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A WO MAN'S
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF EUROPE.
BEING
WAYSIDE SKETCHES
MADE DURING A SHORT TOUR IN THE YEAR 1863.
BY MRS. E. A. FORBES.
NEW YORK:
ID ER IBY & 3; MILLj EIR.
1865.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865,
BY DERBY & MILLER,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the
Northern District of New York.
TIHOMAS, TYPOGRAPHER,
BUFFALO.




To
Tr. and grs. Henry a. gogers,
THE DEAR FRIENDS,
UNDER WHOSE PROTECTION LIFELONG DREAMS HAVE BECOME
REALITIES, THESE WAYSIDE SKETCHES OF SCENES
WHICH WE HAVE ENJOYED TOGETHER,
ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.








PREFACE.
THE writer of the following sketches cannot send
them forth from their original domestic destination to
the impertinence of print, without reminding any
who may honor them with their notice, that an egotism in incident and a dogmatism in criticism, which
would be insufferable, if intended for the public eye,
are simply the shortest and easiest mode of recording
one's personal impressions in a private journal.
To disentangle these elements from what remains,
would prove a task altogether disproportionate to the
value of the work; it is therefore commended to
friendly indulgence, with an earnest disclaimer of
these two worst vices of the literature of travel.




ERRATA.
Page 32, line 15, for " for" read to.
Page 148, line 10, for "Donneker" read Danneker.
Page 198, line 2, for "Glisshone " read Glisshorn.
Page 200, line  8, for "valley" read gallery.
Page 220, line  5, for "manor" read manner.
Page 247, line 11, for "the portico " read a portico.
Page 267, line 12, for " mysterious" read mysteries.
Page 268, line 19, for "Centi" read Conti.




CON!T ErT S.
CHAPTER I.
New York to Liverpool. —-----------------------------------------------  9
CHAPTER II.
Liverpool - Chester - Eaton Hall - Bangor - Caernarvon - Llanberis - Dublin - Belfast - Giant's Causeway.           -....,   22
CHAPTER III.
Glasgow —The Clyde-Loch Long —Loch  Lomond — Ben Lomond —Loch
Katrine - Loch Achray - Stirling- Edinburgh - Abbottsford - Melrose -
Dryburgh-.-. 48
CHAPTER IV.
Penrith - Ulswater - Winderumere - Grasmere - Rydal - Ambleside - Lancaster- Haworth - York - Chesterfield - Chatsworth - Haddon HallKenilworth - Warwick - Leamington - Stratford-on-Avon ------------  73
CHAPTER V.
London — Spurgeon — St. Paul's — Westminster Abbey — Windsor Castle -
Tower -British Museum ------------------------------------  102
CHAPTER VI.
Ostend - Brussels — Waterloo - Antwerp - Malines - Cologne ----------- 120
CHAPTER VII.
Konigswenter - Drachenfels - The Rhine - Mayence - Weisbaden - Frankfort - Baden Baden - Strasbourg — Basle.-. —-----------------—. 137
CHAPTER VIII.
Basle - Lake of the Four Cantons — Rigi - Sarnen - Brunig Pass- Meiringen
- Rosenlaui - Brienz - Interlacb.en - Lauterbrunnen - The Staubbach -
Thun - Berne - Lake Leman - Geneva..-................... 157




VIii                      CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IX.
Chamouni - La FlEgbre - Sources of the Arveiron - T6te Noire - Martigny
- Pierre a voir - Brieg - Simplon - Domo d'Ossola — Lake Maggiore -
Arona. —-------------------------------   181
CHAPTER X.
Milan - Venice ------------------------------------------------—.  204
CHAPTER XI.
Padua-Bologna-Apennines- Florence-Pisa - Leghorn - The Mediterranean- Civita Vecchia............................................... 222
CHAPTER XII.
Rome -St. Peter's -Vatican - Capitol-Forum - Coliseum-Naples-Herculaneum - Pompeii- Museum - Chapels - Pausilippo................. 240
CHAPTER XIII.
Rome - St. Peter's — Vatican - Villa Borghese - Pincian Hill - Palaces Rospigliosi, Borghese, Barberini, Spada - Churches of St. Augustin, St. John in
the Lateran, St. Maria Maggiore, St. Pietro in Vincalo, Cappuccini —Scala
Santa - Fountains- Catacombs - Columbaria- Baths- Genoa- TurinMont Cenis-. —-----—.. —----  ----------------------------- 262
CHAPTER XIV.
Paris — Louvre —Notre Dame - Hotel des Invalides - Bois de Boulogne —
Jardin des Plants - Gobelins — Chapel of St. Ferdinand - Ste. Chapelle -
Luxembourg -----------------—. ——.. —-- 284
CHAPTER XV.
Versailles- Pere la Chaise - Havre - English Channel.-........... 298
CHAPTER XVI.
London-Madame Tussaud —National Gallery-Houses of Parliament —
Courts —St. Thomas, Chartreux —Lord Mayor's Day - Hampton Court -
Sydenham Palace - Zoological Gardens - Thames River' Tunnel - Christ's
Hospital - Westminster Abbey   ------------------------------ 313
CHAPTER XVII.
London - Hyde Park - Theatres - South Kensington Museum - Guildhall -
Oxford - Birmingham — Liverpool-................................. 331
CHAPTER XVIII.
Scotia —Liverpool to New York.-........... —-—. 346




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
CHAPTER I.
THE GREAT EASTERN.
New York to Liverpool.
WE left Flushing yesterday, July 21st, 1863, at
one o'clock P. x. It was blowing a gale, yet the
great ship got under weigh without making us aware
that she had left her moorings. She held on her
course without perceptible motion until we left the
Sound, and since, nothing beyond a slight roll
reminds us that we are not upon terra firma.
This morning we passed one of our gunboats
pitching and tossing upon the waves, and later in
the day have seen a veritable whale spouting in
the distance. The day is charming-and the deck
resembles the street of a city. We find our staterooms delightful. The time is apparently measured
only by alternate seasons of eating and sleeping.
We breakfast at eight, lunch at twelve, dine at five,
and take tea at any later hour until ten. The lights
2




10          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
are extifguished at half-past eleven. A trumpet is
blown in each companionway to summon us to table,
and a band discourses sweet music at intervals, winding up at night with God save the Queen. The
number of passengers is said to be between two and
three hundred.
July 23. The sea still smooth as a river —the
day charming-no symptom of seasickness possible.
The magnificent ship holds her stately way as if she
were an island set adrift upon the waters. She is
indeed a little world within herself. Her regular
quota of officials is four hundred and eighty, and
she registers twenty-five thousand tons.
We have been upon deck all the morning, and
its size, and the multitudes of people every where
astir, destroy entirely the effect of isolation which
we usually connect with the idea of a ship alone
in an amphitheatre of sea and sky. A programme
of games among the sailors for this afternoon has
been put aside for the funeral of a little child among
the steerage passengers. My heart aches for the
mother who leaves her baby in these lone waters.
A ball announced for eight o'clock will probably be
postponed also.
July 24. Another charming day. There is a
stiff breeze, which, however, produces no perceptible
effect upon the motion of the ship. For the last two
days, we have made two hundred and ninety miles
each, and our entire progress amounts to eight hundred and thirty-five miles since we weighed anchor




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             11
in Flushing Bay. The ball came off, and lasted until
nearly midnight. The postponed games are to be
instituted this afternoon. Meanwhile, we enjoy the
afternoon regulation nap; an unlimited capacity for
sleep seeming to be among the legitimate effects of
seagoing. This morning, as I looked out at the porthole, I saw an oar floating by-perhaps borne away
by the tide from the peaceful shore-perhaps only
the relic of some nameless wreck, for whose return
loving eyes have grown dim with watching —
perhaps it was plied by some lone wanderer towards
a hope of safety, until death unnerved his grasp, and
he sank down to be drifted out to the mighty sepulchre, which enshrouds alike the wealth of past ages
and the baby of yesterday.
July 25. I do not know two more incongruous
personalities than a Yankee ashore and a Yankee at
sea. It would be decidedly to the advantage of the
"universal nation" if it could be set afloat, and learn
to enjoy the delicious dreamy idleness of ship life.
It seems impossible to settle one's self to any more
intense mental activity than may consist with watching the lazy dip of the distant horizon as the great
ship rolls gently from side to side. Occasionally a
distant sail attracts universal attention, but for my
own part, I should scarcely have believed it possible
to spend so many days without a real thought.
This morning opened fair, with a strong breeze,
but on going upon deck this afternoon, we found
ourselves enveloped in a thick fog. The ship goes




12          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
on with diminished speed, blowing a warning whistle
at short intervals, with good reason, for we are on
the banks, and have passed a fleet of fishing boats
with their small craft out. Little chance for the
unlucky vessel which fails to keep a good lookout
for the Leviathan.
The amusements of yesterday and to-day have had
the attraction of novelty at least. They have been
foot races, sack races, steeple chases, hurdle races
and cock fights. The last mentioned not being the
inhuman sport of the feathered tribe, but a good
natured set-to of the biped of more pretensions. It
is conducted on this wise.'Two men, having their
hands tied, clasp their knees, and a stout stick is
thrust under the knees and over the arms. Then,
sitting upon the deck, face to face, they fight with
the feet; the object of each man being to throw his
opponent on his back, by inserting his toes under his
feet. The match evidently requires much coolness
and dexterity, and the last one was prolonged until
the intensity of concentration and watchfulness on the
part of the combatants became something painful.
The winner is he who first throws his adversary
three times.
The sack race is very amusing. The men are tied
in sacks to their throats, feet, hands and all, and
accomplish their progress by hopping within their
limited accommodations —of course, the slightest
mischance sends them rolling helplessly upon the
ground. In addition to the interest common to all




WAYSIDE  S KETCHES.             13
the spectators, the races have evidently gratified the
English thirst for betting.
The weather grows cold, but is delightful and
invigorating.  I have not yet come to a realizing
sense of being at sea, more than a thousand miles
from home, and am half inclined to fancy that the
vivid descriptions of self-consciousness which belong
to the literature of the sea must be written after one
has reached dry land.
July 29. The foregoing hiatus is chargeable to
the account of Neptune and his angry nymphs, as I
shall proceed to show.
On Sunday morning we came upon the wake of
an old gale, which, having been perhaps baulked of
the mischief for,which it was brewed, proceeded to
wreak its vengeance upon us innocent voyagers.
We assembled in the grand saloon at eleven o'clock
for divine service. The captain; having been up all
night, declined his accustomed office of chaplain,
which devolved, in consequence, upon a Presbyterian minister, who received private instructions in
the purser's cabin upon the English service. The
lessons were read by the Rev. Gordon Hall, son of
the first American missionary to India, and the sermon preached by a Scotch minister from Toronto.
The band led the music in the adjoining saloon.
This was one of three services held at the same time
in the enormous vessel.
For my own part, I soon became aware that the
ship had added to her usual roll a peculiar lifting of




14         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
her forefoot, producing a gastric complication by no
means enviable, and I prudently seated myself near
the door; where, having remained until the conclusion of the morning prayer, I found it expedient to
beat a hasty retreat; and for a few moments my
personal experience of the malady of the sea would
have satisfied the wishes of my best medical advisers.
But the disease is fatal neither to life nor spirits, and
although I had missed the sermon, I stood at the
port-hole, and the magnificent waves took to themselves a text and preached to me a solitary sermon
upon the might of Him who has poured these resistless waters from the hollow of His hand, and yet has
made of the sand a bound to the sea that it shall not
pass over. I remarked, too, that the angrier the wave,
the more beautiful was its crest, and I thought of
His tender love, that outrides the billows of turmoil
and pain, and brings, even out of their own depths,
joy and peace by the light of His countenance.
But the gale freshened, and presently the moveables of our domain broke away and went adriftchairs, tables and trunks performing gyrations after
the most approved style of a modern waltz; while
the peregrinations of the inhabitants were performed
upon decidedly original principles. But the careful
steward of the bed chamber soon made all fast;
hooked up the tables, screwed up the port, made a
barricade of the luggage before my sofa, confiscated
one chair and made a chevaux-de-frise of the other,
and left us all prostrate at the altar of the Tritons.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              15
However, it is not to be supposed that we were so
wanting to ourselves as to be absent from table, and
the ludicrous scenes of the dining room abundantly
compensated us for the effort. The guards prevented
an escapade of the dishes, but not necessarily of
their contents. The reckless wight who took soup
took a good deal of it; my vis-a-vis ate his duck,
but pocketed the olives: somersaults were in fashion,
and the waiters scrambled about, distributing the
viands impartially between the guests and the floor.
A sudden lurch made a cataract of the china upon
the sideboard, while the same blow sent the dessert
flying about the kitchen floor. Nobody slept at
night; some of the waves broke over our port, fifty
feet above water level, and washed the boats at the
davits. The only sight visible through the darkness
was the window, like the great eye of Neptune, now
staring at us from above, now peering at us from
below. Among the rest of the unearthly noises of
the night, was the flapping of canvas, as the sailors
struggled to set the main topsail to steady the ship.
The struggle was short, and the sail went by the
board, with a report like the crack of artillery. The
tattered remnants still cling to the heavy yard.
With all this, there was neither storm nor danger,
but an experience which one would not miss, as a
part of the legitimate routine of seagoing.  Our
cabin is a cozy home of our own, so arranged that it
becomes at pleasure one room or two; my own
domain especially comfortable, as, with my friends




16          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
usual kind consideration for my comfort, I am bestowed where I am "rocked in the cradle of the
deep," instead of playing at see-saw with my head
and feet. We are especially favored with good ventilation, as, besides the port-hole, we have a window
communicating through the deck with the outer air,
and also with a tartarus of a fire-hole in the abyss
below. It is curious to watch at night the weird
effect of the grimy demon of those profound depths,
as he stirs the raging fires, and eminently suggestive
also of the potentialities hanging on his watchfulness.
On Monday and Tuesday we had a heavy sea, but
we have crossed the gale, and are out of the rolling
forties. Notwithstanding the roll, it has been delightful on deck, and we cannot sufficiently congratulate ourselves that we are established in such a
stately palace of motion, and can enjoy the rough
sea without being driven below by the waves.
It rains to-day, and we have taken refuge in whist.
We have advanced many degrees towards the sunrising, and it requires a fresh calculation every day
to follow home friends, God bless them, through
home avocations.
Another death occurred on board yesterday,that of a woman travelling to England to die. Her
husband and children are with her. Her disease was
a hopelessly advanced cancer, and the sickness of the
rough night induced a hemorrhage, which hastened
her sufferings to a close. She is to be taken to land
for burial. I do not know that there is any thing




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              17
very terrible in the thought of being consigned to
this vast sepulchre of the dead, where no foot of
mammon may disturb the long repose; where the
solemn requiem of wind and wave rings ever above
the spot, marked only by the eye of Him who
knows where to find His beloved when the sea shall
give up its dead.
July 30. The weather, rainy for some days, is
making an effort at sunlight-the sea steady —but
it is not a good day for the deck.
The event of yesterday was a musical soiree, for
the benefit of the band which has contributed so
largely towards our enjoyment on board. It was
difficult to remember that we were on shipboard,
thousands of miles at sea. The grand saloon, a
splendid well lighted parlor, filled with well dressed
people, the charming band, the amateur volunteers,
both gentlemen and ladies, differed in nothing —
except, perhaps, in their superiority — from a similar
scene in the parlor of a fashionable watering place;
while in the steady way of the great ship, there was
nothing to remind us that we were ploughing the
unstable waves. We had Italian music and ballads
— some admirable performances upon the piano. A
fine barytone gave us The Old Sexton, Rocked in
the Cradle of the Deep, and Twenty Years Agothe last mentioned going down straight into the
depths of the heart. We had, in addition, some
amusing feats of legerdemain and ventriloquism;
wound up with the Marseillaise, the Star Spangled




18         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Banner, and God save the Queen, and went home
near midnight, highly gratified.
It is a matter of continual regret that the splendid
ship, which we so much enjoy, should, in any respect,
fail to deserve the suffrages of the travelling public.
But, while in security, accommodations and pleasure
it is inimitable, the table is unpardonably deficient.
The viands are badly (not scantily) furnished, and
worse cooked. It is a matter of comparatively little
importance to me, but it is a pity that an establishment, otherwise so perfect, should fail in a point
essential to general comfort and to the reputation
of the vessel. However, I am willing to compound
for its many advantages with the temporary discomfort of the table; and, undoubtedly, the mortification attendant upon the faults of the present trip will
prevent their recurrence. We are to have races
again this afternoon, and a dance this evening.
July 31. Once more a delicious day- the air
bland with the soft south wind, and the sea quiet as a
lake. Made the first land a little past one, and I can
no more realize that we are actually running down
the coast of Ireland, than if I had been making only
a trip up the Hudson-moreover, we have had no
tedium at sea, to make us hail the sight of land with
any enthusiasm for the land's sake. Having never
enjoyed a more delightful week in my life, I am in
no haste to urge it to a close, and in no humor to
lose the intensity of present enjoyment in visions' of
anticipation.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              19
Yesterday was the Captain's dinner, and, as my
first experience of a public dinner, I shall not
readily forget it. The dinner was a handsome one,
wine plentifully bestowed, and after the cloth was
removed came toasts and speeches. The Captain
led off by proposing with appropriate speeches the
Queen, and the American Nation. Nobody taking
upon himself the representation of either personality,
the toasts were drunk with acclamation, and then
came Mr. R., briefly but happily proposing the Captain. His speech was not only applauded, but afterwards warmly commended by the passengers. Capt.
Paton's reply was very good, defining his position in
a modest yet dignified manner, and taking the occasion to express the pain which the failure of his
agents of supply in New York had caused him, in
such a hearty earnest way, that every body felt there
was nothing more to be said upon the subject.
The Surgeon, the Purser and the first officer were
then called out.  The ladies made their acknowledgments by the mouth of some English gentleman
Afterwards came other speeches and toasts, prolonging the affair a trifle beyond the limits of good taste,
and concluding with the Captain's speech in behalf of
Mrs. Paton. It was all quite exciting to me, and
had, besides, the charm of novelty.
The evening was spent in the ball room. I wish
I could picture the scene to home eyes, by way of
contrast to the commonly received ideas of even
pleasant life on shipboard. Here was an elegant




20          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
room, about sixty by thirty feet in extent, brilliantly
lighted by chandeliers and gaily decorated shades,
and adorned with banners, filled with gay dancers
and a merry host of spectators, officers, waiters with
trays of ices, &c., all moving about at perfect ease,
and in utter oblivion of the unstable element upon
which we were floating; our single world probably
the sole tenant of the horizon. We looked into each
other's faces to exclaim  "Can this be the sea?"
Success to the stately ship, the wonder of the seas.
We shall all leave her with real regret, and with
kindly remembrances of her commander. I hear,
at this moment, the merry shouts on deck. They are
finishing the races of the trip with a grinning match.
To-morrow night we expect to sleep on shore. If
our tour should end here, I should be the happier,
for the rest of my life, for the pleasure of the last
fortnight.
Aug. 1. One more entry at sea. We are running
up St. George's Channel this morning, and have
already passed Holyhead, the grand headland of
North Wales. And now I feel, for the first time,
the awe of treading the threshold of the Old World
— that long desire of a lifetime. The very air we
breathe is redolent of past ages -the soil we seek to
tread rich in classic memories. We come to lay hold
of tangible links in the chain that binds the Present
to the immutable Past, and must, at every step, kindle a torch of remembrance, whose light shall shine
amid the lengthening shadows of our lifelong path




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             21
-- an Aladdin's lamp, whose touch shall bring to
light visions which put to shame the fairy dreams of
Arabian lore.




22          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CHAPTER II.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
Liverpool-Chester-Eaton Hall-Bangor-Caernarvon-Llanberis-DtublinBelfast-Giant's Causeway.
AUG. 2. On shore at last. The great ship came
to anchor yesterday about five o'clock, too late to
cross the bar.  A tug took off all the passengers
who desired to land, among whom we were not: the
prospect of a twenty miles' sail at night in an open
steamer, not proving enticing.  The band played
Auld Lang Syne as the tug moved off, bearing
away some whose share in this brief companionship
will claim many pleasant remembrances. We remained on board, attended a dance, and came off
this morning.
The form, for it is nothing more, of examining
the luggage occupied a considerable time, and we
did not leave the ship until half-past ten o'clock.
She gave us a gun as a parting salute, and we left
the abode of a pleasant fortnight with some regret,
even for the shores of Europe.
I wonder what Yankeedom would say if its watergoing journeys were to be performed in a steamer
without seat or shelter; yet that was the style of our
first travel in the maternal country.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              23
Liverpool is very unlike my preconceived idea of
the great commercial city; I had fancied it dirty,
dingy, crowded and uninteresting. But my notions
have been corrected -no very unusual occurrence.
The solid masonry of the long miles of docks is in
striking contrast to our dirty piers, and our landing
upon the clean pavement of the wharf was as quiet
as a walk in a country town.
The Washington is an elegant hotel, just out of
St. George's Square. In the broad open place stands
a pillar which serves as pedestal to a statue of the
Duke of Wellington, and upon one side of the square
stands St. George's Hall, considered a very elegant
edifice. The smoke reduces all architecture to a
common hue, but one is immediately impressed with
the solidity of the structures. The street is very
clean, but not a vehicle reminds us of its congeners
in America. We have had a charming drive to
Prince's Park, and a walk in the private gardens, a
beautiful extent of ornamental gardening. We have
been to St. George's Hall, a fine building, one of
whose beauties is the style of column, consisting of
a kind of brown variegated marble, finished in tall
shafts of exquisite polish, with Corinthian capitals.
The concert room is very handsome, but its size
struck me as very small for such a purpose, in so
large a city.
Aug. 3. I feel how baldly meagre must be any
attempt to describe the pleasure of a day at Chester,
and yet to pass it over would be to omit a day of




24          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
sight-seeing than which we can have no other more
enjoyable.
We left Liverpool about noon, crossing to Birkenhead, and came by rail to Chester, one hour's distance. Only one hour from this commercial depot
of the modern world to the shades of Julius Caesar!
This ancient city is surrounded by a perfect wall,
whose date runs back to its occupation by the Romans, A. D. 61. The top of the wall is flagged and
guarded by a battlement of solid masonry, making
a beautiful promenade entirely around the old city.
It crosses the streets by bridges or archways, called
gates, which give names to various streets, such as
East Gate Street, Water Gate Street, &c. Flights
of steps descend to the footways at each crossing.
The whole structure shows great care, both of preservation and restoration.
There are several towers flanking the angles of
the wall. From one of these —the Phenix Tower,
King Charles the First witnessed the defeat of his
army upon Rowton Moor. The upper story of the
tower is improved, as the Yankees say, as a museum
of antique relics of the city itself, and contains, besides, sundry curiosities from foreign lands. The
lower floor, where are vended prints of Chester and
its celebrities, was once a Roman council chamber.
Within the castle, now occupied as barracks, is a
portion of wall built by Caesar. At the foot of this
wall, and elsewhere throughout the city, have been
exhumed innumerable Roman antiquities; and at




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               25
the present moment an excavation is going on in
Bridge Street, where the foundations of an immense
temple are exposed, supposed by antiquarians to
have been a temple to Diana. The foundations and
portions of the massive pillars are plainly visible, at
a slight distance below the level of the street.
In a cellar, immediately adjoining, is a Roman
bath, in perfect preservation, hewn out of solid rock,
and still kept partially filled by some concealed
spring or conduit below. Close by is a hypocaust,
or large furnace, also hewn in arches from the solid
rock, for the purpose of heating a sudatorium or
sweating room above.
The wonder is, not so much that these things
should have been established upon the island so long
ago, but that, through all the upheavals of all the
centuries, they should have been permitted to
remain, the unquestionable, unchanged tokens of
the old Roman inhabitation.
The entire effect of the town is a translation of
sympathy and almost of individuality to the remote
past, with a sense of the actuality of History, as
opposed to the reality of Fiction.  The streets themselves close the eyes of one's perceptions to the nineteenth cefitury; and, peering through the mists of the
ages, we dimly discern the daily life of the men and
women who formed the people, hundreds of years
ago. Of those times, History records the public acts
of the great lights of the nations; but here we see the
very dwvellings where burned the rushlights of the
3




26          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
multitude -the narrow ways which their feet have
trodden — the very altars where they worshipped —
the very burial places where they were laid to
rest.
Upon one old house -- the only one which escaped
the plague-is inscribed "God's providence is mine
inheritance;" upon another in the same street are
quaint carvings representing scripture scenes. Hard
by, diving through a narrow  entrance to a small
square court, we find the Derby House, the palace of
the Stanleys. We were shown into the dining hall,
now used as the shop of a mechanic, but retaining
the same raftered roof and wainscoted wall as when
nobility banqueted within its narrow limits. The
same iron studded door opened to us that swung
upon its hinges to admit the scions of royalty; and
little plebeian children played upon the worn oaken
staircase which led to the bower of the dames.
Bishop Loyd's palace, belonging to the early part
of the seventeenth century, is another curious relic
of that which constituted magnificence in the days
when the Puritans built their homes in our western
forests.
The remarkable feature of the streets is the Rows.
The lower stories set directly upon the street, serve
as shops, and above, the entire front of the second
story is cut away, forming a continuous arcade,
within which are arranged the shops of flie town.
Steps descend to the street at frequent intervals,
while the dwellings are still above.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               27
The great points of interest in Chester are two
ancient churches —the Cathedral, or the Church of
St. Oswald and St. Werburgh, and the Church of
St. John the Baptist.  The former was erected,
mainly, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries,
upon a site once occupied by a temple of Apollo.
The choir is used as a parish church, and cathedral
service is performed here twice a day. The cloisters
around the quadrangle were to me the most interesting part of the immense edifice, and perhaps the
best place to get a definite idea of the great space
occupied by the Abbey.
Time is wearing away the massive mullions and
stanchions of the arched windows, but the kindly
ivy tenderly shadows the unsightly flaws, and converts the jagged outline into a thing of beauty.
My fancy went back to the monks who paced these
cloisters, four hundred years ago, and were laid, one
by one, beneath our feet, and wondered if they found
in this green retirement the peace which the human
race has since ceased even to desire.
The Church of St. John the Baptist is of still
greater antiquity and interest.  It was founded in
A. D. 689, and the old chancel is still standing in ivyclad ruin, with great trees thrusting their branches
from out the arches of its windows. The carvings
and statues of the ancient edifice, though fallen, are
still preserved upon the spot, and are gradually incorporated in the renovation of the later church, which
is now in progress.




28          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
This church, repaired thoroughly in 1581, is of a
beautiful style of architecture —Norman rather than
Gothic. The part used as a church is simply fitted
up, and screened from the open aisles by a partition
of rough boards. Upon entering, we found the
vicar waiting in the chancel to perform a marriage
ceremony. Mr. R. addressed him, and he showed us
the utmost courtesy, pointing out many things of
interest connected with the ancient church.
The environs of Chester are charming. The great
attraction is Eaton Hall, the residence, or rather one
of the estates, of the Marquis of Westminster, the
largest landed proprietor in England. This estate is
twelve miles in length; but miles and statistics can
give little idea of such a place. We obtained, in the
town, tickets of entrance both to the house and gardens, and rolled away mile after mile, over a perfect
road, winding through field.and forest and park, all
showing the most exquisite culture, and varied with
careful attention to effect; and, at length, reached
the magnificent lawn in front of the hall, dotted
with stately trees, and stretching off in charming perspective to the wooded background in the distance.
The most respectful and respectable of butlers
received us in the vestibule, and conducted us
"through gallery fair and high arcade" to the show
rooms of the mansion. The vestibule is lofty and
elegant, and contains several pieces of statuary, and
four suits of armor in effigy, belonging to his lordship's ancestqrs. The dining, breakfast, morning and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               29
drawing rooms, the saloon and library, are all en
suite, and each impresses one with a sense of magnificence, hitherto beyond my conception. The dining
room windows look out upon a wonderful scene of
garden beauty, the flowers being not only disposed
with great taste in the form of the parterres, but the
colors so strikingly arranged as produce the highest
effect either of contrast or harmony.
The walls of the saloon and drawing room are
frescoed in Spanish scenes, sketched from nature by
the Marchioness herself, and painted by Mr. Morris
of Chester. There are many valuable paintings in
the various rooms- two by Rubens, two by Guercino
-besides the family portraits, busts, and other pieces
of sculpture that adorn the halls. One long hall is
lined with pictures of noted horses that have belonged to the family. To judge from their number
and beauty, the race of Le Gros Veneur has not yet
lost the ancestral taste.
In a box in a small vestibule is a huge pig of lead,
wrought by Roman skill from British mines in the
first century. The chapel of the hall is a perfect
gem, but the library is the most splendid of all these
apartments.  It is one hundred and twenty feet long,
lofty and elegant, containing, besides the organ and
book cases, statues and curiosities too numerous and
too interesting to be properly understood in many
visits. A faultless Flora, by Wylie, and a bust of
the late Marquis, by Chantrey, are the finest pieces of
statuary.




30          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Nor does this noble house disdain the work of
homelier artists. Among the rare and curious objects in the library stands a table, made with long
and patient experiment by a mechanic of Chester,
which is ingeniously wrought to show the grain of
three hundred blocks of the different kinds of
English wood.
The gardens inelude long ranges of hot-houses,
green-houses, graperies, walls of fruit, kitchen gardens, ornamental shrubberies, and artificial lakes,
containing plants, trees and shrubs, from all countries and climates.  Among the smaller trees, the
English and Irish yew were especially attractive.
The view from the east front of the mansion,
looking down the broad terraces, filled with exquisite
flowers, interspersed with turfy banks and wide avenues, to the inlet of the Dee below; bounded on
either side by the graceful sweep of the bosky
thicket of trees and shrubbery which shut out the
park views beyond, is all enchanting as a dream of
fairy land.
Well might a house which can claim this beautiful domain as its ancient heritage be pardoned for
the pride of birth. But this is only one of the
estates of the Marquis, and he spends but three
months of the year in this abode of wealth and art
and beauty.
A  day at Chester alone, would repay one for
crossing the Atlantic, and will enrich the memory
with pleasure for a lifetime.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                31
We visited the picturesque cemetery, and walked
upon the ancient wall, and traversed the quaint
Rows; and found, every where, that strange mingling of the shadows of the dusky Past with the
sunshine of the nineteenth century, that constitutes
such a charm for the dwellers in a land which has
no antiquity beyond the memory of half a dozen
generations.
We left Chester with many a lingering look, and
travelled through a most picturesque country to
Bangor. The tide was down, and, stretching miles
away, we saw the sands of Dee; and as we went on,
we watched
" The cruel crawling hungry foam
Come o'er the sands of Dee,"
where Mary went to
" Call the cattle home,
But never home came she."
On this route we made our first acquaintance with
castles. The Castle of Grwych rises among the hills
of Wales as if it were the legitimate outgrowth of
the soil. Conway Castle crowns the summit of a
hill under which the railway passes. It is a ruin of
great extent.  The ivy-covered walls reached along
the crest of the hill as far as we could see, on both
sides of the railway, and must have enclosed a circuit unusual even in the times of castles.
The scenery of North Wales is surpassingly beautiful. It is a combination of charming fields, bor



32         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
dered every where by green hedgerows, and showing
the most careful cultivation, with bold, bare masses
of granite, towering high in solitary grandeur, sometimes affording a roothold for a scanty covering of
grass, and sometimes lifting their heads in naked
majesty to the beating of the eternal storms.
At Bangor we found an inn near the railway
station, nestled close at the foot of the hills, quaint
in its old fashioned arrangements —the very type
of an inn for such a locality, and a delightful summer resort for those who would enjoy mountain
excursions.
There, on one of the loveliest (lays that ever
smiled npon the earth, we took a wagonette, a Welsh
horse and a Welsh driver, and set out for a drive
through a charming variety of scenery for Caernarvon Castle.
The broad road, smooth as a parlor floor, bordered
by walls topped with a hawthorn hedge, swept up and
down the green waves of the fair country, with the
Menai Strait in full view on the one hand, and on
the other, the hills rising higher and higher to the
lofty range of which great Snowdon is the topmost
peak. Bowling swiftly along, with such uninterrupted smoothness of motion, amid such a country,
and inhaling the free, bracing mountain air, is in
itself an intensity of enjoyment such as is rarely
experienced. I never hope for such a day again.
We drove into the little town of Caernarvon upon
a holiday. There was a regatta on the strait; Prince




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              33
Arthur had visited the castle, and all Welshdom
was abroad.
The huge, rude walls of the castle rise from the
water side, enclosing a not very extensive court.
The walls are sound and massive as when they
formed the stronghold of Edward, and the circuit of
the court is still solidly complete. Of the several
towers, the highest and best preserved is the Eagle
Tower, in which Edward the Second was born. The
innumerable steps are perfect to the top.  Queen
Eleanor's chamber is a small, chill, uncouth apartment, with a huge fireplace occupying an entire side,
lighted by one loop-hole, and flanked by two anterooms for the attendant guards. The poverty of
modern womanhood is rare, that would not consider
itself unhappily lodged in such quarters, even though
they should bear the title of royalty.
One cannot fail to be impressed with the chill discomfort which must have characterized noble life
within the heavy walls of those dark, grim, feudal
castles. It may have been all very well for knight
and squire, but as for the dames, I am glad to have
been born in the nineteenth century.
The quaint old town of Caernarvon is utterly unlike any thing to be seen in the New World. One
is here every where impressed with the enduring
character of all structures. In the most remote of
rural dwellings, you feel at once that the solid cottage walls have already sheltered many generations,
and will shelter many more.




34          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
The Welsh cottages are extremely picturesque,
built of stone, neatly whitewashed, and covered with
ivy to the eaves. They are surrounded by pretty
gardens, gay with flowers, among which the Fuchsia
is conspicuous —here a tall, hardy shrub, growing as
abundantly as our own lilac, its graceful twigs drooping with a weight of coral drops. The hedges are of
hawthorn, and the banks covered with bluebell and a
beautiful purple flower which the driver called cleat.
We sped back from Caernarvon, with our wonderful WVelsh horse, in the direction of the distant
range of mountains, the country growing gradually
wilder and higher, until we stopped at an inn on the
borders of the beautiful Lake of Llanberis, at the foot
of Llanberis Pass. The -inn, covered with climbing
flowers, bore the pretentious name of Pedarn Villa.
Here we exchanged our equipage for another wagonette and a pair of ponies necessary to the ascent of
the pass.
Upon the opposite side of the lake are the vast
slate quarries of Colonel Pennant, whose residence,
Pennryhn Castle, we had passed upon the way from
Chester. As the afternoon wore into evening, we
saw  troops of white-jacketed  workmen whirling
along the railway upon the bank, returning in handcars from their work to the habitable regions below.
A little way up the pass stands Pedarn Castle, a
picturesque ruin of a single tower, upon a little headland projecting into the lake. Here is another large
hotel for the accommodation of tourists.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                35
Still the same smooth, carefully kept road, wound
up the mountain way; and, here and there, perched
in the almost inaccessible nooks of the crags, were
the same neat ivy-clad cottages. The gorge grew
narrower, and the cliffs more nearly perpendicular;
but every where we could see sheep clinging td the
steep sides, and browsing the scanty herbage; tiny
rills and larger brooks came brawling over the stony
way by the roadside; the bald storm-rent hills grew
nearer, and cast their huge fragments at our feet;
the defile narrowed, until
" Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway,
Seemed nodding o'er the hollow way,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the verge."
At the distance of five miles we reached the summit of the pass, and looked down the pretty green
valley of Gwinnant beyond. About nine miles farther on are Beth Gelert and Cuppel Curigg, but we
were too late for a prolonged drive, or for the ascent
of Snowdon.
We followed a little girl as guide up the side of
the mountain, for a nearer view of the Cambrian
monarch, but he had vailed his head in clouds.
Mr. R. went on up the sharp ascent until we heard
his voice over our heads, but old Snowdon refused
to reveal himself, and  the lengthening shadows
warned us to return.
We came down the pass, and took tea at the inn
at the foot. Shades of Llewellyn r what a rapacious




36          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
crew make merchandise of the grand and the picturesque in this lovely land!
We returned along the shadowy lanes of the silent
landscape to Bangor, with a bewildering sense of
new enjoyment, and a panorama of wonderful beauty
impressed upon the memory for all time.
The appearance of the peasantry of the country
through which we passed, was very pleasing. The
hardy, smiling, rosy faces, at the doors of the cottages, spoke unmistakably of health and content. A
curious feature among them, is the style of begging.
Sturdy, well-fed, well-dressed children sped after the
carriage, patiently repeating their only English word,
"ha' penny;" their rosy, healthy, merry faces, contrasting strangely with their demand. It was of no
use to refuse-on they pattered, keeping up bravely
with the horse, until a half penny tossed among the
group, would institute a scramble which rendered
further pursuit useless. I looked with envy upon
the brown faces of the little rogues, and could not
but admire the philosophy which pitched their
demand upon so low a key, that they could not possibly be disappointed in the amount bestowed.
Aug. 5. As we left the pretty, quiet inn, at
Bangor, we saw the little Prince Arthur, on his
way to lunch at Castle Pennrhyn.  He is a nice
looking boy of thirteen, very like the pictures of his
mother.
We crossed the tubular bridge, vainly endeavoring
to realize that it was the wonderful structure of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               37
which we have read so much. It is only one among
the countless things, whose grandeur we never realize
at the moment of contact. Distance seems to be a
peremptory element of appreciation, both in the
physical and mental world.
We crossed the island of Anglesea, which is much
less picturesque than the main land, and took the
steamer at Holyhead for Kingstown. The passage
was rather rough, but accomplished in four hours.
We had a live marchioness on board, with her son
and attendants. The harbor at Kingstown is very
fine, and the coast much bolder than I had supposed.
The ride to Dublin, by rail, was less than half an
hour, and, before dark, we found ourselves installed
in pleasant rooms at Morrison's Hotel. We have a
suite upon the ground floor, opposite Trinity College
Gardens.
I must not omit to speak of the perfection of
travelling arrangements, so far as we have proceeded.
The quiet, security, certainty and speed of the railways, the comfort of the carriages, and the assured
conviction that everything is coming out right, in
regard to yourself and your luggage, constitute the
perfection of travel. The railways cross the public
roads, almost invariably, either by tunnel below, or
by bridge above; and when obliged to make the
crossing at the same grade, stout gates of timber
secure the track from the highway until the train has
passed.  Officials are, every where, conspicuously
marked, and their quiet, respectful demeanor, as well




38           WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
as that of servants universally, constitutes a respectability of rank, worthy of imitation by their counterparts on this side the water.  One yields an
immediate respect to the scrupulous maintenance of
position, as well in the lower orders of society as
in the higher, which is never rendered to the universal assumption of equality, whatever may be one's
theory upon the subject.
The quiet of the railways contrasts strongly with
our own. The ringings and snortings are all lacking;
the notice to the engineer is a small whistle worn
upon the neck of the conductor; there are no platforms to tempt careless passengers, and you are
securely locked into the carriages between the stations. The guard unlocks the door at each station
where there is sufficient pause, and relocks it before
starting. The charges, both of travel and service,
are enormous, but, taking them for granted once for
all, nothing can be more comfortable than the whole
system. The cars are divided into three compartments, each containing two rows of seats placed
vis-a-vis. The first class carriages are arranged with
three arm chairs, luxuriously cushioned from top to
bottom. The second class have undivided seats,
cushioned with hair, with a narrow cushion for the
shoulders, while the third class seats are simple
benches.  The difference in price is very considerable.
Aug. 6. The change from an English terminus
to an Irish one is striking.  Instead of the sleek




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               39
horses, and the precise liveried coachmen, awaiting
your orders in respectful silence, or in the well-bred
undertone which characterizes English servants, we
found a tangled crowd of ragged drivers, tugging at
their lean horses, and vociferating at the top of their
voices; a tattered coat seeming to form no bar to
respectability. And then the vehicles! It is worth
while to ride once, and only once, in a jaunting car.
In appearance it bears a strong resemblance to a
resuscitated fossil of the age when the bird began to
struggle with the reptilian quadruped, the Pterodactyl, for instance.  It is a two-wheeled vehicle for one
horse; the body formed of a long narrow box, covered with a cushion and running longitudinally.  On
each side of this spine runs a narrow seat, for two or
more persons, sitting back to back; and from the
seat depends a step by a hinge, precisely like the
open cover of a box. These, when unoccupied, are
turned back over the seat. If there be but one passenger, the driver sits upon the opposite side, to trim
the craft; but if it be properly balanced, he occupies
a high seat in front. The whole affair has a most
ludicrous, disreputable effect; and to see these
machines scouring the country, filled with men,
women, and children, looks, to the unpractised eye,
as if the world were holding high carnival, and
every body were out on a masquerade. The sitter is
exposed to the mud, to contact, and to the elements;
and if one is not fortunate enough to be supplied
with shawl or blanket for the feet. the position is




40'WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
eminently favorable to the display of crinoline. The
carriage affords an excellent view of the country,
but the lateral, insecure motion is very fatiguing.
We have been exploring this handsome town.
Except that it is not rectangular, it has much
the effect of Philadelphia, although more elegant.
We have been to some of the gay shops, have
visited St. Patrick's Cathedral, and the Castle, and
have driven about Phenix Park, and the principal streets.  The moist climate has shed its dewy
blessings upon us, in every form, up to a pouring
rain; tand we have performed our explorations, like
our neighbors, in a jaunting car — amusing ourselves
with speculations as to the probable effect of such
an apparition in the Central Park or ill Delaware
Avenue.
St. Patrick's, the church of Dean Swift, is a fine
old cathedral, now undergoing the process of repair,
through the liberality of a wealthy brewer, of Dublin, named Guinness, who devoted forty thousand
pounds to the work. We saw the Dean's old pulpit,
and his tomb, and that also of Stella- " only a
woman's" grave. A ragged jacket seems to be the
most readily recognized coat of arms in this shiftless
land. The intelligent guide, who accompanied us
through the cathedral, and translated Latin inscriptions, was ragged; and the crowd of ragged beggars,
men, women, and children, that throng the public
entrances and thoroughfares, was painful to American eyes.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               41
The chapel in D)ublin Castle, the residence of the
Lord Lieutenant, is very fine. It is adorned with
the armorial bearings of the Lords Lieutenant, from
the eleventh century, carved in Irish oak. Nothing
can be more beautiful of its kind. The chapel is
very ancient, and a part of the original window still
remains, much more beautiful than its modern supplement. The present vicegerent, Lord Carlisle, in
renovating the chapel, has, with an unaccountable
taste, sustituted a handsome white stone pulpit for
the old dark oaken one. It contrasts harshly with
the rich, dark uniformity of the rest of the building.
The State apartments of the Castle are not at all
magnificent, but the private rooms wear a cosy,
habitable air, and look out upon pleasant gardens.
Phenix Park is a handsome drive, and contains,
among other things, a noticeable monument to the
Duke of Wellington.  Sackville Street, adorned
with a statue of Nelson, is a splendid street. The
city abounds iin handsome buildings.  The river,
which bears the pretty name of Anna Liffey, runs
through the middle of the city, bordered by walls
and crossed by bridges of superb masonry.
This masonry of the Old WTorld is, to me, a source
of continual admiration.  From  the structure of a
palace to the wall by the roadside in some far away
rural nook, each- is perfect of its kind, and evidently
built to last. The impression which every thing
leaves upon the mind is that of enduring, or rather
perduring stability.  A transcript, perhaps, of the
4




