, one hundred and twenty-five feet in 
 height, irregularly square in form, and vvith diameters 
 varying from thirty to fifty feet. They are planted on a 
 grassy slope, across the mouth of a glen opening from the 
 mountains. Only a few tough shrubs hang from the crev- 
 ices in their sides, but the birch-trees on the summits shoot 
 high into the air and print their sprinkled leaves on the 
 sky. The hills of the Teutoburger Forest are rounded and 
 cliffless, and the same formation, it is said, does not reap- 
 pear elsewhere. 
 
 In the base of the most northern of these rocks a chapel, 
 thirty-six feet long, has been hewn — but when, or by 
 whom, are matters of conjecture. Some very imaginative 
 antiquaries insist that the Romans captured by Hermann 
 were here sacrificed to the pagan gods ; others find evi- 
 dence that the place was once dedicated to the worship of 
 Mithras (the sun) ; but the work must probably be ascribed 
 to the early Teutonic Christians. The rocks are first men- 
 tioned in a document of the year 1093. On the outer wall 
 of the chapel there is a tablet of sculpture, in high relief, 
 sixteen feet by twelve, which is undoubtedly the earliest 
 work of the kind in Germany. Its Byzantine character is 
 not to be mistaken, and, judging by the early Christian 
 sculptures and mosaics in Italy, it may be as old as the 
 ninth or tenth century. The tablet is in three compart- 
 ments, the lower one representing the Fall of Man, the 
 centre the Descent from the Cross, while at the top the 
 Almighty receives the soul of the Son in his arms, and 
 holds forth the Banner of the Cross. Although mutilated, 
 weather-beaten, and partly veiled in obscuring moss, the 
 pathos of the sculpture makes itself felt through all the 
 grotesqueness of its forms. Goethe, who saw it, says : 
 " The head of the sinking Saviour leans against the coun- 
 tenance of the mother, and is gently supported by her 
 hand — a beautiful, reverent touch of expression which 
 we find in no other representation of the subject." The 
 
464 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 drapery also, though stiff, has yet the simplicity and dig- 
 nity which we so rarely find in modern art. 
 
 Two of the rocks may be ascended by means of winding 
 stairways cut in their sides. On the summit of the first 
 there is a level platform, with a stone table in the centre 
 — probably the work of the monks, to whom the place 
 belonged in the Middle Ages. By climbing the central 
 rock, and crossing a bridge to the next, one reaches a 
 second chapel, eighteen feet in length, with a rock-altar at 
 the further end. It is singular that there is no record of 
 the origin of this remarkable work. We know that the 
 spirit of the Teutonic mythology lived long after the intro- 
 duction of Christianity, and the monks may have here 
 found and appropriated one of its sacred places. 
 
 By the time I reached the town of Horn, a mile or so 
 from the base of the mountains, I was too scorched and 
 weary to go further afoot, and, while waiting dinner in the 
 guests'-room of the inn, looked about for a means of con- 
 veyance. Three or four stout PMUster, drinking beer at 
 an adjoining table, were bound for Steinheim, which was 
 on my way ; and the landlord said, " An ' extra post ' will 
 be expensive, but these gentlemen might make room for 
 you in their carriage." 
 
 They looked at each other and at me. " "We are already 
 seven,]' said one, " and must be squeezed as it is." 
 
 " By no means," I replied to the landlord ; " get me an 
 extra post." 
 
 Both vehicles were ready at the same time. In the 
 meantime I had entered into conversation with one of the 
 party, — a bright, cheerful young man, — and told him that 
 I should be glad to have company on the way. 
 
 " Why did you engage an extra post ? " they all ex- 
 claimed. "It is expensive! we are onlyj^«^e; you might 
 have gone with us, — we could easily make room for 
 you ! " 
 
 Yet, while making these exclamations^ they picked out 
 
m THE TEUTOBURGER FOREST. 465 
 
 the oldest and least companionable of their party, and 
 bundled him into my '* expensive '* carriage ! I never saw 
 anything more coolly done. I had meant to have the 
 agreeable, not the stupid member, but was caught, and 
 could not help myself. However, I managed to extract a 
 little amusement from my companion as we went along. 
 He was a Detmolder, after confessing which he re- 
 marked, — 
 
 "Now I knew where you came from before you had 
 spoken ten words." 
 
 " Indeed ! Where, then ? " 
 
 « Why, from Bielefeld ! " 
 
 My laughter satisfied the old fellow that he had guessed 
 correctly, and thenceforth he talked so much about Biele- 
 feld that it finally became impossible to conceal my igno- 
 rance of the place. I set him down in Steinheim, dis- 
 missed the extra post, and, as the evening was so bright 
 and balmy, determined to go another stage on foot. I had 
 a letter to a young nobleman, whose estate lay near a vil- 
 lage some four or five miles further on the road to Hoxter. 
 The small boy whom I took as guide was communicative ; 
 the scenery was of the sweetest pastoral character ; the 
 mellow light of sunset struck athwart the golden hills of 
 harvest, the lines of alder hedge, and the meadows of 
 winding streams, and I loitered along the road full of de- 
 light in the renewal of my old pedestrian freedom. 
 