42          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
noble constitution, which, out of all the changes and
chances of ages, has sifted the elements of stability,
and can afford to await the slow growth of perfection
— that plant of no mushroom birth — which must
develop, like the acorn, by slow and patient growth,
into the fulness of its grandeur.
Aug. 8. At Belfast, the Yankeedom of Ireland,
By way of keeping a prudent resolution, formed
before leaving home, to husband my exertions for
extraordinary occasions, I have seen nothing of Belfast, except the pretty green gardens directly before
the windows of our pleasant rooms. I propose to
content myself with my present knowledge of manufactures and busy streets, and reserve my limited
strength for that which belongs distinctively to the
Old World. I should judge that this part of Ireland
possesses more Scotch than Irish features, especially
as regards its industrial characteristics.
Returned to Belfast, after a visit to the Giant's
Causeway. The railway passes, by way of Antrim
and Coleraine, to Port Rush, through a trim, thrifty
looking country; the fields carefully kept, and the
cottages neat and precisely thatched. I confess that
the air of tidiness which pervaded the whole region
surprised me. I could fancy that the cottages were
more picturesque as objects of the landscape, than
comfortable as habitations; but they had decidedly
an advantage in appearance over any other Irish
abodes, of the same class, that one sees at home. I
had occasion to enter one of the neat, white, stone




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              43
cottages near the Causeway, and the utter destitution
of all that belongs to our idea of comfort, was
depressing; the geological specimens which I was
taken to inspect, being almost the only moveables in
the cabin.
At Port Rush, a small trading town upon the
northern coast, we took a jaunting car for a drive of
eight or nine miles, to the Causeway. The country
is wild in the extreme. Bold, black headlands jut
out into the broad ocean, and underneath them the
waves have worn great caverns and arches. On one
of the most projecting of these promontories, stand
the rnins of Dunluce Castle, occupied as late as the
sixteenth century. The Castle is upon an island,
close to the main land, with which it is connected by
a bridge, still standing.
The road wound along the immediate coast, with a
grand ocean view for about half the distance to the
Causeway; then struck off across the country, to a
small thriving village, called Bush Mills, where
commences the ascent to the great headland. Here
began a line of guides, beggars, and peddlers of curiosities, marvellous to behold.  They lay in wait
under the hedge, they lurked in the lanes; the most
innocent pedestrian became suddenly transformed, at
your approach, into a merchant of canes, stones, or
plumes; or, more frequently, into a guide, possessed
of invaluable information, and of recommendations
from innumerable travellers.  It frets one into a
fever, that we cannot surrender ourselves for a




44         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
moment to the influence of scenes which are the
realization of lifelong dreams, without being dragged
down by pitiful, perpetual mendicity. And, to one
accustomed to see men and women earning their
living by the sweat of their brow, it is unspeakably
disgusting to see shoals of broad-shouldered, strongarmed people, hanging upon the steps of travellers,
for the mere chance of a stray sixpence; and,, at
every new beauty in the wonders of creation, to be
met by a demand for a shilling. The rapacity of
guides, drivers, and boatmen, is a matter of established prestige, and unavoidable; but that is the
utmost limit of American patience, and it is intensely provoking to find daguerreotyped into such a
scene as the Giant's Causeway, the unfailing beggar.
The termination of the land route, is a hotel at the
summit of the Causeway, whence a steep footpath
leads down to the sea; for it is only by rowing out
to a considerable distance into the ocean, that we can
obtain a view of this wonder of Nature.
Here we embarked, with a guide, in a boat manned
by five oarsmen. The first visit was to the caves,
for which the day was unusually propitious. A
fresh, strong breeze came in from the broad ocean,
and helped to fan the enthusiasm with which we rode
out upon the great waves into the grandeur of this
storm-worn coast.
We entered first the smaller cavern of Port Coon;
no soft limestone cave, worn out by the incessant
"war of wave and rock," but a solid vault, arched




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               45
by the upheaval of the foundations of the everlasting hills. The fine, clean, compact grain of the
primitive rock, brings up with it from the fiery
bowels of the earth an indubitable record of its origin.  And what imagination can picture the convulsion which shot upward these molten masses to
harden in black caverns and majestic hills. The
depth of this cave, if I rightly remember, is three
hundred feet- the height of the arch about sixty;
and the clear, glittering water disclosed, at the depth
of sixteen feet, innumerable blocks of the same
smooth black mass as walled the sides.
The mighty surge, that forever sweeps these depths,
leaves neither weed nor leaf upon these sharp crags,
save where, here and there, high up in the vault, a
solitary fern waves defiance to the longing eye.
The grand cavern of Dunkerry defies description.
It stretches away six hundred feet into the face of the
rock. On one side jut out the square, sharp masses
of trapdyke, and on the other rise the grand basaltic
columns of the Causeway, blending in grotesque
fusion, at an immense height, in the vault above.
Here is still the same strangely clear, glittering
depth of water, paved underneath with huge fragments of the combined formation above; and a
shout rings back from the cavernous deep, with a
boom that makes one long to hear the roar when a
tempest lashes the ocean into these subterranean
recesses. We rode out again with a fresh sense of
awe, into the sunlight, over the glorious waves, to




46          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the front of the headland, where stand the stately
wonderful columns, which the pictures call the
Giant's Causeway.
The formation is triple - trap, red sandstone, and
basalt; the columnar structure is usually vertical,
but sometimes horizontal. It is necessarily viewed
at a great distance, and it must require long practice
to appreciate the real height. Different spots upon
the cliffs are variously named, from real or fancied
resemblances; such as The Devil's Organ, The
Chimney, The Pulpit, The Devil's Thumb, The
Unshaved Jew, &c. Off what is called the Spanish
headland, was wrecked the flag-ship of the Spanish
Armada, having mistaken that point for the Castle
of Dunluce. A  wild, inhospitable shore, indeed,
must this prove to the hapless vessel, driven before a
northern gale.
But grand as is the aspect of the columnar headland, the Causeway itself, over which, even not being
giants, we may walk, is the object of more curious
remark.  Here stand the huge up-forced masses,
closely fitted to each other, yet perfectly distinct, of
various shapes, square, rhomboidal, pentagonal, hexagonal; each side sharp and clear as if hewn and
polished by human hands. Not in solid column,
but in joints of various lengths; always fitting upon
each other with a convex and a concave surface,
easily detached by the blow of a hammer. And as
we tread the majestic mosaic, the same thought is
ever present; what mighty throes must have torn




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             47
the bowels of the ancient earth, to have forced these
fiery streams to the upper air. Nor can we fail to
read here the record inscribed by the finger of the
eternal God, of the unity of His laws, which govern
alike the spheres and the dew drop.
The path of our return lay sharply up the breezy
verge of the cliff, swept by the strong, inspiriting
breath of the ocean; the steep wayside plentifully
sprinkled with purple gorse, and bluebells, and
beggars.
After sundry sound and salutary admonitions
from one of my indignant companions to the greedy,
but good-natured crew, we set out upon our homeward way, in a drizzling rain, and reached Port
Rush too late and too tired for a return to Belfast.
The little town commands a beautiful view of the
wide sweep of the bay, bounded by the Causeway,
whose prominent features are distinctly visible,
frowning in solemn grandeur upon the storm-beaten
coast. We took up comfortable quarters at the
wild little port. I have no where felt such a reality
of remoteness from the Western World, as in this
distant outlook towards the icy seas, from the
extremity of Northern Ireland.




48          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CHAPTER III.
SCOTLAND.
Glasgowv-The Clyde-Loch Long-Loch Lomond-Ben Lomond-Loch
Katrine - Loch Achray - Stirling - Edinburgh — Abbottsford - MelroseDryburgh.
GLASGOW, in bed. An inglorious termination to
so much bewildering enjoyment. The climb at the
Causeway, and a slight fall received while embarking on board the steamer from Belfast to Glasgow,
have combined to remind me of my physical disabilities, and I am doing penance, in consequence. I
take for granted, on the authority of my friends,
that Glasgow is a beautiful city, containing a fine
cathedral, the only one spared by the Reformation.
The stately arches, once resonant with ave and pater
noster, now ring to the music of the precentor, and
the prayers of the Kirk.
I have been also obliged to deny myself the
pleasure whi*c my friends are enjoying, of a trip to
Ayr, the birth-place of Burns, and to summon all
my strength for that El Dorado of my lifelong romance, Loch Katrine and the Trosachs.
Aug. 11. Since writing the above, have grown
better, and by way of amusement, have taken an




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               49
open carriage and driven about this beautiful city.
up and down its steep streets, through the delightful
Park; and have visited the cathedral. I think I
have never seen so beautiful a city. The more elegant residences are upon a high elevation above the
old city, with gardens in front which we should call
small parks. The various rows are called Crescents,
although to many of them the crescent shape is
lacking. The West End Park is a very fine one, the
very ideal of an available park for such a town. Its
natural position admits of great variety of hill, valley, plain and stream, and art has improved it to the
utmost.
I have heard of moss grown streets, but I never
saw them before. Up some of these steep streets
the moss covers the entire pavement, and some of
the terraces are reached by flights of stone steps.
The streets are scrupulously clean, beautifully paved,
and abound in statues.  A tall column, with a statue
of Sir Walter Scott, stands in a small park, in front
of our hotel, another to Sir John Moore, and a third
to Watt. An equestrian statue of Queen Victoria,
and one of the Duke of Wellington, embellish the
neighboring square.
Glasgow abounds in handsome churches, among
which the cathedral is, of course, the most worthy of
notice. It is, indeed, of remarkable beauty. The
Choir, with the Lady Chapel, and Chapter House,
dates back to A. D. 1170; the nave is later.  The
crypts are the most noticeable part of the edifice, and




50          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
are said to be the finest in Europe. Crypts usually
suggest the idea of cellar, or place of provisions;
these, on the contrary, are nearly level with the
ground, and are finished with the care and ornamentation of a church. One of them in particular,
dating, I think, from 1480, by Archbishop Blackader,
is more beautiful than most of our churches. These
crypts have all been undoubtedly used as places of
worship. They are now filled with memorial tiblets,
some of very recent date, although interments in the
vaults have ceased. Among the monuments, one
very beautiful bronze erection is to an officer, who
fell in the recent difficulties with China, and another
marks the resting place of Edward Irving. The
stained windows are all memorial. Near the centre
of the crypts, under the present pulpit, is a small
elaborate chapel, which, until recently, contained the
shrine of St. Mungo, an ancient patron saint of the
cathedral. Near by, are two sarcophagi, containing
the remains of some forgotten dignitaries, who need
not to have taken such pains with a resting-place,
which should long outlast the memory of its occupants. The whole edifice is in perfect preservation,
as if it were but a quarter of a century old, and bids
fair to last a thousand years longer.
The grounds around the cathedral are filled with
monumental slabs, and immediately beyond lies the
Necropolis, upon a high hill overlooking the city; a
cemetery surpassing any thing of the kind within my
knowledge. A colossal statue of the great Scottish




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               51
reformer, John Knox, crowns the eminence, standing
upon a tall pillar, which serves as pedestal. His
face and attitude, as he looks down upon the busy
city, could never be mistaken by one who had either
seen his pictures, or learned his history.
Aug 12. In leaving Glasgow for the Highlands,
we eschewed railways, and sailed down the busy
Clyde, lined, for long miles, with marine fabrications
in various stages of progress; constructions both for
peace and war, and suggestive in the present position
of affairs, of sundry possibilities as to the whereabouts of their debut into active service. The advertisement of a Clyde-built ship, will have a new set
of associations for me in future. About ten miles
from Glasgow we passed a beautiful estate, the seat
of Lord Blantyre. Dumbarton Castle, the scene of
much romantic interest and historic note, the great
Scottish stronghold, and the place where Wallace
was betrayed to the English, stands in ruins upon a
bold, bare promontory; the ivied walls so mingling
with the native rock, that they are not every where
easy to distinguish. A modern building at the base
of the old fortification, still serves as a fort for a garrison. The commandant chanced to come on board
the steamer, and gave us, very courteously, much
information in regard to the interesting localities of
the shore. Within the space enclosed by the old
ramparts, stands a tall monument to the memory of
Henry Bell, master of the first steamer on the Clyde.
The pillar and its position were suggestive. Here




52          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
stand the decaying mementoes of mighty works,
which were the exponent of'force; which represent
no element of the human character, save valorous
attack and stubborn resistance. And, little by little,
even their memory fades into the dim  distance,
fanned into occasional freshness by the pen of the
poet, or the brush of the painter. And long ere these
remaining walls shall have crumbled into dust, little
trace of the histories which made them famous will
remain, save in the lore of the antiquary or the
poet. But upon, and far above the type of mere
domination, rises a memorial of the renovated humanity, which seeks, as the end of its art, the benefit of the
universal race; which binds in one common interest
the whole brotherhood of man. No crumbling monument can bear away with it into oblivion the
memory of such an invention, for it has taken the
wings of the morning, and dwells in the uttermost
parts of the sea.
Another picturesque ruin stands upon the same
side of the Clyde, Dumbuck Castle, and, as a fitting
contrast, upon the opposite side beyond, are the
beautiful grounds of Lord Glasgow. There are many
charming places upon the Clyde, villas and villages,
places of summer resort for the inhabitants of Glasgow. Out of the Clyde, we turped into Loch Long,
aptly named, a long reach of water, running many
miles into the country, and almost meeting Loch Lomond. A small offshoot of its waters opens out to the
westward, named Loch Goil, upon which, at a little




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              53
distance from the entrance, stand the ruins of Ullin's
Castle, remembered now only as the home of Lord
Ullin's Daughter.
The country grew wilder, and the mountains more
bare, as we advanced. One of the highest peaks,
Ben Arthur, upon the seaward side of Loch Long,
is named the Cobbler. Upon the summit crouches
a figure in precisely the attitude of a cobbler, at his
bench. Opposite the votary of St. Crispin, and in
vast disproportion, sits his wife, represented by a
gigantic head covered with a hood. It is more than
possible that the poor fellow may have been dwarfed
by his vocation; but what he lacks in size is amply
compensated by his conspicuous position. In all the
windings of all the lochs, the Cobbler is sure to present himself in the most obtrusive manner.
At the head of the loch, lies Arrochar, the landing
for Loch Lomond; and thence we drove by coach a
few miles over a sweet, lone, bowery road, to Tarbet,
near the head of Loch Lomond. Like all the landings on the lakes, it is beautiful; but its beauty has
more the charm of cultivation than the native picturesqueness of its opposite neighbors.
The places upon the lake of which I speak, are
represented by one dwelling, the hotel. Whether
the name applies to the house only, I do not know;
perhaps other dwellings, concealed by the woods,
may go to make up a proper village.
We took for granted the hole in the rock, down
which Rob Roy is said to have let his unlucky pris



54         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
oners, while he made advantageous terms for himself;
and steamed down to the eastern shore, to one of the
sweetest nooks to be found by tourist in any land,
Rowardennan. The hotel lies at the foot of Ben
Lomond; a neat, quiet house, kept by a canny Scot
named Andrew Blair, a shrewd, good old man,
whose locks had whitened in this tranquil home;
but who had learned the language of one distant
land, even the Eternal City, towards which he is
travelling. His stalwart son seemed ready to take
up the same restful life. And, indeed, it did not
seem difficult to lay down the fever of life at the
foot of that solemn mountain, by the calm waters of
that tranquil lake. We were too late to obtain
ponies for the ascent of the mountain, so the young
gentlemen temporarily attached to our party, went
up on foot, and we of the elders strolled about
among the heathery hillocks, and betook ourselves
to an early rest, for the early waking on the morrow.
Aug. 13. The morning dawned upon the loveliest day I ever knew. We were wakened at four
o'clock, and at five were in the saddle. We had
three stout Highland ponies, and a guide.
The grand old mountain looked brown and bare,
but very smooth and accessible; and was far from
appearing at the distance of nearly six miles, which
is his reputed distance by the pathway. He is three
thousand one hundred and ninety feet above the
level of the sea.
The atmosphere was pure ether, a bespoken day,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             55
sweet, and mild, and still; and "right up Ben Lomond " did we press for a mile or two, before the sun
burst over the hills, and completed the glory of the
day. Not a breath of mist clung to the mountain,
nor dimmed the charming views, gradually disclosed
as we ascended. The path grew steeper and more
stony, and the smooth face of the mountain opened
in craggy furrows; and still each new turn of the
winding way brought to light some new scene of
grandeur or beauty. But there came a point of
climbing which left little leisure for gazing. There
was nothing for it, but to take the mountain by
storm, and at a sharper angle than I had ever seen
accomplished by quadruped before.
One of my companions becoming much exhausted
by, the continuous fatigue of the ascent, the party
lingered behind to rest, and I rode on, a mile or two
in advance, exercising great faith in the path and the
pony; when, as we struggled up the last straight
acclivity, the pony, evidently trained to the spot,
rounded the shoulder of the mountain, and stood
still, upon a verge that chilled my blood, and hushed
my breath.
Just at my feet, struck down a sheer depth of at
least three hundred fathoms. In the valley at the
bottom, lay the Forth, twined like a silver band
among the emerald meadows and the purple moors.
Beyond the nearer peaks, as it seemed but a stone's
throw, slept Loch Ard; and among the countless
hills, shone little lakes, like crystal pools.  On




56          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the other side, I seemed to overhang the little green
spot of Rowardennan, and as for my companions,
the path was far too precipitous to catch even a
glimpse of them. I never felt before the deadly
awe of utter solitude. The lonely grandeur of the
scene grew too oppressive, and I gazed up the slender
line which marked the path to the solitary summit,
with a nervous shiver which I strove in vain to quell.
I could see plainly that there was not a foot of danger upon the way, but reason was not, just then, in
the ascendant; and the welcome sight of horse and
horseman appearing above the rocky shelf, sent the
blood to my heart, with a revulsion which nearly
deprived me of the little strength which the terror
of that scene of awe had left me.
However, we reached the summit in safety. Indeed, there is no part of the ascent at all perilous;
it is only toilsome; and even in that respect, I presume, it compares favorably with m-ost other mountain excursions. For a good pedestrian, walking is
easier than riding. The bridle path is narrow, stony
and tortuous, as if it followed the bed which wintry
torrents have worn deep below  the surrounding
surface.
The top of the mountain is a bare, wind-swept
plateau of a few yards in extent, but it is the point
of vision for such an amphitheatre as I have no
power to describe. The vast peaks crowded each
other, far and near; their huge sides unshadowed by
tree or shrub; Pelion upon Ossa; the brain ached




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              57
with the mighty thought of Creation. At the foot,
slept the purple bosom of Loch Lomond, studded
with myriad islands, and fringed with woody headlands. Here and there, between the bristling peaks,
glittered bright lochs; Edinburgh lay in the distance,
and the Clyde spread its broad waters to the sun.
The silver mists of morning rolled up the sides of
the distant hills, giving a softened charm to the
landscape, but not a shade dimmed the near vision.
Language may recall, but can never express the
emotions of that morning.
The descent, after the first ruggedness was past,
was far easier than the climb. The eye rested, without effort, upon the constantly varying scene, and
pictured it to the memory forever: And, as I rode
down into the sheltered valley, where the heather
was glowing in the soft light of an October sun, and
the Loch lay like a breathless mirror, reflecting the
feathery banks and the mighty hills, and the solemn
mountain lifted its bald head to the blue heaven, the
intense beauty of the earth fell like a hush upon
my heart, and Nature seemed to have gathered all
the weary children of care to her quiet bosom, and
to have soothed them to the rest of peace and love.
The excitement of the morning was too great for
any indoor rest, and we strayed along the quiet paths
at the foot of the mountain, and sat upon the sheltered banks, and listened to the whisper of the
ripples upon the white pebbles of the beach, and
drank in the reality of our enjoyment, until the
5




58          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
arrival of the little steamer, which was to take us to
Inversnaid, a bewitchingl spot, five miles farther up
the lake.  Here, a wild mountain cataract comes
foaming and brawling down to the lake.
At Inversnaid we mounted a vehicle which has
the effect of being a coach, all top. The seats are
open — so high that a ladder is necessary to reach
them, the luggage being bestowed in a cavernous
recess beneath. It is an admirable contrivance where
the great object to be gained is a good outlook. We
wound up the steep, but smooth and shady road,
and rolled swiftly through a beautiful glen, beside a
pretty lake, both glen and lake being named Arklee.
Upon the left we passed a low stone dwe]ling, which
is remarkable as the birth-place of Helen McGregor.
The drive was short, and we presently descended to
Loch Katrine; the fairy cup that holds a ilagic
draught of inspiration.  Even as I write, I can
scarcely convince myself that I have realized my
lifelong romance, and that Loch Katrine has left its
abode in my imagination for one in my memory.
It is a small, but exquisite lake; the steamer
makes its entire circuit, and lands at the fo6t of the
Trosachs.  No prose description, even though it
were a surveyor's chart, can give a more accurate
picture of the scenery, than does the poem. I was
surprised and charmed to find the familiar epithets
not only beautiful, but scrupulously true. Benvenue, Ben A'an, Ben Ledi, all the points of which
we read, are portrayed with such fidelity to Nature,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                59
that the eye catches them in a moment, and recognizes them as old acquaintances.
We passed Ellen's Isle, landed, and drove through
the Trosachs to a beautiful hotel on the margin of
Loch Achray. This hotel bears the euphonious title
of Ardcheanochrochan. We were shown to dinner
in a rustic hall,' covered with "withered heath and
rushes dry,"
" While all around, the walls to grace,
Hung trophies of the fight or chase."
After dinner, we drove back, and took a small
boat and oarsman; visited Ellen's Isle; saw Coirnan-uriskin, the pass of Beal'nambo, the pass of the
battle of Beal an' Duine, Roderic's Watch Tower,
and many a spot, already familiar as household
words. We lingered while
"Eve, with western shadows long,
Floated on Katrine, bright and strong;"
stumbled up the clambering road, among the tangled
trees and shrubs, which led to the spot on the tiny
islet where once stood a lodge, fashioned after the
description of the poet.   The rustic edifice was
destroyed by the carelessness of some visitor, who
threw a lighted cigar among the brushy thicket. In
describing the Goblin's Cave, our rower said he
believed there were some of the Goblins still remaining there, and, putting his hands to his mouth, he
shouted until the echoes verified their goblin origin.
The man was a McGregor, who not only knew the




60          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Lady of the Lake by heart, but felt all its witchery.
"The shades of eve came slowly down," as we retraced our steps, almost giddy with pleasure.
Loch Achray, " so lone a lake, so sweet a strand,"
lies before the door of the hotel, and winding paths
invite to hidden beauties. The foxglove, the harebell, the heath, the broom, are all here, and all classic.
It has been the day of days.
Aug. 14.  We strolled about the mountain paths
until noon, then took a carriage for Callender.  We
passed the bridge of Turk; along the lovely lake of
Vennachar, to Coilantogle ford; by Bochastle heath;
along the Teith; past the ruins of the bannered
towers of Doune; near the ruined Cathedral, which
marks the spot where Jessie, the flower of Dumblane,
once blossomed; and followed the path of King
James straight to  Stirling.  Dumferline looked
strange upon a guide-board, but there it was.
Stirling was a place of intense interest. We drove
at once to the Castle, and the same flinty street
echoed to the clatter of the toiling hoofs, as when
" Slowly down the deep descent,
Fair Scotland's King and nobles went,"
in days whose every interest is fast passing into
oblivion. The ancient Castle had its origin in times
whereto  the memory of man runneth not.  Its
towers echoed the sports, and witnessed the vows of
the long line of Stuarts, that ill-fated, misguided,
fascinating race.  Here is the room  in which a




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               61
Douglass met his death by the hand of his sovereign. Here is the palace built by James the Fifth,
and thronged with " noble dame and damsel bright,"
when the Scottish court was in its prime. Here is
the turret and the Franciscan steeple, which the
poet has linked with Malcolm Grseme.
We were shown a long, solid, subterranean vault,
in which were kept the lions for the royal sports, and
the area into which they were let loose, beneath the
balcony of the royal spectators.
The Castle is occupied by the troops of the garrison, and the long hall where King James held his
court is not open to inspection.
It is with the exterior of the Castle, however, that
the most historic interest is interwoven. The view
from the ramparts not only sweeps a valley of surpassing beauty, but takes in the mighty Bens in the
far distance, and the inferior, but still lofty ranges of
hills that lie between. The memory is bewildered
with the wealth of association crowded into the
scenes beneath the eye, as one stands at the Lady's
Lookout, a small opening in the northern wall.
Besides the varied charms of natural scenery, he
looks down from that castle wall upon the battle
fields of Bannockburn, Stirling, Pentland Hills, and
to the hills which overlook the field of Sheriff Muir.
Below, is the Abbey Crag, upon which is now rising
a monument to Wallace, the hero of the battle of
Stirling. There are seen, also, the ruins of Cambuskenneth's Abbey, and the bloody Heading hiTl.




62          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Under the wall, winds the road called the Ballangeich,
by which the pleasure-loving King, James the First,
was wont to make his unperceived exit, when it
suited his humor to put off the circumstance of royalty, that he might watch over insulted laws, " and
learn to right the injured cause "- and, perchance,
to pursue less exalted aims, if all tales be true. The
Castle Park spreads out to the south, the scene of
sport, both for noble and yeoman; and the churchyard of Greyfriars, hard by, is hallowed by the dust
of ancient martyrs, and made picturesque by the
hand of modern taste. But it is hopeless to attempt
to record all the features of interest pertaining to
Stirling Castle.
Not far off is Linlithgow Castle, where Mary of
Scots was imprisoned. Within the town are the
remains of Mar's Work, a dwelling which Lord Mar
built, in part, from the ruins of Cambuskenneth.
The failure in its completion is attributed to that
sacrilege.
The gray fortress of the North bids fair to outlast
the ravages of time for long centuries to come; a
key to unlock the sanctuary of enthusiasm, and a
shrine of patriotism to the Scottish heart, for which
I fervently envy the sturdy, yet romantic race.
Aug. 15. Edinburgh. We are established in a
hotel opposite the East Gardens, and Sir Walter's
monument; and in full view of the Castle, on one
side, and Salisbury Crags on the other. Took a
carriage and commissioner, this morning, for a long




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             63
day of sight-seeing.  Drove first to Calton Hill, a
high eminence, overlooking the city, whereon is
rising a monument to Nelson.  An unfinished copy
of the Parthenon, intended to commemorate the
heroes who fell at Waterloo, stands like a ruin upon
the summit, and a Greek monument to Professor
Playfair, and another to Dugald Stewart, also occupy
the hill, which commands a wide view of Edinburgh
and its environs, Leith, North Berwick Law, the
Bass Rock, and the broad estuary which widens to
the German ocean.
Edinburgh is, without doubt, a splendid city, but
one, also, of great contrasts. One sees magnificent
edifices, surrounded by spacious grounds; and narrow
wynds, from which tower up tall buildings to such a
height as to shut out sunlight and cheerfulness from
the unenviable alleys. In such a wynd stands the
house in which Walter Scott was born.
John Knox's house still stands in the Canongate,
and a small window projects above the street, from
which he was wont to feed the congregated assembly
below with his strong meat. We saw his pulpit,
afterwards, in the Museum of the Royal Institute.
The gateway of the Canongate Tolbooth, still
yawns upon the street; but the Heart of Mid Lothian is represented only by a large stone heart
in the pavement, where frowned the old gateway,
battered down to drag forth Porteus to his terrible fate. In the Grass Market, a small marked
spot in the paved street denotes the site of the gibbet,




64         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
from which many a martyred patriot has passed to
his rest.
From the noble Hospitals, the fair green gardens,
and the stately monuments which adorn the modern
city, the traveller must always turn with deepest
interest to Holyrood.  It matters little whether he be
a partisan or a denunciator of the fair, but not perfect Queen, there is the spot of interest in Edinburgh.
We stood within the ruined walls of the beautiful
chapel —in partial ruin even when Mary plighted her
troth to Darnley, beneath the chapel window. But
in her own apartments there is a tangibility, an
internal evidence of authenticity, such as does not
force itself upon the conviction, with equal effect,
within any of those castled walls, where nothing but
the bare masonry presents the record of the past.
Here, upon the threshold trodden by her youthful
feet, destined to many a flinty path, you pause to
note the very state in which the royalty of the sixteenth century was wont to dwell. There is the very
pillow, upon which reposed her golden head; the
mirror which gave back her lovely face; the implements of handicraft which her fair fingers employed
to beguile the weary hours, in that rigid Northern
home, a chilly contrast to the gay court of France.
There is the very closet where she watched her
favorite writhing under the ruffian steel. One can
well imagine the loathing with which she turned
from the ill-timed caresses of her jealous lord; for if




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              65
she indeed loved Rizzio, her heart was breaking with
anguish; and, if nbt, it was filled with fierce indignation. Condemn, despise Mary of Scots, as one
may -within the time-worn, blood-stained walls of
Holyrood, he remembers, with tearful pity only, the
beautiful queen, the unhappy woman.
Within the court of the palace, is a beautiful fountain, adorned with exquisite sculptures, representing
the various personages and incidents of Mary's time.
In the grand old castle, we saw the room in which
she gaVe birth to her degenerate son, and the window
through which he was let down by a basket, to Lord
Murray. Here was also a portrait of Mary, differing
somewhat from the ordinary pictures, but, as I think,
more attractive.  The ancient Castle stands like a
part of the solid rock upon which it frowns, and
swarms with soldiers, as it has done for hundreds
of years.  Customs, and costumes, and weapons,
have changed; but, through them all, the garrisoned
fortress has come down from the depths of the time
immemorial.
We were admitted to the chamber containing the
Regalia, the long-lost, long-sought jewels of the
Crown.  Sir Walter Scott, (with what interest of
Scottish history is he not identified?) obtained a
commission to search for the missing treasures, and
was the fortunate discoverer of their hiding place.
They consist of the crown, handed down with various additions, and with all its thorns, from the early
sovereigns to the Stuarts; a sword, mace and




66          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
sceptre; a splendid chain of the Order of the Garter;
a signet ruby ring valued at twelve thousand pounds;
a jewel representing St. George and the Dragon, set
in diamonds, and valued at thirty thousand pounds;
and a locket containing a miniature of Anne of
Denmark, worth ten thousand.
The Castle wall, the fosse, the drawbridge, the
grooves of the ancient portcullis, the outer rampart,
were all full of interest. On the rampart stands
Mons Meg, a clumsy cannon, fabricated in the fifteenth century, and famous in several battles of later
date. Its last exploit was that of bursting, while
firing a salute in honor of the Duke of York, in
1682. If it had chanced to carry off His Royal
Highness, it might have deserved well at the hands
of the country.
We were so fortunate as to witness the daily ceremony of setting the city time, which is performed in
this wise. Upon the top of the unfinished Nelson
monument on Calton Hill, rests a large ball, which,
shortly before one o'clock, begins slowly to ascend.
The time is calculated at the Observatory, for Greenwich, and at the point of one, the ball suddenly falls,
and by an electric wire fires a cannon upon the
Castle rampart.
We concluded our day of exploration with the
Queen's drive, a fine sweep around the base of Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat; from which we could
see the ruins of Anthony's chapel, and the place of
Muscat's cairn.  I have omitted much that has




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              67
occurred during the day, but find it impossible to
record it all. We made an effort to hear Dr. Boyd
preach, but found, on arriving at his church, that he
had not yet returned from his summer vacation, and
we went to St. James', in York Place. The service
was conducted by the curate, Rev. Mr. Montgomery,
and the venerable Bishop, Dr. Terrot. Mr. Montgomery is a fine reader and good preacher. The
service varied somewhat from oufr own, the choir
leading the responses, and leading, but not performing, the singing. We were not tempted to seek an
entrance to Dr. Guthrie's church, as the reports of
the crowds, usually in waiting at the doors, were dis
couraging.
Aug. 17. Abbotsford — what more is needed
than the name! We left the railway at Melrose,
and drove through a pretty country, rolling from the
Tweed up a low range called the Black Hills. We
alighted at a close gate, and entered Abbotsford by
a winding descent of trim gravel walk, bordered by
hawthorn and ivied wall, reaching the side entrance
of a small hall upon the ground floor; whence, after
recording our names, a little maid led us up a staircase, to Sir Walter's study. It is a small room, surrounded by book-shelves, a light gallery containing
books running around the upper part of the room.
At a plain desk in the middle of the room stood a
chair cushioned with black leather, and we paused
before it, as in the presence chamber of inspiration.
Here its master toiled to reproduce the conceptions




68          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
of his rich imagination; and here he faithfully
labored, while giving rein to his varied fancy, to be
true to nature and to history, and to keep pure the
fountains of poesy and fiction, from which he dispensed delight to the world.
In a tiny room opening out of the study, is his
bust, cast after his death. This, his room of private
conference, he called " speak-a-bit."
The library contains objects of all kinds of interest. A part of the furniture is ebony, from Carlton
House, the gift of its royal master. A part, consisting of elaborate Roman work, was a present from
the late Pope. Under a glass case, lie treasures of
curiosity and antiquity, such as were just fitted to
please his delicate antiquarian taste, along with
splendid gifts from crowned heads and distinguished
men.
I wish I could remember them all, but the attendant, doubtless weary of his continual duty of repetition, was little disposed to suffer us to linger over
objects of such interest to us, and I can enumerate
but few out of the many curiosities there preserved.
There were golden bees from the mantle of Napoleon; a curiously wrought casket which belonged to
Mary of Guise; drinking cups, carved out of rare
woods; a glass upon which Burns had engraved a
verse; a snuff box belonging to Balfour, of Burleigh;
Rob Roy's pouch, a Highland dirk, and miniatures
of Scott and his wife.
His own genial face looked kindly down upon us,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               69
from the wall, beside the sweet portrait of Lady
Scott, and the hush of his presence was upon us,
while we moved among the treasures which his hand
so delighted to gather, and trod the apartments upon
which he lavished such wealth of toil and taste.
We stood where he yielded up his peaceful breath
— worn out, not with years, but with cycles of
thought; where
"' The weary wheel of life at length stood still."
In the dining room, where he died, are many fine
family portraits; one of his son, Walter, particularly
beautiful.  There are portraits of his parents, and of
his great-grandfather, a bearded old cavalier, who
forswore shaving until the King should "have his
own again," and, in consequence, he wore the manly
appendage to his dying day.
The Armory, a room filled with curious and historic weapons, was Sir Walter's own especial delight.
Among other things, I remember Rob Roy's gun, a
fine modern looking piece of arms; and Claverhouse's pistols, which made one shudder to remember
what fiery streams of cruelty have been launched
from their polished barrels. There were swords and
knives of all descriptions. I remember Mrs. Hemans'
exclamation at the sight of this room,
"'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,
One glance at their array."
There was the cuirass of James the Fourth, and relics
of I know not how many scions of royalty. But the




70          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
royalty lay, after all, in the genius of the place.
What has been our journey through the charms of
Scotland, but a pilgrimage to this shrine! Its master
was the priest and prophet of the land.
The hall is the elaborate room of the suite, filled
with armor, lined and ceiled with curious carvings,
partly from the ancient palace of Durmferline, and
adorned with the armorial bearings of the clans to
which he has given an undying interest.
WVe strayed through the gardens which he planned;
saw the old Tolbooth door built into the wall of the
house; plucked a few flowers from the garden, and
looked our last upon the home of genius, consecrated
to a more enduring fame than that of the towns and
castles which he loved to celebrate.
We drove along the road, remembering that here
were his daily walks; through the little village
where his face was once familiar as household words;
and took our way along the base of the Eildon Hills,
cleft in three by the witchcraft of Michael Scott, to
Melrose Abbev.
This beautiful ruin is remarkable for the delicacy
of its carvings —and for having been transfused into
poetry by Scott. Under the chancel, lie the heart of
Bruce, the remains of the Black Douglass, of Alexander the Second, and of Michael Scott, the great wizard, whose stone effigy stands over against his grave.
But vainly did the cross-signed stone press upon
the ashes of Michael Scott.  When the dread secrets
of his sepulchre were laid open, at the command of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              71
the Lady of the Border, the wizard essence made its
escape, and descended upon a second Merlin; who
touched with his plumed wand the barren heaths and
craggy shelves of Scotland, and they became fairy
land. And by the same touch he peopled them
with "merial knights and fairy dames."
The spell of witchery still lies, as of yore, in gramarye; and, once encircled by its potent charm, the
students of its mystic symbols throng the hills and
moors and shores of the enchanted land, and do
tearful homage in the halls of the enchanter, and
bend with reverent step above his dust.
The burial place of Walter Scott is a fit resting
place for a poet. Dryburgh Abbey lies in' solemn
quiet among stately trees, far away from the tumult
of the busy world. We reached it by crossing the
Tweed in a tiny ferry boat, and winding through a
long, quiet, shady lane, among green meadows, mellowed by the soft level light of the evening sun.
The Abbey is of great extent, and exceedingly
beautiful. It is said that Gothic architecture takes
its design from the forest aisles; in this case, the
prototype has resumed its sway. As you look up
the nave from the main entrance, two rows of noble
trees stretch up on either side; their stately stems,
and interlacing boughs well supplying the lack of
"long drawn aisle and fretted vault;" while every
where within the Abbey precincts, stand huge trees
which bear unquestionable record to its great antiquity. We were shown a yew near the entrance,




72          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
said to bear the same date with the Abbey. The
family sepulchre of Scott is in a corner of one of the
remaining aisles, defended by a railing, and sheltered
by one of the few entire arches of the venerable pile.
His wife, his eldest son, and his son-in-law, rest
beside him. The Abbey once belonged to his ancestors, and one feels a peculiar satisfaction that he had
a right to a resting place in such accordance with his
own tastes.
We recrossed the Tweed, and left the charming
spot with regret.
It is no harsh transition from Abbotsford and Dryburgh, that we are sleeping to-night at Penrith, within the domain of peerless King Arthur, and that
to-morrow we mean to evoke the ghosts of the
Round Table.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                  73
CHAPTER IV.
ENGLAND.
Penrith - Ulswater - Windermere - Grasmere- Rydal -Ambleside - Lancaster- Haworth - York - Chesterfield - Chatsworth - Haddon Hall - Kenilworth - Warwick- Leamington - Stratford-on-Avon.
WE cannot discern "many-towered Camelot," but
I thought of fair Queen Guenevere as we threaded
the queer, quaint, old-world streets of Penrith, to find
the Giant's grave; the resting place of what giant is
left to conjecture. Two tall stone pillars, tapering
upward, from a circumference of eleven feet, mark
the extremities of the grave, fifteen feet in length.
The ancient Runic inscription is so worn by time as
to leave only a fretted surface to the stone.  We
stood for a few moments to
—' moralize on the decay
Of human strength in later day,"
and returned to the inn, passing by an ancient
school-house, founded, as the Latin inscription upon
its front asserts, by Queen Elizabeth.
We mounted the top of a stage-coach, which, by
the way, is far the most desirable mode of viewing
the country, and a very agreeable style of riding,
6




74          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
and passed out of Penrith, by the Castle and the
Round Table.
Every foot of English soil is the prison house of
genii, and every footfall presses some hidden spring
that brings the spirits to the upper air. Penrith
Castle and the Round Table; within what a charmed
circle do these mystical words enclose us! Within
it rises the stately figure of the peerless King, the
model of knightly prowess, of kingly faith, of Christian  honor, of womanly delicacy.  To England
belongs the honor of the conception of the purest
ideal of uninspired perfection. I say honor, for it is
of the essence of national character that the ideal
national hero is created. Yet is it a proof of our
perverse nature, that we turn with more tenderness
of interest to Launcelot than to Arthur?
A few miles out of Penrith is a cluster of Druidical stones, called Long Meg and her daughters; but
our path lay in the opposite direction.
Just out of our way, led the road to the Vale of St.
John and its enchanted castle. I am glad to give
local habitation to the scenes of the beautiful legendary lore of the times of Arthur.
The Round Table is a green turf elevation (a complete circle) of about one hundred yards in circumference, in a field by the roadside.
We drove through a beautiful country, with many
peaks in the distance, upon which we were glad to
recognize, once more, the purple heather, down to
the lovely lake of Ulswater, where a little steamer




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              75
lay ready to ferry us through its beautiful reaches.
The lake winds among the hills in such a way, that
butone of its sections or reaches can be seen at a time.
You seem to be circling round a mountain-hemmed
pool, until a hidden outlet opens to view, and you
enter another secluded recess of beauty.
Upon the upper shore of the first reach is
Lyulph's Tower, in ivy-clad ruins, now; partially
fitted up as a lodge to a deer park.  In a glen
behind is seen Gowborough Park; a pretty opening
called Glen Coin descends to the lake; and all along
the shores are sprinkled villas anti cottages, enticing
abodes of summer resort.
The hills rise, every where, in brown bare peaks.
each with its distinctive appellation, and at the end
of a long perspective of sharp hills in the third
reach, stands IIelvellyn. Skiddaw, we could not, or
did not see, the morning being misty.
At Patterdale, the end of the charming water, we
lunched, and set out again by carriage for Windermere.- Here we found the counterpart of the pretty
vehicle which we remember as associated with the
pleasures of Welshland; not the only thing in the
day that reminded us of Wales. I do not know any
seat in any vehicle, to compare, in comfort and
pleasure,.with the driver's box of that wagonette.
The three horses which formed our turnout were
suggestive, and the waLy answered the suggestion.
The valley was, at first, wide and cultivated; in the
bottom lay Brotherswater, and one or two other




76          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
small lakes, or, as they call them, tarns, whose names
I forget. As we advanced to the ascent, the valley
narrowed to a pass strongly resembling that of Llanberis; but instead of the craggy impending cliffs,
the hills sloped upward with a less threatening
aspect.
Thousands of -sheep browsed upon the steep slopes
or clung to the dangerous summits. Small rills
came leaping down the rocky declivities in little
silver cascades, ever and anon uniting their streams,
until, at last, they flowed in a brawling brook, clear
and bright, over a stony bed by the roadside.
The road was, as a matter of course, the same
smooth causeway that one finds from one end of the
kingdom to the other, but the pass was long, and
sometimes steep as Ben Lomond; so steep that we
were forced to alight, three horses not sufficing to
drag more than the light empty vehicle up the
straight ascent.
This is called the Kirkstone pass, and at its head
stands a stone from which it takes the name.
At the breathing spot on the crest of the mountain is the highest inhabited house in England, being
fourteen hundred feet above the sea.
Now began a descent, quite as precipitous, and far
more difficult than the toilsome way upwardl, but the
danger of the way was soon forgotten in the unfolding charms of the scene beneath.
Far in the western distance shone the waters of
the sea, and, between, peak after peak lifted its




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              77
brown head to the sky, and bathed its foot in the
crystal waters of the lakes. The bare hills receded
from the gorge, and soft green swells began to
undulate through the -%alley, and roll up their waves
of cultivation to the heathery moor. And a lovelier scene never greeted the eye of tourist in any
land, than that which burst upon our view when
Lake Windermere opened below, with all its garniture of cloud and cliff, field and wood, knoll and
meadow, park, villa and cottage, spread out beneath
our feet, in endless variety and matchless beauty.
None but those who have threaded the charming
maze, can comprehend what it means, to say that our
way lay through Rydal, by Rydal water, and Mount,
and Hall, to Grasmere; to the quiet churchyard, where
lies all that was mortal of Wordsworth, and Southey,
and Hartley Coleridge. If I should choose a home
out of all the world, it would be in the midst of the
combined beauty and cultivation of the Lake
country.
We dined at Ambleside, at an inn beside the lake;
and eschewing speed and steam in such a world of
soft, rich, quiet beauty, we took an oarsman and
drifted down the silent water, with the exquisite
scenery in our vision, and the reverent memory of
genius in our hearts.
Watson, Wilson, Martineau, Arnold, Hemans,
Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge — what a constellation glitters upon the bosom of these lovely waters.
Aug. 19. We slept at night at Lancaster, at an




78        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
inn which has been kept as such for two hundred
years; filled with antiquarian collections of pictures,
china and curiosities. There were portraits of Queen
Elizabeth, Milton, Hannah More, a lovely face which
Mr. R. thinks one of the Jennings, and an elegant
full-length portrait of a nobleman by Godfrey
Kneller. The house is full of quaint, carved'oaken
work, and was really a sight in its way-and so was
the bill in the morning.
From the red rose to the white. We came to
York by way of Leeds, stopping at Keighly to make
a pilgrimage to the home and the grave of Charlotte
Bronte. I am glad to have been able to diverge
from the beaten track, and to see the new aspect of
life, presented by this drive to Haworth.  This
remote village is built of the stoniest houses, up the
steepest, stoniest streets that humanity has often
chosen for its habitation, and a more uninteresting
class of people in appearance it would be hard to
find. Men, women, and children, gaped upon us
from the doors of the comfortless looking dwellings,
and grinned at us in the streets, as if we were a
small menagerie of curious animals. It was impossible to stop on the way, for the necessity of starting
anew would have proved too much for the insecure
footing of the horses.
The only ornament of the village was its pottery.
Whether the place has a monopoly of license for the
vending of earthen ware, or whether the pavement
is the approved deposit for the display of household




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               79
stuff, the same array of vessels of honor and dishonor
flanked the entrances of all these stony abodes.
The district is evidently a manufacturing one, and
troops of stolid, heavy-looking women, with woollen
shawls over their heads, were streaming down the hill
to their afternoon work.
The parsonage, where Miss Bronte passed her
chilly life, stands at the summit of the long steep
hill; before it stretches the densely populated
churchyard, one continuous pavement of memorial
slabs; and below is the church, in the chancel of
which she lies beside her family. The stone under
which she rests is in the aisle, directly in front of
the communion table, and a slab in the chancel wall
records the deaths of the whole family. We were
shown her seat in the rectory pew, and her signature
in the marriage register. A more untoward spot
than this for the suggestions of fiction could scarcely
be imagined; but genius takes of imperfect materials and constructs edifices which challenge the
admiration of the most cultivated.
Our journey this afternoon has left the barren
peaks and the moorlands far behind, and has led
among green fields and ripened grain; a soft, rich,
smiling landscape, which speaks of the cultivation
of generations, and tells of antiquity as truly as do
the ivy-grown abbeys which we have passed, with
great boles of trees overtopping the encircling
walls.
Aug. 20. It is the week of the races, and we




80          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
bade fair to be forced out of this ancient and curious
city by the sheer want of a bed. We, the ladies,
spent an hour and a half at the station, while the
gentlemen went in fruitless quest from hotel to
lodging house.
At last, in desperation, they came up to take a
moonlight view of the Minster before leaving the
city to seek more hospitable reception elsewhere;
and by a combination of good fortune and perseverance, found lodgings under the very shadow of the
great Minster, which lifts its solemn front as if it
were the growth of the ages, and no construction of
the puny hand of man. We were wakened many
times in the night
" By the mighty Minster's bell,
Tolling with a sullen swell,"
the waves of sound floating out upon the air, just
above our heads.
We were out, betimes, pacing the court, to gain
some conception of the cathedral's extent and exterior beauty, and were quite ready for the opening of
the doors at nine. I cannot attempt any description
of York Minster. It is stupendous in its extent,
solemn in its grandeur, exquisite in its beauty. It is
in wonderfully perfect preservation. It was founded
in A. D. 626, and has-gathered added beauty and size
from succeeding generations.  The thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries contributed most towards its
perfection.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                 81
Among the splendid windows, that of the north
transept, called the "five sisters," is remarkably
beautiful. It is more than fifty feet in height, exquisite in harmony of color and delicacy of design.
The great chancel window, seventy-seven feet in
height, is considered the finest in the world. It is
a specimen of English art, and was finished in less
than three years.
It seems strange that with all the modern improvements in science and the arts, these ancient windows
defy all attempts to approach them in the combined
splendor and softness of their coloring. One discerns
the imitation at a glance.  It would need a volume
to describe the beauties of this mighty structure.
We saw, in the vestry, a most curious relic of
antiquity, the drinking cup of Ulpho, the donor of
the site of the edifice, by which the chapter holds
the fee of the bequest. It is an elephant's tusk,
polished with greht skill, bound with silver, and
inscribed with various designs. Archiepiscopal rings
of great value, and a silver crosier, a present from
Catharine of Braganza, to her confessor, form a part
of the curious possessions of the church.
Monuments of Archbishops, lords and benefactors,
are scattered around the edifice, or affixed to the
walls. The Chapter house is a gem of beauty; the
delicate carvings and rich windows are nearly four
hundred years old, perfect in preservation; and the
room still serves the purpose for which it was constructed.  The choir is screened with elaborately




82          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
carved oak, but has been twice destroyed by fire;
once at least the work of an insane incendiary.
Here we attended morning prayer. As it was my
first experience of cathedral service, curiosity mingled with my devotions. But it was an awe-inspiring
service, to kneel where prayers went up a thousand
years ago to Him in whose sight "a thousand years
are but as yesterday when it is past." The service
was intoned by one of the minor canons, and the
lessons read by another; the president and another
canon being present in their robes. Intoned prayer
has, to my taste, more the effect of a performance
than of devotion, but the music was superb; led by
the grand organ, and chanted by a choir, not of boys,
but of men,' it was satisfying, even under the roof of
such a cathedral.
After service, we ascended the lantern, which rises
like a square tower from the centre of the cross. It
is one hundred and ninety-one feet high, and has at
the top an area of sixty-eight feet square; a broad
platform from which the view takes in miles on miles
of country, with varied field, and waving woods,
and distant hills. From it you see also the ruins of
the palace of William the Conqueror, the Abbey of
St. Mary's, and the wall which partly encircles the
city, with its massive bars or gateways. For York
is an ancient city, the great Roman capital, dating
before the Christian era.  Here Constantine the
Great was born, and Constantius died; and here in
later days has been the seat of royal abode and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              83
national consequence.  We came to England to see
not only things, but people; and by way of accomplishing the latter purpose, we drove out to the races.
I had never imagined myself capable of growing
enthusiastic over a race course, but it was even so;
it was one of the most exciting and gayest of scenes.
The running was beautiful, the lithe steeds seeming
scarcely to touch the turf, and to enter with an intelligent interest into the excitement. We saw five
races; the two most important were for the York
cup, and the great Yorkshire stakes. The winners
were Mr. Naylor's Macaroni, and MVIr. Savile's Ranger,
beautiful horses both. In the Gimcrack stakes, the
winner, Coast Guard, was a fine horse, but the second,
Syren, was a beautiful creature, that tempted one to
covet; a small, dark, delicate-limbed thing, seeming
to understand and appreciate the admiration which
she received.
The scene in the enclosure beneath the grand stand,
upon which we were seated, was a study. The perfect babel of betting, the eager hush of breathless
excitement, and the revulsion at the result, were in
excessive contrast to the usual notion of British
imperturbability. However, every nature must have
its outlet, and perhaps betting is the English safetyvalve. It is strangely incomprehensible to womankind.
From the races, we came on to Chesterfield by
rail; and thence by carriage to the quiet inn at
Edensor, where we repose under the shadow of the




84          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
great Duke of Devonshire, whose beautiful domain
of Chatsworth, we visit to-morrow. We have driven
through a grazing country, not unlike the hills of
New England. The country about Chesterfield is
of great beauty, broken into soft irregular swells,
and covered with the green and gold of field and
harvest. Indeed, beautiful is the only epithet applicable to the landscape of the whole country.
At Chesterfield there is a spire upon an ancient
church, which has the appearance of having been
twisted and distorted from the perpendicular by a
whirlwind. The villagers assured us that it was
many feet out of plumb; but we afterwards learned
that the effect is produced by the peculiar manner of
putting the lead upon the wood of the spire, and
that, notwithstanding its apparent inclination, it is
perfectly erect.
The inn at Edeisor.is one of the prettiest, quiet,
country places, just at the park gates. From the
windows you look out upon the smooth green glades,
where a thousand deer troop among the forest aisles,
undisturbed by beast or sportsman.
Aug. 21. We drove up the smooth park road to
the famed dwelling of the richest Duke in England.
Chatsworth is not imposing as a structure, being an
extensive, but rather plain, square-looking edifice.
It fronts upon a succession of garden terraces, by
which is the descent to the Derwent, a sweet, quiet
stream. The entrance is by tall gilded gates, at one
of the extreme wings. Indeed, one seldom sees here




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             85
what is apt to monopolize the better part of American dwellings, an entrance upon the main front.
The interior is on a scale of magnificence worthy
the establishment of a Duke who has crowned heads
among his guests. The spacious extent of grand
halls, lofty stair-cases, splendid corridors, and magnificent apartments, is crowded with works of the
highest art, and with every appropriate expression of
the wealth and taste of the owner.
The apartments overlook not only the distant park,
but a wonderful variety of pleasure grounds and gardens, such as belong to no other estate in England.
The most striking beauty of the rooms themselves,
independent of the rare and costly articles to be
found in them, is the exquisite wood carving which
adorns every room, and especially the chapel. It is
by Gibbons, and represents flowers with minute delicacy, like the most carefully moulded wax petals.
The graceful wreaths that surround the wainscoting,
stand out from the heavy wood as if just suspended
in natural garlands; and among them nestle birds
with plumage just as delicately rendered. In one of
the rooms hangs a frame, in which is enclosed Gibbons' masterpiece. It is a small bird, with a bouquet
of flowers, and folds of richly wrought lace depend
from them. It seems incredible that a material so
heavy as wood can be wrought into such a perfect
representation of an airy fabric, fine as threads of
gossamer.
Among the choice works of art, too numerous to




86          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
be mentioned or even noted with more than a passing
glance, was a splendid green malachite vase, a present
from the Emperor Nicholas, and a still more splendid
table of the same magnificent stone, from the Emperor's daughter. Among the Imperial gifts were also
busts of the Emperor and Empress. The Czar was
guest at Chatsworth during his visit to England.
The great attraction at Chatsworth, in my eyes,
was the collection of sculpture. Canova, Chantrey,
Powers, and other masters have contributed to this
rare embellishment of a private mansion. One large
hall is devoted to statuary of the choicest description.
It was pleasant to see a fine bust of our own Everett
in such companionship. Among the pieces of sculpture which I remember with most pleasure, were a
group of Venus with Cupid extracting a thorn from
her foot; Mars and Cupid; Endymion and his dog;
Madame Letitia and Pauline Buonaparte; and a
splendid Hercules.
Two grand lions couchant guard the entrance from
the hall of statuary to the orangery; and heresbegins
the wonderful part of Chatsworth.
Sir Joseph Paxton, the architect of the Crystal
Palace at Sydenham, was the Duke's gardener, and
Chatsworth grounds were the scene of his many
years' toil and success. The gardens cover many
acres. The conservatory itself has a broad carriage
drive through its centre. A light, beautiful glass
structure rises, like a gigantic air bubble, from the
conservatory, and within are found plants from every




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                87
corner of the tropics, from fern to palm. One may
imagine the height of a building which permits the
palm to spread its tall fans beneath its shelter.
Through the midst of the conservatory a stream
of water is brought, in a continuous fall, over a succession of rocky terraces, to feed an artificial lake
beneath the drawing-roomi windows.
You presently pass out of the elaborate gardens,
filled with exotics and artfully massed shrubs and
flowers, into what seems a wilderness of uncultivated
wildwood, which is, nevertheless, a work of art, still
more elaborate than the former.
Thousands of huge rocks lie scattered in irregular
confusion, like the primitive occupants of the soil;
and among them grow forest trees and underbrush;
heather clings to the stony earth, and ferns and
maidenhair spring luxuriantly from the dim crevices.
Here and there tall cliffs overhang the solitary way,
seeming solid as the everlasting hills; and yet they
have been artificially constructed of rocks blasted
from their original position in the primeval hills, and
carefully replaced here in their native order. Little
streams trickle through the clefts in the rocks, where
green mosses thrive under their droppings.  The
path is a woodland way; no mark even of the shears
reminds one that he is within bow-shot of royal magnificence. By and by the way leads under a long
fissure in the rock, and a mass of stone, of many
tons' weight, seems to bar farther progress; but at a
touch it turns upon a pivot, and proves to be. only a




88          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
gateway to the egress. Near by is a rocking stone,
so nicely poised that the pressure of the finger sets
it in vibration.
Then the notice is drawn to a palm-like tree, stiff
with bristling points, from every twig of which suddenly bursts a shower, met by tiny leaps from a
hidden fountain below. At every little lakelet the
attendant disappeared, and presently a feathery fountain shot into the air, and fell in a shower of pearls
upon the surface of the pool.
Wealth and art seem to be exhausted in attaining,
within this charmed space, all the varieties of nature.
Yet all this outlay keeps up, not a home, but a show
place, for the Duke is at home upon another of his
splendid estates, and Chatsworth delights the eye of
the public more than that of its noble master.
On one side of the park, near the house, is the
remnant of a tower called Mary's bower, the place of
confinement for the Queen of Scots for a time, under
the charge of the Earl and Countess of Shrewsbury.
I have an impression, but do not know whether it is
correct, that this was also the place where Lady Arabella Stuart was confined when she made her unsuccessful attempt to join her husband.
As we drove back through the park, a herd of
more than two hundred deer came leaping over the
low hills, as unconcerned at the presence of man as if
he were no more dangerous enemy than the sheep
which were browsing in the quiet pastures.
Haddon Hall is one of the ancient relics of the




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               89
grandeur of past generations, as Chatsworth is the
representative of modern magnificence.
The walls of the gray old dwelling and fortress are
in perfect preservation; the rooms all whole, just the
same, with the exception of the furniture, as they
were in the days of the Peveril.of the Peak. The
walls are still hung with Gobelin tapestry, and portraits still adorn the walls. The old door, black
with the storms of years, admitted us, through a
narrow wicket, to the quadrangle, around which stand
the massive walls and ancient towers, and beyond a
second court are pretty terraces, with walks of noble
trees; and the unfailing ivy clothes both walls and
trees with cheerful verdure.
The great banqueting hall resembles, except in its
spacious extent, a very old-fashioned kitchen. The
floor is of stone; a huge fire-place nearly fills one
side, and oaken benches are ranged along the heavy
worm-eaten oak tables. Around the upper part of the
room runs- a gallery, from which perhaps the dames
sometimes looked down upon the wassail below.
In one of the chambers still stands Queen Elizabeth's state bed, with all its ancient hangings; and
her portrait and that of Leicester hang in the drawing-room.
We explored the chill, stony chambers, and climbed
the highest turret to catch the sweet picture spread
out beneath the low afternoon sunlight, aad went
back once more to enjoy the terraces and gardens,
crowded with the dim shadows of the long past.
7




90         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
In the extreme tower is shown the door by which
one of the damsels of the house, Dorothy Vernon,
escaped to join a favored lover, forbidden to press
his suit in the approved way, from what cause does
not appear in the legend. Perhaps family feud, perhaps prejudice may have influenced the fair one's
guardians; it is just possible that a prudent and
loving regard for her welfare may have beeu the
spring. Be that as it may, the old, yet ever new tale
of love, stronger than law or prudence, still remains
-the best remembered, because of its most enduring
sympathies, of the legends of the Hall. This Hall,
once a present from the Conqueror to his son, is, even
by virtue of that same elopement, the property of
the Earl of Rutland, and he preserves the possession
with that reverent love for the links which bind the
present to the hoary past which distinguishes this
nation, so rich in the proofs of the prowess, the
chivalry, the power and the splendor of the past —
so full of magnificence and enterprise in the present.
From Haddon we came to Rowsley, and thence by
rail to Rugby, a place than which no shrine of devotion for the scholar and the Christian should be more
dear. Here lived and labored the lamented Arnold;
and from this quiet home of learning have gone forth
streams which shall purify and gladden the earth for
long years to come — perhaps I should say forever.
We slept, at Leamington, a modern town and fashionable watering place, the handsomest of all the smaller
towns that we have seen in the country.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             91
Aug. 22. Left Leamington for that charming enjoyment, a long drive through English scenery. One
cannot go amiss; the country presents some new
beauty at every step, and these counties through
which we have just been passing, are one continuous
garden. The green hedgerows encircle fields bright
with the emerald verdure of lawny grass, or golden
with the wealth of ripened grain standing in abundant sheaves, while the busy gleaners gather the stray
ears of corn from the stubble-a labor more picturesque to the tourist, I fear, than profitable or
pleasing to the poor harvesters, whose scanty store
needs the addition of such meagre plenishing.
As we sweep along the quiet country over these
perfect roads, we cannot help wondering where are
the people who make up the dense population of the
island. Our own country roads are not more lone
than these. We see abundant traces of the hand of
man in the tillage of the soil, but the dwellings are
scattered, and the hamlets small. It is eminently
suggestive of the probable congestion of population
in the larger towns.
The English love to seclude their homes, and a
gateway opening through the wall that lines the way,
is usually the only indication of your near approach
to some abode of beauty or stateliness within. But
the simplest names upon the guide-boards are classic
with associations which have been familiar to us from
childhood.
Our way lay to Kenilworth, the most picturesque




92          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
ruin in England. The very name calls up a picture
which is as poetic and romantic as it is historic.
Robert Dudley, the handsome, fascinating, but not
very faithful favorite of the great Queen, is'the
middle figure in the scene; but a woman's heart
aches for the stern lonely fate of the woman whose
strong sense of the necessities of her nation taught
her to put down her woman's love with a resolute
grasp, and embittered, with a thousand pangs, that
inner life in which her sex must find its happiness
or misery.
One cannot see this stately, ivy-clad ruin, rising
upon the landscape, with only the ordinary interest
attached to the historic past. The busy fancy builds
again the ruined walls, hangs banners upon the perfect towers, peoples lawn and park with prince and
noble, knight and squire, and catches a glimpse of
the fair face of Amy Robsart at the window of her
lonely tower —happier even there, in her innocent
love, and her'ignorance of her coming doom, than
the monarch in her presence chamber. The date of
Kenilworth is lost in antiquity, but it was a place of
importance in the time of Henry the First. The most
ancient and the most perfect of the towers is called
Caesar's Tower.  One side of the court contains
buildings erected by John of Gaunt; the southern
side was built by Dudley; the western was the work
of Henry the Eighth, and is entirely gone. It is remarkable that the later edifices are the most perishable, and are crumbling away, while the towers of




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              93
most remote date are firm and solid, and even the
windows are still perfect. The whole ruin shows
that it was a palace of great splendor. The feudal
times, when the desideratum in a castle was simply
its power of resistance, had passed away, and light,
and beauty and grace began to be possible in the time
of Leicester.
The windows would be handsome and graceful
even in these times, and they must have commanded
a beautiful scene of lake and wood. The lake is now
converted into a meadow, and the great portal which
Dudley built, and through which Elizabeth made her
splendid entrance, is now a well-kept farm-house for
the tenants who take care of the place.
Leicester's bed-room, the State apartments, the
dining hall, the drawing-room, are all easily distinguished.  Mervyn's Tower contains the room in
which Amy was confined during Elizabeth's visit.
Lord Clarendon, the fortunate possessor of this most
picturesque ruin, spares no pains to keep it in good
preservation. I have never seen such luxuriance of
ivy. In addition to the ordinary ivy, which we
cultivate at home with so much care, and which
seems here to be the natural garb of inorganic matter, another species hangs its full leafy garlands upon
the walls, with a growth almost like a shrub, making,
upon the rough outline of the ruins, a verdant wall
of beauty, ever fresh and ever charming. One of
the acts of vandalism that disgraced the rule of
Cromwell was the giving up of this noble mansion




94          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
to his soldiery for pillage and destruction. Without
some such act of intentional violence, the Castle of
Kenilworth might have been standing in perfection,
at this very day.
On our way through the country roads from
Kenilworth to Warwick, we passed Stoneleigh Abbey, the residence of Lord Leigh; seen only by
glimpses, and withdrawn from the public thoroughfare, as English country-seats delight to be, by winding avenues beyond the walls of enclosure. Guy's
Cliff, the property of Hon. Bertie Percy, is an exception. It breaks upon the view with a most unexpected pleasure. As the high road passes a small
water, you look up the opposite side, through an
avenue of noble trees, to the house, standing in a
wilderness of flowers.
The story of Guy's Cliff, as the legend runs, is
romantic.  Guy, the first Earl of Warwick, a
renowned giant, went with his peers to the Crusades,
leaving the Lady Felicia, or Phyllis, as she was
called, at home. Becoming weary of the Crusades,
and of public life, he privately returned in the disguise of a palmer, and under the protection of the
Lady of Warwick, he hewed himself a dwelling out
of the rock, not far from his own home, where he
passed the remainder of his life. He met his sorrowing, solitary wife, as her almoner and ghostly
adviser; but kept his secret fast locked in his own
breast, until the near approach of death loosened the
strong grasp of his will, and he sent for his wife, and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              95
revealed himself to her. She survived him but a
short time, and they both lie in the rocky home
which his own hands had fashioned. Alas! poor
Lady Phillis!
Warwick Castle is the perfect realization of one's
ideal of an English nobleman's home. It is approached by the ancient town of Warwick, where
one sees the hospital for old soldiers, founded by
Robert Dudley, guarded still by the cloaked veterans,
as it was three hundred years ago. But the town
gathers around the base of the great castle, as tiny
shoots cluster at the foot of a majestic oak. You
feel, as you see the gray, massive. towers looming
against the sky, that you are approaching the abode
of royalty; and in good sooth the instinct is a true
one, for here dwelt one whom royalty must needs
acknowledge as a King maker.
You enter a massive porter's lodge, in which the
keeper shows you a room containing many relies of
the great Earl Guy aforesaid. He was over eight feet
in height, and his armor, and that of his horse, are
here entire; with his halberd, his lance, and his porridge pot, the latter capable of containing one hundred and two gallons, made of bell metal, bright as a
modern tea-kettle. The portress said she saw it thrice
filled with punch on the occasion of the present Earl
coming of age. There was- the flesh hook with
which the giant fished his meat from the caldron.
I think Shakspeare may have commemorated this
very pot in his Witches' caldron; he was a near




96          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
neighbor, and must have been familiar with it.
There were in the same room some arms taken from
the Armada. From the lodge, the way is hewn out
of solid rock, higher than a man's head; ivy and
shrubs cover the top of the rocks, and overhang
their sides.
Over the massive inner gateway still hangs the
portcullis, and no touch of time has crumbled the
mighty structure of these walls. The wide green
court is surrounded by the solid, perfect wall of the
ancient castle, flanked by tall towers at each corner
of the quadrangle. Here is Csesar's Tower again,
Guy's Tower, bearing date 1394, and the Keep. Under the first mentioned is a strong square dungeon,
which, within the present century, has served for the
county prison.
The present dwelling forms the south side of the
court, and is the home of the Earl, as it was the
home of the great King maker whose portrait hangs
upon the wall within. It is one great charm of the
place, that, with all its stately magnificence, it is still
a real home, and I could feel far more pride in the
possession of Warwick than of Chatsworth.
The entrance is flanked by two small cannon. The
baronial hall into which the vestibule leads, is a
splendid room, sixty feet long; its huge fire-place is
filled with logs of wood ready for kindling, and
chairs are placed ready for guests.
Here are many curiosities; several complete suits
of armor; the buff coat worn by Lord Brooke, when




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             97
he was wounded at Litchfield; a helmet belonging
to Cromwell; abundance of arms, horns of deer and
elk, elephants' tusks, and Indian curiosities. The
ceiling is very elaborate, and adorned with the
armorial bearings of the family. From these windows there is a charming view of the park, with a
long winding sweep of the Avon, and an artificial
waterfall; an exquisite scene of quiet beauty.
The Castle is filled with fine paintings, especially
a large collection of Vandykes; paintings by Rubens, Corregio, Da Vinci, Lawrence, Reynolds, Holbein and Teniers; a sweet picture of the Duke of
Buckingham (Villiers) and his brother, and many
family pictures. The most striking is Vandyke's
large picture of Charles the First on horseback, at
the bottom of the hall. The rooms exhibited are
en suite, forming a vista of three hundred and thirtythree feet. They are truly magnificent, yet not so
large as to exclude the idea of habitation.
The dining and ante-dining room, the Red, the
Green, the Cedar drawing rooms are all filled with
splendid furniture, and adorned with valuable pictures. The most curious thing of all is a sideboard,
carved out of an oaken trunk from Kenilworth, a
present to the Duke from the county. It represents
upon its back the entrance of Queen Elizabeth into
Kenilworth, after Scott's rendering, in a kind of alto
relievo; at one side is the meeting of Amy with
the Queen in the gardens, where the poor girl claims
the royal lady's protection, and on the other the




98         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
interview in which Leicester shrinks from avowing
his marriage in the presence of the indignant monarch. At the corners are single carvings of Dudley,
Raleigh and others. The famous possession of the
house is a table inlaid with precious stones; a wonder of design and of jewels. The State bed-room
contains the bed and furniture of Queen Anne, a full
length portrait of her Majesty, and a toilet table of
Queen Victoria, hung with pink silk, covered wvith
point lace. The room adjoining is the Countess'
dressing room, elegant with rich furniture and buhl
ornaments.
The gardens are handsome, and the lawns more
beautiful than we have seen any where else; and
down the long vistas of the park stand cedars of
Lebanon, stretching their wide branches over English earth; perhaps brought from Palestine by the
great Earl Guy himself. The entire grounds are
charming for their homelike seclusion.
In the conservatory stands the great Wrarwick
vase, two thousand years old; dug out of the earth
at Tivoli, and bought by the late Earl in 1774. It
has a capacity of one hundred and sixty-eight gallons. The sculptured wreaths with which it is
adorned, and its exquisite design, are too often reproduced to need description. Of all the "stately
homes of England," I like Warwick best.
I thought of the Lady Phyllis as I gazed up at
the gray old towers, and pitied the lone woman, who
climbed their weary height, day after day, until her




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              99
eyes grew dim with watching the mysterious East;
who, night after night, pressed the sharp pang of
defrauded love to her heart, until the aching wound
grew too deep for cure; and all this while, her lord
was treading the daily paths at her feet, shrouded in
a disguise which even love could not penetrate.
We turned from Warwick with reluctant steps,
and went on through the same pretty country
roads, to Stratford-on-Avon; a name which one
never utters without a mental act of reverence.
Here in a low cottage, whose stone floor and bare
rafters are in striking contrast with the tesselated
pavement and magnificent arches which elsewhere
encircle his monument, is the chamber in which the
immortal Shakspeare first saw the light. The cottage is bare of all furniture, except a table and
chairs for the accommodation of visitors. It contains
a very fine portrait of the poet, by an unknown
artist, and two or three busts. Even the genius loci
of Shakspeare's room has not sufficed to restrain the
petty vandalism which, in striving to become famous,
succeeds only in rendering itself infamous.  The
walls and low ceiling are black with the meanness of
names-as if the name of royalty itself would not
pass unnoticed in that august presence.
From the cottage, we proceeded to the Church of
the Holy Trinity, where lie the remains of the poet
and his wife, with the quaint and most unworthy
epitaph of his own selection.
Over against the stone which covers his vault, is a




100        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
tablet, with a portrait bust of colored marble, and a
Latin inscription. The bust was covered with paint
for many years, and has been cleaned and restored
in the present century.  It represents him  in a
crimson doublet and a ruff, with a pen between his
fingers, and a book in his hand.
The church itself is very ancient, and has much
architectural merit, containing also some curious
ancient tombs and effigies.  The broken font in
which Shakspeare is supposed to have been baptized
is still preserved.
We crossed the pretty Avon, upon whose border
rises the quiet church, the casket which guards more
sacred dust than any urn "between the withered
hands" of Rome; and took carriage at last for
London, scarcely daring to look at the enticing
towers of Oxford, which must wait a more convenient season.
Blenheim  and Woodstock are in the same category. Our charming English tour is ended; and
henceforth our English interest must circle about
London and its environs. Coming up to London!
Who has not looked upon that dim possibility, as
the consummation of earthly desire; and, indeed,
one might be well content with what is gathered
within its walls. It is the metropolis of the World.
I think no one who has ever read English literature
would feel as a stranger in the streets of London.
You cannot saunter along its ways, without meeting
at every corner a familiar name, or striking some




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             101
chord of association that goes vibrating through all
the memories of your lifetime, and ringing changes
upon all the great names of the literary world.
We are established upon the Strand, next door to
Exeter Hall; not, however, on account of our Exeter Hall proclivities, and are tolerably masters of our
position.




102         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CHAPTER V.
ENGLAN D.
London - Spurgeon - St. Paul?s - Westminster Abbey - Windsor Castle -
Tower- British Museum.
AuG. 23. Went in the morning to the Tabernacle,
on the Surrey side of the Thames, to hear Spurgeon.
The crowd is so great that his own people are admitted by tickets. Strangers assemble in a dense multitude before the closed doors, to await the hour of
service. If the rush into the church be any index
to the spiritual state of the worshippers, the kingdom
of Heaven bids fair to suffer violence.
The building is an immense edifice for a church;
it has three galleries, one above the other, around the
entire amphitheatre, and altogether seats five thousand
people. I saw very few vacant seats on this occasion,
and many people stood in the aisles. We obtained
seats near the door, and my first thought was of the
impossibility of hearing a word at the farther end of
such an assemblage. The choir sat in a large enclosure beneath the preacher.  Some official conducted
him through to his place, which is on a level with the
lower gallery. Mr. Spurgeon is a stout, countrylooking man, much older in appearance than in years.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              103
The first tone of his voice dispelled my doubts in regard to hearing; it rang clearly and distinctly through
the great building, and made every word audible.
The service followed the usual extempore order, the
reading of Scripture being acccompanied by a running commentary upon the text. There was no organ,
but there was something grand in seeing that vast
assemblage of worshippers, one mass of living people,
stand up to sing the praise of God. Mr. Spurgeon
first read the hymn, and then lined it as the people
sang. His sermon was without notes, and he stood
without desk or pulpit, at a low railing before his seat.
He preached from Isaiah, 62: 12. " Sought out;"
the analysis running'thus: The expression "sought"
proves the natural state of the thing sought, to be lost,
or " the condition of man by nature." Secondly, the
manner of seeking especially noted. God's people are
not only sought, but sought out, effectually, divinely.
It needs divine omniscience to discern, divine omnipotence to secure, divine love to persevere in rescuing the lost, who neither hope, nor desire, nor intend
to be found. Thence was deduced the duty of individual Christians to make it their especial business to
seek out the lost among their fellow men. He dwelt
upon the necessity of carrying the gospel to those
who will not come to listen to it; or, as he said, to
be " grandly impertinent " in winning souls to Christ.
His discourse was eminently orthodox, and deeply
imbued with a zealous, affectionate earnestness; pure
in diction, fluent in utterance, and persuasive in ten



104        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
derness and'practical application.  There was no
mannerism about him, no self-consciousness, but an
evident earnestness in the Master's work.
In the afternoon we went to St. Paul's, and heard
a choral service.  "Heard" applies to the grand
music; the great organ thundered through the arched
roof with such Glorias as I had dreamed of, but never
heard, and the chanting was magnificent; but prayers
and sermon were alike inaudible.  It is no great
wonder, for speaking in St. Paul's must be very like
speaking under the open heavens; and prayers
chanted in the dreary monotone of the choral, lose
all individuality of utterance. It is a most undevout
style of prayer, at least to an untutored perception.
But the choirs are beyond all description. From the
full deep bass, through the rich tenor, up to the sweet,
well-trained treble of the younger voices, all was
pure, satisfying harmony; and the anthems, a part of
the service unlike our own, were inexpressibly thrilling. I have heard no hymns nor metrical psalms.
Aug. 24. Our way to-day has been through the
Strand; under Temple Bar, where the heads of traitors
used to be exposed; through Fleet Street; up Ludgate
Hill, past many a familiar corner; through St. Paul's
churchyard, which means the circular street that
encloses the Cathedral, into Cheapside; all ways
which our imagination has trodden years ago. Our
only sight-seeing has been the Cathedral, quite enough
for one day. We went through it, from turret to
foundation. The edifice itself, built by Sir Christo



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             105
pher Wren, after the great fire of 1666, does not
compare, in splendor of architecture, with the great
Minster, but it is imposing in its vastness. It is five
hundred feet long, one hundred wide, and four
hundred and four in height. It contains many monuments, among which are those to Howard, Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Bishop Heber, Nelson,
Cornwallis, Sir John Moore.  The choir contains
some of Gibbons' beautiful wood carvings.  The
windows are nearly all plain; but some of the arches
are gilded, as are the galleries around the top and
bottom of the dome.  Upon the great dome are
frescoes by Sir James Thornhill, representing eight
scenes in the life of St. Paul, viz.: His conversion,
Paul and Barnabas at Lystra, St. Paul and the sorcerer, St. Paul and Silas in prison, St. Paul after the
shipwreck at Malta, St. Paul before Agrippa, St.
Paul on Mars' tHill, and the burning of the sorcerer's
books at Ephesus. The ascent to the top of St.
aul's is a matter of some note, and we have qualified
ourselves to speak of it.
The early part of the ascent is quite easy, so far as
the whispering gallery, which encircles the inner base
of the huge dome. Here you may look down into
the space below, and gain some idea of the height
from the diminished size of the people upon the
pavement. The guide places you against the wall,
while he goes to the opposite side of the gallery,
whence his whisper is instantly and audibly transmitted to you.
8




106         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Corresponding to this gallery is an outer one, of
stone, from which you obtain a view of the city,
which would be very satisfactory but for the haziness
of the atmosphere. But this is not all of the ascent;
three hundred and fifty-six steps more are necessary
to bring you to the desired point of vision. Visiting
the clock and bell rooms, by the way, you see a great
bell, which tolls only for the death of the royal
family, the Bishop of London, the Dean of St. Paul's,
and the existing Lord Mayor.  The last time it
sounded, its knell fell upon the great city in the dead
of night, announcing the death of the lamented Prince
Consort.
The Golden Gallerv is around the exterior summit
of the dome, whence you take in the great panorama
of London, with tower and spire, park and "palace,
street and river, at a glance.
But there is a higher attainable point, and it is not
in Yankee nature to stop short of the possible, so we
climb on up the steep stairs of the lantern; the stairs
become ladders before we reach the top, where, between the pillars which support the gilded ball, we
gain a still loftier glimpse of London. This seems
fairly the extent of any faculties less agile than those
of a monkey, but the attendant, who seems rather
proud of our enterprise, calls out from below,
"higher," and small brass rods at last reveal themselves in the ornaments, which become steppingstones to our ambitious footsteps. Masculine feet
find it no very hard matter to mount them, and by




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              107
the careful assistance and direction of the guide, I
find myself also in the close little ball, the very topmost step of the lofty Cathedral. I feel rather proud
of the exploit, and shall content myself with this feat
in the way of climbing.
"Facilis descensus"' was a misnomer upon this occasion, for as the operation is to be performed by the
feet, while the head is still in cloudland, a misstep is
possible, and would prove more than awkward.
But, by the same kind assistance, my blind feet
were safely planted upon the lantern, and then the
descent was only steep. The fee which my kind
friend bestowed upon the helpful guide, unlocked his
heart, and with it a generally forbidden door, which
led to the inner Golden Gallery, from which immense
height we looked down, not ollly upon the pavement
and the pigmrnies below, but upon the dome itself.
This is the point for seeing the frescoes of the dome,
and-for getting a realizing sense of the great height
of the building.
Our next visit was to the crypts, in which are entombed the remains of Reynolds, Lawrence, Fuseli,
Turner, West, Wren, and Rennie. There lies Nelson,
in his granite sarcophagus, and, last and greatest, the
Iron Duke himself, the great Wellington.  His
monument is of porphyry, and inscribed with the
list of his victories. Behind it stands the imposing
funeral car upon which his coffin was drawn to the
tomb. It is cast from the cannon captured in his
successful battles, and is of many tons' weight. Upon




108        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
it are wrought the cap, the sword and Marshal's
baton. It is covered with a heavy pall, and surmounted by costly ostrich plumes. It was drawn by
twelve horses, which are here represented by basket
work, covered with black palls. The strong foundations of such a cathedral make a fitting resting-place
for the dust of sruch heroes.
London and the play are as characteristically interwoven as London and its cathedrals. so in the evening
we went to the nearest theatre, the Adelphi, and saw
some very good playing in a new comedy, " The Hen
and Chickens."
Aug. 25. Have been to Westminster Abbey —
through its crumbling cloisters; through its many
chapels, overlaid with tombs and effigies, and enshrining the noble dust of ages.  King and Queen,
noble and priest, warrior and statesman, philosopher, courtier and poet make these dumb walls
eloquent. Here lie most of the royal dead of England, from Edward the Confessor to George the
Second. Here, from Edward to Victoria, have the
sovereigns been crowned. The chair used for coronation, from the time of James the First, is a heavy,
plain oaken chair, destitute of any ornament. It is
impossible even to mention the tombs of interest, or
to enumerate the tablets of the Poet's Corner-that
shrine for the pilgrimage of the world. The tablets
of Shakspeare and Handel pleased me most. Handel's finger points to the music of his great anthem,
"I know that my Redeemer liveth." Shakspeare




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             109
bears a scroll, upon which is inscribed his own lines,
"The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces," &c.
Campbell also wears his finest lines as his own inscription, " This spirit shall return to Him," &c. The
numerous chapels contain the ancient treasures of
the Abbey; the royal monuments are all in them.
Even Mary of Scots rests near her illustrious cousin,
and the remains of the little smothered princes are
gathered in an urn among their kindred. I should
need to copy the guide-book to enumerate all the
tombs that interested me. Among the tablets, one
to Aymer de Valence struck me with many romantic associations.
One scarcely thinks of looking at the Abbeyitself,
there is so much more in it than of it; although if one
had not seen York Minster, it would seem more imposing for its own sake. I have unconsciously taken
that grand and beautiful structure as the standard of
cathedrals, and must needs find more satisfaction in the
associations than in the architecture of Westminster.
It is extremely unadorned, except by the memorials
of the illustrious dead. The arches of the cloister
windows, as restored, are beautiful, but the ancient
material of the edifice shows painfully the ravages
of time, and seems in some places to be completely
disintegrated, a mere dust.
The playground of the great Westminster school
seemed to me peculiarly unattractive. The heavy
stone pavements beneath these low arches seemed
as little as possible like a place for schoolboy amuse



110         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
ments.  It possesses one desideratum  for tutors,
there is nothing by which boys could possibly get
into mischief.
We went to the Queen's stables, Pimlico; saw Her
Majesty's horses and carriages, and the state carriage
for the royal progress upon state occasions. It is
one hundred and four years old, is ornamented with
painted panels and gold, and weighs four tons. It
is drawn by eight cream-colored stallions, which stand
in luxurious idleness meanwhile.
The horses and equipments of the Master of the
Horse are also exhibited.  They are black, with
splendidly mounted black harness; that of the state
horses is scarlet and gilt; altogether, the cavalcade
must have a dazzling effect when in full train.
Visited the state apartments at Windsor Castle,
for which an order is necessary, which can be obtained free upon application to certain specific places
in the city.
The very name of Windsor Castle calls up the
spectres of almost a thousand years. It was begun
by the Conqueror, and has received additions from
almost all his successors. It is a right royal home
for the royal lady who inhabits it.  The state
apartments are stately, but not elaborate. Some of
them are adorned with Gibbons' carvings, but I think
them not so fine here as at Chatsworth. There are
many splendid paintings by Vandyke, Lely and
Lawrence; and two rooms are hung with Gobelin
tapestry, representing scenes from the book of Esther.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES                111
There is one room devoted to armor, curious weapons
and Indian trophies. The private apartments are in
another part of the Castle, which seems, in extent,
more like a town than a dwelling. I do not know
how large acircuit it encloses, but it must be many
acres.
The famous Windsor Terrace is a broad walk,
with a heavy stone balustrade overlooking the Terrace gardens at a great height above them.  The
descent immediately below is a great depth, and, I
fancy, drops into the ancient moat. The wealth of
greenness in tree, and shrub, and vine, which mantles the depth, is perfectly charming.  The view
takes in Eton College, at no great distance. Here it
is, or was, the custom for the royal family to walk on
Sunday afternoons in the sight of the multitudes
which then frequent the gardens.
We were so fortunate as to be in time for service
in St. George's Chapel, a beautiful church.  The
service was choral, as usual, the music charming.
After service, we had a little time for exploring the
chapel. The upper part of the screen is filled with
effigies of Knights of the Bath; a smooth slab in
the centre of the choir covers the remains of Henry
the Eighth; and all the sovereigns since George the
Second have been interred in the chancel vault.
There is a very elegant little chapel containing a
monument to the Princess Charlotte. It represents
the Princess in a careless, reclining attitude, enveloped in drapery, which, however, reveals entirely the




112         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
outline of the figure. At each corner of the couch
kneels a figure in the attitude of woe, also completely
shrouded in drapery, which is a triumph of art over
stubborn marble. Behind the couch is a sculpture
representing the Princess ascending, attended by two
angels, one of whom bears her infant in his arms.
We went also through the cloisters.
This is a part of an ecclesiastical edifice which
touches me with a more powerful charm than even
the stately aisles and the lofty arches. The green
seclusion speaks of peace and rest; while the busy
fancy readily frames pictures of the past, peopled
with the long succession of worthies who, though
monks and friars, were human still, wrestling with
human passions, and sorrows, and temptations, as
they paced these quiet precincts, and gazed from
these windows, now shadowed by the tenderness of
the mantling ivy; while they wove in the loom of
Time the web whose ravelled threads we here gather
up with reverent care, and guard from contact with
the tangled skein of the present.
The Home Park is very open; the trees are all
great oaks, planted either in long noble avenues, or
in simple clumps, and are the grandest specimens of
trees that I have ever seen. The wide open expanse
is dotted with sheep. We have learned to look for
this unfailing feature of park and field - England is
one great sheep pasture.
The view of Windsor from the direction of London
is very impressive. The Castle stands high and dis



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             11 3
plays, with very imposing effect, its massive walls and
stately towers, from which fly the royal banners, while
the masses of verdure that gather around its base, and
the river which encircles it, add to it the charm of
cultivation and beauty. It seemed to me that if I
had been suddenly awakened from a dream upon
the other side of the Atlantic, to the view of this
kingly abode, I should not have failed to recognize
it as English and royal.
Windsor and Westminster! we have known them
long as the abode of sovereigns; the home of the
living and the resting-place of the dead. They have
lost nothing of their ideal grandeur — the reality
exceeds the pictures of the fancy.
Aug. 26. We intended to have visited the parks
and Kew gardens, but the weather proving unpropitious, we went, instead, to the Tower and the British
Museum.
It seemed as if wild beasts were the  necessary
addenda to one's idea of the Tower, and, although
they have been long removed, the Warden told us
that people were every year made fools on the first
of April, by being sent to the Tower to see the lions
washed. The attendant warden was in the uniform
of Henry the Eighth; a tunic of blue cloth edged
with scarlet, fastening upon the shoulder, and wrought
in front with a scarlet crown. The hat had at the
base of its large crown, a wreath of red and blue
knots, like rosettes. We saw many soldiers here,
wearing medals in token of prowess in engagement.