 It was dusk when I reached the village. The one cot- 
 tage inn did not promise much comfort ; but the baron's 
 castle was beyond, and I was too tired to go further. The 
 landlord was a petty magistrate, evidently one of the pillars 
 of the simple village society ; and he talked well and intel- 
 ligently, while his daughter cooked my supper. The bare 
 rooms were clean and orderly, and the night was so warm 
 that no harm was done when the huge globe of feathers 
 under which I was expected to sleep rolled ofi" the bed and 
 lay upon the floor until morning. 
 30 
 
466 BY-WAYS OF EUROPE. 
 
 Sending my letter to the castle, I presently received word 
 that the young baron was absent from home, but that his 
 mother would receive me. As I emerged from the shad- 
 ows of the narrow village street into the breezeless, burning 
 air of the morning, the whole estate lay full and fair in 
 view — a thousand acres of the finest harvest land, lying 
 in the lap of a bowl-shaped valley, beyond which rose a 
 wooded mountain range. In the centre of the landscape 
 a group of immemorial oaks and lindens hid the castle 
 from view, but a broad and stately linden avenue connected 
 it with the highway. There were scores of reapers in the 
 fields, and their dwellings, with the barns and stables, 
 almost formed a second village. The castle — a square 
 mass of building, with a paved court-yard in the centre — 
 was about three hundred years old ; but it had risen upon 
 the foundations of a much older edifice. 
 
 The baroness met me at the door with her two daugh- 
 ters, and ushered me into a spacious room, the ceiling of 
 which, low and traversed by huge beams of oak, was sup- 
 ported by a massive pillar in the centre. The bare oaken 
 floor was brightly polished ; a gallery of ancestral por- 
 traits decked the walls, but the furniture was modern" and 
 luxurious. After a friendly scolding for not claiming the 
 castle's hospitality the night before, one of the daughters 
 brought refreshments, just as a Burgfrdulein of the Middle 
 Ages might have done, except that she did not taste the 
 goblet of wine before offering it. The ladies then con- 
 ducted me through a range of apartments, every one of 
 which contained some picturesque record of the past. The 
 old building was pervaded with a mellow atmosphere of 
 age and use ; although it was not the original seat of the 
 family, their own ancestral heirlooms had adapted them- 
 selves to its physiognomy, and seemed to continue its tradi- 
 tions. Just enough of modern taste was visible to suggest 
 home comforts and conveniences ; all else seemed as old 
 as the Thirty Years' War. 
 
IN THE TEUTOBTJRGER FOREST. 467 
 
 After inspecting the house, we issued upon the 'ploas- 
 aunce — a high bosky space resting on the outer wall of 
 the castle, and looking down upon the old moat, still par- 
 tially full of water. It was a labyrinth of shady paths, of 
 arbors, with leaf-enframed windows opening towards the 
 mountains, and of open, sunny spaces rich with flowers. 
 The baroness called my attention to two splendid magno- 
 lia-trees, and a clump of the large Japanese 'polygonum. 
 " This," she said, pointing to the latter, " w.as given to my 
 husband by Dr. von Siebold, who brought it from Japan ; 
 the magnolias came from seeds planted forty years ago." 
 They were the most northern specimens of the trees I had 
 found upon the continent of Europe. But the oaks and 
 lindens around the castle were more wonderful than these 
 exotic growths. Each one was " a forest waving on a single 
 stem." 
 
 The young baron was not expected to return before the 
 evening, and I was obliged to continue my journey, though 
 every feature of the place wooed me to stay. " But at 
 least," urged the hostess, " you must visit my husband's 
 twin brother, who is still living at the old hurg. We were 
 going to send for him to-day, and we will send you along." 
 This was a lift on my way ; and, moreover, it was a pleas- 
 ure to meet a gentleman of whom I had heard so much — 
 a thinker, a man of scientific culture, and a poet, yet un- 
 known to the world in either of these characters. 
 
 The youngest daughter of the house made ready to ac- 
 company me, and presently a light open wagon, drawn by 
 a span of ponies, came to the door. After my yesterday's 
 tramp in the forest it was a delightful change. The young 
 lady possessed as much intelligence as refinement, and with 
 her as a guide the rich scenery through which we passed 
 assumed a softer life, a more gracious sentiment. From 
 the ridge before us rose the lofty towers of a church at- 
 tached to an extinct monastery, the massive buildings of 
 which are now but half tenanted by some farmers ; on the 
 
468 BY-WAYS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 right a warm land of grain stretched away to the Teuto- 
 burger Forest; on the left, mountains clothed with beech 
 and oak basked in the sun. We passed the monastery, 
 crossed a wood, and dropped into a wild, lonely valley 
 among the hills. Here the Oldenburg, as it is called, al- 
 ready towered above us, perched upon the bluff edge of a 
 mountain cape. It was a single square mass of the brownest 
 masonry, seventy or eighty feet high, with a huge, steep, 
 and barn-like roof. It dominated alone over the beech 
 woods ; no other human habitation was in sight. 
 