114        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
An East Indian regiment which had been fighting
the Sikhs, was on duty.
The Armory is very interesting. Effigies clad in
the suits of armor actually worn by the sovereigns
and nobles of England, are mounted upon mail-clad
horses, and men-at-arms and squires stand, with
lance or halberd in hand, as if ready for the tilt.
Some of the armor and arms are exquisitely wrought
and inlaid. There are also weapons from every scene
of conflict in which England has borne a part.
A large part of the old Tower, including the room
in which Lady Jane Grey was imprisoned, has been
consumed by fire and rebuilt, but the tower still
remains in which Anne Boleyn was confined; the
one in which the little princes were murdered,
and the narrow, dark prison in which Sir Walter
Raleigh spent twelve years of his life, and where he
wrote the History of the World.
The state prison is in the Beauchamp Tower; its
walls are covered with quaint devices, the amusement of many a, weary hour. Among them is some
of the work of Lord Dudley, and the name of Jane
carved by his own hand.
Within the Tower yard is the spot, and within the
Tower is the block, upon which were beheaded
Catharine Howard, Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey,
and the Earl of Essex; the last being the only man
beheaded within the walls. The heading hill is just
without the Tower precincts, and peaceful green
trees grow upon the soil watered by such torrents of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              115
noble blood. Opposite the great entrance, the Traitor's Gate opens to the river; by which the condemned were re-admitted to the Tower. To such a
man as Sir Thomas More, was not the pang of entering his prison under the obloquy of traitor, sharper
than the headsman's sword?
The Crown jewels are among the sights of the
Tower. The magnificent crown made for the present
Queen, has upon the top a Greek cross, composed
entirely of diamonds, having a very large one in the
centre; a large ruby, said to have been worn by the
Black Prince, and an enormous sapphire glitter
beneathit; the cap is of crimson velvet, and the
band is studded with jewels. The ancient crown,
with which the Queens-Consort are crowned, is preserved here, with a diadem made for the second Queen
of James the Second; and the crown of the Prince
of Wales, of plain gold without jewels.
There are sceptres; the royal sceptre, surmounted
by a cross; St. Edward's staff, upon which is an orb;
the sceptre of equity, supporting a dove; the Queen's
sceptre; one of ivory, belonging to the Queen of
James the Second, and another, made for Mary of
Modena.  Then  there are swords, temporal and
spiritual, and the sword of Mercy, without an edge.
There are many vessels of pure gold, among which
are the anointing cup and spoon, a baptismal font,
a wine cooler, a salt-cellar in the form of a tall castle;
if I remember rightly, this article was a present from
the city of Bristol. A sacramental service, used at




116          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the coronations, and thrice a year besides, and several
other articles of the same precious metal, complete
the state treasures. A model of the great diamond,
the Koh-i-noor, is kept here, but not the jewel itself.
The value of the whole display is reckoned at four
million pounds sterling.
The best exterior view of the Tower is from the
river, and the structure seems necessary to the identity
of London, it is so interwoven with its history.
The British Museum is a bewildering labyrinth
of all the wonders of nature, in flora, fauna, rock,
precious stone and fossil; and of art in various
specimens of work from every age and every clime.
From the skeleton of the mighty mastodon of our
own western wilds, down to the minute specs of
shelly life, every gradation of existence seems to be
represented.  A  gigantic ichthyosaurus made me
inwardly thankful that my lot was not cast in the
reptilian age; it measured eight of my utmost steps.
A splendid mass of selenite, from Germany, presented by Prince Albert, is conspicuous among the
minerals.
The libraries of the Museum contain every choice
and valuable work to be found. It has been enriched by the gift of several valuable libraries, since
the founder, Hans Sloane, designed the beginning.
The reading room is a circular room, beneath a fine
dome one hundred and forty-two feet in diameter,
surrounded by book-shelves, to which two gilded
galleries give access. And here, without fee or re



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               117
ward, the people may come, upon proper introduction,
and read and write, or study the vast accumulation
of knowledge here stored up by national and individual munificence. It is a noble institution, and
does for the literary world what no amount of private
wealth and research could ever do.
Being foreigners, we were kindly given an order of
admission to this speechless room; ladies, however,
being permitted to advance only to the bar just within
the entrance; a significant utterance of the reputation of the sisterhood on the score of silence. I
thought it would have been a pretty device to have
carved a rose in the apex of the dome. I was more
interested in the autographs of the Museum than in
all its other curiosities.
The letters and various writings of authors, statesmen, warriors and sovereigns, are here carefully preserved. Some beautiful penmanship of Queen Elizabeth, of Edward the Sixth, of Lady Jane Grey, are
in the shape of books of prayer. Here is the original
Magna Charta, much defaced by fire. There are autograph letters from the distinguished men of several
generations, Americans among the rest; Nelson's
last letter unfinished; and there are the manuscript
copies of the works of great authors. But under a
glass, apart from all the rest, stands a frame covered
with a silk curtain, carefully preserved — and for
what? It is only a deed of a house, but one little
scrawl in the corner is the signature of "Will Shakspeare."  In the Museum there are many new dis



118       WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
coveries of statuary and sarcophagi, especially fromr
Egypt; and here are the Elgin marbles, but it needs
more cultivation than I possess to appreciate them,
and one wonders how Lord Elgin should have despoiled Greece of her marble treasures, with any more
propriety than Napoleon, who appropriated the works
of art from the scenes of his conquests.
We strolled out for an hour, the last delightful day
of our stay in London, and saw many places well
known to us by book and picture. We passed Trafalgar Square, where was once the village of Charing
Cross; the open space contains several monuments,
the principal one to Nelson, one to Napier, and also
one to one of the Georges. We saw Northumberland House, the Royal Academy and National Gallery, and walked down Pall Mall to see the rows of
club houses. We passed through a bazaar, crowded
with every purchasable commodity one could think
of, and some that would never have entered my untutored brain.  There we saw, too, the far-famed
Punch and Judy-the automatic delight of childhood from time immemorial.
The rest of London we put aside reluctantly, until
we shall re-visit the great city. I doubt if we shall
find any foreign sights that will eclipse the interest
of English splendor and English associations.
In leaving England I would record an unqualified
dissent from a commonly received notion that we
must find the English brusque and ungracious. The
unfailing well-bred courtesy of equals, and the un



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              119
failing respectful civility of inferiors have, so far as
our experience has gone, given a daily refutation of
that error, and goes to establish that which I like to
believe true, that good breeding is a cosmopolitan
virtue, and however its expression may differ in
small matters of national custom, yet it recognizes
its shibboleth in the glance of the eye and the tone
of the voice, and gives a ready response to the claim
upon its sympathies. But it is no new thing to find
the prejudices of the multitude exalt a mistake into
a proverb, and because it is a proverb, the better
informed accept it as a truth.




120        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CH-APTER VI.
BELGIUM.
Ostend - Brussels - Waterloo - Antwerp - Malines - Cologne.
AUG. 28. Left England with regret, even for the
continent. The ride through the Kentish country
is decidedly rural. It is a farming region, planted
with hops, corn and potatoes, and villages appear
only at long intervals.
The chalky hills of Dover soon greeted our eyes,
and the new sea washing their base. I thought of
Aunt Betsey Trotwood as we looked back from the
harbor upon the cottages along the downs. The place
has a foreign air, not even English, as it seemed to
me. I suppose it is of necessity that the ports on
both sides the channel should have something of
a hybrid effect. We embarked in a little steamer
for Ostend.  It was a beautiful day, and there
seemed no earthly reason why the little vessel
should perform such very complicated movements;
a corresponding movement soon took place among
the passengers, and I among them was obliged
to betake myself to a state of prostration in
the cabin, until the sea grew smoother. It was
both ludicrous and vexatious, to be forced to




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              121
submit to the tortures of sea-sickness without any
apparent reason. But the roughness was of short
duration, the entire passage occupying only five
hours —and the North Sea smooth as a lake. We
had the Prince and Princess de Joinville and their
children on board, and saw their reception by the
Duke of Brabanlt, at Ostend. We wended our way
to the Custom IHouse, where the officials performed
a cursory examination of the luggage. No sights
can ever impress one with the sense of being in a
foreign land, like the unfamiliar sounds; for it is a
very different thing to catch the confused jargon of
tongues in a mixed multitude, from comprehending
sentences addressed to one's self.
We fell in with pleasant English people in the
railway carriage; came on to Brussels through Bruges
and Ghent. In the latter city some dwellings were
pointed out to us as Spanish buildings of the time of
the Duke of Alva.
Aug. 29. Went to Waterloo over a heavily paved
road, through a flat but rather pretty country, as unlike England as possible. The wide fields, planted
with vegetables and grain, are without fences, and
the roads, elevated above the fields, are marked by
long, straight rows of stiff trees, carefully trimmed
of all the lower branches, which gives them the look
of palms. We were attended with more than Irish
assiduity by rows of little beggars, who ran persistently beside the carriage, varying their applications
by turning a somersault, or by making cartwheels of
9




122         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
themselves in the most extraordinary manner, girls
and boys alike.  The bestowal of alms silenced them
only until the quarrel which it occasioned was adjusted, and then they overtook us with astounding
celerity.
We passed a beautiful wood, called the forest of
Soigne. It is very closely planted, and the large
trees grow  tall and straight, with a remarkable
equality of height; the turf beneath is like a lawn,
free from shrub or underbrush. A beautiful avenue
opens through it, byE which the English army marchled
away from the field of Waterloo.
In the village of Waterloo there is a little church,
filled with memorial tablets to those who fell upon
the field, and there is a good bust of Wellington.
Beyond the village of Waterloo is the little hamlet
of Mont St. Jean, and still a mile beyond this is the
br.)ad field itself, upon which the fate of Europe was
decided. The various points of interest remain much
the same as at the battle. The headquarters of both
generals are preserved, the farm house where Napoleon spent the night preceding the battle, and the
points of the extreme wings of both armies.
At the central point of the English line a huge
mound of earth has been thrown up, of a conical
form, sixteen hundred and eighty feet in circumference, and three hundred feet in height, including
the lion, which stands on a high table at the summit,
with his paw upon a globe, and his face set defiantly
towards France. The lordly emblem was surrepti



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              123
tiously deprived of his tail during the sojourn of
some French troops in the neighborhood, but their
commanding officer compelled its restoration.  We
climbed the steep mound, which afforded us an extended view of all the localities connected with the
battle, but the wind,;-'as too high to allow us, the
ladies, to scale the ladder to the pavilion on the back
of the lion.  Indeed the feat proved too much for
the nerves of the English gentleman of the party.
We visited the farm of the Chateau d'Hougoumont,
the point of most fierce attack and repulse; the
house and the garden wall are still riddled with the
marks of the cannon balls. The little chapel of the
old chateau contains an image of the Virgin, which
is supposed to have protected it; a spent ball having
just reached her feet, whence it fell harmless to the
ground.
The guide described the battle and its position
well. One could almost see the terrible conflict, the
anxious suspense, and the overwhelming despair of
the briliiant warrior, as he fled from  his last field,
crushed beyond the peradventure of escape.
One's faith is continually put to the test by the production of relies purporting to have been taken from
the field, and as each individual case is possibly
authentic, it is just as well, and a great deal less
trouble, to take their genuineness for granted; but
credulity scarcely extends to the making one's self
master of such dubious possessions.
We returned to Brussels in time for dinner, which




124         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
is an,event in the Flemish day.  The elaborate
courses, and the delicate variety of cookery, are
something new and tempting; and notwithstanding
the apparent incongruity of some of the concoctions,
they form altogether the most savory viands that we
have found abroad. Each article is served in a separate course, with a change of plates. One could
imagine a thirteenth labor of Hercules to get up and
clear away the accumulations; and there are two
such dinners in the day.
Aug. 30. The Sunday morning was charming,
and we went to the Cathedral, heard splendid music,
and, on my own part, saw Romish service for the
first time. The church was beautiful, the priests
gorgeously attired in robes heavy with gold, and all
the paraphernalia of worship was magnificent; but
the puerility of the service was disappointing and
offensive.
This cathedral has, among its ornaments, a pulpit
of remarkable wood carving, of considerable antiquity. It is a gorgeous edifice, but hidden away at
the top of the narrowest of streets, and no stranger
would ever light upon it by accident.
We came home through streets thronged with
people in holiday attire, and gay with beautiful shops,
with their various merchandises displayed in tempting array; there being evidently no distinction between Sunday and other days, except in the increased
gaiety. In the afternoon we took a walk upon the
boulevards and in the park, where we found a fine




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              125
band playing classic music, and all the world was
abroad, as at a fete. This is a really beautiful city,
the streets are clean and well built, and the display
of warehouses elegant. There are dignitaries at our
hotel.  The Count de Bodensky and the Prince Von
Altenberg.
The hotel surrounds a large, shaded, paved court,
which our windows overlook, where people may sit
at table, and enjoy the air without going abroad. It
is entered through the house by a porte cochere, and
gives a pleasant retirement in the midst of a city.
We begin to feel like foreigners, where no English
meets our ears, except from a chance traveller. The
German and French are strangely conglomerated in
a mixture called the Flemish. The mediumlanguage,
however, is French; waiters and officials all speak it,
and some are sufficiently versed in English to understand usual orders.
Aug. 31. Malines, formerly Mechlin. A most
charming day. Weather has smiled upon us from
the day of our embarkation, and, on the continent
we have found the summer which we missed in
England.
We left Brussels for Antwerp, a fair type of an
ancient Flemish city. There we saw the far-famed
dykes for the first time. Our first visit was to the
Church of St. Jacques. It is most attractive in the
beauty of its sculptured marbles.  The screen of
one of the altars is carved entire from one piece of
marble, with exquisite delicacy; representing cher



126        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
ubs, flowers, fruit and corn; one figure of a child is
remarkably beautiful.  It is by Van Brugrgen.  The
pillars which support the entablature above two of
the altars, are adorned with similar sculpture, and
many tablets of alto relievo, in the chapels, are perfect gems. One chapel in particular, contains scenes
of the crucifixion, which.for delicacy and purity are
wonderful.
The great feature of the church is the sepulchre of
Rubens, in a chapel devoted to his family. Above
his tomb hangs one of his own paintings; pictures
of himself, his two wives, his children, his father,
and cousin. On either side of the same chapel is a
fine piece of statuary representing two reclining
female figures, also belonging to Rubens' family.
The windows of the church are very beautiful, and
the whole building is so crowded with choice works
of art, that one could find food for a month's study
within its walls.
We did not attempt to visit the multitude of
churches, in each of which is stored up some choice
work, but went only to the cathedral, beautiful in its
decorations and its famous tower.
The wealth and the genius of centuries have been
lavished upon these vast edifices, and they bewilder
one with the multitude of beauties. Here were costly
shrines, wonderful carvings in wood, fine paintings,
and - Rubens' Descent from the Cross. I can describe it only by its name. To one who has seen it,
that is sufficient, and to one who has not, any de



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             127
scription is inadequate. Artists were busy at their
easels, copying the splendid painting, but the master's strokes set their power at defiance. The painful
and the sublime in such subjects are separated by a
very narrow boundary; the students were upon one
side, and the master immeasurably upon the other.
Over the High Altar is Rubens' Assumption, and
opposite to the Descent is its companion picture, the
Elevation. The latter is a great picture, but so much
surpassed by the Descent, that it should always be
shown first, in order to receive any just appreciation.
In one of the chapels is a Crucifixion, by Vandyke,
which seems to me inferior only to the Descent.
We made the long ascent of the beautiful tower,
by six hundred and twenty two steps, and were
amply repaid for the toil, by the fine view, not only
of the city with its quaint buildings and narrow
streets, but of the surrounding country far and wide,
the windings of the Scheldt, and the distant sea.
As we re-entered the church, the devout had come
in to pray. A sort of halberdier, wearing insignia
enough to be mistaken for a knight of all the orders
of the continent, was stationed, weapon in hand, to
enforce proper spirituality; and by way of accomplishing that excellent purpose, he notified my friend
that she was not permitted to lean upon her husband's
arm during the hour of prayer. After having swallowed the camel, Holy Church has no longer capacity
for such a gnat.
After leaving the cathedral we drove about the




128         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
city, saw a statue of Rubens, and the house in which
he lived. The front having been destroyed by fire,
it was replaced by a tasteful building, adorned with
sculpture, and surmounted by a bust of the great
painter.
Our pleasant drive ended with a circuit of the
beautiful public gardens.  One cannot too much
admire the beneficence which, upon these eastern
shores, opens such fair green resorts for high and low,
and scatters such wealth of art with a liberal hand
for the refreshing and cultivation of the public taste.
I loved to see the Flemish woman sitting with her
knitting in these lovely gardens, with the works of
the great sculptors before her eyes, educating her
unconsciously into the love of the beautiful, and the
appreciation of art.
The al fresco life here is very picturesque; people
take their lunch at little tables upon the sidewalks,
or in the pretty courts around which the houses are
built, and undoubtedly enjoy both pleasures more
for their combination.
We are staying this beautiful night at Malines,
and have been enjoying the glorious moonlight in a
balcony overhanging numberless groups of merry
people seated at the little tables below. This is the
point of convergence for the northern railways.
We have just missed a spectacle which was concluded here yesterday, having lasted a week, which
accounts for the companies of queer looking priests
upon the railway. It is an ecclesiastical fete, which




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               129
takes place here once in twenty-five years. The
whole city turns out daily in grand cavalcade, each
profession and class appearing in all the splendor at
its command; the ladies of the city in full dress,
blazing with jewels, while the treasures of the
churches are borne by the priests in full canonicals.
From the descriptions we have heard, it must have
been a gorgeous pageant.
Sept. 1.  From  Malines to Cologne, by Liege,
Verviers, and Aix-la-Chapelle, the  railway lies
through vast, flat, highly cultivated plains. As it
approaches Liege, the country begins to roll back
upon hills, and, after crossing the Meuse, becomes
more and more uneven, until the plain is exchanged
for a picturesque combination of pretty wooded valleys, with cottages, gardens, and country seats, and
steep, shaggy cliffs, where broom and heather re-appear, welcome as old friends.
The wildness of the country, watered by numerous
streams, and reclaimed by cultivation at every available point, is very charming.
The railway, which, by the way, seems in Europe
to find no especial obstacle in a mountain, is cut
through many tunnels, and carried over many viaducts. As it approaches Liege, the descent is so
sharp that the locomotive is detached, and the train
let down by cables attached to an ascending engine.
From Horrem to Cologne the way is by the Konigsdorf tunnel, right through a mountain, a mile
and a quarter in length; cutting from the country




130         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
drained by the Meuse, into the valley of the Rhine.
There are many pretty towns and villages dotting the
country, and occasionally a castle, the rude remains
of feudal life, but none are especially picturesque.
Cologne has the narrow, heavily-paved streets of the
other towns of the country, but we did not find it so
odorously distinguished from the rest as we had
been led to expect. The luggage passes the Prussian
examination here, although the frontier is as far
back as iebesthal.  Our effects being evidently
those of travellers only, were not touched. Indeed,
this irksome duty is every where performed with as
little annoyance as possible.
We spent this afternoon in the famed Cathedral, a grand, unfinished structure, very beautiful
in its style of architecture, and especially splendid in its stained windows.  Those of the choir
are indescribably beautiful; so is also a row high
above the inner roof now in process of construction,
which will unfortunately exclude them from view.
This church will be a model of perfection should it
ever be finished. Workmen are busy upon it at
present, and the great organ is in progress of repair,
to my great chagrin; the hearing of this organ was
one of my pleasures of anticipation in Europe. The
absence of paintings and other decorations is owing
to the disordered state of the building. Large contributions have been lately made towards its completion, and the King gives annually thirty thousand
thalers for the purpose.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              131
We ascended the tower, and had a fine view of the
citv and the far-famed Rhine. The ascent to these
cathedral towers is always, for a part of the way,
by outer galleries, which enable one to examine the
architecture in all its noble combinations of turret,
battlement, flying buttress and decorations, and you
get a much more vivid conception of their height and
vastness, than by simply taking a bird's eye view, at
the top of the steeple.
The unfinished tower, moss-grown with age, has
still the crane by which the massive stones were carried, but we did not venture out upon the dizzy, unprotected verge.
I cannot connect the idea of construction with such
an edifice as this. It seems to me to belong to the
primeval creation as much as a mountain, and quiets
the busy streets like a superior presence; wearing
the records of the forgotten ages with a calm, still
grandeur that rebukes the pettiness of the stream of
daily life flowing beneath its shadow.
We took a delightful drive through the city and
the park beyond its limits, following the bank of the
river, the Rhine itself We saw the house in which
Rubens was born, and one in which lived Mary of
Medicis. In passing a handsome house, the commissioner pointed out two white wooden horses projecting from an upper story window, serving to mark
the place where, hundreds of years ago, lived a lady,
who, having suddenly died, was interred in a tomb.
Some one, coveting a ring upon her finger, entered




132        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the shrine, and using force to remove the ring from
her finger, she revived. On returning to her house,
the terrified servant who met her at the door, hastened to acquaint the husband with the astounding
intelligence of his wife's return. The Baron immediately replied that he would quite as readily believe
his horses to be in the upper story; whereupon, as
the legend ran, according to the commissioner, the
horses were found looking out' at the upper window.
The miracle overcame the Baron's incredulity, and
he accepted both the fact and his wife; and there
these commemorative horses have remained for six
hundred years.
The official aforesaid, by way of vindicating his
claim  to the knowledge of French, German and
English, threw the vocabularies of the three languages into pi, and left each native to select the
words which he best understood. The result was
an occasional bit of information, extracted like a
tooth.
The space near our pleasant hotel is filled with
women and girls, sitting beside their baskets of fruit;
a grateful sight, and very suggestive to palates deprived of the usual summer luxuries of American
abundance.
Sept. 2. We went to visit the Church of St. Peter
for the sake of seeing Rubens' picture of the Crucifixion of St. Peter. On our way we passed through
the Church of St. Mary, situated where the capitol
of the Romans once stood.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              133
It has no feature of interest, except its great antiquity, having been built in the eleventh century.
The Church of St. Gereon bears date 1066. We
were invited to examine the relies of eleven thousand
virgins, in the convent of St. Ursula, but took them
for granted, as not being among the specific objects
of our trip.
At St. Peter's, instead of the pleasure of seeing the
desired picture, which was presented by Rubens, in
consideration of his having been baptized in the
church, we came upon a service of high mass; and,
after consuming a precious hour in waiting for the
cessation of the censer-swinging and genuflections,
we were forced to come away unsatisfied.  It was
curious to see oleanders and other shrubs in large
boxes, standing about the pavement of the church,
making a verdant bower of the aisles. WVhile the
priests went through their elaborate offices at the
altar, I was much interested in watching the common
people, as they dropped in, with their market baskets
in their hands, and with all the tokens of their ordinary avocations about them. They crossed themselves at the benetier, fell upon their knees, repeated
their prayers, and went on their way. Whatever the
creed, there is something very touching in this unaffected mingling of religious service with the homely
duties of life, far more than in the gorgeous service
which was going on in the other end of the church.
The music was very fine, and the harmonies that
swelled up through the roof, from organ and choir,




134          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
were like those with which we have been long familiar
in the grand old German tunes at home.
We grew weary of the protracted service, and
went away to the Walraff Richartz Museum, a noble
building, filled with choice pictures of all the German schools. One of the great beauties of the exhibition is the exquisite painting upon glass. Scenes
of exceeding delicacy, both sacred and secular, are
delineated with a softness and richness of coloring,
not to be equalled upon an opaque surface. Among
the most charming were, the Adoration of the Magi;
a Madonna and child; a Boat Scene, very lovely;
three children drifting down a stream, having lost an
oar, which the boy is vainly endeavoring to regain;
one little one has sunk down in helpless grief; the
other encourages her brother, while they are all unaware of the near approach of safety in the person of
the father, whose vigorous strokes have brought him
within an oar's-length of the little mariners. Peter
Walking upon the Sea, is very beautiful; and there is a
simple, lovely, suggestive picture of a weary maiden
standing in the heat of the sun upon the threshold of
a convent, while in the cool shadow within the door,
stands a sister, bidding her welcome.
We saw also pictures by Vandyke, Teniers, Holbein, Rubens, and others of their several schools.
Pre-eminent among them  is Rubens' Prometheus.
The straining muscles, the agonized countenance, the
writhing form of the sufferer, and the eager, fluttering
ravenous clutch of the vulture, are intensely real.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                135
In the same room is a modern painting of great
dignity, by Leinwand; Galileo in Prison. The philosopher stands at his full, stately height, his inward
eyes looking far beyond his narrow cell, while yet
his patient brow bears the marks of his long confinement.  His window is darkened by a group of
idle starers from without, of whom he is either unconscious or disdainful.
Another picture in the same room  is charming;
"By the Ruins of Babylon;" there is also a very
forcible picture of Cromwell beside his dying daughter.
Another striking picture is one of a sinking French
ship at the battle of Trafalgar. The eagerness with
which the sailors watch the tide of battle, as they
cling to the masts and rigging, shows that the intense
interest of the fight, and the fierceness of the shame
and disappointment of defeat have swallowed the
thought of their own danger.
There are very ancient pictures in the collection,
and, to my untutored eyes, the only merit of many
of them lies in their antiquity.  It is strange to me,
that with nature ever before the eye, the artists of
long ago should so often produce distorted and unnatural imitations of her works. The coloring of
these pictures is wonderfully fresh, but the conceptions of the present age, are certainly more true to
nature, than the ideal of six hundred years ago. A
painting of the Last Judgment has a novelty of conception which succeeds in arriving at the comic, even
in the face of solemnity. The devils hold a firm




136         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
grasp upon sundry dignitaries and respectable sinners;
cardinal and monk struggle in sometimes dubious
strife with their adversaries; the painter must have
incurred the risk of an auto da fe for his profane
suggestions. The miser finds retribution in gold
thrust down his throat, while the hypocrite goes
reluctantly downward, still wearing his sanctimonious
aspect, and clasping his missal to his breast. On the
other hand, a troop of the blessed (suggestively feminine) enter a door guarded by St. Peter with his
keys. There are scores of Madonnas and impossible
angels, but, ancient as they may be, one of the sweet
glass paintings is worth them all.
On our way home we made some purchases of
fruit, consciously at incredible disadvantage, in consequence of that ancient disturbance at the tower of
Babel. Nothing was spoken or understood except
German, and the names of the coins and the numerals in practical Dutch were very different from those
of the guide books. It was excessively ridiculous
to stand silently by, and see ourselves imposed upon
by the demure women, who had little idea that we
were impotently aware of their dishonorable tendencies. It was very homelike to see peaches again,
even under the shadow of Dutch cupidity.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             137
CHIAPTER VII.
GERMANY.
Konigswenter - Drachenfels - The Rhine - Mayence - Weisbaden - Frankfort - Baden Baden - Strasbourg - Basle.
LEFT Cologne by steamer for the passage up the
Rhine.  A  handsome pontoon bridge crosses the
river just above the landing. There is little of interest upon the flat banks between Cologne and Bonn.
The grandeur of the Cathedral dawns upon one
more distinctly in receding from the city; long after
the town has sunk to a mere inequality upon the
horizon, the great edifice stands up looming against
the sky. Above Bonn, the border of the river becomes broken, and the seven mountains stretch
across the view. They come thronging to the river,
the Oalberg, the Wolkenberg, the Lowenberg, the
Nonen-Stromburg, the Drachenfels, and the Hemmerich.
The afternoon was charming, and there was abundant time to ascend the Drachenfels, and watch the
sunset, and the shadows deepening in the defile
through which the river cuts its way. We landed at
Konigswenter, where one of the Caesars was imprisoned by the winter snows, and proceeded to make
o10




138          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the ascent of the mountain; my friends on foot,
myself upon a donkey. The creature being purposely trained to obey neither voice, bit, nor whip,
required a leader, and a guide attended to make
"explications;' an imposition which one, in due time,
learns to avoid.
The ascent is by a good road. to the very summit,
and might easily be driven in a carriage.  Here we
saw the first vineyards.  The vines are trained upon
short poles, like beans, and at a little distance, present the appearance of corn in its early growth.
There is a fine succession of views at the various
turns of the road; the country is very pretty, and
the whole course of the winding river is visible for
many miles. Far in the distant horizon looms up
the grand cathedral, keeping watch over the now
invisible city beneath. In the other direction are the
pretty island of Nonnenworth and the castle of Rolandseck.
The views from this summit are very extensive,
but do not compare in majesty with the wonderful
sights from Ben Lomond. The castle of Drachenfels is a complete ruin, picturesque in the distance,
but clumsy upon near approach.  A  monument
stands on the brow of the mountain, commemorating
the passage of the Rhine in 1814. I climbed a steep
cliff below the ruin, while awaiting the arrival of the
pedestrians, and caught glimpses of a lone, sweet
path, leading among the clustered hills, and the long
dim line which marked the way to the chapel on the




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             139
Petersberg. We sat at the foot of the ruined walls,
and watched the twilight gathering upon the river
and its pretty banks, while we were still in the
full rays of the level light, until the sunset warned us
to return.
I unluckily asked the donkey leader for a bit of
our old friend, the heather, which was blooming in a
cleft of the rocks; whereupon, inferring my general
fondness for vegetation, he deserted his charge for
every blossoming weed that sprang up by the way,
and presented me, at the foot of the hill, with a
bundle of the green things of the earth, wondrous to
behold. Meanwhile, the wretched little brute, taking
dishonorable advantage of his master's gallantry,
made sudden incursions into the wayside vineyards
after clusters of green grapes; or, watching his opportunity, he set off down the steep hill at a pace that
threatened to make a projectile of' his rider. The
one advantage of donkey riding, is the ease with
which one can disengage himself from the precarious
seat, and step to the ground, when the creature's
antics become intolerable.
About half way down the mountain, is a secluded
dwelling of considerable pretensions; belonging to a
gentleman who has made a fortune in America, and
has returned to enjoy it in his own land of legend
and song.
We supped in a vine-embowered piazza, overhanging the Rhine, with only German voices in our ears,
and foreign sights for our eyes; and, as I am going to




140         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
bed, those for whom I write are sitting down to
dinner; not, I venture to say, without some kindly
thoughts for the absent, whose nightly benediction
goes forth upon the western sky.
Sept. 3. We rose early, to leave Konigswenter
by the first boat, but, to our chagrin, she was so far
in advance of her regular time, that we were left
behind, to the serious derangement of the programme
of the day. We found sufficient amusement, however, in watching the troops of women and maidens
in snowy caps and aprons, corning up from the market boats, with laden baskets upon their heads, and
ranging themselves upon the stones of the small
square court behind the hotel. There was a shrine
and a fountain for their comfort, but neither seat nor
shelter. The women took their stand beside their
baskets, their fingers busy with their knitting, while
they awaited their customers.
We replenished our fruit basket with better success than at Cologne, either on account of our own
improved quickness of comprehension, or from the
superior honesty of the merchants, and were ready for
the boat at nine.
We had purposed leaving the river, and crossing
some of the bordering hills, to vary the scenery, but
were deterred by the assurance of experienced travellers that we could enjoy the Rhine region no where
so well as by remaining on the river.
And a beautiful river it is; sometimes bordered by
vine-clad hills, sometimes by rocky cliffs; sometimes




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              141
the country sinks into plain and valley, always picturesque, and always possessing the interest of ancient
association and ruins of legendary attraction.
It is wonderful to see with what minute and patient toil the rocky face of the mountain is made
productive, where seems scarcely roothold for a lichen.
The acclivity is terraced, and the narrow beds
covered with soil, often transported thither for the
purpose; and the vine is planted where the clinging
tendrils may find support from the very ruggedness
of the cliff. When there is not even a practicable
(,pot for a plantation, baskets filled with earth are
suspended from the rocks, and from them the plants
twine upward. Nevertheless, the vineyards of the
Rhine are not in themselves picturesque; they are
pruned too closely to retain their proper grace, and
look stiff and stunted.
The banks of the river do not need them for
beauty, being so diversified in natural features as to
present some new attraction at every turn. Nevertheless, I am undeniably disappointed in the Rhine.
The fault is evidentlyin my own misconception, and
not in the scenery. I had supposed it to be even
more grand than the Highlands of the Hudson; and,
except in the length of the Highlands, and in the
ancient ruins that crown their summits, it is inferior
to our own river. It lacks the majesty of the mighty
mountains that bathe their feet deep in the magnificent river, and lift their solemn heads with imperial
grandeur to the clouds.




142         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
The Rhineland is, instead, exceedingly beautiful.
The river, after a most unusual fashion, widens as it
nears its source. The lovely islands that dot its
bosom have each their own legend, and the ruined
castles that crown every promontory speak forcibly
of the importance attached to this frontier ages ago.
It was, even then, evidently a populous country,
and the grape hung its fair clusters over these rocky
terraces before the iron heel of Rome was planted in
their borders.
The points of the route which had the most interest for us, were the ruin of Rolandseck and the adjacent island of Nonnenworth; the frowning fortifications on the rocky eminence of Ehrenbreitstein,
opposite Coblenz; the black perpendicular rock of
Lorelei; the castle of Stolzenfels, the possession of the
crown Princess of Prussia; and, the most exquisite
spot of the whole river, Rheinstein. This has been
fitted up for the summer residence of the King of
Prussia, and is the most charming of green nests,
perched upon the crest of the rock, and adorned with
all the rustic beauty that wealth and taste could
bestow upon a position of great natural advantages.
iHatto's Tower still stands as a warning to those
who would oppress the poor, although I believe plain
truth exonerates the prelate from the odium of the
legend. But what respectability can cope with a
popular legend?  The "pale waves of Nahe " empty
into the Rhine just below "dear Bingen," and the
blue Moselle debouches at Coblenz. Beyond Bingen,




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               143
the abundant rain and the dimness of early evening
prevented our seeing any thing except the quite uninteresting villages that cluster upon the banks.
We found Mayence a very German city; what
motive, even in the rudest times, could have induced
such narrow, tortuous lanes to erect themselves into
streets, it would be difficult to conceive.
We went to the Museum and the Dom Kirche, or
Cathedral. The former contains an extensive collection of Roman altars and other curious antiquities
found in the neighborhood of Mayence; a large number of pictures, some very good; an astronomical
clock; a model of the stone bridge which Napoleon
projected for the Rhine, and an unusually extensive
collection of zoological specimens. The Cathedral
differs from any other that we have seen. It has two
choirs and two cupolas. The eastern choir dates back
as far as 900 A. D.; the other, of the twelfth century, looks as fresh as if just completed. Its windows are very beautiful. The old choir contains,
among several ancient tombs, the sepulchre of Fastrada, the wife of Charlemagne. The Dom has a
fine exterior effect, and crowns the city with a somewhat imposing magnificence.
The garrisons of the Austrian and the Prussian
powers seem to be the most important considerations
of the city.  Ten thousand troops are quartered
here, and overshadow the common citizens, forming
one fifth of the entire population, and proving an
institution far from peaceful.




144        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
In crossing the river to Castel, we observed, as we
had done at several places farther down, a row of
boats, anchored without any apparent purpose in the
middle of the stream. We found them to be mills
for grain, the wheels turned by the current alone.
Sept. 4. From Mayence we went to Wiesbaden,
the beautiful watering place and resort for both
foreigners and natives. It is a lovely place, and
every appliance is added to render it inviting. The,gardens and public walks are delightfully laid out,
and the Kursaal, the great point of attraction, is a
splendid place.
It is a succession of elegant halls and saloons;
some intended for music, some for reading, some for
lounging and conversation, but most of all for the
great business of the place, the gaming tables. It
was a deplorable sight to watch these tables, filled
with men —to the honor of the sex, there were few
women — deliberately casting wealth and honor on
the chances of a ball. I could only think of the
anxious hearts hidden beneath the well-tutored countenances. The polite officials of the police were
every where at hand, to check any external demonstration, but they could not subdue all the expressions of feverish interest at the turn of the wheel. I
breathed more freely in the open air. The gardens
of the Kursaal are elegant and spacious, and the adjoining colonnades are filled with displays of all
tempting merchandise.
The hot spring boils up from a fountain near the




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              145
baths. Its temperature is 160~ Fahrenheit, and it
tastes like weak chicken broth. After proving its
properties, we drove through wide smooth avenues
to the Greek chapel, which commands a view of
Wiesbaden. It is a monument chapel to the first
wife of the Duke of Nassau, and contains her tomb,
with a beautiful portrait effigy of the Dutchess in
Carrara marble, by Hofgard of Biberich.
The royal lady was a niece of the present Czar,
being the daughter of the Grand Duke Michael.
She died at the age of nineteen. The chapel is a
perfect gem, filled with small exquisite paintings by
Nef, of St. Petersburgh.  The dome is in gilded
frescoes, and  the reading desk is overlaid with
enamels, representing scenes in the life of our Saviour.
The chapel is very small, but perfect of its kind, and
its gilded domes form a conspicuous object from a
distance. From Wiesbaden we came to Frankfort,
just too late to assist at the congress of crowned heads.
I trust they did not suffer seriously from our absence.
Sept. 5. Frankfort. We first visited the Cathedral, which, however, offers little of interest beyond
having been the scene of the coronation of the German emperors. We ascended the tower, which we
reached by three hundred and eighteen steps; and
at the top, what was our surprise to find the dome
inhabited by a family of six persons. The effect of
finding household avocations going on in such an
eyrie was ludicrous. The appearance of the family,
however, was not that of people lifted above the




146         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
cares of common life; and the master repudiated the
suggestion of my friiend that he must be nearer
Heaven than his neighbors. He is the fireman, and
is stationed here, ready for alarm.
I looked over the battlement as he spoke of his
little children, and thought, with a shudder, of the
celerity with which my Young Americans would be
sure to make the descent if they were denizens of
this airy abode. Tle tower commands a fine view
of the Maine, and the villages and mountains in the
distance.
We drove through the principal streets of the city,
and our coachman, although unable to speak any
thing except German, was very intelligent, and moreover, much interested in doing the honors of his city.
All sorts of traffic seems to be carried on in the streets,
and it was a mystery how the driver managed to
thread the narrow ways among the throngs of brittle
wares upon the pavement, without causing extensive
destruction.
It is pleasant to meet the kindly looks and friendly
greetings which you are sure to receive from the
people here. In the Ross Market, an open space
near our hotel, is a group of statuary, representing
the three great prophets of printing, Faust, Gutenberg, and Schoffer. A fine statue of Goethe stands
in another square, and at its foot lay a fresh garland,
and another hung over the door of his own house
The seeming incongruity of the German in the abstract, and the German as individual, is a continual




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               147
puzzle to me; the one full of poetry, music, and the
spiritual; the other of beer, smoke, and the physical.
Imagine garlands at the foot of a statue in an American city, or their remaining unmolested if placed
there -like Mrs. Glass' hare, it is necessary first to
imagine the statue.:We drove through the Jews' quarter, within which
that unhappy race was once severely restricted; even
locked in at eight in the evening; saw the birth-place
of the IRothschilds there, and, in quite another atmosphere, their bank and house. The mansion of the
great ruler of empires wears no unusual pretension,
and the bank looks very little like an institution for
the control of Europe. I do not believe that the
suburbs of Frankfort are surpassed in any city inthe
world. The environs are a succession of elegant
edifices, surrounded by extensive and tasteful gardens, all giving evidence of great wealth and high
cultivation. Rothschild's gardens are open to respectable applicants, but the recent rain prevented our
taking advantage of the privilege.  The city seems
quite surrounded by a park, or circle of public
gardens, and long avenues of trees form a continuous
arbor through some of the streets. It was a great
surprise to me to find so much that was beautiful at
Frankfort.
We visited the Roemer, where is the Kaiseraal,
the place in which the emperors were elected. Here
was a banquet hall, whose walls were covered with
fine pictures of all the emperors, each with his Latin




148          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
motto. Some of these mottoes were very striking;
I should like to know whether they have been bestowed in modern times as characteristic, or whether
the emperors were gifted with such mental insight as
to select always a sentiment significant of their character and fortune. A banquet was held in this room
during the late royal congress.
We visited Bethmann's Museum, a private gallery,
open at certain hours to the public, to see a fine statue
of Ariadne, by Donneker. It is a great work of art.
Afterwards we went to the Stadel Museum, more especially to see Lessing's splendid picture of Huss' Defence, which seemed to me faultless. It is much more
of a study than the Martyrdom of Huss.  The figure
of the pleader, and the countenances and attitude of
his tribunal, are in themselves a history; and there is
visible in the whole picture the rare art of portraying
the expression of mixed motives and emotions, which
shows the artist to have been a profound student of
human nature. The coloring is in itself a fascination.
There were many fine pictures here, which tempted
us to linger beyond the limits possible to our visit;
two in particular, the Wise and Foolish Virgins, and
a country scene, in which a peasant has evidently
been killed by falling from a tree, and his family and
neighbors are grouped around him.  This is of the
Dusseldorf school, and very expressive. Visiting one
of these continental picture galleries is like entering
an enchanted palace; a spell is upon you, and it
needs some external necessity to force you away.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               149
Sept. 6. We came on to Heidelberg through a
hilly, sometimes mountainous wine country. The
hills are terraced, with a wonderful amount of labor,
for the roothold of the vine. A part of the way
from Frankfort, the interval grows very wide, and
here re-appears the Holland gardening, such as we
saw in Belgium. Many ruins crown the peaks of
the hills. The population seems not to be spread
over the country, but always gathered into villages,
after the fashion of the times when it was necessary
to seek the protection of walled towns at night.
Labor seems to be mainly performed by hand.
Sometimes one sees a team, consisting of a pair of
cows, curiously fastened by their horns, and harnessed
to a plough or cart; and occasionally a horse team
appears.
Heidelberg is nestled in one of the most attractive
spots in this mountain region. The lN*eckar, a pretty
but shallow stream, winds among the hills on its way
to the Rhine, whose course we trace in the distance
by the range of mountains that skirt the western
horizon. The scenery around the town is charming,
but the ruins and park of the castle of Heidelberg,
throw all other points of interest in the shade.
The castle itself, a ducal possession of 1522, is of
ornate architecture.  The facade of the three fronts
still standing, exhibits elaborate carving, and numberless sculptures still remain in perfection. It was
evidently an abode of royal magnificence, far exceeding even the grand ruins of England. It is only a




150         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
hundred years since it was struck by lightning and
partially consumed.  A  part of the towers were
blown up during an attack by the French, I do not
know at what particular time.
The material of the beautiful building is a soft
red sandstone, permitting much elaboration of architecture.  The broad terrace which still remains with
its entire balustrade, commands a lovelv view of hill
and vale, river, plain, and distant mountains.  The
ivy mantles the walls with a luxuriance such as we
have seen no where else, and hangs in graceful festoons and long streamers of tender green from every
shattered tower, and crumbling parapet.
But the vast extent of the castle park and gardens
affords as much interest as the ruins themselves.
Broad avenues, winding shady paths, turfy banks,
tangled glades, craggy descents, tinkling fountains,
still dark pools, smooth green lawns, and stately
trees which have withstood the storms of three hundred winters, are among the elements which make
up the beauty of' this royal domain.
The old moat is a perfect bower.  Tall trees have
grown up within it; its walls are hung with tapestry
of ivy; mosses spread their carpet beneath the
thicket, and long ferns wave their plumy foliage
beside the. fountains that still well up from hidden
springs, and waste their bright waters in these lonely
recesses.  I envy the inhabitants of Heidelberg, who
may explore at will the beauties of this magnificent
estate; and I think, were I the princess of the land,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               151
I would make the castle of Heidelberg once more
the envy of crowned heads.
We attended the English chapel here, and were
glad to hear the familiar service in a familiar tongue.
This evenilng, have taken a walk along the shaded
avenues of public promenade, and looked at the
University.  The town looks very German, and
sounds more so, but I could imagine a resi(lence here
to be a very pleasant condition of life.
Sept. 7. We rose at half-past five, to ensure a
long day at Baden Baden, where we hoped to meet
a friend. Arrived there at half-past ten, and found
all the world assembled for the great continental
races. We made our way through the broad, winding street to the Conversation House, and breakfasted at the elegant restaurant attached to the
establishment.  The whole affair, besides being the
resort of invalids and fashionables, is the great
gaming house of Europe. The Conversation House
is another edition of the Kursaal in Wiesbaden. The
Drink Hall is a splendid building, into which the
water is conducted from the spring fbr the accoinmodation of visitors. There is a ma(gnificent colonnade
adorned with frescoes along its front, which is ascended by a broad flight of steps running along its
entire length.
Baden is a charming nook, fit for the resort of
Dryads and Oreads, embosomed in a tiny green valley, which is completely encircled by high and picturesque mountains.




152        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
The pretty stream of the Oos runs through its
midst, guarded by ivied walls, along which are seen
pretty lawns and flower gardens. The public promenades are beautiful, and to-day were crowded with
people in elaborate costume. Indeed, the place is
more rigid than a court in the exactions of fashion.
The Grand Duke has his sumnler residence here,
in what is Called the New Palace, in distinction front
the old castle, which is now visited as noticeable
ruins. They looked very high from our position at
the foot of the hills, and we declined the ascent, the
more readily that we perceived donkey riding to be
the approved fashion of accomplishing it. We were
also rather disappointed at not finding it practicable
to ascend the Staufenberg, or Mount Mercury, from
which may be had a fine view of the valley; but it
looked even higher than the castle, so we concluded
to go to the races instead. But upon making inquiry
in regard to a conveyance to the course, we found
the price beyond the most imaginative conception;
and having nothing at stake, and our York admirations not being entered, we remained in the charming
little town, and strolled about the paths, and watched
the display of dress and equipage.  Of the latter
there was every description, from the splendid coach
and four, with two postillions, to a machine like a
hayrack, filled with chairs; all equally bound to
the race's.
We made an ineffectual search for our friend; it
was no time to enquire for any one, and the police,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             153
who could probably have satisfied us, were guarding
the public peace at the course, and the bureau was
deserted. It was a great disappointment. We had
been looking forward to this meeting with the interest
of real friendship, and were completely baffled. We
came reluctantly to the conclusion that our friend
had already returned to his distant home towards the
Pacific; and wended our way to the station. On the
way we encountered another party of friends of
Great Eastern memory, and left them with regret, on
their way to Heidelberg.
We came again into the beautiful valley of the
Rhine, and crossed the river into La Belle France,
from Kehl to Strasbourg. We have enjoyed our
glimpse of Germany, but cannot regret it, with Switzerland before us.
Sept. 8. We visited Strasbourg Cathedral this
morning, and ascended the spire as far as the first
platform, half-way to the top, and two hundred and
forty-five feet from the ground. There we found an
esplanade of considerable extent, with a dwelling,
containing several rooms, upon it; the unoccupied
space is surrounded by a high parapet, and has stone
seats and tables, for the convenience of those who
sometimes make parties of pleasure here. At one
end of this space is a circular tower, enclosing a
room of perhaps twenty feet in diameter; and just
outside this tower, rises the tall, slender, open spire,
which seems almost to vibrate in the strong breeze.
A curious fancy it seems to live in a steeple, but
11




154         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
tastes are not to be gainsayed; and the view of the
Rhine, the city, and the surrounding country as far
as the Vosges mountains, is splendid. At this point
we discovered that in order to finish the ascent of the
spire, it was necessary to have applied to the Mayor
and presented our passports. It was difficult to see
of what possible interest it could be to the city dignitaries, whether one should go up two hundred and
forty-five, or four hundred and ninety feet into the
air, but a second climb was not to be thought of, and
we consoled ourselves with the reflection that the
difference in the extent of view could not be worth
the additional fatigue. Nevertheless, we had conceived a fancy for making the ascent of the highest
construction in the world; but I have since learned
that the open ranges of stairs against the pierced
spire, are considered dangerous.
The Cathedral is magnificent; the windows among
the most gorgeous of all specimens of stained glass.
There are some fine monuments in the choir, but
the great curiosity of the church is the famous clock,
an astronomical construction showing the relative
position and magnitude of the heavenly bodies,
the sun and moon, the i'eal and apparent time,
the ecclesiastical calendar, the zodiac and its signs,
and has upon its top, among other devices, the
figure of Christ, and below it one of Death.  A
dense crowd was assembled to see it strike twelve.
At noon a tiny figure glided from a recess, and
struck the four quarters with a little hammer upon a




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              155
bell. Then Death struck twelve with his dart upon a
shield; the twelve apostles passed before the Saviour,
with a reverence which he acknowledged by a gesture of' benediction towards all except Judas; and a
large cock, perched upon a pillar at the side, flapped
his wings, swelled his feathered throat and crowed
three times. At the conclusion of the last crow, all
present must leave the church, and the doors are
closed.
From Strasbourg to Basle the country is very
beautiful. The broad Rhine valley is always picturesque, fertile in vineyards, and encircled by grand
hills, upon whose peaks continually appear either
ruined castles or stately chateaux, with their villages
at their foot. The river is wider here than farther
down the valley, and, taking the whole length from
Basle to Cologne, waters a country of wonderful
beauty.  At Basle it is a broad, rapid stream, and
the city is beautifully situated on both banks, which
are connected by a fine bridge.
We have taken a walk this evening along the quiet
promenade by the river bank, and tried to realize
the journey by which we have come to the heart of
the Rhine land; the country of legend and song; the
great highway of Roman and Teuton, of Crusader,
Knight and King; the disputed possession of all the
later agitated centuries down to the days of the great
Napoleon; still wearing the footprints of the Bornan
tread and the tokens of feudal force; still pouring
wine from her sunny hills, and harvests from her




156         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
smiling lap; and, amid all the changes of political
life, still guarding with quiet conservatism, in her
quaint cities and her peculiar peasant life, the habits
and fashions of centuries ago.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                 157
CHTAPTER VIII.
SWITZERLAND.
Basle - Lake of the Four Cantons — Rigi - Sarnen - Brunig Pass - Meiringen
-Rosenlaui - Brienz - Interlachen - Lauterbrannen -The StaubbachThun - Berne -Lake Leman - Geneva.
SEPT. 10. Yesterday we left Basle and the lovely
Rhine.   We took an early walk across the river,
which is here a broad rushing stream, spanned by a
fine stone bridge, and sweeps in a large crescent
through the town.  We paused to admire the consideration for rest and enjoyment, which has placed
seats in recesses retiring from the footwalk of the
bridge, where one may sit and enjoy the charming
scene from its best point of view.
Nothing gives such fine effect to a city as a broad
river in its midst. It is the only way to get a proper
distance for its important buildings. The great chasm
of the Norloch, between the two cities at Edinburgh,
performs the same office there.  You feel that you
comprehend a town when you have attained such a
point of view.
The streets of Basle are narrow, winding, steep and
densely built, and afford little of attraction to the
stranger's eye; but we found our inn a very peaceful
and comfortable caravanserai, notlhwithstanding its




158         WAYSIDE  SKETCHE S.
ferocious appellation of Black Bear, which looks still
more carnivorous in German.
Nothing can be more unlike our idea of a hotel
than such as this; stone halls, stone staircases, bare
floors, single beds with a feather bed for a counterpane; and, withal, an artistic cookery and nicety of
detail not always to be found in our very pretentious
establishments. We have been much pleased with
the hotels of Europe; in all the essentials of comfort
they are carried to a point of great perfection.
The railway to Luzern passes through a most
charming country, fertile and cultivated in the plains,
the undulating hills clad with vines, and the distant
mountains foreshadowing the glory of the coming
Alps. The Vosges is no mean range in itself, and
makes a distinguished background for the rich variety
of the scenery below.
We passed from the Rhine valley to the basin of
the lake by long tunnels, of the same massive
masonry that we have found to admire from Wales
to Switzerland. Long before we reached the lake,
the majestic summit of Pilate towered up to the
heavens, and the Rigi lifted its stately Kulm in the
summer sky. With what language shall I describe
the unfolding of that leaf in my memory upon which
is written — The Alps.
The lovely Lake of Lucerfie lies embosomed
in an irregular valley, encircled by vast ranges
of mountains, whose countless, sharp, jagged peaks
rise from the very margin of its blue waters,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             159
and glitter in the sunlight far up in the dome of
heaven, or veil themselves in clouds.
Mont Pilate, the tremendous peak that rises directly above Lucerne, is a mountain of most irregular
outline, far surpassing any other within range of the
eye, being six thousand eight hundred and forty-one
feet in utmost height, and the lower peaks scarcely
less.
On leaving Lucerne, the lake makes a long reach to
the left, at the head of which lie the small towns of
Sempach and Kusnacht. Passing this seeming outlet, and rounding one of the mighty columns of the
mountain, we reach Weggis, a small village at the\
foot of the Rigi.
Here we landed, and took horse for, the top of the
grand mountain which seemed to overhang us, while
its long ranges of bare precipice terraced the green
slopes which lost themselves in the upper distance,
and seemed to the inexperienced eye to form the desired summit. We learned the mistake in due time.
The path up the mountain is a very good one, and
might, for a part of the route, be scaled by wheels.
The ascent wound through every variety of way;
first by the cultivated fields under embowering trees;
then through the mowed land and pasturage; sometimes on the verge of a wooded upland, sprinkled
with wild flowers, and strewn with huge masses of
the conglomerate rock of which the mountain is built.
And every where we turned to gaze upon some new
charm in the bewildering scene.




160          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
At first, as we ascended, the beautiful lake opened
to view, with the great mountain promontories jutting
into its waters, but as we rose higher and higher, the
lake lost its attractiveness in the mighty vision that
began to be unfolded.
Peak after peak shot up behind the nearer summits
that shut in the lake, until the vast distance was
peopled with the countless throng, some sombre with
their garb of pines, some clad in eternal snow. Then
the eye grew accustomed to the higher level, and
took in a new horizon at every step.  I cannot
imagine any thing more grand than the continual
revelation of that majestic scene.
By the time we had gained half the ascent, we
had ceased to be charmed with the verdure of the
nearer hills, and the pretty habitations that nestled
under the shadow of the rocks, "where scarce was
footing for a goat," and were wrapt in the solemn
grandeur of the sea of mountains that crowded the
whole amphitheatre of the horizon. It is worse than
useless to attempt to describe it.
When we had scaled the face of the precipice
which concealed the summit from the foot of the
mountain, we found that we had accomplished one
half the ascent.
The rock formation here is very singular, being
conglomerate, not too densely massed, and lying
heaped in huge fragments of fantastic form. In one
place the path led through a natural arch, formed by
the piling together of these fragments of the moun



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               161
rain; some of them I think not less than a hundred
and fifty feet high.
For the last third of the way, the trees mostly disappear, but the vegetation remains a green close turf
to the very top, which is over five thousand five
hundred feet high.
The latter part of the way lies along the verge of
the precipitous descent to Lake Zug. Turning the
back upon the vast forest of the Alps, one looks
down upon the exquisite beauty of the valley; at
that height it seems a miniature picture of landscape.
Midway between Kusnacht and Immensee is a conspicuously white spot, which proves to be the chapel
of William Tell; for this is the Lake of the Four
Cantons; and Lucerne, Uri, Schwitz, and Underwald,
are classic ground for the hero or patriot.
The way was enlivened by many groups of travellers, riders and pedestrians, both ascending and descending; and swarmed with peasants, mostly girls,
carrying heavy burdens of supplies for the summit,
in baskets upon their backs; all quick with the courteous greeting and smiling aspect which belongs to
this part of the world; and, lest we should forget
that " peculiar institutions " exist in some form every
where, the unfailing mendicant was- stationed at
every resting-place.
Girls with smiling pertinacity offered fruits and
drinks, and troops of return horses, with guides, and
empty chaises-a-porter, met.us at every winding of
the path.




162        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
As we climbed the last third of the way, the sultry
day was exchanged for a chill, cloudy evening, and
the wind swept across the narrow neck which we
were pursuing, with a wintry blast. It was evident
that the angry clouds would swallow up the desired
sunset. Nevertheless, it was a glorious scene. On
one side the mighty Kulm fell down to Lake Zug,
with such sharpness of descent that one might almost
drop a pebble into its waters. Lower mountains
masked the view of Lake Zurich, except for occasional glimpses among the hills. On the other side
ran the long green passes between the several peaks
of the Rigi, and lines of travellers dotted the threads
of path from Arth and Goldau. Far to the south,
lay a thousand peaks, slowly veiling their lofty heads
in the mists of evening.
And here, at this apparently inaccessible height,
are three large hotels. Sitting at a luxurious dinner
in the handsome saloon, surrounded by all the appliances of advanced civilization, piano and all, it was
difficult to believe that nine long miles lay between
us and the level of every day life; and that all the
luxuries and comforts of such an establishment, had
been brought to this remote spot by the toilsome
steps of patient peasants.
No nationality seemed unrepresented in the assemblage of the dining room; and one caught a very
good idea of what Babel might have been.
We went to bed, prepared to make an early sortie
to behold the majesty of the rising sun; but that




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            163
dignitary refused to be made, any longer, a spectacle,
and we beheld, instead, the rain-unwelcome sight
— shutting out all view of hill and valley, and
making chillier even the chilliness of early morning.
If there were Babel over night, what should
be styled the confusion of tongues at the moment
of departure; landlord, waiters, porters, guides, travellers, all speaking in unknown tongues, with none
to interpret; each guest anathematizing his bill
after the peculiar fashion of his own country. We
had the assurance of the guides that we should
find better weather farther down; so we set forth
upon the toilsome descent. Some courageous pedestrians followed; among them two ladies, who arrived
before us, worse for mud and rain. Meanwhile, it
rained, at first gently, then pouringly; we halted
for a time under the friendly shelter of a chapel
roof —one of the countless shrines of this land, but
it presented no attraction as a permanent abode,
and the weather gave no token of amicable purpose,
so we emerged once more into the deluge, and
trooped downward. The path along the direct face
of the precipice, which is accomplished by striking
it obliquely, is steep but good, and it seemed incredible, on looking back at the mighty barrier, that
we had scaled it without wings.
All things have an end, and so had the descent;
we arrived at Weggis, little the worse for wear, and
quite ready for breakfast. About eleven, the clouds
having discharged their contents and departed, we




164         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
embarked for a tour of the lake; and such a tour I
do not believe can be made upon any other lake in
the world.
We were borne along at the foot of the mighty
ranges, each turn of the meandering lake revealing
new grandeur in the upper world, and new beauties
in the soft green slopes below.
Some of the mountains are dark with pines to
the water's edge, while some are dotted with chalets,
and green with pasturage to the very top. Several
villages skirt the lake.  Among the largest are
Gersau, Brunnen and Fluelen.
The first mentioned is an unusually pretty village,
embowered in fruit trees and chestnuts. It is somewhat remarkable, even among Swiss villages. For
four hundred years this tiny corner of the world existed as an independent government, until 1798, when
the rapacious hand of France, for which nothing was
too great to assail, nothing too small to grasp,
swept it into the vortex of the political gulf, and it is
at present like the rest of Switzerland, under the
confederate government.
Among its other curious customs of many years'
existence, is a beggars' fete; when for three days in
the year all the beggars from the country round are
gathered to a feast by the firesides of their more fortunate neighbors.
At Brunnen, the extreme end of Lake Lucerne,
upon a house beside the water, are painted figures of
the three patriots, Werner Stauffacher, Arnold Mele



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             165
tal and Walter Furst; and also two figures engaged
in mortal combat, with the inscription, "Schwitzer
est vainqueur de Swen et fonde Schwytz."
From Brunnen the lake thrusts out an arm called
the Lake of Uri, and becomes still more remarkable for the beauty of the waters, and the majesty
of the mountains.
The defile which encloses the lake is narrower, and
the peaks higher. At a great elevation to the right
is Rutli, where stands a chapel, marking the spot
where the three patriots met, in the solemnity of the
early morning, to swear the oaths of liberty; and
from that spot are said to have welled up three
springs, to which pilgrimage is still made by the
believing.
On the water's edge at the left of the lake, is a
chapel ornamented with various commemorative designs, marking the place where Tell sprang to the
shore, and sped the fatal arrow to the heart of the
tyrant Gesler.
The waters of the lake are here eight hundred feet
in depth, and wear the peculiar green which I have
noticed below the Falls of Niagara.
Busy workmen are engaged in hewing a grand
road out of the face of the rock, hundreds of feet
from the water, and have already constructed tunnels through several projecting points. It will lead
by St. Gotthard into Italy.
The end of the navigation is Fluelen, whence one
can look down the lake still further to the narrow




166       WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
pass which closes the view. It is the present way to
St. Gotthard by Altorf.
On the opposite side of the lake the mountains
rise to the greatest height — Uri Rothstock being
over nine thousand feet high, and upon its distant
brow we could discern a shining glacier.  The
whole sweep of the range upon that side of the
lake is very high, and scarcely broken by a descent,
as is frequently the case upon the other side. The
return to Lucerne by the same route only deepened
the awe which the Alps inspired on the first view.
Upon reaching Lucerne, we took another boat for
Alpnacht, en route to Meiringen and the glacier of
Rosenlaui. We came on to Sarnen for the night,
but alas! the sound of the renewed rain augurs ill
for a mountain pass, unless the clouds should be exhausted by morning.
Sept. 15. We were wakened early by the tidings,
that, as the upper mountains were covered with
snow, there was promise of a pleasant day; the giant
peaks serving as a barometer for the commonalty.
So we put ourselves in trim for the day's travel, and
left Sarnen by carriage.
The two pretty and intelligent daughters of our
host, who were also the servants of the inn, were
among the best specimens of native women that we
have seen. They spoke French and German equally
well, and English tolerably, and were as modest as
they were intelligent.
The dress of the women in this region is peculiar.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              167
The mode of dressing the hair in Underwald, is by
braiding it with thick white ribbon or cotton; it is
worn at full length, or wound around the head and
fastened by a pin nearly a foot long, with a flat head
about two inches square, set with glass or stones.
They wear what we call Swiss waists, with snowy
underdress, and short stiffly starched white sleeves,
with closely fitting black velvet sleeves, reaching from
the elbow to the wrist. The back of the waist is
finished with a broad square collar, ornamented at
the corners with silver; and from a hook in the collar
depends, upon each side, a silver chain which fastens
another hook in the side of the bodice. The head
is bare, or covered only with a handkerchief tied
under the chin. The broad-brimmed straw hat began to appear belowLake Brienz. But this costume
is far more picturesque upon a pretty American girl
than upon these sun-tanned, weather-beaten women,
who bear heavy burdens upon the back, and dig,
and mow, and rake in the fields, and draw heavy
carts, like oxen.  We rarely see a man in the fields;
they are acting as guides, porters, drivers and waiters;
but it makes one melancholy to see the complication
of labors laid upon womanhood here. I have not
seen a single peasant woman with even the remains
of attractiveness or femininity about her.  They
look harder and coarser than the men, and their unceasing industry becomes almost painful; the babies
and the knitting are ever at hand to fill up the inter,
vals of harder labor.




168        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
Our road to Meiringen was through the valley
of Sarnen, and over the Brunig Pass, a grand gorge
through the mountains. On the right are the lakes
of Sarnen and Lungern, and in the distance the
Lake of Brienz. A superb carriage road winds up the
long pass, on one hand skirting closely the shaggy
sides of the mountains, and on the other, overhanging
the green meadows and scattered cottages of the
valley. How green such a valley can be, is known
only to one who has seen the Alps. The short thick
turf is perfect emerald, and has a look of velvet
smoothness which no carefully kept lawn that I ever
saw could attain. No fences break the long swell
of the meadow, watered by clear rushing streams
from the mountain springs.
The cottages, precisely like the fancy cottages of
the toy shops, are built of wood, fancifully carved;
the roofs are of wood, crossed by long strips of
board, held down by stones. There is usually a
carved balcony running along the second story,
covered with flowers, ivy, or dried corn, and on the
Geneva side with grapes. Altogether they have the
most temporary, unsubstantial effect, and seem little
adapted to the long cold winters of Switzerland.
Indian corn began to appear in these valleys. The
mountain formation is very remarkable. On the
upper side of Lake Lucerne it is a mass of conglomerate, easily disintegrated, although I have been told
that at the very summit of the peaks the metamorphic rock peeps out.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            169
On Lake Uri the bald face of the rock is gnarled
and twisted into every variety of gneisitic contortion,
intermingled with the later stratifications; and here,
in the Brunig Pass, we found the same thing, the
outcrop striking at every conceivable angle, and the
rock a fine, compact, igneous stone.
So far as I have observed, the same formation prevails throughout the range, with sometimes a mixture of slate, sometimes of clayey strata, and very
seldom -a slight appearance of quartz; on the Wetterhorn the hornblende is streaked with distinct veins
of smooth white quartz.
As we toiled up the long high Pass, we found
a varying scene of wild grandeur and romantic
beauty. The last hour of the ascent is up the
Kaiserstuhl, a sharp climb to the south, overtopped
by the three great snowy peaks of the Wetterhorn,
which looked down upon us from above the clouds.
As the heavy sky which had overhung us all the
morning began to break, we looked up, hoping to
catch once more the clear blue of heaven, and where
we expected to find it, loomed out great masses of
rock and snow, almost in the very zenith; and still
farther on appeared the Wellhorn. These immense
mountains are on the left of the valley of Meiringen,
and are the chamois mountains of the Bernese Alps.
After reaching the summit of the Pass, we took
the mountain on our right, the scarped, rugged rock
rising perpendicularly above our heads, in some
places a thousand feet, and gradually impending over
12




170        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the road, until at one angle the huge mass had been
tunneled, and the road passed directly under it, while
the enormous boulder far overhung the valley beyond.
On the left, the mountain fell precipitately to the
valley; indeed the whole splendid road is carved
upon the very face of the mountain with incredible
labor and expense.
On the opposite side of the valley, through which
the milk-white torrent of the Arve rushes foaming
to the Rhine, rise the majestic heights of many
solemn peaks, few of whose names I find it possible
to retain.
The Engelhorn is directly opposite, and here and
there, at each change of direction, appeared the summit of a new wonder. Beautiful cascadcsleap down
from the long curtain of mountain which faces the
valley; among them is the Oltschibach, and, finest of
all, the Reichenbach.
The descent to Meiringen is sharper and shorter
than the ascent froml Lungern, and we found ourselves about two o'clock at the hotel of the Wilder
Mann, arranging ourselves for a trip to the glacier of
Rosenlaui.
It rained a little, but we were assur6d that the
road was perfectly good, "a little steep, perhaps,"
which was true without the perhaps.  A  worse
road I never saw, not indeed, quite perpendicular,
piled compactly with large, closely massed trap rocks,
set mostly on edge, with an occasional boulder, of a
height to make even the trained animals pause to




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.                171
consider the mode of ascent, and their riders to cogitate the probabilities of the return.
After gaining, in this way, a considerable elevation
the way ran along the verge of the gorge of the
Reichenbach, a deep torrent which roars against vast
accumulations of boulders and fragments that obstruct its course. At about half the distance up, the
beautiful fall of the Seilerbach projects itself in two
chutes a distance of a thousand feet, into the Reichenbach. At a short distance above this fall we came
upon a veritable Alp, that is, a wide, green pasturage,
high up on the table of the hills.
Large herds of the.peculiar cattle of Switzerland
were feeding here, with flocks of goats, and the unfailing chalet perched itself in the nooks of the
rocks. It is astonishing to see upon what a height
these summer resorts are built. Scrutinize what
mountain you will, and, at any distance below perpetual snow, there will be sure to peep out the tokens
of a human dwelling. In these airy nooks the Swiss
watch their herds and make their cheese, and on the
approach of winter they drive the milky mothers
down to the cottages of the valleys.
The cows are handsome; their hair has the fineness of a fur; they are of a light dun color, and,
as a distinctive peculiarity, their long projecting ears
are filled with long white hairs. Their hoofs are uneven in length, and are twisted crosswise at the
division, from the constant necessity of keeping
footing upon a sharp acclivity. They are the riches




172          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
of the Alps, and show the care with which they are
tended. The horses, on the contrary, are lean, coarse
animals, and far from fleet. It was curious to watch
the feeding of the horses on the way to Brienz. At
Tracht out came a man. armed with a huge loaf of
bread, which he cut into bits alternatelr, for the
horses, whose avidity for the morsels showed their
appreciation of the civilization of cookery.
To return to Rosenlaui; the rain deepened to a
pour, with an interlude of hail, from which the dark
mossy pines only partially sheltered us.  But it
seemed befitting the sombre cleft of the wild mountains, whose savage fastnesses we were penetrating,
and it had nearly ceased when we crossed the Reichenbach and dismounted. Here were the ever present
guides, with the very uninviting chaise-a-porter. It
seems to be the impression of the natives that foreigners lack the ordinary use of their faculties while upon
a journey, and though the object of your trip may
lie within your reach, you are supposed to need a
guide for " explications," and the intensity of your
enjoyment of [Nature. is often sorely marred by the
irritation. At the present time we declined the privilege of being borne upon the shoulders of officious
attendants, and climbed the stony paths, which were
now only the bed of trickling streams. One pertinacious guide followed, awaiting some opportune
disaster which should render his presence desirable.
As we crossed the deep chasm of the Weissbach, a
boy stood with heavy stones poised upon the slender




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               173
rail of the bridge, ready to launch them into the
abyss at our approach. The silence which awaited
the sullen thud of their arrival at the bottom, showed
an immensity of depth, and the eye sought in vain
any glance of water in the darkness below.
We scrambled on up the wet, slippery paths,
stumbling among the gnarled roots of projecting trees,
to a second gorge of the same stream, crossed by a
frail little bridge, suspended between the smooth perpendicular sides of a very suggestive chasm. The
approach to it was by a short ladder, and up the
narrow ascent on the other side in the same way.
The plank was narrow, covered with sleet, and defended by a single rail. However, it was the only approach to actual insecurity that I have found in
Switzerland, where I had dreaded so much. We
crossed in safety, notwithstanding, and before us
hung the glacier, white as a drift of newly fallen
snow. Its upper part was shrouded in clouds, so that
we could get no proper idea of its height, which is
twelve hundred feet. We ascended by steps cut in
the ice to a crevasse, which has been artificially enlarged into a passage about thirty yards long. Its
extremity is hollowed into a circular chamber,
whence one can watch the effect of the light upon
the crystal mass. It becomes a deep blue wherever
the light penetrates the cracks, and the entire arch of
the cavern was of the color of a twilight sky. This
glacier is remarkable among its fellows for its unvarying purity, the flinty formation of the adjacent




174        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
mountains sending down no discolored debris. We
emerged with a shiver, to be greeted by a considerable
fall of snow, and having refreshed ourselves at the
lTfle cabin near the glacier, we commenced the return. That we were hopelessly wet spared us the
trouble of any attempt to care for our garments, snd
we launched ourselves down the steep at full speed.
That wet could become wetter I learned by measuring
my length in one of the temporary brooks. After
crossing the Wiessbach, I turned aside to explore the
banks of the profound depth, but was warned to retreat by the ice which encased every blade of grass.
How the dwellers upon these dangerous heights escape
disaster and destruction I cannot well comprehend,
yet little children play upon the verge of the precipices and torrents, apparently without any especial
protection.  The chalets often rest upon slopes,
where it would seem that an unguarded step must
prove the step between us and death.
The shadows of the mountains were grovwe very
sombre, and the two grand peaks of the Engelhorn
and the Wellborn, between which lies the glacier,
frowned heavily upon the way, while the Wetterhorn
and the Faulhorn kept guard upon their sides.
Nevertheless the shadowy ride down that long romantic pass beside the foaming torrent, sprinkled by
the spray of the silver cascade, and shut in by those
tremendous mountains, was delightful, even though
the streams from  our garments dripped from  the
stirrups.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              175
By the time we had reached the steep rocky descent it was nearly dark, and the path, bad enough
by dayligllt, was not to be thought of on horseback,
so we dismounted, and the horses went on, sliding
and jumping down the way, as we trudged carefully
downward, sometimes varying the craggy path by an
excursien to the mud of the adjoining meadow. We
had a mile or two of riding after reaching the foot,
and were glad to find dinner and fire awaiting our
arrival, with which, being refreshed, we spent the
evening in pleasant chat in the travellers' room, examined the treasures of wood carvings, and went to
sleep to the roar of the Reichenbach.
The following morning was beautiful, and we came
on by carriage through Brienz to Interlachen. As
we left Meiringen, the great glacier overtopped the
mountain, glistening in immaculate whiteness in the
nmorning sun.
The road along the lake was charming, with
meadows even greener than any we have yet seen,
and the fall of the Giessbach here shot into the lake
with a distant roar, which seemed unaccounted for
by the size of the fall. We left the carriage at
Tracht, and walked on beside the sweet lake, to linger
upon the fair picture of creation spread before us.
The rugged mountain curtain, studded with peaks,
still guarded the valley, but receded to a little wider
interval from the turbid Aar, leaving a smiling valley,
sloping to the southern sun, and rich in all the charms
of Alpine beauty.




176         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
At Interlachen the great monarch of the Bernese
hills, the Jung Frau, rose white with eternal snow,
and the Silberhorn spread a showy shroud upon
its upturned face, like the still covering of some
gigantic dead.
The immense height of this range renders its distance inappreciable, and it seems within a pistol shot
while at a direct distance of eighteen miles. I longed
to put away the curtain of the dark, pine-covered
mountains in front, and look upon the King in his
majesty.
The village of Interlachen is one of those spots, rare
as they are charming, in which exquisite beauty is
combined with grandeur and solemnity, and it is the
one centre from which radiate the most desirable
Swiss excursions.
We drove to Lauterbrunnen to see the Staubbach
fall, and to get nearer to the Jung Frau, as we could
not go to Grindelwald. The mountain seemed still
farther off than at Interlachen.  The Staubbach is
pretty, hanging like a misty veil from the crest of
the mountain; the water, falling from such an immense height, becomes dissipated into vapor, and
seems scarcely to possess a substance; but the very
respectable brook which it forms, proves it to be a
real stream.
One of the most noticeable features of the trip to
the Staubbach was the ingenuity with which the
demand was continually made upon the purse. One
went at each step prepared to spring a mine. No




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            177
face of cabin was so innocent that it did not fly open
at our approach, and disclose the peculiar wares of
the country; ingenious carvings in wood, bone and
ivory, tempting displays, both for beauty and utility.
Then there were prints of the surrounding views;
children followed us with a bench for our repose, or
croaked a jodel for our edification, while others, without pretext, demanded tribute. It was ludicrous to
see the anxious speed with which every individual
within the range of vision hurried to make merchandise of the unwary traveller. As we approached the
corner of the lane leading to the fall, a boy hastened
to place the long Alpine horn by the wayside, and
brought echoes from the hills which might have
seemed the voices of the wood-nymphs, reverberating in musical notes, again and again, from the
narrow strait.
We had twelve applications during the ten minutes'
walk between Lauterbrunnen and the Staubbach,
and at the stopping place there were nine guides, all
desirous of pointing out the fall, which was meanwhile directly before our eyes.
We spent the Sunday at Interlachen, and each
hour added to our admiration of the spot. I could
fancy no more delightful place for a summer abode.
One may make the wildest excursions into the heart
of the Bernese Oberland, and return to enjoy the
sweetness of plain, stream, and valleys, and all the
appliances of luxury and repose.
We followed the crooked, winding street through




178         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the village to the bridge across the Aar, whence there
is a comprehensive view of all that is grand and
beautiful in scenery; from the snowy summit of the
majestic Jung Frau and the darker mountains of the
nearer range, to the sweeping river, with its verdant
banks and picturesque mills, and the pretty dwellings
dotting the valley.
The drive to Thun is only another edition of these
sweet valleys; and the sail down the lake was very
delightful. Conspicuous above the other mountains
of the region, the gigantic pyramid of the Niesen
overhangs the lake; the banks* are cultivated, and
tastefuill dwellings appeal frequently.
Thun itself is very beautiful.  The steamer passes
a narrow entrance between an elegant villa on tile
left, and( on the right, a hill slope, covered with
fine buildings, and crowned by a chateau and a
handsome chapel. The narrow inlet is, I believe, still
the Aar, and the steamer enters beyond the power of
turning. Here we landed from the crowded little boat;
not even the Rigi afforded a more complex nationality
than the deck of that little steamer. English, American, French and German tourists, peasants and Swiss
soldiery all hurried off to the station; among them
our unlucky selves, supposing the aforesaid place of
departure to be in immediate proximity to the pier,
when it proved to be a mile away.
We came by rail to Berne, where we spent the
night, but did not remain to explore the city of
Bears.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              179
From Berne again by rail, through an increasingly
picturesque country, to the beautiful town of Lausanne, where we embarked for Geneva. I can do no
justice to a sail down Lake Leman, its blue waters
guarded by the Alps on the south, and the long
chain of the Jura on the north. A fertile, highly
cultivated country alternates with handsome towns
and stately chateaux upon its banks. Coppet, the
residence of Madame de Stdel, is on the northern
bank; also the chateau of Prangins, once the possession of Joseph Buonaparte, now  of the Prince
Napoleon.
Just before we reached Geneva, a distant, snowcapped chain of peaks began to dawn upon the eye
-and there was Mont Blanc.
At a distance of more than fifty miles, it seemed
little farther off than did the Jung Frau at Interlachen. Nothing else could engross the sight afterwards; the eye was ever seeking that mighty domain
of ice and silence.
The view of Mont Blanc from Geneva is very good.
Here the Rhone, which enters the lake below Villeneuve, rushes out again in a deep blue rapid stream,
very different from the green depth of the Rhine.
I think Geneva must prove a charming residence,
uniting the climate of the mountain country to the
pleasures of cultivation, and directness of access to
the great world every where.,
We drove out to Ferney, the residence of Voltaire.
It is a most favorable exhibition of French garden



180          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
ing, and one cannot but wish that he had confined
his genius to horticulture, and had not touched the
profound depths of the spiritual life with an unhallowed hand.  We were shown his bedroom  and
saloon, in the same state as when he occupied them.
In a stone urn in the saloon is preserved his heart,
according to his own direction.
A fine full length portrait of Catharine of Russia,
a present from the Empress herself; hangs over his
bed. The garden is still preserved in his own design.
An arbor, several hundred feet in length, beautifully
trained in beech, and a tall hedge enclosing the
grounds trimmed in the same arbor-esque fashion,
are kept as they were in the days of the noted owner.
The environs of Geneva are pretty, but seem tame
after the grandeur of the past week, but we are looking forward to Chamouni and Mont Blanc.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              181
CHAPTER IX.
SWITZERLAND.
Chamouni - La iFl6gre - Sources of the Arveiron - TWte Noire - Martigny
- Pierre a voir - Brieg — Simplon — Domo d'Ossola — Lake Maggiore —
Arona.
THERE is little to say of the way from  Geneva to
Chamouni, although it is a most interesting route to
remember. We made the journey by diligence, the
day hot, and the way dusty. The road leads from
Geneva, at first up a steep ascent, through a well
cultivated country, and fields blushing with the colchicum; then it becomes gradually wilder and
steeper; winding  up sharp passages above deep
gorges, through which flows the white torrent of the
Arve. One soon learns to distinguish the glacier
rivers by this peculiar whiteness, owing, perhaps, to
the impalpable dust of the rocks, ground to powder
in the attrition of the glacier. In eating the clear
glacier ice, I sometimes found the sand remaining
abundantly in the mouth.
One never ceases to wonder, upon this route, at
the thought of the mighty convulsions whose traces
are scattered so thickly along the course, in the huge
fragments of every form which have been detached




182         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
from the impending mountains. The whole valley
below is evidently at times overflowed by the stream,
for all along its now confined bed lie vast accumulations such as are heaped up only by the progress of
mountain torrents. The scene in the spring when
the icy fetters of the waters are first loosened, must
be worth seeing.
Just before reaching the village of Sallenches, we
exchanged the heavy but comfortable diligence for
light carriages, as the journey is too difficult to be
performed farther by large vehicles; and even these
carriages we were forced to abandon at some of the
precipitous ascents.
A bridge over the Arve, built upon a double set
of arches, is one of the finest specimens of masonry
I ever saw.
The same features of scenery continue; the vast
mountains grow higher, their rocky faces more precipitous; the gorges narrower; the hum of conversation grows hushed, and the awe of the savage
solitude gathers over us beneath the darkening sky;
the stream roars more madly over its obstructions,
and finally, in the vista of the narrow defile, rises the
pure white summit of the "sole sovereign of the
vale."  Mont Blanc, like Niagara, needs time to
allow one's mind to grow up to the recognition of
his mighty proportions.. I think these are more truly
appreciated at the distance of Lake Leman than on
a nearer approach. But his height is best apprehended by being viewed from  some great, though




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              183
inferior elevation in his neighborhood.  In truth, the
first view of the great mountain from his foot is disappointing, especially after having been imbued with
the poetic descriptions, which lead one to seek its
summit almost in the heavens.  The air is so clear,
and the mountain so enormous in its proportions,
that it seems neither so very high, nor at any very
impracticable distance.
Then one's own stand-point in the Valley of Chalmourni is six or seven times higher than the Palisades
on the Hudson, and the mind fails to add the height
of an entire day's journey upwards to the remainder
of the mighty mass.
Sept. 18. We spent the night at a hotel in full
view of the mountain, and it seemed higher in the
morning.  There are many excursions to be made
in the neighborhood; the usual one, unless the stay
be protracted, is to the Mer de Glace, by way of the
Montanvert, across the glacier, and a return by the
Mauvais Pas and the Chapeau. There were two
objections to this excursion in my mind. Upon the
Mer'de Glace there is no view of Mont Blanc itself,
and the return is by a difficult and fatiguing walk
along a path which must be rugged and dangerous
indeel, to deserve, in these regions, the name of
Mauvais Pas.
So by way of combinining a coup d' oeil of the
mountain with a visit to the great glacier, r chose
the ascent of La Flehgere, and a return by the sources
of the Arveiron. La Flegere is upon the opposite




184         WAYSIDE  SKET'CHES.
side of the valley from Mont Blanc, live thousand
eight hundred feet high, and intensely steep. The
narrow path is forced to double continually upon
itself, making at each detour a small angle by which
thle mountain is finally scaled.
For the first hour we oscillated upon the face of a
bare hill, apparently not more than half a mile in
length, mofinting, by slow gradations of the flinty
path, at right angles to the general direction of the
mountain.' We then made a sudden turn to the right
and plunged into a wood, which shut out the surrounding views, while it afforded a grateful shelter
from the hot norniing sun. There was still the same
slow alternation of advance and retrograde; the path
from being only stony, became rocky and difficult.
At one point it crossed a pretty mountain stream,
where there is a rustic bench for the rest of the wearied wayfarer.
About half the way up is a pavilion perched upon
a projecting knoll on the side of the mountain, where
the views of the valley begin to assume appreciable
proportions. I think the height of a mountain is
best comprehended at such a stopping place. You
take in the distance already attained, and that still
before you, at the same glance; while at the foot or
the summit, the great distance obliterates the detail
by which you measure.  The path attains a still
more direct steepness after leaving the pavilion, and
clambers among the rocks and bared roots with an
irregularity and difficulty which demands continual




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               185
attention to the proprieties of horsemanship, and
made even the mules give signs of a determination
to retreat. We had a model of a guide; careful,
attentive, genial and polite. Henri altogether surpassed any attendant that we have ever had, and
seemed, besides, altogether innocent of the rapacity
of his class; receiving gratuity or refreshment with
a well-bred modesty rare to behold in these regions.
The view, when the top of La Fleg're is once attained, is worth any fatigue. The vast body of Mont
Blanc is spread out like a picture, with the long
parallel ranges of mountains that form its sides filled
with enormous glaciers, from which flow the various
tributaries which finally pour their waters through
the Arve to the. Rhone.
The great Needles point skyward as if they would
pierce the heavens. Above all, farther off, and higher
than when seen at its foot, rises the serene, immaculate front of the "great Hierarch," pure as if newly
dropped from the skies, and seeming to bid defiance
to all stain of human approach, as indeed he does —
for although the rashness of adventurous spirit sometimes plants a footstep in these sublime solitudes, the
lone monarch hastens to obliterate its traces with his
icy breath, and suffers no human power to fix landmark or pathway in his solemn abode.
The height of La Flegere reveals an immense expanse, entirely hidden from the village by the intervening peak, which seems to be filled with pure crystal ice; the blaze of the sun showed its transparency
13