 When we reached the summit, however, I found that 
 the old building was no longer tenanted. Behind it lay a 
 pond, around which were some buildings connected with the 
 estate, and my fair guide led the way to the further door 
 of a house in which the laboring people lived. She went 
 to seek her uncle, while I waited in a room so plainly fur- 
 nished that an American farmer would have apologized for 
 it. Presently I was summoned up stairs, where the old 
 baron caught me by both hands, and pressed me down into 
 his own arm-chair before it was possible to say a word. 
 His room was as simple as the first ; Ijut books and water- 
 color drawings showed the tastes of its occupant. 
 
 It was truly the head of a poet upon which I looked. 
 Deep-set, spiritual eyes shone under an expansive brow, 
 over which fell some thin locks of silky gray hair; the 
 nose was straight and fine, with delicate, sensitive nostrils, 
 and there was a rare . expression of sweetness and purity 
 in the lines of the mouth. It needed no second glance to 
 see that the old man was good and wise and noble and per- 
 fectly lovable. My impulse was to sit on a stool at his 
 feet, as I have seen a young English poet sitting at the 
 feet of good Barry Cornwall, and talk to him with my 
 arms resting upon his knees. But he drew his chair close 
 beside me, and took my hand from time to time, as he 
 talked ; so that it was not long before our thoughts ran to- 
 gether, and each anticipated the words of the other. 
 
IN THE TEUTOBUKGER FOEEST. 469 
 
 " Now tell me about my friend," said he. " We were 
 inseparable as students, and as long as our paths la^ near 
 each other. They say that three are too many for friend- 
 ship, but we twin-brothers only counted as one in the bond. 
 We had but one heart and one mind, except in matters of 
 science, and there it was curious to see how far apart we 
 sometimes were. Ah, what rambles we had together, in 
 Germany and on the Alps ! I remember once we were 
 merry in the Thiiringian Forest, for there was wine enough 
 and to spare ; so we buried a bottle deep among the rocks. 
 We had forgotten all about it when, a year or two after- 
 wards, we happened all three to come back to the spot, and 
 there we dug up the bottle, and drank what seemed to be 
 the best wine in the world. I wonder if he remembers 
 that I wrote a poem about it." 
 
 Then we walked out through the beech woods to a point 
 of the mountain whence there was a view of the monastery 
 across the wild valley. " It was but yesterday," said the 
 old baron, " since I stood here with my brother — both 
 little boys — and listened to the chimes of vesper. There 
 were monks in the old building then. What is life, after 
 all ? I don't understand it. My brother was a part of my- 
 self. We had but one life ; he married and his home was 
 mine ; his children are mine still. We were born together ; 
 three years ago he died, and I should have died at the 
 same time. How is it that I live ? " 
 
 He turned to me with tears in his eyes, and a sad, mys- 
 terious wonder in his voice. I could only shake my head, 
 for he who could have answered the question would be 
 able to solve all the enigmas of life. The man seemed to 
 me like a semi-ghost, attached to the earth by only half the 
 relation of other men. " I live here as you see," he con- 
 tinued; "but I am not lonely. All my life of seventy- 
 three years I have been laying aside interest for this sea- 
 son. I have still my thoughts and questions, as well as my 
 memories. I am part of the great design which I have 
 
470. BT--WATS OF EUEOPE. 
 
 always found in the world and in man, and 1 have learned 
 enough to accept what I cannot fathom." 
 
 These were brave and wise words, and they led on to 
 others, as we walked in the shadows of the beech woods, 
 until summoned to dinner. The baron's niece superin- 
 tended the meal, and a farmer's daughter waited at the 
 table. I was forced to decline a kind invitation to return 
 to the castle with the old man, and spend the night there 
 — for I could take but a brief holiday in the Teutoburger 
 Forest. Then they proposed taking me to the town of 
 Hoxter, on the Weser, whither I was bound ; but while I 
 was trying to dissuade the young lady from a further drive 
 of ten miles, the sound of a horn suddenly broke the soli- 
 tude of the woods. A post-carriage came in sight, drove 
 to the door, and from it descended the Kreisrichter (Dis- 
 trict Judge), on a visit to the old bafon. As I noticed that 
 he intended remaining for the night, I proposed taking the 
 carriage by which he had arrived, though I should have 
 preferred making the journey on foot. 
 
 It was so arranged, and half an hour afterwards I took 
 leave of the noble old man, with the promise — which all 
 the battle-fields of Hermann and Wittekind would not have 
 suggested to me — of some day returning to the Teuto- 
 burger Forest. Leaving the mountains behind me, I fol- 
 lowed a road which slowly descended to the Weser through 
 the fairest winding valleys, and before sunset reached 
 Hoxter. A mile further, at the bend of the river, is the 
 ancient Abbey of Corvey, where, in the year 1515, the first 
 six books of the Annals of Tacitus, up to that time lost, 
 were discovered. The region which that great historian 
 has alone described, thus preserved and gave back to the 
 world a portion of his works. 
 
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