186         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
even at that distance. This is what is called the
Grand Plateau; it had something appalling to me, so
calm and cold in its defiance of human skill and research. In full view from our point of vision were
the glaciers of des Bossons, d'Argentiere, du Tour,
and the mighty Mer de Glace, which at its lower extremity takes the name of du Bois.
The Mer de Glace presents a slope of several miles,
filled with tall pyramids and blue crevasses, then
grows apparently' smoother up to the point of divergence between the branch which turns to the right,
toward the Col de Geant and that which leads to the
Jardin. The latter is a spot of green turf, surrounded
by eternal snow, at a distance from the valley of nearly
nine hours. The guides assert the length of this
glacier to be, in all, eighteen leagues, but eighteen
miles seem more credible.
We were unfortunate in not being aware of an
ascent of Mont Blanc while we were at La Flegere,
as from its summit the party may be watched with
glasses. Just as we reached the valley on our return,
a cannon announced the arrival at the Grand Muilets,
the cabin where the first night is passed by the aspiring traveller. The next morning the terrible journev is made over the icy way to the summit, and the
descent accomplished to the same point, where the
second night is usually passed, although some energetic travellers return to Chamouni the second day.
The danger of concealed crevasses, the intense
cold, the toilsome way, the painful respiration, and




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               187
the oppressive sense of hunger, all combine to render
this one of the most dreadful excursions ever undertaken, under the pretext either of pleasure or advantage. And when to this is added the fact that the
view, under the most favorable circumstances, is
limited to the sight of the most elevated mountains,
and that the length of stay at the summit can be
prolonged to little over a quarter of an hour, it would
seem that " the game would not pay for the candle."
Two guides, at least, are necessary to the ascent, (the
first attempt was made with seventeen,) and porters
are needed to carry food, fuel, wine, and garments for
the night; the cost is not less than a hundred dollars
for the guides alone, and varies for the entire trip
from three to five hundred.
Meanwhile we are resting at the top of La Flegere.
The descent of a steep mountain, upon horseback,
with a side-saddle, is extremely fatiguing, and having
found a mule a very different affair from a horse, I
inferred the propriety of making a part, at least, of
the downward journey on foot; so leaving guide,
mule and companion behind, I set forth.
The footpath may be made a little shorter than the
bridle road, but the great steepness renders it impracticable to diverge much from the beaten track; a
slight misstep in traversing the short cuts between
the zigzags generally sufficing to bring down upon one
an avalanche of rocks which have a precarious hold
upon the side of the mountain, and crinoline is eminently adapted to secure all the chances of such mis



188        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
haps. Then, too, a very promising divergence is not
unlikely to end in a thoroughly impracticable precipice, and the steep way is to be retraced.
The exhilaration of that free mountain air renders
walking a perfect pleasure, and I had no mind to exchange it for the mule, so kept on to the valley, stopping to chat by the way with the sprightly mistress
of the pavilion, whom I encountered at the pretty.
resting place where the stream overflowed the road.
I rested at the bottom, and watched the caravan of
mules and footmen trailing its slow length along the
tortuous descent; then remounting, we took our way
across the valley to the foot of the great glacier. A
ride of about an hour brought us to perhaps the most
beautiful sight of the whole region. The Arveiron
gushes in a foaming torrent from a vast arch in the
clear solid ice, brawling over the great rocks dropped
from it, in its slow but steady onward march. It is
an enjoyment of which I should be never weary, to
watch the outpouring of that tide from the heart of
that frozen sea; ever and anon whirling down a huge
fragment of ice, or booming with the plunge of some
loosened boulder from the arch above; then rushing
away down the valley with the joy of sunlight upon
its bosom, to mingle its white waters with the whiter
Arve.
There is something appalling in the desolation of
the moraine at the foot of the glacier. The plain is
encumbered for many rods with enormous masses of
rocks, immense boulders, and vast heaps of sand,




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               189
ground to powder by the fearful attrition; while far
up lie the same huge debris, brought by the great
silent river from the rocky fastnesses above. A forest
of pyramids clusters in the distance, and occasionally
a tall needle topples over in sudden but noiseless
prostration.
The glacier has retired many rods within the
memory of living inhabitants, furnishing an illustration of the theory that glaciers are steadily retreating,
leaving their terminal moraines as foundations for
the inhabitation which is gradually pursuing them to
their citadel in the savage heart of the mountains.
We scrambled across the lateral barrier, and made
our way with difficulty along a rough surface very
little like ice, except where we paused to brush away
the sand, or to dislodge a stone from its bed to assure
ourselves of the presence of the crystal beneath. It
was very toilsome, and the tall pyramids were a long
way off, and I satisfied my curiosity with gazing upon
them at a distance, while my companion, a young
English lady, went on with the careful guide, and
looked into the dark blue crevasses, and explored the
glacier to her satisfaction.
I sat, meanwhile, wrapt in the hurrying river, the
shadowy cleft of the lower valley, and the spotless
peaks whose afternoon splendor was yielding to the
soft glow of sunset.
We entered a grotto in the foot of the glacier,
which differed from that at Rosenlaui in its utter
darkness, due, I suppose, to the accumulations of




190         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
sand above. It was lighted by lanterns, which sent
a starry reflection from the dripping walls.  The
whole excursion occupied seven hours.
We have had delightfully clear weather at Chamouni; not a cloud dimmed the rosy light of sunset
upon Mont Blanc, and his snowy summit cut a clear
outline against the depths of the early sky as I looked
out to catch a glimpse of the first dawn upon his
"bald awful head."
Sept. 19. A memorable day was the one on which
we made the passage of the Tete Noire. The distance
is twenty-four miles, and we sent forward the mules
to Argentiere, and took carriage to that last station
for wheels. The morning was cold, and it was long
before the sun of the upper world visited our path.
But we fortified ourselves with a meagre breakfast,
and mounted. I have been assured by eastern travellers that the motion of a mule is worse than that of
a camel, and I can readily believe it. Fortunately
they only walk, however level the road; but the
most complicated problem in my mind at present, is
this: Given, a mule and a mountain; required, the
amount of possible dislocation.
The road across the Tete Noire is a very good one;
for the most of the way to Trient practicable for
wheels, except for the narrowness of the road. So
far as the Tete Noire rock the way is wonderfully
wild, hemmed in by dark, rocky mountains; one of
these is the abode of innumerable eagles, which keep
the inhabitants of the neighboring village in continual




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             191
terror, as they have been known to pounce upon
little children and bear them away to their inaccessible eyrie.
The path becomes narrow, rocky and steep as it
leads up to the height of Les Mont6ts, the dividing
point of the tributaries of the Arve and Rhone.
From this summit the road leads along the Eau
Noire, a dark, clear, deep stream, into a defile continually narrowing and deepening. At a sudden
turn in the way Henri faced the mules about and
exclaimed, "Adieu! Mont Blanc! "  There indeed,
in the sharp close of the vista formed by the long
ranges of mountains on either hand, rose, fair and
solitary, the immaculate crown of the mighty mount,
grander and more beautiful by being deprived of the
accessories which served to diminish his height as
seen from the foot.
We turned ever, with lingering gaze, so long as
any part of the spotless outline was visible against
the clear blue sky, and then plunged into the recesses
of the savage defile. The path cut the edge of a
gorge, whose depth was measured by endless tiers of
tall pines, and at the bottom roared the foaming
stream, fretted into a thousand falls by the opposing
rocks, the mighty droppings of the overhanging
mountains. I do not know whether it may be the
effect of excitement, or that one learns implicit faith
in guide and mule, but the sense of danger seems
dormant while one gazes down from the unguarded
edge of a path, where you may drop a pebble, almost




192        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
from your stirrup, a thousand feet into the depths
below. A slight rail served to give an appearance of
security to the path at an angle of the mountain
where it projected far over the precipice, then by a
sharp turn we passed under the arch of a tunnel, hollowed through the solid battlement of rock; here
rose the tall, black, dripping face of the Tete Noire
rock, on which the sun never shines.
This was the culminating point of the wild grandeur of the pass; that, for which, if for nothing else,
the passage should be made. A few minutes brought
us to the hotel of the Cascade, situated upon a point
of rock which commands, at one glance, the wildness and grandeur of the pass from which we had
just emerged, and the beauty of the leaping cascades
upon the other side of the chasm.
Here the mules were to rest for an hour and a half,
and having taken a lunch, we walked on through the
magnificent fir forest of Trient, where continual
streams came trickling down the mountain side, and
mosses, ferns and flowers bordered the way. Even
here we found the heather.
As we turned, at last, the base of the Tete Noire,
the valley opened from the forest along the banks of
the now quiet river, into fields of some cultivation;
where, as usual, we saw only womv2n toiling at the
hoe and scythe, and bearing home upon the back, in
heavy burdens, the product of their labor.
We walked on through the sheltered valley to
Trient, where, as the way seemed to lead up a con



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             193
siderable ascent, we sat down to await the arrival of
the mules.
WVe had passed the Tete Noire, and, in our happy
ignorance, fancied that the remainder of the way
was descent; what was our consternation, when having attained what seemed to be the top of a long
slope, we found it only the first reach of one of those
detestable zigzags, by which it seems possible to
scale the face of any hill, not absolutely perpendicular. Far above us showed row after row of the
same pathway; on we went, right up the mountain,
each turn seeming still more astounding than the
last, until we reached the Col de la Forclaz, fifteen
hundred feet above the top of Ben Lomond.
But in this world, the penalty of elevation is descent; and, having got up the mountain, the next
thing was to go down. At the bottom, as it seemed
but a bow-shot, lay Martigny, in the broad valley of
the Rhone, which spread out like a map beneath our
feet.; but there were, nevertheless, eight mortal miles
of:zigzag between.
The road, despite the tiresome twists, was beautiful, but the wood soon excluded the pretty view of
the valley. As we trooped along, in such meditative
mood as may consist with a precarious seat upon the
neck of a mule, a shout from the rear faced us about
to a tableau at once terrifying and ludicrous; the
respected head of our party, dismounted beside his
prostrate beast. The terror lay in the possibility of
serious harm to the rider; the ludicrous in the placid




194       WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
air of the animal, who wore the serenity of one who
has made up his mind. I had remarked his cogitative manner of stopping to survey certain difficult
passages of La Flegore the day before, and had
been amused at the variety of changes rung upon
" Allez! en avant! marchez! en route!" with which
each tug at his bridle was enforced; but to-day,
albeit not a ruminating animal, he had evidently
jumped to a conclusion, and hence his attitude of
repose. Fortunately, he had couched himself with
such deliberation that the rider was able to extricate
himself from the saddle in time to escape injury.
Sundry cogent arguments from the baton of the
guide brought mulet to his feet, if not to his reason,
and we again slowly wended our way downward.
As for myself, the point of endurance was passed,
and I deserted my four-footed friend for my own
independent locomotion.  One plunge across the
steep interval between the paths put me beyond the
reach of my lawful guardians, and they shouted after
me a commission to order the dinner at Martigny,
while I addressed myself to the downward way. A
line of flinty pebbles presented itself, crossing the
successive meanderings of the route, wearing the
doubtful aspect of either pathway or water-course.
A countryman assured me that it was a veritable
path, leading to Martigny, but added with hesitation
that it was " un peu rapide," which meant, not quite
perpendicular. I, however, pursued the unpromising
way —it might sometimes more properly be said to




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             195
have pursued me, inasmuch as that which is true of
a part is true of the whole - and after a mile or two
of sharp exertion, I arrived at tokens of human
habitation.  The descent afterward, although intensely steep, was delightful.  It was a charming
afternoon; the free inspiriting mountain air breathed
like the elixir of life. I deserted the flinty causeway, now for a pretty green orchard, now for a
velvet meadow; stopping here and there, to rest
beside a stream, or to exchange greetings with the
peasant girls at work in the fields. Now and then I
encountered the friendly face of a specimen of the
unmistakable genus, tourist. As the shaggy mountain descended into cultivation, it became possible to
look back upon the heights which we had been traversing, and to catch distant glimpses of the trains
of riders and pedestrians upon the galleries above.
On the opposite side of a ravine which seemed also
to descend from the mountain, came winding down
a similar caravan from the pass of the great St.
Bernard.
I lingered with reluctant steps, even upon the
fatigue of that long walk, for it led away from Switzerland and the Alps; and in that solitary way, I
realized the intensity and actuality of my enjoyment,
as one can scarcely do when his perceptions are busy
with scenery, and his sensations with a mule.
Presently a village hum floated upward upon the
breeze; the whirr of a mill, the creaking of wheels,
the evening sound of herds, and the voices of home



196         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
ward bound laborers; a cheerful, welcome contrast
to the solemnity of the lonely mountains.
The village of Martigny is a little, crooked, uncouth hamlet,, with almost city pretensions, in its
paved streets and close rows of' dwellings. Passing
through the village, the way to the city stretched
out indefinitely.  I inquired the distance, and was
answered by the usual formula, "ten  minutes;"
which is, as I believe, to tile mind of a continental,
the only distance less than an hour.
It was a pretty walk-long trains of low carts,
piled with grapes, came trailing along the broad
shaded road, and troops of harvesters, laden with
their implements of husbandry, paced beside, merry
with song, and ready with a courteous greeting. Yet
the lack of intelligence and the distortion of figure
often visible, is very painful —for the Valais is the
especial haunt of cretenism, and goitre displays itself
as almost the normal condition of the inhabitants.
A fine bridge crosses the swift Dranse at the entrance of the city, which is unlike any other cities
which I have seen, in its almost rural aspect.  The
Hotel de la Poste, the proposed bound of my walk,
proved, of course, to be at the further extremity of
the city, but I arrived at last, half an hdur in advance of the zigzagging beasts and their weary
riders.  How weary were all, and how lame were
some of us, one should cross the Tete Noire to know.
We found  Martigny a very pleasant stopping
place. The inn had the appearance of having served




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              197
in some of the past ages as an ecclesiastical dwelling.
It was certainly very unlike an inn in its long vaulted
passages and ivied cloisters. The table'was better
than at any other place, city or country, that we have
found upon our journey. Here, by way of game,
we had the chamois, not the goats' flesh which has
done duty in so many places for its wilder brother.
There was a most enticing peakl stretching up into
the air above Martigny, called Pierre a voir, commanding, it is said, the whole view from Mont Blanc
to the Jung Frau; reached by five hours of mule
— ay, there's the rub. The descent is made to Martigny le bourg in three, by means of sleds, drawn by
men; a great economy of time and fatigue, but,
doubtless, subject to excitement in view of the possible contingency of a failure in the locomotive
power, similar to that which attends the railway descent at the foot of Niagara. However, we did not
attempt Pierre a voir, but came on to Sion by rail,
and thence, by a most fatiguing journey in the interior of a diligence to Brieg, the sleeping place upon
the Simplon route.
In the morning, in lieu of the diligence at five
o'clock, with the possibility of a place in a lumbering
omnibus instead, we made a party with a young
British officer, fresh from the tigers of India, who
bore still some traces of their familiar acquaintance,
and took a carriage and four for the pass, leaving
Brieg at eight o'clock. After six hours of hard
climbing we still overhung Brieg at the same angle,




198        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
and had not yet turned the flank of the great Glisshone, which stared us in the face in the morning.
The pass of the Simplon is a miracle of engineering skill. The route was projected by the great
Napoleon after the battle of Marengo, and commenced in 1800. It was completed in six years, at
a cost of more than eighteen million francs. It is a
magnificent road, from twenty-five to thirty feet in
width, cut like a thread upon the precipitous sides of
the mountains; supported by superb masonry, and
overhanging depths which disclose at every turn
scenes of the grand and beautiful below; while
above, the horizon is bounded by the snow-capped
peaks of the Bernese Alps on the one hand, and the
rocky fortresses of the Savoy summits on the other.
The long upward route follows the indentations of
the mountains, until that becomes no longer possible,
and then, by a grand curve, it spans the chasm, down
which the Wiessbach rushes, roaring and foaming to
the Rhone, and begins the difficult dangerous ascent on
the other side. This part of the road, up to the very
summit, is swept by avalanches, that continually
destroy the fortifications, which are as continually renewed. The direct curve, by which the road almost
returns upon itself after crossing the Wiessbach, gives
one the whole view of the pass at a glance.
Along the more exposed portions of the route, the
road passes beneath immense galleries, constructed in
heavy arches, opening towards the valley, which
guard the road from obstructions caused by the fall



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              199
ing rocks; and where the face of the mountain
becomes absolutely inaccessible, the way is hewn
through the solid rock. Every where, in mid air,
rise alternately peaks and glaciers; the streams from
the latter, shooting, ever and anon, from beneath the
road, and leaping to join the torrent below.
One grand cascade from the enormous Kaltwasser
glacier, is carried directly over the gallery, and one
sees it through the open arches, falling in a glittering
sweep above his head.
Within the space of one league upon this dizzy
crest, are six houses of refuge, some of them rendered
useless from their exposure.
One often hears of a bird's-eye view. I know
nothing that so nearly approaches the reality, as the
vision that lies beneath the eye of one clinging to the
steep sides of these stupendous mountains. After
passing the Kaltwasser glacier, the distant view passes
the great glacier of Aletsch, and reaches the spotless
peaks of the Bernese Alps. Below lies the profound
depth of the valley of the Rhone, with the ubiquitous
Brieg still in full view. On the right, tower up the
mighty slopes of ice plains, which you approach so
nearly as to appreciate their immense extent, and to
have also a shuddering sense of the d!angers which
their steady march hurls upon the exposed expanse
below.
The summit of the Simplon is a sterile, broken
amphitheatre, between four and five thousand feet in
height, bounded by dark, rocky pinnacles, and vast




200         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
glaciers, whose near approach is appreciable in the
frosty air. Iere is a hospice, for the accommodation
of poor travellers, designed by Napoleon, but completed only so late as 1825.
We stopped for an hour at the desolate village, so
far removed from all that makes life enjoyable, and
despoiled the inn of all the supplies of its larder.
From the summit one passes through the valley of
Algabi to the valley of the Gondo, in which lies
after all, the wonder of the Simplon pass. Here all
the elements of savage grandeur seem to be gathered
in the wildest, vastest, sublimest combination.  Here
are still long galleries forced through the stubborn
rock; and stupendous masses of black, fissured, jagged cliff overhang the road, sometimes at the height
of two thousand feet. The gorge grows narrower,
darker, more appalling at every step, and casts all
previous experience of mountain passes into the
shade.
The Diveria, at a fearful depth, hurls itself against
the mighty fragments, which the convulsions that
rent this awful gap have cast into the bottom of the
abyss, and the great cascade of the Alpeinbach pours
its foaming tribute to the depth. Here you traverse
the gallery of Gondo, pierced for six hundred and
eighty-three feet through the angle of the mountain,
and emerge to the same oppressive seenes.
The roar and gush of waterfalls, and the beauty of
the continual silver bands that glisten on the opposite side of the chasm, relieve in some degree the




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              201
oppressive solemnity of the vast, dark, silent masses
of rock, towering up almost to shut out the heavens,
and bearing on their gnarled and distorted brows the
fiery marks of their convulsive birth.
The Diveria is crossed by several fine bridges, one
of which, near Crevola, ninety feet in height, is a
beautiful structure of two arches, and gives once
more a glimpse of the profound recesses of solitude
and gloom from which we have emerged.
No contrast can be more striking than a passage
from such a majestic scene as the valley of the Gondo,
to the soft, smiling landscape which greets the eye a
few miles farther down the valley. Fertile plains,
rich with crops of corn, dotted with fruit trees or
shaded by chestnuts, with here and there glimpses of
white villages, fill the blue distance, and we sink
rapidly from the fresh, pure, bracing air of the Alps,
to the heavy, lifeless atmosphere of an Italian valley.
We arrived, at night, at the town of Domo
d'Ossola, (we passed the Italian frontier at Iselle,)
where we made our first experience of an Italian
hotel; and truly, if that pestiferous dog's hole were
to prove a fair type of the rest, we should soon bid
adieu to la bella Italia. The rooms were very large,
floored with stone, or some concrete of a stony
nature; the sofas like beds, and the beds like bed
rooms; but the house, according to Italian custom,
was built around an inner court, the windows of the
rooms opening upon a stone balcony which overhung
the quadrangle; and when the court proved to be
14




202         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
only a stable yard, with all its paraphernalia and
occupations, the effect upon a hot summer night may
be more easily conceived than described. Eager to
escape from such a den, we took carriage as early as
possible for Arona, and the drive was like a leaf out
of a fairy tale. The plain is rich and cultivated; the
vine, a plant of low growth in Switzerland and Germany, is here allowed to twine itself, in all its native
grace, about the low trees and trellised arbors. The
magnificent chestnuts spread their broad arms, laden
with golden balls; corn stands ripe upon the sunny
fields, and figs droop beneath their broad leaves.
Pearly clouds float lazily across the soft, warm sky,
and one feels indolence creeping over him at every
breath.
Yesterday we drank of streams dripping from
eternal ice; to-day we scare the lizards from the hot
wall along the lovely Lake Maggiore.  This beautiful
lake stretches from the foot of snow-clad hills to
almost tropical verdure. Its blue depth, bordered by
grand mountains, and studded with the beautiful
Borromean isles, presents a scene of the most charming description.
We passed, upon our way, immense quarries of
white and red granite and marble, but as we descended
to the level plain, we found the lake bordered with
elegant villas, with every charming variety of garden,
pleasure ground and fountain, and all that enters into
the most fascinating pictures of Italian scenery. It
is a favorite summer resort for the rank and wealth




WAYSIDE  SK ETCHES.             203
of Italy, as well as for foreigners, especially the
English. The road beside the lake is superb, built
upon massive granite foundations, and edged along
the lake, as upon the sides of the mountain,with battlements of solid mason work. We stopped for dinner
at Baveno, the most picturesque point upon the shore,
nearly opposite Isola Bella.
This island is a wonderful instance of the victory
of wealth and labor over the disadvantages of Nature.
Here, more than two hundred years ago, the proprietor, one of the family of Borromeo, built a
chateau, and caused soil to be transported to the
barren rock, upon which he built terraced gardens,
planted with the growth of all climates, fruit, shrub
and flower. The same design has been furthered by
the possessors ever since, and the chateau and gardens
are now the daily resort of travellers.
We made our journey, still beside the beautiful
waters, so far as Arona, nearly at the bottom of the
lake, a pretty place, where we spent two days; but as
my own views were limited to the hangings of my
bed, I can say little of its attractiveness. I lay, with
the summer air floating in from the lake, and listened
to the soft musical Italian voices of the children at
play, or the women at work under my window, and
was charmed with the liquid utterance which transforms the stately old Roman tongue into the loving,
tender tones of the sweetest language in the world,




204        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
CH.APTER X.
ITALY.
Milan - Venice.
FROM Arona we came by rail to Milan, a truly
splendid city, through a country essentially American
in all its features; corn and peaches, and even pumpkins, reminding us of a fair land many leagues away.
We passed through the battle-field of Magenta, seven
miles in length, and by a field filled with the buried
heaps of dead.  Milan is all alive-for Victor
Emanuel reviews here the troops of United Italy tomorrow.
Sept. 25. The morning opened inauspiciously for
the grand parade, nevertheless the streets were beautiful as a picture. The windows and balconies of the
elegant buildings were decorated with banners, and
with scarlet and crimson hangings, and bright with gay
groups of well dressed people. The pavement was
thronged with pedestrians, among them remarkable
the beautiful women, with their graceful head-dress
of black lace, and, almost as numerous, the priests in
long black garments and queer beavers.
The grand cavalcade through the streets commenced about noon, and lasted for two hours. The




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              200
troops were fine, dark, soldierly men, in the early
prime of manhood, well equipped and handsomely
uniformed. Most of the officers, and many of the
rank and file wore medals which bespoke acquaintance with active service. The cavalry had been reviewed on Monday at Soma, and these troops consisted of infantry and artillery. It was altogether a
striking display of soldiery, and for the number and
rare beauty of the horses, all apparently in military
training, I presume it could not be surpassed in any
country. We saw not less than four thousand, and
among them were the finest specimens of steeds I
ever saw.  The dainty, delicate-limbed creatures
seemed to enter into the spirit of the pageant, and
paced proudly through the thronged streets, as if
aware of their claims to admiration. Their riders
wore the military air to perfection.
The artillery consisted of three hundred and seven
pieces, officered and manned in batteries of six, each
piece drawn by five horses, and each caisson by four
or five.  Victor Emanuel, with the royal guard,
brought up the rear. He is a stout, dark visaged, bewhiskered man, and touched his chapeau with grave
and courteous salute, in return to the acclamations of
the multitude, as he pursued a tedious way through
the long streets to the place of review without the
city gates. Conspicuously, in his immediate company, rode a jet black dignitary, evidently of no
mean rank, attired in a costume as gorgeous as scarlet and jewels and broidery could make it; his bear



206          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
ing among the nobles, quite unconscious of any inferiority arising from color. It was a beautiful picture
— the vista of the magnificent street closed by the
wonderful Cathedral.
ielmets glittered and plumes floated above "the
tossing sea of steel" that poured its steady tide along
the crowded way; and the whole air of the martial
throng was that of no holiday pageant. but as if composed of men wonted to conflict, who had faced the
dangers and wore the honors of deadly combat.
Altogether we felt ourselves to be very fortunate
in having an opportunity of witnessing a parade, at
once so warlike and so royal —and that, too, within
the walls of the ancient and superb city of princesMilan.
There was an undertone running through all the
pleasure of the display for me. I tried to see it
through the eyes of one who came back to his native
city last night, from an exile of forty years. My
heart was touched with the eager joy of the stately
old man, as he welcomed the sight of the proud city;
for, after forty years' wandering in foreign lands, in
the restless life of a proscribed man, what could
remain of the tender ties and intimate friendships
that make home and country -worth having; and I
wondered if, to the long exiled, gazing apart at this
splendid show, the joy or the anguish of the return
were the keener.
We have visited the wonderful Cathedral, but
to my great regret I was obliged to take the




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               207
beauties of the roof at second hand, and was unable to explore half the wonders of the interior.
There are some remarkable combinations in this
edifice, which distinguish it from all others. The
first noticeable feature is, that while it is a structure
of vast size, its architecture is of such airy lightness
and grace as to destroy the effect of massive solidity
which usually belongs to buildings of grand proportions; and it seems rather an serial fabric, such as the
fancy frames of the summer clouds, than a gigantic
pile, fashioned by the chisel and wrought by the
hammer.
Its snowy purity, too, as it sleeps beneath the soft
blue Italian heaven, charms the eye, hitherto accustomed to associate dark weather-beaten walls and
ivied towers, with architectural antiquity.
Another wonder is, that, while every part of the
vast edifice is in perfect harmony with the whole,
each part is finished in a design peculiar to itself, and
different from  all its correlatives.  From  cope to
foundation, upon column and buttress, tower, flying
buttress, window, turret, pinnacle and spire, neither
statue, leaf nor flower is reproduced; no design repeated. I doubt if another such instance of imitation of the divine creation, in countless variety,
subordinate to perfect harmony, can be adduced
among the works of man.
I was especially astonished and delighted with the
exquisitely wrought pierced roof, and still more
astonished to find afterwards that the whole was a




208         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
marvellous painting in fresco. The roof is supported
on thirty-six magnificent columns, whose capitals are
finished in the same endless variety before mentioned.
The church is filled with sculpture, some of it of
colossal proportions. One remarkable statue represents St. Bartholomew wearing his own skin as a
mantle, after having been flayed.
We were shown into the sacristy, to examine the
treasures bequeathed to the church by San Carlo
Borromeo. They are preserved in tall cupboards
which line the sacristy, and whose massive doors are
opened by means of a windlass.
It is impossible to convey any idea of the wealth
of gold, and silver, and jewels, which is here enshrined; the Sacristan, of whom we inquired its
value, said it was many millions, but beyond any
power of accurate estimate. Great solid gold and
silver crosses and crosiers many feet in height; candlesticks, patens, bowls, books, boxes inlaid with
jewels; emeralds, rubies, sapphires of a size to make
one think the Arabian Nights a record of real existences; every device that could be wrought for a
church dignitary out of the most precious gems of
the earth are here deposited; a vast mine of utterly
unused, profitless riches. One large box has for its
cover a splendid mass of rock crystal, in its natural
state, taken from Mont Blanc, bound and cased in
gold.
From the sacristy we descended to the crypt before




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               209
the High Altar, which contains the chapel of Cardinal Borromeo. The walls, except where they are
interpaneled with rich hangings, are of solid silver,
wrought into many exquisite designs; and pictures
in alto relievo of silver surround the chapel, representing scenes in the life of San Carlo from his birth
to his beatification.
They represent him in acts of munificence to the
poor, for which, indeed, he seems to have been distinguished, if there be any faith in tradition.
One figure symbolizes his. liberality by a cornucopia, out of which is pouring a mass of real silver
dollars.  The great wonder of all is the sarcophagus
of the saint. It is of rock crystal, pure and transparent, from Brazil, the gift of Philip the Second, of
Spain. Within lies ghastly the embalmed Borromeo,
in full canonicals, covered with jewels. A cross presented by Marie Therese is pendent in the coffin,
made of diamonds and emeralds, and valued at a
million of francs.  The elaboration of the whole
chapel was a gift of the artists, so that, in calculating
its value, only the intrinsic worth of the precious
stones and metals is regarded; and the chapel is
estimated at six millions of francs.
I regretted exceedingly not being able to ascend
to the roof of the Cathedral - as my friends assure
me that a nearer view of the statues, and the wonderful designs of the pinnacles and flying buttresses,
greatly enhances the admiration of the beautiful
structure.




210         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
From the Cathedral we went to see the Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci, in the refectory of the
Church of Santa Maria delta Grazia.
The profane have invaded the sacred precincts of
the church, and the ancient cloisters are now desecrated to the uses of a stable. But the room containing the picture still remains devoted to its
exhibition. It is painted upon the wall, and occupies
the entire width of the room. The figures are almost
colossal, but their great size does not immediately
strike one, from their perfect proportion. The picture is greatly defaced, but the wonderful beauty of
the face of the Lord shines fair through all the harm
that time and restoration have done to the rest of the
painting, and shows the hand of the almost inspired
master. What a pity that the great painter could
not have had a foreshadowing of his own fame, and
have painted his picture upon less perishable materials.
Sept. 26. Left Milan in the afternoon for Venice.
Were stopped at Peschiera, a name of which the
Yankee "pesky" is an undoubted corruption. We
had counted upon the hour given in Bradshaw for
rest and refection; on the contrary, we spent it in
awaiting the slow progress of the investigations by
which our luggage was at last declared to be peaceful. The examination was courteously conducted,
and not unnecessarily minute; but the use of the
passports was not quite clear.
One is in the habit of supposing that peculiar




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            211
institution to be a means of identifying the traveller
as the innocent individual accredited by his own
government to the good faith of all others. That
view of the subject turns out to be a mistake.
The officer received the passports, en masse, on our
alighting from the train; it is the first time that we
have produced them. After the examination of the
luggage, a great rush ensued, all the travellers
gathering as closely as possible to the counter of
the pen within which we had been hitherto confined.
A clerk entered with a huge pile of passports under
his arm, and proceeded to cry the names thereto
affixed, to the best of his Italian power. The individual was fortunate who could see his own passport
as it was held up, as he could then interpret the next
cry into his own name, and reclaim his property.
They were, at last, all delivered, duly vised, but
whether our eyes and noses correspond to the declaration, or we be adherents of Garibaldi in disguise,
the Austrian government will never know. We
passed through Vincenza, Padua and Verona, with a
strange sense of familiarity thrilling us from the old
Shakspearean associations; but notwithstanding the
ciceronean assurances of some of the party, we did
not see the tomb of Juliet.  Arrived at Venice
about half-past ten, and rowed up the Grand Canal
in a floating omnibus, which brought us at last to the
Hotel Victoria, once the Molini Palace.
I was awakened in the morning by the plash of
oars, and the sharp warning cry of the gondoliers,




212          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
as they rounded the corners of the buildings into
the various canals. Our windows look upon a narrow
canal, heavy and green, upon which float all kinds of
tribute from the Venetian kitchen. According to our
usual custom we had ordered rooms as low as possible to avoid the necessity of superfluous climbing.
They were readily accorded us here, but as we were
ushered up to the fourth story to the dining room, it
was not so great an advantage as we had supposed.
We land from the gondola at the threshold of a
spacious and lofty hall, with marble floor and seats,
from which open the booking office and the various
bureaus of such an establishment. A kind of gallery
runs round the upper part of the hall, with windows
by which it is overlooked from the first story.
In the conversion of palace to hotel, the spacious
saloons have been subdivided into bed rooms, eating
halls, &c., and the fanciful patterns of the concrete
floors are deprived of their designs by the utilitarian
divisions.
We had been recommended to this hotel as being
upon the square of St. Mark, but except that it is
built upon the same little island with the square of
St. Mark, that is a mistake.
After breakfast, we sallied forth to visit the square.
By means of a slight balcony that overhung the canal,
we reached a narrow passage, damp and dirty, very
like the side alleys by which one may reach back
entrances in some of our cities. In this, and many
others, it is possible to touch the walls upon both




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                213
sides at once. The larger streets are seven or eight
feet in width, filled with shops, long, dark and
narrow.
After turning sundry corners in these dismal lanes,
we emerged, at last, through an open vaulted court,
into the veritable square of St. Mark.  It has around
its sides the Church of St. Mark, the Ducal Palace,
and the public buildings. The Campanile is here;
indeed the square is the centre of interest in Venice.
Long colonnades run round the open space, filled
with tempting shops, gold and silver work and jewels
constituting the greater part of the display, and on
one side are multitudes of cafes.
The custom of begging by means of merchandise
is here carried to great perfection.  We were pursued
by most pertinacious venders of articles of every
description, from the pretty shell ornaments peculiar
to the place, down to a live mud turtle, the proposed
use of which did not appear.
The Church of St. Mark is singularly brilliant in
effect, albeit it is so unlike ordinary church architecture, that we were at first in doubt as to its character.
It is adorned in front with large pictures of mosaic,
brilliantly colored and gilded. Above the entrance
are bronze horses, said to be very perfect, which have
undergone various mutations of fortune, having been
brought among Venetian spoils from Constantinople,
carried to Paris by Napoleon, and finally restored by
the French. The interior of the church is wonderful,
in being of mosaic from floor to dome.  The pictures




214         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
of the walls, the entire ceiling —in fine all that is
usually accomplished in ornament by painting, is
here done by mosaics. The tesselated floor has sunk
in many waves from the yielding of the foundations.
Indeed the only wonder is that such heavy edifices
are not prostrated by the slow sapping of the seas,
during the ages in which they have poured their
sluggish tide through the long rows of piles upon
which they are built.
This church was erected in the ninth century, and
was constructed and enriched by the spoils of Byzantine architecture. The Baptistery, which is the oldest part, is entirely Greek; the font is of porphyry
upon a marble pedestal. A tomb in the chancel is
said to contain the relics of St. Mark, brought from
Alexandria and deposited, with great pomp, in this
shrine. Behind this tomb are several slender pillars,
which tradition affirms to have been originally
brought from Solomon's Temple. A lighted taper
behind them showed them to be translucent.
Some of the doors are of Corinthian brass, or, as
we should call it, bronze,.of great antiquity, magnificently wrought, not by casting, but by the chisel and
hammer. These are also Greek spoils. There is
shown, in one of the chapels, a stone which, as the
guide related, has the legendary importance of having
been brought from Mount Sinai.  Our cicerone was
an intelligent person, belonging to the church, and
was particular in his statements; and when he related sundry traditional miracles, he took care to




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             215
prefix "the tradition says;" on being questioned as
to their authenticity, he shrugged his shoulders in a
manner which showed that he laid the responsibility
of credence upon those of his hearers.
From the church we went to the Ducal Palace, the
mysterious seat of the doges, of whom we have read
and dreamed so much, and, I think, with about as
much sense of their living reality as if they had belonged to a fairy tale.
A broad flight of marble steps leads up to the corridor, which runs along the front of the palace.
From that ascends the golden staircase, trodden only
by sovereigns, at the top of which the doges were
crowned. We, albeit sovereigns in our own right,
were shown a plainer way into the magnificent halls,
written, to the spiritual eye, with histories more
splendid and more dark than crowd the page of any
other nation upon earth - Rome excepted.
The walls are covered with the paintings of Tintoretto, Bassano and Titian, fresh and gorgeous as if
wet from the brush of to-day. They are both allegoric and historic, representing the power and the
conquests of Venice in her splendid ages, with portraits of all the doges and many senators.
Besides the grand state apartments, we saw the
council chamber and ante-chamber, the inquisitors'
chamber and its ante-room, which sent a chill through
my blood at the thought of the invisible record upon
those walls, awaiting the fiery summons which shall
call it into legible and fearful openness. There were




216         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
also exhibited the doge's private apartments, all
adding to their historic interest the unfading lustre
of art. The Austrian government turns the splendid
palace to account by making it the depository of a
library and a museum of art.
We were attended by a poor old guide, whose
occupation is evidently almost gone. He paced hurriedly along these charmed halls and lofty staircases,
restlessly conning, in a whispered utterance, the tale
of history or explanation which he was to recite at
the next stage of exploration.
After traversing the palace we went to the Bridge
of Sighs, which connects it with the state prison on
the other side of the canal. It is a closely covered
handsome stone bridge, high above all possibility
of scrutiny from below - through the openings of
whose ornaments, the condemned caught his last
glimpse of the outer world.
The business-like haste of the guardians of all
places of such profound interest, leaves you no opportunity of surrendering yourself to the spirit of the
place, and gives you continually a sense of unreality;
in consequence of which you often enjoy the remembrance of an interesting spot, with a keener relish
than in its actual presence.
We returned to descend into the palace prisons.
One dark narrow cell is styled the " merciful," having
a pallet, and a window, not, indeed, opening to the
light of heaven, but into the lighted passages. Here
the prisoner passed the interval between accusation




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              217
and condemnation. I doubt if any interval was
wont to elapse between condemnation and execution,
we saw no place allotted to it, but a small space
deeply enclosed by double doors, where secret criminals were garroted.
Thank God for the nineteenth century! I do not
belong to those who worship an ideal past.
As the traveller, in gazing at a long range of fair
mountains upon the distant horizon, catches only the
undulating outline of the sunlit peaks, and sees
nothing of the dark chasms and fearful depths between; so the dreamer, surrounded by the evil and
folly and pettiness of to-day, turns longingly backward to the far vision of the centuries, where he
can dimly discern the splendors of military prowess,
the grandeur of art, and the magnificence of almost
fabulous wealth; forgetting the savage defiles of
crime, and the dark secrets of abomination, and woe,
and cruelty that cursed the earth through all those barbarous ages, when, wherever the palace rose on high,
the dungeon lurked below.  It is only when one
looks down from above, that he can take in the true
proportions of nature or humanity.
After lunching, as one should in Venice, in the
open air, we took a gondola for the Academy of
Fine Arts, on the Grand Canal, where we enjoyed
a great treat. One never ceases to regret that so
much of the genius of the great masters was employed upon subjects in which we cannot sympathize.
15




218        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
But in looking at such a picture as Titian's
Assumption, we forget all dislike.of the subject in
admiration of the painting. There is another great
picture of Titian here, the Entombment; but heterodox as it may be, I much prefer Rubens' Descent. I
have no doubt that the highest appreciation of art
places Titian almost at the head of painters, but I am
not equal to his pictures, and found far more pleasure
even in such a picture as Raphael's Julius Second.
There is a splendid modern picture in the Academy,
of Nebuchadnezzar Receiving the Prophetic Warning of Daniel.
We left the Academy reluctantly at the hour for
closing, and spent the afternoon in floating upon the
Grand Canal, listening to the continual chime of the
musical bells, and hearing names familiar to the lips
of the gondolier, which have seemed to us to belopg
only to the realms of fiction.
We passed palace after palace, once adorned by
wealth and rank and beauty, but now inhabited only
by domestics, or let to foreigners; while their noble
heritors either suffer forced exile, or endure voluntary
expatriation in preference to the Austrian yoke.
The hate of the Austrian rule is very apparent, but
fourteen thousand Austrian bayonets within the
decaying city are strong arguments to patience.
The Grand Canal is three hundred feet wide,
winding in a serpentine line through the midst of
the city, and spanned in the middle by the bridge of
the Rialto.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            219
We rowed, the next day, about the lagunes and
among the beautiful islands, of which there are more
than seventy making up the city.
The only way to see the beauty of this ancient
realm, is to recede to such a distance upon the waters
that the view can take in dome and tower and column
and palace, the strange picture that "floats double,"
city and shadow, upon the still waters of the Adriatic. And, circling ever about the silent city, it
seems ever at the same dreamy distance; and you
wonder always what may be within its heart, if you
could only get at it, and what is now the life within
the walls of the Foscari and the Contari.
You have always known that it was a city whose
streets are water, and in which the sound of wheels
is never heard; that it is filled with palaces and
churches, and that the doges held a mysterious fearful sway within these walls; and that is all you
know now, and it seems as much of a dream as ever.
These dark green waters are as near an approach
to the wave of Lethe as one will find in modern
times; and as you float lazily, amidst the soft breath
of the Venetian sky, which envelopes you like a bath,
it is no very easy thing to bring your thoughts to the
sharp edge of a business world and its every day
affairs. Nothing about you invites you to do so.
Boats lie upon the water laden with fruits and vegetables which the owners seem in no haste to sell;
others, piled with grapes, go trailing along to the
wine-press; here is a gondolier fishing, and there




220         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
another basking at full length in the sun. Nothing
seems alert upon the waters; and as you watch the
noiseless dip of the long oar, you feel the Yankeeism
oozing out at the finger ends; and grow as dreamily
indolent as if you were to the manor born.
The avocations of the inhabitants are, in no degree,
of an industrious aspect; but there is one profession
there, which seems to me the sublimity of the dolce
far niente. The stock in trade consists of a slender
pole, pointed with a rusty nail, usually the possession of a squalid old man, who applies the nail to the
side of your gondola, as it touches the step of the
pier, and then holds out his unsightly cap for a recompense.
I could fancy Venice to be a far better place to
visit with a traveller's enjoyment than to live in.
The canals and lagunes are full of the associations
of fiction —and they are full of many other things
also; and if one had ever harbored the intention of
suicide by drowning, it is not in Venice that he
would choose to carry it into execution.
And then the mosquitoes! they make night as
well as the face hideous, and the traveller is fairly
driven out of the domain of the Queen of the Adriatic by a tiny weapon more potent than the Austrian
bayonet.
We left Venice in the soft gray dawn of a cloudless morning. The moon shone full and fair upon
the deserted waters, as we floated down to the railway. No sound of step or hum of voice arose from




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             221
the noiseless city, which slept upon the waves as if it
had been the city of the dead; and as we sped along
the causeway through the sea, we seemed to be
awaking from some oriental dream, rather than
"doing " a city in the business-like fashion of the
nineteenth century.




222         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CHAPTER XI.
ITALY.
Padua - Bologna - Appennines - Florence -Pisa - Leghorn - The Mediterranean - Civita Vecchia.
SEPT. 29. We arrived early at Padua, which brings
up Shakspearean memories, despite our actual experience there.
It was the first time that we had learned the utter
helplessness of a mute traveller. Not a soul knew
any thing except Italian; and as that mellifluous
language happens to be lacking in the gift of tongues
with which we are clothed, they had it all their
own way, and an Italian way is sure to be a bad one,
so far as order or system is concerned.
However, one learns language rapidly under the
discipline of necessity, and we did obtain, even at
Italian hands, a cup of tea and a piece of bread, besides a seat in a carriage to Ferrara. We had a note
of commendation from  our Boniface at Venice to
the landlord' of the Croce d'Oro, at Padua, but it
seemed to avail us nothing, except, perhaps, the
ensuring us a passage to Ferrara instead of the regular stopping at Ponte-lag oscuro. The crossing at
the latter place was as contrast to ordinary trav



WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              223
elling. The swarm of vehicles brought up suddenly
from a prosperous journey, at a very Styx; the
Charons of the rude ferry boats urged their craft
slowly along the shore, culling their fare from the
impatient crowds of mingled nationalities upon the
bank, and rowed us leisurely across the sluggish
waters of the Po, amid surroundings which seemed
to have been unchanged for a century.
The journey was a drive of nine hours, including
two hours' detention at a wretched roadside inn;
where dinner was served by a sort of industrious man
of all work, to whose garments adhered the dust, hay,
cobwebs, feathers, and odors which denoted the multifarious duties of his calling.
It is impossible for an American to comprehend,
without having seen, the amount of time, vociferation,
quarrelling and blunders necessary to get a diligence
under weigh in this land; to say nothing of the
"lookers on in Vienna," who have nothing earthly to
do except to add to the confusion and beg.
The drive was through a perfectly level country,
upon a superb road, smooth as a floor, and stretching
as far as. the eye could reach in either direction, between rows of tall poplars, bordered by fields of tolerable cultivation.
The poplar of Lombardy is quite a different affair
from its namesake on our side of the water, and a
really handsome tree. The vine, which is here apparently only an incidental crop, is festooned along low
trees, forming a kind of hedge about the fields, with



224        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
out, however, shading the growth below. The wine
of the country is harsh and crude, partaking largely
of the nature of mingled ink and vinegar.
The cattle are remarkably fine; large, well-made
creatures, nearly white, with wide, spreading horns,
retaining some of the characteristics of their Alpine
neighbors.
After the custom of these countries to turn every
thing feminine to useful account, the cows are employed in labor quite as much as oxen. A very good
type of the civilization appears in a team whose
motive power is, conjointly, a woman and a cow.
The women of the peasantry throughout the continent strike one painfully; there is nothing womanly
about them; they look harder and uglier than the
men, and it is difficult to see how they could ever
have been attractive.
Then, the beggars spring up at every step of the
way, like grasshoppers. The little child, just able to
learn the whine of the mendicant; the sturdy lad
who makes a cartwheel of himself for your especial
edification, or clings to your carriage step with a
doleful story about his " povre padre" or "madre;"
the little girl, who wails forth a forlorn ditty to remind
you that you are in the land of song; the mother
with her baby in her arms; the gray-haired old
woman who improves the intervals of begging by
spinning on a portable distaff; the bleared, squalid
old man, with his greasy cap under your nose; and
worst of all, the veritable lord of creation himself,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             225
who touches the. strap of your portmanteau, and
stands inexorable as fate for something which sounds
like zecchi; all hasten to swarm about the doomed
traveller, as if his only object in travelling were to
dispense money by the way side.
It is intolerable, to find your heart growing indifferent to the tokens of want, or harrowed by the incessant sights and sounds of a loathsome humanity.
This beautiful country needs nothing but the people
to make it smile into Paradise, but at present a sense
of disgust is interwoven with all that it presents of
attraction.
After being ferried over the river at Ponte-lag
oscuro, to the evident disgust of the commissioner
who accompanied the long train of carriages, we were
driven to Ferrara, and interpreting our ticket literally, he carried us two miles beyond the railway
station, which was our proper destination, to the city
of Ferrara, how degenerate from the splendor which
the name calls to mind. However, after some vexatious delays, we arrived safely at Bologna, a very
ancient city, whose sidewalks run through arcades
beneath the upper stories of, the dwellings.  It
seemed to me to bear a Moorish aspect, and is just
now remarkable for having been the last place of
Northern Italy wrested from the papal dominion.
We had rail from Bologna to Vergato, and thence
a most charming route, by diligence, across the Appenines to Pistoja. The carriages were easy and well
appointed, and the long cavalcade of diligence and




226         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
voiture swept along the smooth road like a whirlwind. The road lay along a valley, or in easy undulation for about half the way, and a railway, in process
of construction, followed the same route.  Then additional horses were attached, and we toiled, although
still rapidly, up a veritable mountain pass, the same
splendid road winding through the difficult ways,
and bridging the narrow gorges.
The scenery, without being grand, is wild and picturesque; the hills often crowned with chateau and
village, and, even with the Alps by heart, some of
these were very respectable mountains.
In this part of the way the railway exhibits
magnificent engineering. The road makes straight
through the depths of the mountains by tunnels,
which are beautiful in their solid strength, and in
one place is carried over a long gorge upon a set of
massive arches, which will challenge the admiration
of many generations.
Through all this beautiful country, with the tramp
of Roman legions ringing in your ears, there is the
same literally running accompaniment, the same
eternal whine. You. cannot give the friendly look
of recognition which was so heartily returned in
Germany, for it makes you ashamed of your race to
find the return only an application for money. We
have never seen a peasant in the country clad in a
new, or clean, or whole garment; as for the children,
they, happily, do not suffer in this climate by the
grievous lack of any.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              227
We thundered down from the hills at a rate like
the travels of the great Napoleon, and whirled
through a most beautiful plain, cultivated and ornamented.  The mountains had been covered with
grand chestnuts, the plain was filled with figs,
peaches, vines and olives.  The charming scene
made one long for the time when the iron heel of
tyranny and priestcraft shall be lifted from the downtrodden head of knowledge and industry, and the
people and the soil be permitted to develope resources
which will make Italy the garden of the earth.
There is much in the soil and productions of the
country to remind us of our own country.
From Pistoja we came again by rail to Florence,
and have been watching the dying tints of sunset
upon the still waters of the Arno.
Sept. 31. WVe made a short tour of exploration
among the beautiful mosaics of Florence, a work of
art of which the city is jealously proud-and then
went to the Uffizi palace.
It does not become me to speak of the merits of
such a gallery. I can only mention some of the
things that particularly interested us; among which,
of course, stands pre-eminent the Venus de Medici.
It is a wonder of beauty; the figure and limbs outstrip rivalry, but to my poor taste, Powers has more
than once surpassed it in feature and expression. I
suppose it is entirely in keeping with the different
ages, that the centuries in which life was mainly material and sensuous, should produce its highest per



228         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
fection in the delineation of merely physical nature,
without much regard to that soul beauty which constitutes for us the highest type of loveliness.
Of the paintings, I liked best two demi-figures of
great beauty -a Magdalen by Dolci, and La Vierge
des Douleurs, by Salvi. There were, also, among
the most valuable pictures, two by Rubens, Silenus
and a Satyr, and a group of Bacchanals; a Magdalen
and a St. Francis, by Allori; a Virgin and Child;
The Virgin of the Well; St. John in the Desert; a
portrait of Charles the Fifth, and another of Julius
the Second, all by Raphael. A head of Medusa, by
Da Vinci; a head of St. John, by Corregio, a splendid picture; San Carlo Borromeo and the Sufferers
by Pestilence, by Bonatti; a Virgin and Child, by
Titian; Judith and Holofernes, by Artemisia Gentilischi; St. Zanobi restoring a child to life, by Ghirlandajo.; and a beautiful Cascade of Teverone, at
Tivoli, by a French artist, Tierce.
One small room was filled with exquisite sculptures
in bas relief, of which two were especially beautiful,
the death of the wife of Francis Tornabuoni, and
the recluses of Vallombrosa attacked in the choir by
the Simonites. Many of these charming sculptures
have been mutilated by soldiers lodged in the monastery of St. Salvi, where they were preserved.
One room is filled with gems and vases of great
price. Among the most interesting, although perhaps not the most appreciable things in the immense
collection, are sketches and studies by the great mas



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             229
ters of art, Titian, Raphael, Guido, Da Vinci, Salvator Rosa, Poussin, and many others.
In the same palace is a library, in which we saw
the manuscripts of Tasso, Dante, Boccacio, and Virgil; also illuminated books, printed on vellum, and
adorned with exquisite designs by pen and brush.
Splendid vellum editions of Homer, Virgil, and
Dante, and illuminated missals of great beauty testify
to the perfection to which both the arts of printing
and painting were carried in ages which we are ajpt to
dispose of summarily, by considering them as little
removed from the middle darkness.
The gallery of the Pitti palace contains far more
of interest than that of the Uffizi. Here were some
magnificent portraits by Raphael, Da Vinci, and Tintoretto; marine pictures by Salvator Rosa; a Venus
and Vulcan, by Tintoretto; Narcissus, by Curradi;
a Virgin and Child, by Murillo; the Hospitality of
St. Julien, by Allori; Diogenes, by Dolci; St. John,
by the same; a grand St. Peter, by Guido; a very
fine Cromwell, by Lely; Leo the Tenth, by Raphael,
with countless repetitions of the favorite sacred subjects, by the masters; all striking for some peculiar
excellence.
Not being able to make such a stay in Florence as
would enable us to study these splendid galleries, it
became necessary to pass by numberless pictures of
interest, and to fix the attention upon the few most
pleasing to our individual tastes.  And a great
pleasure it was, but one more easily garnered up in




230        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the memory than described by any thing short of a
catalogue.
Scattered about the saloons were tables of great
beauty, mosaics of precious stones, one of green
malachite, very like the splendid table at Chatsworth.
We came away unsatisfied, with a deepened reverence for the power of the few masters whose works,
even amid so much genius, stand out pre-eminently
and unapproachably, the acknowledged sovereigns of
art. We still look back to the Descent from the
Cross as first among the pictures that we have yet
seen, although I doubt if Rubens would have the
first place if judged by his other works.
Oct. 1. Visited the Duomo, but did not find its
interior present unusual interest.  It is filled with
busts and statues, and an unfinished Pieta, by Michael
Angelo himself, stands behind the High Altar.
The exterior is of black, white, and green marble,
and beautiful indeed. My friends went to the top of
the Campanile, but I contented myself meanwhile
with a stroll, in the course of which I went through
a market, filled to profusion with fruits and vegetables, tomatoes, peaches, lemons, and huge bunches
of grapes that reminded one of Eschol, and all at
prices ludicrously small.
There is something very fascinating in the vagabond life which, by common consent, the traveller
may live in this luxurious climate; supplying his
own wants how and where he will, and roving at
pleasure among the choicest works of ancient and




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              231
modern art. We went to the Church of San Lorenzo,
but found it closed, to our great chagrin. It contains
the tombs of the Medici, and the great statues of
Night and Morning, by Michael Angelo. We
visited also the home of this great artist. The splendid suite of apartments, once the scene of his labors
and enjoyments, is kept in beautiful preservation.
The walls are covered with frescoes or hung with
paintings, some of them by the master himself
Here are some of his own works in bas relief, and
studies and models of his great work at Rome. His
own furniture still occupies his library, and the tiny
cabinet is unchanged, in which sprang into being the
wonderful creations which he afterwards embodied
for the world, and there still remains his own portrait, painted by himself The house is still in the
possession of the Buonarotti family, and they do
honor to the great name, by the sedulous care with
which every relic of the painter is preserved fresh
and inviolate.
We passed the Casa Guidi, the home of one who
loved Italy with her whole great heart, and went to
Powers' studio. The New World has vindicated her
claims to genius, even beside the undying memorials
of Grecian and Italian art.
Mr. Powers has certainly the power of transfusing
the ideal or the individual into his marble heads, as
the ancients did not often do, perhaps because there
was not so much to delineate in the faces of their
models, but his figures must yield to the beauty of the




232         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Greek. One may study sculpture in the streets of
)Florence. Art, here, bestows her charms as prodigally as nature showers the abundance of her riches.
Statues are every where. I could not help wondering
how long the Perseus of Benvenuto Cellini would
have remained unmutilated in the line of great
thoroughfare in the cities of our own land.
We drove home by the Uffizi, by the portico of
statues, where stand, in stately order, beneath the
colonnade, statues of men whose names may well
make Italy proud, for they number among them the
pious, the learned, poets, painters, and sculptors, at
whose feet the world does homage.
Florence is a truly beautiful city, and a most
enticing place of residence for a foreign winter.
It combines the charms of art, society, and climate,
in no ordinary degree, and the government wisely
throws all its attractions open to the population
of strangers which resort hither. The garb or the
speech of a foreigner is a passport to palaces and
galleries, which are quite inaccessible to the native
inhabitants.
We leave Florence with great regret that our
plans of return to America forbid a longer stay
amid so much attraction which we long to explore,
and so many works of art which we long to revisit.
Oct. 2. Left Florence for Pisa; meeting in the railway carriage friends from America, whom we are to rejoin at Rome. We were unexpectedly delighted at
Pisa. The leaning tower is a beautiful structure of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             233
marble, well rendered by the many pictures which we
have seen of it. It is surrounded by columned galleries, upon which the broad inner staircase emerges; of
marble so polished that one hesitates to trust his
footing upon the undefended space, especially in such
a wind as was blowing when we adventured ourselves
upon the task.
The ascent is rendered rather fatiguing by the
continual change in inclination, which disappoints
the foot; and there is something nervously suggestive in the vast hollow depths into which we look
from above. My own head fairly refused the narrow
outer staircase of the last division, and I climbed,
instead, a slender perpendicular iron ladder, let into
the inner surface of the wall. There is a chime of
seven bells upon the top, so arranged that the heaviest shall assist in counteracting the inclination of the
tower.
The cracks in the marble staircase point conclusively to the solution of the question whether the
inclination be intentional or accidental.
The tower is evidently unfinished; perhaps in
consequence of the sinking of the foundation. It is
a beautiful construction, the spiral colonnade giving
it a very pleasing effect. Adjacent are the Cathedral,
the Baptistery, and the Campo Santo; all of great
interest and beauty.
The Cathedral is of the eleventh century; it is
surrounded by a flight of steps, and is built of alternate layers of white and red marble. It has suffered
16




234          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
like the Campanile, from the sinking of the foundations, but the irregularity does not strike one on a
cursory view. The High Altar is very elaborate,
built of marble and lapis lazuli. It has also sunk
to such a degree as to have required a renewal of the
front.
The church is filled with paintings, which, in general excellence, surpass those of any church that we
have visited. Others have had fine paintings, but
here are many, not one of which is destitute of great
merit; and in coloring they are magnificent.
A beautiful head of St. Agnes, by Del Sarto, enriches the church. An immense alto relievo of one
piece of marble represents the Temptation, with
figures of Adam and Eve, of more than life size.
The serpent is represented with the head of a
woman; which circumstance the guide apologetically
assured me resulted from the ignorance of ancient
ideas upon the subject.
There are here two other fine pictures by Del Sarto,
whose paintings possess a great charm for me; the
Virgin, with St. Thomas and St. John; and a St.
Francis. Del Sarto died while engaged upon the
last picture. There is a fine Judith by Allori; a
copy, or rather a duplicate of the one in the Pitti
Gallery. The church is filled with statuary and
costly shrines; and the ornaments of the architecture
are rich and varied. We were quite unprepared for
the closing of the cathedral at the early hour of
noon, and were, in consequence, deprived of the




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              235
pleasure of dwelling with more minuteness upon
some remarkably fine modern pictures; among
which was one especially interesting, the Reception
of Coeur de Lion at Pisa, during the Crusades.
Being excluded from the cathedral, we took refuge
in the Baptistery; a circular building of Byzantine
architecture, richly ornamented.
It contains, in the centre, an immense Greek font,
surrounded by exquisite carvings in sixteen slabs,
brought from Constantinople; each slab wrought in
some curious device, different from its fellows.
The great curiosity of the place is the pulpit. It
is a marvel of alto relievo; both the preaching and
the reading desks are wrought in carvings of great
delicacy, representing scenes in the life of the
Saviour. One of the desks is in the form of a book
supported by an eagle. The great- rotunda gives a
fine echo, which was put to the test by an attendant
with a musical voice, who sang low chords, and they
were returned with great precision and beauty.
The Campo Santo is a kind of spacious cloister
around a green court, containing monuments, sarcophagi and statues.  The walls are frescoed with
numberless pictures, chiefly from sacred subjects.
The most remarkable sarcophagus is that of the
Countess Beatrice; there is another of the Emperor
Hadrian; and many curious monuments of the
ancients, exhumed in the vicinity of Pisa, are here
preserved. The green plot in the centre contains
earth nine feet in depth, brought from the hill of




236         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Calvary, in fifty-three ship loads, during the Crusades.
Altogether, Pisa is a place of unusual interest;
although as a city, it wears an air of desolation. In
the broad day we scarcely encountered a person in
the streets, and the wide quay along the Arno was
as silent as a Sabbath day.
From  Pisa we proceeded to Leghorn, which we
did not attempt to explore; and after the most vexatious experience of extortion and bullying, we
found ourselves on board the little Italian steamer,
bound to Civita Vecchia. The steamers do not come
to the wharf, but lie along the mole at a considerable
distance from the shore. We were on board an hour
before the time of sailing, and it was amusing to
watch the embarkations, and see the various ways in
which the unlucky passenger, who hugged himself
with the belief that he had made a secure bargain,
was cheated or abused. We paid ten francs from the
station to the steamer, where the officer comforted us
with the assurance that it was seven francs too much.
However, we were on board, and the time for the
departure came. It blew a stiff breeze, and the little
buoyant boat rode the tossing waters like a bird, the
only difficulty was that its occupants were not constituted like waterfowl. One after another the visages
grew pensive, then serious; some quietly disappeared,
others silently devoted themselves to a contemplation
of the depths of the sea.
For my own part, I summoned all my intellectual
resources to keep down the rebellious spirit within;




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             237
but there came a time when resistance ceased to be a
virtue, and I gave in - unconditional surrender.
The gale freshened, and the waves came sweeping
over the deck; but nobody seemed to mind it, so
long as he had energy to keep upright. At length
the deck was deserted by all except Mrs. R., myself,
and a pale young priest, who sat helplessly upon the
planks, and smiled a ghastly sympathy at us in his
better intervals. It grew wetter and wetter; there
seemed no possibility of weathering the night on
deck; we heard the sailors prognosticating a stronger
blow, and it soon became apparent that we must betake ourselves to the confined depths below. But
how to get there was a question.
The boat pitched like a see-saw, with a lateral roll
superadded, which precluded the possibility of keeping our feet. The difficulty was solved by two
sailors taking us each in their arms, and, watching
their opportunity, they staggered with us across the
deck to the gangway. Here dispossessing a score of
sick outsiders, they lifted us down to the cabin.
There the homme de chainbre did his best to help us,
but we were past help. My friend betook herself to
her berth, and bore it bravely, but I lay upon the
floor in a state of helpless abandon for which I have
no name; not even the fleas moved me to.resistance,
nor could I bestow word upon friend or foe.
It was well that nobody was hungry, for the
kitchen was upset in the beginning of the blow. My
prevailing thought during the night was of our pro



238          WAYSIDE SKETCEIES.
jected return from Naples to Marseilles by sea, and
my heart sank and my stomach rose inversely. One
consolation only mingled with it all —it could not
last forever, and with the morning sun we dropped
anchor at Civita Vecchia.
One would suppose that the next thing would be
to land, but things are not done in that cursory way
in the dominions of His Holiness. Rome has been
threatened by sea before, and one never knows what
may happen again.
The captain went on shore with the passports
which we had given up at Leghorn, and after an
absence of an hour and a half, he returned, accompanied by two or three small boats.
A man presently made his appearance on deck,
with two bits of paper in his hand, from which he
read the names of our own party. This turned out
to be a permission to land, and we gladly proceeded
to take our places in a boat, and rowed away.
It seemed ludicrous to leave the small number of
passengers, innocent looking voyagers, ruefully awaiting the moment when the safety of the state should
permit them to follow us. Our protector professed
to be a commissioner under the especial auspices of
the American Consul; and, having seen our passports, he had hastened to secure for us the earliest
permit. Our citizenship stood us, for once, in good
stead, for, in the examination of the luggage, the
word American acted like magic, to close lock and
strap upon a very respectful research.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES              239
We were duly accredited and seated in the railway
carriage before the next detachment from the steamer
made its appearance. As for those of the passengers forced by this delay to wait for the next train,
one could easily imagine their disgust after such a
night.
The train proceeded to Rome, a distance of fortyfive miles, in three hours and a half, stopping at frequent intervals, sometimes in the midst of the desolate Campagna, without any apparent reason, perhaps
to prepare the Pope, by degrees, for our approach.
At last the long, low line of city, surmounted by dome
and tower, rose to view — Rome, the city of the
Caesars -I cannot yet comprehend it.
We are established in the Bocca di Leone, near the
Pincian Hill, and the associations of ages come
surging over the petty present, and almost appal the
thoughts. However, even in Rome one must rest,
and we went to bed without bestowing many thoughts
upon the Cresars,




240         WAYSII)E  SKETCHES.
CHT.APTER XII.
ITALY.
Rome - St. Peter's - Vatican - Capitol - Forum - Coliseum - Naples -
Herculaneum - Pompeii — Museum - Chapels - Pausilippo.
OCT. 4. We strolled down to the "yellow Tiber,"
crossed the classic river in a ferry boat, certainly not
less rude than that which carried Caesar, followed a
long dusty footpath, as lonely and uninteresting as
any by-way in New England, and passed under an
arched and sentinelled gateway, into a silent street,
which led to the great colonnade in front of St.
Peter's.
This wonderful edifice, like the mighty works of
Nature, needs time to comprehend its vastness. It
covers two hundred and forty thousand square feet,
and is four hundred and forty-eight feet high. I
think, however, that it is impossible, by statistics, to
gain any conception of St. Peter's.
The disposition of the noble porticoes which lead
to it, the immense fagade which effectually conceals
the height of the great dome, the wide rectangular
columns, the breaking of the outline between the
roof and the columns, and the colossal size of figure,
both in painting and sculpture, all tend most artfully
to diminish the proportions of the mighty structure,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             241
and it requires a continual effort to remember that it
is the greatest of all Cathedrals. Perhaps one of the
best proofs of its immense extent is that you are continually forgetting it, and stray about the aisles and
chapels to gaze upon the works of art within them,
as if you were under the open air of Heaven.
I do not think there is any point of vision in the
interior from which we may gain an adequate idea of
its size as a unity, as can be done in the cathedrals of
Northern Europe.
We traversed the wide space in front of the church,
and found that, also, altogether deceptive to the eye.
In the middle stands the great obelisk of the Vatican;
one of those brought from Heliopolis, and erected
upon its present pedestal in the sixteenth century.
I do not propose to attempt any description of St.
Peter's; or to do more than glance at a few of the
most striking features of its interest. If one should
write a volume, there would still be something left;
and, so far as impressions go, I know, by experience,
how impossible it is to convey them to others, upon
a subject like this.
We found High Mass in progress of celebration,
with all the mummery of priest and host, procession
and torches. Several masses were said in different
parts of the church, while we remained; and a score
might go on at once without interference. The distant chants strive against the overwhelming space -
and die.
In the first chapel to the right of the entrance, is a




24:2        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
famed Pieta, by Michael Angelo, inscribed with his
own name. Sculptures abound every where, chiefly
monumental; some very fine, by Canova. I believe
his tomb of Clement the Thirteenth is considered'to
be, not only the finest sculpture of St. Peter's, but
the most distinguished of his own productions. The
Pope is a majestic figure, in the attitude of prayer,
supported by two figures of Death and Religion.
Two enormous couchant lions lie at the base; one of
which, represented sleeping, is a splendid work. A
bronze statue of St. Peter sits in the nave, not far
from the High Altar, and thither came the devout, in
almost continuous procession, to kiss his toe, which
is suffering materially from the devotions of ages.
Before the High Altar, a circular marble balustrade
surrounds a sunken space, to which descends a double
flight of marble steps; and there, immediately under
the dome, kneels a figure of Pius the Sixth, before
the crypt which is supposed to contain the relies of
St. Peter. A hundred lamps shine, night and day,
around this sacred enclosure; a transfer of the Vestal
fire well calculated to win favor in Roman eyes; and
above the most consecrated altar hangs an elaborate
canopy, or baldacchino.  Higher up, the eye seeks
the majestic dome, which almost seems the vault of
heaven brought down to earthly eyes; and in its
apex is a representation which chills a Protestant
heart; the Jehovah himself in visible form. In the
tribune hangs an enormous chair, said to enclose the
identical chair in which the Apostle was crowned.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             243
The mosaics of St. Peter's are far finer than the
sculptures. Three especially seemed to me to surpass
all the others; the copies of Raphael's Transfiguration; Domenichino's Sacrament of St. Jerome, and
Guido's Crucifixion of St. Peter. The Incredulity
of St. Thomas, by Cammuccini, is also very fine.
We returned by the bridge of Hadrian, at the
castle of St. Angelo; a fort, which if all tales be
true, could speak volumes as to the craft and cruelty
of the papal system —even at the present enlightened day. How enlightened this may be, one may
perhaps judge from a tract put forth during this
very year under the authority and signature of the
Pope himself. It purports to have in view the comforting and strengthening of the faithful in these
times so disastrous to the true church, by refreshing
their memory with a history of a miraculous picture
of our Lord, recently exhibited to the public. This
portrait is averred to have been sketched by St. Luke,
I think the night previous to the Crucifixion. In the
morning the picture was found miraculously completed. It was preserved with great care among the
most sacred possessions of the eastern church, until
the city in which it was deposited (I do not remember where -possibly Damascus) was in danger of
pillage. The brethren, in their anxiety lest the precious picture should suffer violence, sought divine
direction with many prayers and tears; and being
supernaturally advised, they went down to the sea
and committed it to the waves. The picture set forth




244        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
upright, upon its seaward journey, and the brethren
returned to pray for its safety.  Meanwhile the Pope
having been warned in a dream, repaired, with the
college of cardinals, to the mouth of the Tiber, there
to await the developement of the mysterious command; when they saw this picture approaching,
which leaped, dry and unharmed, into the arms of
his Holiness, and was carried in great joy to Rome;
having made the passage of the Levant, rounded the
peninsula, and sailed up the Sicilian coast, if I rightly
remember, in about thirteen hours.
The degree of enlightenment, in which the highest
authority of the church can gravely put forth such
a statement to the people of the nineteenth century,
scarcely admits a comment.
Oct. 5. To-day have visited in the Vatican, the
Loggie, the Sistine chapel, the chapel of St. Paul,
and the Museum; re-visited St. Peter's, went to the
Capitol, the Forum, and the Coliseum.
I can say little of the Vatican, that one palace of
the world. It is difficult to comprehend a structure
containing four thousand four hundred and twentytwo rooms, and I bring away an impression of
magnificent halls, and porticoes with splendid frescoes; grand staircases; and curious and precious
works of art. Among the latter are some elegant
vases of Egyptian alabaster and green basalt.
The Sistine Chapel was one of those overwhelming
disappointments which I am willing, in all humility,
to credit solely to my own lack of appreciation, since




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               245
the world of art cannot be mistaken as to its excellence. I know it is a terrible heresy, but the famous
dicture of the Last Judgment seemed not only disagreeable, but ludicrous. Here, again, is the embodiment of the Divine Father, and the conception of the
scenes of the Judgment are material, puerile, and, in
some respects, heathen; Charon figuring anew in
this sort of baptized mythology.
Of the execution, I have of course no right to speak.
The walls are covered with smoke-stained subjects
from the life of Moses on one side, and of Christ on
the other. The ceiling is crowded with pictures of
Scripture history painted in small compartments, and
the figure of Eve is faultless, even to ignorant eyes.
We left the Vatican to return again and again,
and went to St. Peter's, which immediately adjoins it;
and, leaving the wonders to be seen in it for another
time, we tried to see it; to comprehend its vastness,
to watch the perspective of retreating figures, to pace
its length and breadth, and to grow accustomed to
the height, ever and anon finding our attention
rivetted by some charm of art, unseen before, and
resting with increased admiration upon the St. Jerome
and the Transfiguration.
Then we went down the Piazza again, and made
our way through the city to the Capitoline Hill, and
climbed the steps to that august presence, the Roman
Capitol. Why is it that the shrines at which we have
done mental reverence all our days, should seem
such things of course, when we resolve them into the




246        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
actuality of personal experience? The staircase to
the Capitol seemed very like any other flight of
steps, even with Castor and Pollux at the top; and
the magnificent equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius
which confronts them, compelled a long pause of admiration, even there. It is the most splendid work
of bronze I ever saw, and worthy of its noble
model.
We found the picture gallery closed for repairs,
but had ample food for admiration in the statuary.
The bronze Wolf of the Capitol was a matter of
legitimate interest.  We found here the beautiful
doves of Pliny, which are so often reproduced in
brooches. The boy extracting a thorn from his foot
is one of the most graceful of sculptured works; the
engraving is one of my old admirations. The Amazon, the Antinous, the Cupid, and the Fawn of
Praxitiles need no description of their faultless proportions. Indeed, in touching upon world-renowned
art, any thing beyond the names seems to belittle
their dignity.
Pre-eminent in the Capitol, is the Dying Gladiator.
I have no words to describe the wonderful power of
the round, compact, muscular frame; and the still
more wonderful effect of the strong self control of
mortal agony fading into dim unconsciousness, as
"' the drooped head sinks gradually low " in death.
It is the only ancient sculpture that I have seen,
where the perfection in physical developement is
combined with the higherlpower of perfect expression.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             247
From the Capitol, we descended to the Forum, to
me the most profoundly interesting spot of this
strange city. Who does not feel that he knows the
Roman Forumrn? Yet here, amid broken shaft and
crumbling arch, massive foundation and defaced capital, each one spells out, with difficulty, his own
theory of the extent and character and position of
the spot which once sent forth the silver streams
of eloquence, or hurled the angry thunders of defiance to the echoes of the world. And above the
mass of nameless ruins, still stands a fragment of the
portico; the silent symbol, eloquent above all utterance, of magnificence and oblivion. No tangled
wilderness ever seemed to me so desolate as the
Roman Forum.
Then, by the Sacred Way, along which the imperial city was wont to pour its living flood, we wended
our almost solitary way, beneath the Arch of Titus,
to the Coliseum.
This immense structure has been stripped of its
marble exterior to build the palaces of later Rome;
but the inner construction still remains, perfect in
extent, and, in some places, in its height. It is
an immense oval, surrounded by a triple row
of arched colonnades, broad and massive still; from
which open in frequent transverse arch, the staircases leading to the stalls which overlooked the
arena. The amphitheatre rises, story above story,
to the height of more than one hundred and fifty
feet, its broad colonnades resembling the streets of




248         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
a city. Below the present level sward lie the dens in
which the wild beasts were confined; and one could
fancy the scenes of almost forgotten ages again present to the view. Here gathered the imperial purple
and the plebeian serge, the haughty patron and the
cringing client, to quench the common thirst of cruelty. All watched with eager, cruel eyes, the mortal
combat of the gladiators; those barbarians whose
animal ferocity was stimulated to the utmost by the
applause of the equally ferocious crowd; or perhaps
deepened by the long hunger for freedom.
Into that very arena have been thrown delicate
women, to be gored out of the shape of humanity;
and there have stood Christian men, by thousands, to
struggle to the last mortal extremity with savage
beasts, until they were torn limb from limb; and the
roar of the lion was mingled with the roar of the
eighty thousand incarnate fiends that thronged the
mighty theatre.
The blood of the slaughtered saints, which cries
from that fearful soil to heaven, has not been unavenged. The sentence of retribution is written upon
fallen shaft and shattered fane; upon buried palace
and forgotten temple; the city sitteth solitary which
was full of inhabitants; and the once fruitful Campagna lifts its blasted face to the summer sky,
scorched by the fiery breath of desolation. Rome is
to me oppressively sad. It seems impossible to identify the imperial city, the mistress of the world, the
home of the ancients, whose names make the page of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES             249
history splendid, with the ruined dust, upon which
have arisen the temples of a pagan Christianity, the
galleries of almost divine art, the palaces of insignificant despotism, and the substratum of squalid
poverty and lazy mendicity.
Oct. 9. If we were disposed to erect a superstructure of vanity upon slight foundations,we might fancy
ourselves people of mark, inasmuch as to make an
innocent journey to Naples it was necessary to obtain
permission of the paternal government of Rome.
Then, not content with having satisfied itself that we
had brought nothing objectionable into the kingdom,
it must needs be assured that we carried nothing out;
so we were duly examined and vised before leaving
the Father's dominions. Then, of course, United
Italy must protect herself from our inroads, so the
same ceremony was repeated across the frontier, a
few yards further on. I do not know whether the
effect is more ludicrous or wearisome, to be stopped,
on a prosperous journey, at some little wayside shed,
and watch the process of discharging the vans of all
the travellers' gear, without even the satisfaction of
seeing the delay justified by a thorough search.
At the frontier between Rome and Naples, there
was the usual amount of crowd and begging; one
bright little rascal of ten was actually so accomplished
as to beg in three languages.
The ragged, dirty countrymen gathered closely
about, wearing a dress which is so picturesque in
painting, and reminds one of banditti.
17




250        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
The substitute for shoes is primitive. A round
piece of hide is wrapped around the foot, and pierced
upon the edge with slits, through which a long strap
is laced, and made fast by numerous turns about the
leg. The women adopt the still more primitive
fashion of going bare-footed; of wear the common
slipper without heels, usually without stockings.
A large stone station-house was in progress of erection, and women and very young girls carried the
heavy hewn stone and the tubs of mortar upon their
heads, up the steep ladders, to the masons. We
always see Italian peasants laden with baskets of
grapes in the world of art; but the reality is of
heavier calibre than grapes.
We were not yet done with passports. We must
obtain permission at Naples to return; which permission must be again scrutinized on the way; and
finally, our credentials were delivered into the custody of the police on our arrival at Rome, to be
reclaimed by a fresh application at the bureau on the
following day.
The whole operation would seem ludicrous, if it
were not both annoying and expensive; but so far
as we are individually concerned, the Papa has reiterated reason to feel perfectly at ease.
The route to Naples lies through a country, in
some parts very beautiful. The Apennines are
bare and barren, but it is surprising to see the luxuriance with which the vine flourishes upon the low
hills, whose only soil seems to be the loose ashen




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               251
debris of volcanoes. The villages are all perched on
the summits of the peaked hills:
"Like eagles' nest, hang on the crest
Of purple Apennine,"
perhaps as a necessity of safety; perhaps because
the air is healthier than in the plains. Still, it strikes
one that there is a vast expenditure of climbing in
Italy, to very little purpose.
It is very amusing to become suddenly aware of
one's own importance by the operation of flying
through an Italian village. It requires about five
minutes, but, for that display, the horses are put to
their mettle, and the whip, unlike any other instrument which bears the name, is tortured into convolutions that produce such cracks as are surely unknown
to any other part of the civilized world. The speed
and the noise together are something half alarming,
half ridiculous, but produce an edifying effect upon
the beholders.
One point of remark upon the way to Naples is a
convent called Monte Casino, crowning the summit
of a high hill, the first convent established in Italy,
and said to be very rich in wealth and curious works
of art.
I was unprepared to find Naples such a beautiful
city, although why a city which has been the abode
of a royal court for so many years, should not be
beautiful, did not occur to me. It encircles the lovely
bay in a sweeping crescent of great extent. Directly




252       WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
before the city, and breaking the sea outline, lie the
picturesque islands of Ischia and Capri; and in the
back ground rises the double peak of Vesuvius; as
peaceful and innocent-looking a mountain as if it
were not wont to overwhelm man and his works in
deadly ruin.
Naples would seem to one traversing the streets, to
be the one point of the earth where the productions
of all climates and all soils gather to a common centre
of abundance. Fruits, flowers and vegetables are
heaped in combinations that cannot choose but be
picturesque. Pomona herself could scarcely typify
the luxuriant blessings of the country. What is
peculiar here is, that the productions of the temperate
zone do not disappear, as the earth warms into tropical
growth.  Apples and oranges, pears and pomegranates, peaches and figs, grapes and nuts, are piled
side by side, while the lean, abused donkeys are
laden with pyramids of panniers, bursting with vegetables, green, gold and scarlet; spring, summer and
autumn, all blended in one.
We took the most respectable and vigorous of
commissioners, and drove out, through Portici and
Resina, to the strange city, once more open to the
sunlight after seventeen hundred years of oblivion.
We walked the deserted streets, whose pavements
wear the mark of the wheels of two thousand years
ago; we stood within the still gaily decorated walls,
and explored the penetralia, and trod the mosaic
floors of dwellings instinct with life and luxury when




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             253
the Saviour lived in Galilee; and yet, before even all
his own apostles had received the crown of martyrdom, these busy streets, and gorgeous temples, and
human abodes were passing into oblivion beneath
the ashen waves of that flood which came "when
they knew not," and swept them all away. Nearly
all the exhumed tokens of life have been removed,
and are carefully preserved in the Museum at
Naples; but street and house, theatre, temple, forum,
and fountain are still as distinctly marked as in any
city in the world, and one scarcely knows which
excites the most wonder, the completeness of the
destruction or the magnitude of the labor of restoration.
I remember one beautiful grotto, around a fountain
in the court of a dwelling, which is composed of
shells wrought into pictures and colored scrolls, the
fine shell-work as minutely perfect as if it had been
finished yesterday.
The mosaic floors of the vestibules still welcome
us with "salve," or warn us with "cave canem."
The dining rooms still wear their bright frescoes of
game, and fruit, and flowers, and the leaden pipes are
ready to spout water into the fountains and piscinia.
The ranges are ready for fire, and wine is still
stored in the cellars.
Upon the wall of one of the cellars is distinctly
impressed the outline of a human figure, fled to this
vain refuge, and even here sought out by the destroying element.




254         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
The Amphitheatre is very perfect, showing distinctly the gradations of the several tiers of seats, and
the wall is entire to the top. It is very large, and of a
slightly oval form.
There remain yet miles of excavation to be made,
even after the labor of a hundred years. Still it is
easy to comprehend the possibility of the work being
successfully conducted at Pompeii, when the superincumbent mass consists of a loose soil of ashes and
earth; we tried the hoe and pick ourselves, and
found it not difficult; and with care the fine works of
art distributed throughout the buried city may be
well recovered. But it is a far different thing to go
down into the solemn depths of Herculaneum.
There one threads lofty black galleries, hewn out of
the solid lava, firm as granite, the fiery flood having
flowed in and filled every corner of the doomed city.
Yet out of these recesses of blank darkness have
been exhumed statuary, and pictures, and ornaments, public buildings have been identified and defined, even the books of the day have been rescued,
and while the outer folds are burned to a cinder, the
inner convolutions have been unrolled, and in many
of them the Greek characters are perfectly legible at
this day.
The most thoughtless heart must feel appalled
within these shades of death, and escape to the
abodes of life with a grateful sense of relief.
We drove home through the environs of Naples,
where wine was streaming from the presses, and frames




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             255
of maccaroni hung drying in the sun; the bright gay
city in view on one hand, and the sunny bay stretching away into the western distance on the other.
The element of mendicity seems to find its highest
developement here.  The halt, and maimed, and
blind, and distorted, throng the streets, and thrust all
that is painful and disgusting in humanity under
your sight, until, amid all its beauty, the heart sickens
at the thought of Naples.
We visited the Museum, which contains the wonderful treasures reclaimed from the depths of the
buried cities. They fill many rooms, and consist
of mosaics, statuary, frescoes, household implements
and ornaments; in fine, every thing that belongs to
the busy life of a great city —turned in one hour to
the fixedness of the grave.  Seventeen hundred
Papyri, taken from  the excavations, are here preserved, and some of the skeletons which abound in
the ruins. The great amount of jewels and household decorations speaks of the immense wealth of
these buried cities, yet, strange to say, no amount of
coin has yet been discovered. The government is
expecting that discovery when the banking streets
shall be uncovered. But it would not be strange if
the Romans had been beforehand with them, and had
made sufficient explorations, after the catastrophe, to
possess themselves of the bulk of the buried treasure.
The number of the destroyed population has been
variously estimated from thirty to forty thousand.
What seems a marvellous feature of the country




256         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
is, that beneath the very mountain from whose bowels
flowed these desolating rivers of fire, men still build
their cities and cultivate their fields. Within the
memory of the children of twelve years, the mountain has disgorged its molten flood, and streets in
Resina are still blocked up with the solid mass; and
there they still live, as if bound by some magic fascination to tempt their fate. However, it is no more
astonishing than the parallel in the moral world,
which meets us every day and every where.
The Picture Gallery of the Museum is a very fine
one, occupying a succession of spacious halls, and
enriched by the works of Guido, Raphael, Corregio,
Da Vinci, Titian, Rubens, Guercino, Domenichino,
Claude Lorraine, and Salvator Rosa.
In one of the rooms sat a little fellow of ten years,
the untaught child of the streets, modelling an infant
Saviour, his little fingers as deftly expert upon the
work of his brain as if he were a practised sculptor.
It seems that the arts breathe in the air, and spring
from the soil of Italy.
We drove about the city, and visited various
churches, some of which contain remarkable works.
Finest of all are those of San Severo, a private chapel
attached to the palace of San Severo. In a subterranean chapel is a work superior to any thing I have
ever seen, a veiled Christ, by San Martino. It is not
that the fine outline of the figure has been preserved
beneath the shrouding veil, but that the veil itself
seems transparent, disclosing perfectly the minute




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             257
features of expression, not only of the face, but of
the sinews, and muscles, and veins of the limbs. It
is the only sculpture, representing the Saviour, which
has not been extremely painful to me; this, on the
contrary, inspires a pleasing, tender awe.  In the
upper chapel is another veiled statue, that of a lady
of the San Severo house, of great beauty, both of
face and figure, the veil transparent as in the former
statue — both these sculptures were the sole works of
their authors. Opposite the lady above mentioned,
stands her husband, enveloped in a net, which Cupid
strives in vain to remove, symbolizing the retirement
into which he fled on the death of his wife. Behind
the altar is a magnificent alto relievo of almost
colossal size, representing the Descent from the Cross.
The chapel is small, but more remarkable than any
thing of its kind in sculpture, especially in monumental designs. We visited several other churches,
handsome in architecture, and filled with decorations
of merit and interest.  Some of the palaces and
public buildings are very handsome.
We drove out of the city to the summit of a hill,
commanding a fine panoramic view of the city and
its beautiful bay. While Mrs. R. and myself enjoyed
the view from the terrace of a pretty villa, the gentlemen visited the convent of San Lorenzo, within whose
holy precincts no profane foot of womanhood is allowed to tread. It is remarkable for some fine
paintings.
We were disappointed of a visit to the reputed




258       WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
tomb of Virgil, by the rain, but drove through the
long grotto of Pausilippo; an excavation in the solid
rock forty-five hundred feet in length, by which the
ancient Roman port of Pozznoli was connected with
the more modern city of Naples. With Rome, it
was connected by the Appian way, and was not only
the southern port of entry, but a summer watering
place for the Roman nobility. Here the great Apostle landed on his way from Syria to Rome.
The country below Naples is at present infested
with the brigandage of which we have heard so
much, and we did not attempt the drive along the
shore to Sorrento. It is not a fortnight since a number of carriages were stopped on the return from
Castellemare, robbed, and some of the travellers
carried into the mountains to be held to ransom.
They also attacked and plundered a convent, and
maltreated the priests. The Neapolitans are excessively uneasy under the new government.
Accustomed to Naples as the seat of government,
they consider their interests overlooked at Turin;
while deprived of the advantages of trade which
result from the presence of a court, they still feel
the evils of the former state of affairs, together with
the difficulties of getting a new regime into working
order —and the benefits of a free government have
to be waited for. So that all the discomforts of their
transition state are popularly credited to the new
system.
Our clever guide, Mauro, had lived in England, and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             259
comprehended the difficulties and the blessings of
freedom in a very sober way for one of his mercurial countrymen. I find that my idea of Italians
has been divided between nobles and peasants, and
I am perpetually calling myself to account for being
surprised at seeing a community of well-dressed,
well-bred gentlemen and ladies, who look precisely
as if they had just walked out of Broadway. They
are a very interesting people to me, with a healthful,
genial naturalness, a ready sympathy, and a quick
perception, very unlike what I had looked for in Italy.
A system of public instruction is getting slowly
established, and the thinking part of the people perceive that their hopes for the future of their distracted country, must rest mainly upon this agent of
improvement. To those who look only at present
results, Austrian Italy is the best governed part of
the peninsula.
On our return to Rome, we remarked a large body
of soldiery at several stations, where the railway
nearly approached the hills; and were told that they
alone secure the trains from the successful attacks of
marauding banditti, who can make an easy escape
thence through the Apennines. The peasantry and
servants of the country wear a dress refreshing to
eyes accustomed to the respectable sameness of ordinary male attire. They wear a green velvet postillion's jacket, with small clothes, and long white stockings and buckled shoes; while the conical hat is gay
with rosettes and plumes.




260         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Among the minor enjoyments of travel, has been
an untold amount of education on the subject of currency. It requires a little time to become accustomed
to pounds, shillings and pence; by the time this is
fairly accomplished, it is necessary to transfer the
calculations to the very different, although far easier
method of francs and centimes; and we learn, besides,
that the French system is the best basis. to think
upon, while on the continent. It is, therefore, with
peculiar pleasure, that we discover that a silver groschen is equal to thirteen centimes, and a Prussian thaler
to three francs and seventy-eight centimes; while a
silver groschen is two-thirds of a good groschen.
Of course, the absolute value of any thing to be
obtained by means of the aforesaid coins, sinks into
insignificance, when compared with the importance of understanding the meaning of the money
itself. But the groschen must needs be disposed of
before entering the confines of Germany; for although
it is financially true that five silver groschen are
equal to seventeen and a half kreutzer; and seventeen of the same coin with two and one-eighth
pfennings make a German florin; yet, practically,
they are worth nothing at all, as they are utterly
refused.
By this time, the complication of values has arrived
at a point which puts a hasty, and at the same time
an advantageous bargain out of the question; a fact
which the venders of merchandise are not slow at
turning to their own account.




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              261
And then the travelling accounts! One has need
to congratulate himself upon a severe acquaintance
with vulgar fractions to be sure of balancing the daily
expenditures.
Then the Austrian Zwanziger, and the Italian Lira
are each just near enough to a franc to introduce
hopeless confusion into my own calculations; to say
nothing of the fact that an Austrian florin differs from
a German one by three-quarters of a kreutzer. The
tornesi, carlini and grani of Naples are disappearing
among the clumsy copper coins of United Italy; and
it is really comfortable to recognize, in the baiocchi,
pauls and scudi of Rome, a close resemblance to our
own currency, such as enables one to form some ready
conception of a price, without an exhausting demand
upon the fiscal education.
It is very surprising that the currency of each
small dominion can be so carefully confined within
its own limits as to be rendered utterly useless every
where else; but the arithmetical exercises necessary
to such a tour as ours, are cogent arguments in favor
of the universal adoption of the perfect metric system
of Napoleon. I, for one, most heartily wish success
to that particular aim of the present statistical Congress of Nations.




262          WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
CHAPTER XII1.
ITALY.
Rome - St. Peter's -Vatican - Villa Borghese - Pincian Hill - Palaces Ros
pigliosi, Borghese, Barberini, Spada - Churches of St. Augustin, St. John in
the Lateran, St. Maria Maggiore, St. Petro in Vinealo, Cappuccini - Scala
Santa — Fountains - Catacombs - Columbaria - Baths - Genoa - Turin -
Mont Cenis.
OCT. 10.  Another day in the wilderness of Rome.
We have been, to-day, under the auspices of a valet de
place, to the dome of St. Peter's. In no way can one
get so thorough an idea of the immense magnitude of
St. Peter's, as by an ascent to the roof and the ball.
The way to the roof is by an inclined plane without steps, and the ascent easily accomplished. The
roof itself is a broad expanse, flagged with stone,
from which rise not only the huge dome, but smaller
ones, which would seem imposing any where else.
It affords a fine view of the general scope of the
city and the course of the Tiber, and especially of the
Vatican and its gardens. No where else can the
Vatican be so well seen in all its great extent.
The ascent to the dome is by staircases between
the inner and outer walls, built at last in the same
zigzags by which we have learned to ascend mountains. From the top of the dome the view is mag



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              263
nificent; the city, the Campagna and the distant
hills forming a panorama as striking to the eye as stirring to the imagination. The sluggish Tiber pours
its tide between the old and the new city, and my
fancy filled the low hills on its right with the Etruscan armies, while the little wooden bridge was crashing
to the waves behind the hero of Roman romance;
and the buried dust of the ancient city stirred anew
with the Fathers and the Commons of that iron time.
From the inner gallery you can examine the rough
mosaics, made of large bits of stones, with wide
cracks between, that produce such a grand effect from
below, and you can gaze into the profound depth, and
measure, from above, the height which every where
defies your power of appreciation.
Finally, we climbed the perpendicular ladder, and
ensconced ourselves within the hot circle, so small
when seen from below, yet capable of containing sixteen persons. There are small loop-holes to admit
air and light, and from them one can take in a succession of charming pictures, each distinctly framed
by the sharp lines of the aperture.
Thence, after another stroll about the aisles of the
church, through which it is impossible to hasten, we
went to the Vatican gallery, a small but choice collection of pictures; I suppose the best of its size in
the world. Among them, those which strike the
unlearned taste most forcibly, are those also upon
which the world of art has impressed its seal of
approbation.




264          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
The best in our eyes were that magnificent Communion of St. Jerome, by Domenichino; Raphael's
Transfiguration; Guido's Martyrdom of St. Peter;
A Madonna and Child, with St. Thomas and St.
Jerome, by the same hand; St. Jerome, by Da Vinci;
Guercino's Incredulity of St. Thomas, and two splendid pictures by Murillo; The Mystical Marriage of
St. Catharine, and The Return of the Prodigal. This
gallery is unlike all others that we have visited. In
others, even the finest, there have been scores of
indifferent pictures, gilded Madonnas, with no merit
beyond their age, painful distortions of the human
figure, and countless paintings which have merit to
the initiated, but which win no favor in the eyes of
laymen. But in the Vatican there is no picture
which one would not return, again and again, to
study and admire.
We went also to the mosaic manufactory of the
Vatican, where these great works are reproduced with
minute fidelity; a labor far from being simply mechanical, but requiring a truly artistic eye.  The
completion of these exquisite copies requires from
five to twenty years. They are made only for the
disposal of His Holiness in gifts to royalty, or for the
adorning of the great churches. Besides the knowledge of art necessary to copy figure and color, it
seems to me to require great skill to proportion the
size of the stones and the minuteness of finish to the
distance from which the work is to be viewed. That
perfect proportion is one of the chief marvels of St.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               265
Peter's, and demanded nothing less than a Michael
Angelo to combine the architect with the artist.
At the Rospigliosi palace, the one great attraction
is Guido's Aurora, a picture beyond all praise, beautiful as a dream, and a grateful relief to the eye
wearied by Madonnas. One might easily turn pagan
in Rome, were it only to soothe his irritated taste for
the graceful.
The treat masters of sacred art were wont to
embody their genius in many painful scenes, marvelously true to life, and all the more exhausting from
that very circumstance, but here all is airy grace and
entrancing beauty.  A perfect realization of ethereal
charms floats before the car of day, dropping flowers
from her hands, while the exquisite group of the
hours follow in their train, leading a dance, in which
every attitude is faultless.
It was a charming drive to the Villa Borghese, an
elegant country seat without the walls. The casino
is a succession of magnificent halls, works of art in
themselves, and filled with paintings and statuary.
There are some charming pieces of alto relievo from
classic subjects, and a grand one of Curtius leaping
into the gulf confronts the great entrance.  Among
the statues is a fine dancing Fawn, discovered in
some ancient excavation, and Bernini's splendid
group of David and Goliath. But nothing here surpasses Canova's Pauline Buonaparte, and an oil fresco
by Gagnereau, of a sleeping Venus, is exquisite
beyond description.
18




266         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
We were stopped on our return at the Church of
St. Augustin, to see the marvelous display of gifts,
in jewels, silver and gold, at the shrine of the Virgin,
who sits benignantly, clad in adornings of which the
lowly Virgin never dreamed, to receive upon her toe
the kisses of the faithful.
Last, but not least, we went to see a fine new piece
of sculpture, called the Pompeian Mother, representing a beautiful woman, with an infant clasped in her
arms, shielding both herself and it from the fast
falling cinders, by a drapery, which she spreads
above her head, while she presses on to seek shelter
and safety, with a concentration of intentness which
leaves no room for the emotions of either fear or
horror. I expect to hear the name of Meli among
the masters of sculpture before I die.
My ideal Corso, for which I have looked in vain
while unconsciously passing and re-passing the real
street, has resolved itself into a long, unremarkable street, wide, indeed, for Rome, and dignified
as the others are not, by a sidewalk, filled in the
afternoon with handsome carriages and riders.
We have been to drive in the gardens of the
Pincian Hill, a charming resort, which commands a
fine view of the city. The drive ascends the hill
by winding terraces, gay with the equipages of all
ranks and nations. Mounted sentinels, immovable
as statues, are stationed at the entrance of the private
avenues, and the gardens are adorned with busts and
statues.  This elevation gives a fine view of St.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHESR             267
Peter's, which seems to pervade the entire city, and
looms up larger and higher as we become accustomed
to the distances, and the edifices begin to assume
name and form to our recognition.
The mind absolutely refuses to receive, as a type
of the severe statuesque Roman matron, the herds of
womanhood, neither severe nor comely, who inhabit
the ancient city. The vestal fire is quenched; the
Penates are not those of the days of Lucretia, and
one could enumerate many divinities whose worship
is conducted under the open vault of heaven, whose
rites are mysterious no longer. And I fear there is
less dignity, and no more piety in many of the socalled Christian temples, than characterized the worship of Jupiter and Saturn.
Oct. 12. We have spent the day in seeing pictures,
statuary and curiosities, and my not very strong head
is tangled with a general complication of saints,
martyrs, goddesses, athletes, vases, columns, shrines
and sarcophagi.
For some reason or other, my heart was not in
sight-seeing, but brim full of individual interests, and
I scarcely do justice to the wonders of the day. One
thing that has impressed me deeply, in looking at the
exhumed treasures of the Museum, is, that Rome is
built upon a city as thoroughly entombed, and more
wonderful in its riches, than the revived cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii. The very dust upon which
we tread is the depository of art and treasure, such
as filled the palaces of ancient Rome, or rolled, in




268         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
floods of riches, along the triumphal way from the
Campus Martius.
One grows impatient here. We come to see
Roman Rome, and Romish Rome every where treads
down the ancient landmarks, and turns the temples
and palaces with which we are familiar into idol
shrines of far more puerile observances.
One of the most, striking features of Rome is the
abundance of water. Fountains spout alike from
homely corners and ornamented basins. The jets in
the piazza of St. Peter's have been playing night and
day, for two thousand years, and the long solid
arches, which Appius Claudius, of hateful memory,
built three hundred years before Christ, still conduct
the living flood into the degenerate city.
There are some fountains of especial note; the
largest and finest that we have seen is the fountain
of Trevi, built against the lofty facade of the Palace
Centi. The water rushes in a broad, deep flood, over
an enormous mass of rock work, and falls into a vast
basin, in which Neptune reclines in his car, surrounded by Tritons. How refreshing is the depth
and purity of those waters, and how one lingers to
listen to the plash of those crystal streams, one
should traverse the streets of Rome to know. The
water is clear, sweet, and cold, fortunately requiring
no ice, as that is an unattainable luxury here.
To return, to the Vatican; the statuary, like the
paintings, is of acknowledged and unrivalled merit.
I must pass by countless works of art in precious




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              269
stones, and sculptures of more or less merit, which
make the halls of the Vatican a study for years; and
note the few which stand out prominently in my
memory-which are an Athlete; Meleager and a
Boar; The Apollo and Antinous Belvidere; the great
Laocoon, a cast from which has haunted my memory
from my babyhood; and a Perseus, by Canova, which
last, it is safe to predict, will outstrip even the sculptures of the ancients, when posterity shall have
reached such a distance as shall give them the same
perspective.
In the palace Borghese there are many really
splendid pictures. Raphael's magnificent Entombment of Christ; Danae, by Corregio, in its execution,
as I think, the most beautiful of them all; the celebrated Cumean Sibyl, by Domenichino; St. Ignatius
devoured by wild beasts, by Giordano; Head of St
Joseph, by Guido; a fine Madonna, by Dolci; the
Chase of Diana, by Domenichino; St. John in the
Desert, by Paul Veronese; Sacred and Profane Love,
and Sampson, both by Titian; and a portrait in the
Rembrandt style, of Marie de Medici.
In the Barberini is Raphael's Fornarina, and a fine
picture of Lucrezia Cenci, by Gaetani; but we had
no eyes for any thing except the marvelous Beatrice,
the most faultless face —the most spiritual, gentle,
resigned, grief-ful face, that was ever put upon canvas.
Those tender luminous eyes haunt me with such a
beseeching claim upon my pity, that I cannot believe
that the original has mingled with the dust of cen



270        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES
turies- that the fair young head ever hung ghastly
upon the very bridge over which we pass in daily
indifference.
In the same room is a picture by Del Sarto, the
best of the myriad Holy Families that I have seen.
The undeniable tendency of such a superabounding
holiness is to make one fatally profane, and one welcomes a real heathen goddess with relief, provided.it
be not a reiteration of Venus.
St. John in the Lateran is a splendid church. It
is the most ancient of the Basilicas, and is the parish
church of the Pope. Our guide was evidently scandalized by our indifferent manner of declining a sight
of the table upon which the Last Supper was celebrated, but we were not interested in the precious
relic, veritable as it is, and wrought of cedar and
silver.
The 0orsini chapel contains the most splendid and
costly curiosities of the whole church, being adorned
with an incredible amount of jewels, precious stones,
exquisite marbles, mosaics and sculpture. In a subterranean chapel beneath the one just mentioned, is
a Pieta of consummate beauty, by Montauti.  A
Pieta, by the way, is a group of the Virgin with the
dead Christ in her arms.
It seems ridiculous and irritating, that such a gem
of loveliness should be concealed in this dark recess,
and permitted to be seen only by the smoky candle
of the attendant. The tenderness of the mother,
and the reverence of the Christian, are exquisitely




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             271
blended in the beautiful figure of the Virgin, while
the Christ seems nothing short of perfection.
The largest obelisk in Rome is in the space before
the Lateran. It is of red granite, and covered with
hieroglyphics.
We encountered here the very best specimen of
the genus beggar that we have found in all these
begging countries. She was the Irish beggar of the
Coliseum, and this was our second interview. The
late abundant rain had rendered the Coliseum unapproachable, and she was plying her vocation within
the city. Of all beggars, commend me to the Irish
for ingenuity and importunity.. The gravity of her
assertion that she had eaten nothing in five days;
the corresponding gravity with which she was assured
that, such being the case, nothing could save her
life; her baffled disgust at being proffered food instead of money; the respectability of her numerous
testimonials, and the Parthian arrow which she discharged at our hard hearts, were truly curiosities in
their way, that cost no slight effort to regard with
decorum.
Hard by, in a porch of the Lateran, is the Scala
Santa, or holy staircase; which can be ascended only
upon the knees; where the light of the divine atonement first burst upon the soul of Luther.  And
here, this very day, we have seen the people of the
nineteenth century crawling devoutly up, to claim
the indulgences granted to the pious act.
Santa Maria Maggiore is, like many other churches,




272         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
famous for its wealth and beauty, and is remarkable
for its beautiful columns; but we are weary of
churches, and mean to see pagan Rome to-morrow.
Oct. 13. We have been diving into the substratum
of this marvelous city to-day, and,with two exceptions,
have ignored the Rome of the Pope. The exceptions
consisted of a visit to the Church of the Capuchins,
to see Guido's famous picture of St. Michael and the
Dragon; a picture of great power, which fails signally
in any attempts at copy that we have seen. The
almost supernatural combination of exquisite spiritual beauty with holy indignation and resistless power,
is beyond any conception but that of Guido himself.
This church also contains a splendid picture of the
Conversion of St. Paul, by Cortona; and one of the
Ecstasy of St. Francis, by Domenichino.
The other church was that of St. Pietro in Vinculo, containing Guido's Speranza, which was disap_
pointing; and a statue of Moses, by Michael Angelo.
The conception of the great Lawgiver is so just that
the mind rests with a satisfaction upon its execution,
which is often withheld from great works of art
which fail to realize our own ideal. This has finished
our pictures.
We have seen besides, the Catacombs; the tombs
of the Scipios; the Columbaria of Caesar's household;
the Circus of Marcellus; the Cloaca Maxima; the
Silver Fountain; the Arch of Janus; the circus and
temple of Romulus; the baths of Titus and Caracalla;
the Tarpeian rock; Pompey's Pillar; the house of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              273
Raphael; the porch of Antoninus, and many ruins and
fragments of public works; all which bear date far
back into the regions of legendary history.
The Cloaca Maxima is among the most ancient of
all Roman remains. It was constructed one hundred
and fifty years after the founding of the city, or about
six hundred years before Christ; and still serves the
purpose of a sewer connecting with the Tiber.
This part of the city is the spot where the little
cluster of huts built by Romulus, became the germ
of the Metropolis of the earth; and here the legend
says, the twins were cast ashore, hard by the Palatine
hill, crowned with the magnificent ruins of the
palaces of the Cesars.
Near by is the Silver Fountain, at which Castor
and Pollux watered their steeds after the battle of
Lake Regilius. It is still much resorted to on account of its medicinal properties.
We drove through the Appian Gate, out upon the
Appian way, the old wall still skirting that street of
tombs, to the great circus of Romulus; an immense
amphitheatre for races and games. Adjoining is the
temple of Romulus, with the addition of a church,
which follows here, of course. All these strong,
lasting walls have been stripped of the marbles which
gave them their beauty, but the inner structure has
still ages of duration in it.
The Catacombs -that dread mysterious, subterranean world — what can I say of them? We wound
along the countless narrow streets of that silent




274         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
abode, peopled with myriads upon myriads of the
inhabitants of ancient Rome. These excavations
honeycomb the Campagna for miles, and reach down
to Ostia. And when we remember what a large proportion of the Roman dead were burned to ashes,
and deposited in the Columbaria, or in household
urns, these depositories, crowded with graves, speak
more expressively of the vast population which had
need of this immense work, than any estimate of the
dwellings of the living can do. Darker deeds than
have stained the pages of any other history, are
written upon these black walls. It is estimated that
nearly two hundred thousand Christians were slaughtered in these gloomy recesses, whither they had fled
from the raging persecutions.
One would think such a living tomb' scarcely preferable to a more speedy release by martyrdom;
nevertheless, countless families, holy men and women, and ten'der children sought shelter in these
chill dungeons, and here the voice of prayer and
praise went up to heaven, and here the brethren
brought the remains of the martyred faithful, and left
upon their resting places the symbol which distinguishes the Christian from the pagan.
Some of the inscriptions upon fiagments of tombs
at the entrance struck me with a sudden tenderness
of human universal sympathy, which fails to arise
in the midst of generalities. There was a "puella
dilecta"'and an "infans dulcissime " in the ages past,
as well as among the babies around our own knees.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              275
From the entrance to the catacombs of Calixtus,
one gets a grand view of St. Peter's. The mighty
cathedral seems to need a distance like this (of six
miles) to be apprehended in its greatness; and the
dome swells through the cloudless air, as if it alone
were Rome, and the city but its pavement.
The tombs of the Scipios, in which lie all the
heroes of that noble race, except Africanus, claimed
an interest similar to the Catacombs; but the Columbaria had more the effect of a curiosity. In deep
apartments there are built small niches, like the
nests of a dove-cote, in which are deposited the
ashes of the dead, and inscriptions on the walls
mark their identity. We saw, yesterday, the ovens
in which the bodies were reduced to ashes.
Nothing has been more calculated to impress us
with the elaborate splendor of Roman magnificence,
than the baths. The baths of Caracalla retain their
walls, some of their beautiful mosaic pavements, and
the ruins of such stupendous columns and massive
roofs as fill the spectator with amazement. The
falling of the roof and upper story has entirely
covered the real area of the baths, which held at
once sixteen hundred people; while the amphitheatre
was decorated with a wealth and luxury, such as
scarcely belonged to the palaces. The great statues
which we saw at Naples; the Farnese Bull, Flora
and Hercules, were taken from the grand oval of
these baths. These figures are colossal, and are
placed in the Museum in the relative position in




276         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
which they were found. The central group is a work
of great size and beautiful finish. It represents the
sons of Antiope in the act of fastening Dirce to the
horns of a furious bull, while their mother looks on
from a distance. The shrinking, imploring terror of
the victim, the powerful strength of the young man
who grasps the struggling animal, and the immovable
sternness of the mother, are portrayed with painful vividness. The extent of this building was nearly a mile.
The baths of Titus are smaller, but more magnificent. They are, in themselves, a striking epitome of
Roman history. We look at Mycenas, and Nero,
and Titus, very much upon the same plane —but
here is the perspective. Upon the ruined villa of
the wealthy Mycenas, Nero built an edifice, which
became, in its turn, the substratum of the luxurious
baths of Titus; and, one above another, the distinctive
remains of each age are to be traced.
From these baths was exhumed the statue of Meleager, at the Vatican, andi also a splendid porphyry
urn in the Museum.
We contented ourselves with a survey of the exterior of the Pantheon, which is transferred to a new
idol worship.
The palace of the Orsini is built above the theatre
and circus of Marcellus, and the ancient substructure
is perfectly discernible.
One begins after a time to penetrate the intermediate rubbish, and to give local habitation and a
name to the ideals of Roman history, and poetry, and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              277
mythology. We returned home by the Spada palace,
to see Pompey's statue, at whose base "great Caesar
fell." In an alcove at this palace we saw a curious
effect of imagination, or rather of perspective. At the
end of an apparently long vista of arbor, we saw a
statue, as it appeared, of the size of a full grown
man; and nothing but repeated experiment could
convince the senses that it was scarcely four feet high
and but a few feet distant from the eye. The illusion is produced by the rapid diminishing and narrowing of the rows of columns painted upon the
sides of the alcove.
We were, by this time, weary; and came home to
lay up in our memory the wonders of art and antiquity, of magnificence and desolation, with which
the imperial city is crowned and scourged.
Oct. 15. I just began to realize the depth of interest
in Rorne as we drove for the last time through the ancient streets, past obelisk, fountain, column, palace and
temple. The combination of the two interests of art
and association tends to confuse the pleasure of a
short sojourn in the city. That which is modern and
continental overlays that which is ancient and peculiar, and presses itself first and most urgently upon
the attention.
I venture to say that, universally, the first visits in
Rome are to churches and picture galleries; yet it is
beneath all this that the profound heart of the city
lies, and one needs to close the bodily eyes, and
people his own brain, by the help of the landmarks




278          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
which he has seen, with the existences of the past.
Roma fuit -she wore the purple, and grasped the
reins of dominion; she brought to a common focus
the art, the learning, the polish of Greece, the gorgeous magnificence of oriental wealth, and the muscle
and sinew of the northern barbarians; and then,
like Tarpeia, she sank, overwhelmed by the weight
of her gifts. Hers was not the genius of creation,
either in poesy, oratory or literature, but she possessed
the power of elaboration, by which she wrought
materials, already created, into shape, for use and
transmission. Her era was an advance in the civilization of the world,  and eminently an era of law.
But this great moral fungus, which crops out from
every spot in Rome, has no share in the great memories of the nation or the city. Rome exists no longer.
The papal system, like the foul excrescences which
creep over a decaying tree, shines in crimson and
gold and silver, and, like them, a touch discloses the
decay and rottenness within. We who protest
against the corrupt church, have reason to be thankful that she has her seat in the most insignificant
nation upon earth. Perhaps it is by a wise dispensation of Providence, that these fountains of evil are
pent up within a certain sanctity of position, instead
of being scattered abroad to carry their prestige into
any other quarter of the globe. However interested in
our stay, we bade adieu to Rome with no reluctance;
nor will it be with any reluctance that I shall lose
sight of the yeasty waves of the blue Mediterranean.




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               279
We have passed the day with home friends, who
have been also our pleasant travelling companions,
upon a French steamer at anchor off Leghorn, which
anchorage our former experience here did not tempt
us to abandon.
These Mediterranean steamers sail at night, and
spend the days in taking on and discharging freight
and passengers at the different ports. We have come
on from Civita Vecchia, even with the horrors of the
former passage in our memory, as our time was too
limited for a return by land, as we desired, and we
are hastening to France by Genoa and Turin. It has
been one of those restful days which are impossible
upon land, in a country where there is so much to
tax the eye and brain -but it is nevertheless a seasick place, and I long for terra firma.
Oct. 16. The rain prevented our doing more in Genoa la superba, than driving a little through the principal streets, visiting some of the shops, and looking
up and down the steep flights of steps that connect
the streets. The city is beautifully Situated upon the
crescent bay, and elaborately surrounded by long
lines of fortifications, to which the natural defenses
of the hills are well adapted. The forests of-masts
indicate the commercial character of the place, but
the shallowness of the water prevents vessels coming
to the piers, giving occupation to swarms of boatmen,
as at Leghorn; but not to such a grasping race as'
their brethren at the latter place. A fine statue of
Columbus stands opposite the station, with handsome




280          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
panels of bas relief, representing important events in
the life of the great adventurer.
On our way from Alessandria to Turin, we encountered the first detention by accident that has
occurred during our whole journey. The train ran
over a cow, breaking a wheel, and throwing one of
the carriages off the track.  However, no one was
hurt, and the carriage was soon replaced. The same
rain continued, and prevented our seeing any thing
more of Turin than that it is a fine, modern-built
city, with wide streets and handsome buildings.  We
came on to Susa for the night, for an early start
across Mount Cenis, and staid at a queer inn, with
the oddest, out of door effect. The rooms opened
upon a heavy stone gallery, which overlooked a
court, filled with diligences and various other vehicles;
all outside rude and coarse, while within all was
comfortable and restful to weary travellers. We
went through the usual process of discussion with
the proprietors of the possible vehicles, and entered
into solemn contract, with printed conditions and
penalties, which did not, however, prevent our
enjoying.the repose of the night.
Oct., 17. The imperative hour for an early departure
arrived before the inmates of the inn were astir, and
we began to fear the necessity of setting forth on a dim,
chill morning, without our breakfast, and that, too,
upon a mountain pass, with no possible breakfast
upon the way. However, the Italian system prevailed, and we not only waited for our breakfast and




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.                281
enjoyed the steaks, and fagots of delicate Italian
bread, but did so without losing our connection with
the railway on the other side.
The passage of Mount Cenis, which was the route
of Hannibal, is less picturesque or grand than the
other Alpine passes which we have made; but while
it verified the vetturino's description of "a good road
but a bad route," it is not without striking features
peculiar to itself. We had expected to travel to
Paris, by way of Marseilles, so that it was with a
double pleasure that I welcomed again the grave
brown range of the Savoys. The pass, though short,
is steep, but the road is a broad, smooth construction,
magnificently engineered through the rough defile.
Here we found, once more, the rushing beauty of
the mountain torrents, and countless cascades, lacing
the sides of the mountain in long, slender, silver
threads, or drifting in snowy clouds from the summit
of the precipices. Unlike the Bernese Oberland,
which wears its velvet greenness to the very footstool
of eternal snow, the sides of the hills stretched upward, almost barren of turf, but gay with the many
hued autumnal foliage of the scanty forests.  They
are, in general, lacking in great elevations of blank
precipice, but near the summit of the pass one mighty
head rises square and black, its rugged perpendicular
face written all over with the hieroglyphics of creation.
The white crests gathered closer about us as we
went onward and upward, until at last we were fairly
in the midst of the snows, as truly as if it had been
19




282        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
December in the heart of Yankeedom. Near the
summit is a beautiful lake of considerable extent, of
which we have often heard as one of the highest
bodies of water in the world.
The French side of the mountain is more like our
former experience of the Alps; and while our wheels
were crushing the snows of the summit, we were
overhanging emerald valleys, dotted with town and
hamlet, and saw, once more, the unfailing chalets
perched in a thousand nooks, and cultivated fields
and terraced vineyards clinging to the sides of the
brown hills. A broad, beautiful stream rushed down
to unite the many strearnmlets from the summit with
the river which flows to the Rhone in the winding
valley of the deep gorge, down which we zigzagged
in long curves to St. Michel, where we found rail
again, by which we came on to Chambery.
Nearly at the top of Mount Cenis, where the gorge
of the defile is most precipitous, is a most formidable
mass of fortifications commanding the pass, a perfect
key to Italy in that direction. Hannibal himself
would have made good his retreat had he caught
sight of such preparations to welcome his approach.
I was about to say that Napoleon would have retired,
but that I am inclined to doubt, for he who marched
an army across'the great St. Bernard would surely
have contrived some way of evading the fortress of
Mount Cenis -or of taking it.
Chambery lies in a lovely valley, encircled by
sharply defined ridges of mountains; they were




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            283
purple with the slanting rays of the sunset as we set
out on our night journey to Paris, and the broad
sweet lake which slept at their foot, gave back the
glowing sky like a crystal drop at the bottom of an
amethyst goblet.




284          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CHAPTER XIV.
FRANCE.
Paris- Louvle —Notre Dame —Hotel des Invalides —Bois de Boulogne -
Jardin des Plants - Gobelins —Chapel of St. Ferdinand —St. Chapelle -
Luxembourg.
OCT. 22. This is our fourth day in this great,
brilliant, cheerful, showy city. The first two days
we devoted to rest, and to strolling through the wide
streets and wider boulevards, gazing at the countless
shops, and enjoying, by contrast, after the dirty narrow streets of most of the continental cities, the
broad avenues and splendid gardens of this metropolis
of elegance.
It seems to me that it will be difficult to accomplish
much sight-seeing while the city itself is so pleasing.
Then, too, as a place of association, it means less than
the ancient cities, crowded with the interests of two
thousand years.
Yesterday we went to the Bois de Boulogne, to see
a review by the Emperor. This extensive pleasure
ground is perfectly charming. The drives meander
through a wide extent, diversified by sweeps of
emerald meadow, long forest glades, mounds of
flowers and shrubs, shady deer parks, and the most




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES              285
beautiful of irregular lakes, where troops of stately
swans sail in the, shadow of green thickets, or feed
upon the short smooth turf of the margin. Nothing
is wanting to make the place a most attractive resort
for the pleasure loving inhabitants of the city.
The review took place in a field of such extent
that the eighty thousand troops said to be under
arms seemed like a picture of an army rather than a
living body of soldiery.
There is no need to say any thing of the appearance
or organization of French troops — nothing can be
more brilliant and perfect, nevertheless, I liked the
Italian army better.
We had an excellent view of the Emperor, as he
rode within a few feet of our carriage. He is a grave,
noble looking man, much handsomer than his pictures, and looks every inch a king. I could not but
feel painfully for a man whose finger presses the
spring of such a government as France; whose daily
life lies amid a network of ambuscade and precedent,
which must sometimes shake even the iron nerves of
Louis Napoleon. We miss the pleasure of seeing the
Empress, as she is at present at Madrid.
The vast assemblage of soldiers and spectators
melted imperceptibly away, from the avenues of the
Bois de Boulogne, leaving only the long line of carriages and horsemen upon their afternoon airing.
We returned past the Triumphal Arch, which
commemorates the victories of France, and down
the magnificent avenue of the Champs Elysees —




286         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
such an avenue as is to be found no where
else in the world. The mile which spreads before
one, standing at the Arc de l'etoile, has no parallel.
It is crossed in the distance by the splendid palace of
the Tuileries, and beyond can be seen, here and
there, the towers of the Louvre. The street reaches
down a gentle descent, growing wider and wider,
until it almost loses the character of a street, and
becomes pleasure grounds, with trees, shrubs, and
flowers upon either hand, and every tempting form
of amusement and attraction for children spread out
upon the smooth borders of the triple causeway.
Half way down it attains its greatest breadth; two
large fountains rise on either hand, surrounded by
little lawns and flower borders. On the right you
diverge to the great glass Palace of Industry; on the
left are the charming gardens of the palace d'Elysees.
It retains its park-like aspect even to the Place de la
Concorde —a wide, open space, directly before the
gardens of the Tuileries, which was occupied by the
guillotine during the Revolution. In its centre stands
the great obelisk of Luxor, and upon each side are
fountains and sculptures. Among the latter are two
splendid horses, originally wrought for the park at
Marly. Between this space and the palace are the
beautiful gardens of the Tuileries; on the right the
street immediately crosses the Seine, and presents the
public buildings of the general government; on the
left you look down the Rue Royale to the Madeleine
- the finest church in Paris. Still farther down, at




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              287
right angles to the gardens of the Tuileries, is the
Place Vendome, with the column and statue of
Napoleon. We watched the lowering of the figure
of the General, so identified with the very idea of
Napoleon, and the substitution of a civic statue in a
Roman toga and a laurel wreath. The destruction of
the entire column could not more effectually obliterate
the Napoleonic idea, than this new rendering of the
personality which has so long crowned the city.
To day we have been to the Louvre and the gardens of the Tuileries. The gallery of the Louvre
does not contain such eminent works of art, as have
made many other galleries famous; but here again we
find the brilliancy of Rubens, the majesty of Vandyke,
the grave solemnity of Rernbrandt, the sweetness of
Da Vinci, the tenderness of Corregio, the heavy
uniformity of Holbein, the rustic naturalness of
Teniers, the golden-haired beauties that Titian loved
to paint, the life and soul that breathe from the faces
of Raphael, and the surpassing spirit and power and
grace of Guido - the master who towers above them
all; to say nothing of such painters as Domenichino,
Guercino, Tintorretto and Del Sarto; in whose paintings are united, in some degree, the coloring of the ancient, and the expression of the modern schools. The
Louvre was a sort of general review of the different
styles of the great artists, whose works are seen in
their perfection in the different galleries of the continent, and are here brought into contrast, each with
his peculiar ideality and individual excellence. It




288        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
was refreshing to find only a light proportion of
the Holy Families and Venus.
There are two exquisite modern paintings by the
same artist, whose name I have failed to discover;
Endymion Sleeping, and The Burial of Atala.
But the grotesque allegorical conceptions of even
great painters, especially in religious subjects, strike
the mind of the modern beholder with more of the
ludicrous than the reverent.
It seems strange, too, when the emotions of the
human mind must have been the same in all ages,
that students of nature, as all artists are supposed to
be, should have failed so often in transferring to
canvas any adequate picture of the emotion proper
to the subject. Of this the face of the Virgin is an
eminent example. Nineteen twentieths of the Virgins wear faces more earthly and expressionless than
that of any peasant to be found in common life;
while the Judiths, which rival the Virgins in number,
have almost invariably a simper of consciousness,
which would be fatal to a girl of fourteen. All this,
however, is very unlearned and presumptuous criticism. The statuary of the Louvre does not compare
with the collections which we have already seen, and,
with the exception of the Venus of Milo, did not
seem to me to contain very remarkable specimens
of art.
Oct. 23. I have another idle day to record. We
were abroad from ten to six; and with the exception of
visiting Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle, and getting




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             289
our luggage from the station, we have spent the day
in that sort of operation expressed in America by
"loafing;" walking about the splendid streets, and
gazing at the brilliant display of wares that make
Paris one great toy shop.
Notre Dame is a fine Cathedral of the eleventh
century, but not so fine as those of Cologne, Strasbourg or Italy. The wood carvings of the choir, of
the fifteenth century, are very good. The Church is
not decorated with paintings and sculpture, as is
common in the continental cathedrals. One good
bas relief represents Archbishop Arf, as he endeavored to quell the tumult upon the barricades, during
the last revolution; an attempt which proved futile
and fatal, but which has canonized him for all generations.
We were admitted to the sacristy, where we saw
various treasures; the gold coronation service of the
first Napoleon; a bit of the true cross; some remarkable jewels and vases belonging to St. Louis. In a
carefully guarded case is a most magnificent shrine,
adorned with numberless jewels; the model of a
larger one which contains the veritable crown of
thorns, brought from Palestine, by St. Louis, and deposited in Sainte Chapelle, which was built for the
purpose; and in which service is performed once a
year, for the purpose of exhibiting the sacred relic.
At least, to quote our Venetian guide, " so runs the
legend." We saw the mantle of crimson, wrought
with golden bees, in which Napoleon was crowned;




290        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
and the various splendid vestments of the ecclesiastics worn on that occasion; as well as those worn at
the coronation of the present Emperor, and at the
baptism of the little prince.
The most truly remarkable things in Notre Dame
were two silver vases presented by Charlemagne.
The attendant told us that in some recent excavations
in the course of the present repairs, there have been
discovered the bodies of the Archbishop who founded
the Cathedral, of Philip Augustus, and of Elizabeth
the Second. Behind the High Altar is a Pieta, by
Michael Angelo, but it does not compare favorably
with the same group by the same master at Rome.
Sainte Chapelle is a small chapel, lined entirely
with tall stained windows of the thirteenth century
— beautiful, and very different from other church
edifices. It is not intended for worship, except upon
the annual exhibition of the crown of thorns. Both
these churches are upon the Isle, to which there is
crossing by many splendid bridges over the brown
Seine; and which contains some of the oldest buildings of the city. Sainte Chapelle is adjoining the
palace of Justice.
We have been to the Louvre again, and have
found another exquisite picture, the St. Margaret
of Raphael. It is a relief to find that the glaring
tints of Rubens' long series of Medici pictures are
supposed not to be the work of the great artist;
but of his pupils, after his own sketches.
There is a sweet little child portrait by Velasquez,




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               291
the infant Marguerite Therese.  But the gallery is
unsatisfying. The beautiful hall adorned with fresco
and bas relief, representing the seasons and the
zodiac, is admirable.
We have been to the new boulevards, and have
admired the magnitude of the works which are converting the irregular suburbs into splendid quarters.
Oct. 26. To-day we have been at the Hotel des
Invalides. It is a pleasure to see with what care these
remnants of the French army are considered. The
house is worthy of its object, and one could imagine
the pride with which the battered veterans of the
great campaigns of the French army pass their last
days beside the ashes of their idolized chief
The chapel of the Invalides is hung with many
a stained and tattered ensign, which must speak
volumes to the old worshippers, and which are more
touching, even to the careless observer, than any of
the paraphernalia of the church itself.
The tomb of the great Napoleon is beneath the
dome of the church behind the Invalides.  It is a fit
resting-place for the man.  A  superb sarcophagus
encloses the remains of'the long exiled monarch. It
is of red granite, from Finland, massive, yet tasteful,
with no excess of ornament. It is sunk many feet
below the floor of the church, in a circular space,
which is floored with mosaic, and bears the names of
his principal battles. The sides of the depository are
adorned with figures, representing, allegorically, the
results of their battles.  The entrance to the crypt is




292          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
below and behind the High Altar, to which the
descent is by white marble steps. There, two dark
colossal figures guard the portal, on which is inscribed
the famous sentence in which the dying Emperor
desired his ashes to rest "upon the borders of the
Seine, in the midst of the French people whom he
had so much loved." The tombs of Duroc and Bertrand stand on either hand. The altar is beautiful -
of green and Egyptian marble; and in two side
chapels are sculptured monuments of Turenne and
Vauban. It is, altogether, a perfect monument, and
adapted to its purpose with true French taste.
Oct. 23. Have visited, to-day, the Jardin des
Plantes, and the Gobelin manufactory, and have seen
the Hotel de Ville, the Tower of St. Jacques, the Place
du Chatelet and Fontaine Palmier, and the Palais
Royal. The Jardin des Plantes is filled with plants and
animals from all quarters of the globe. We devoted
ourselves to the animals. They are admirably provided with proper abodes, each in its own enclosure
and cabin. The bears have baths, and dens, and
climbing poles, and the clumsy hippopotamus his
swimming bath, in which he lies, the very picture of
lazy, piggish luxury! The animals of the frigid and
torrid zones dwell in amicable proximity, and the
beautiful varieties of the feathered creation perch in
the branches of the trees, or trip about their yards,
as if conscious of their claims to admiration.
We intended to have visited the Conciergerie, but
gave it up after an hour of the circumlocution office.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES               293
We presented ourselves at the office of Justice for
admission, and were told that we must obtain an
order from the prefect of police, whose bureau, however, was in the street directly behind the palace.
The bureau proved to be upon the other side of the
wide square, but we found it; ascended to the great
hall, where we were politely directed by sundry
officials to a passage which led back, over a long
bridge, to an office, evidently in the very palace which
we had just quitted.  Here we were as politely
directed from room to room, until we arrived at the
end. of possible directions- the prefecture. Here
we found three dignified gentlemen at a desk, who,
upon receiving our application, desired us to return
by the way whence we had come, to the office of the
first division, at the door of "affairs personnels."
We retraced our steps, the precious moments of a
limited hour slipping away; applied at "affairs persounels," were directed to an inner room, and still
another  all in the most civil manner. But the
affair began to assume a ludicrous aspect, and it was
with difficulty that I could preserve the proper
gravity to repeat the question, which had almost lost
its signification. The official of the penetralia sent
us on our return by the narrow passage which we
had already traversed, and, by the way, the whole
arrangement resembled some temporary construction
in the back yard of a hotel, rather than the access to
the most complicated and perfect police machinery
in the world. An attendant showed us a narrow




294        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
staircase, which we mounted, and reached another
set of offices, at the innermost of which they directed
us to return by the same staircase, and another also,
into a vestibule, whence another long passage led
down to the real inner den of that mysterious animal-the police, guarded by an ante-room. Here the
chief received our application, and in return assured
us that it was impossible to issue the desired permission until we had made an application to our own
ambassador. This was the result of the long peregrination, and for what? - for permission to visit an
empty dungeon, which was directly below our feet
on our first request at the Hall of Justice. By this
time we had arrived at the conclusion that neither
our patience nor our leisure would bear much farther
strain, so we shook off the dust of the prefecture
from our feet, and departed.
On arriving at the Gobelins we found that we had
made another sad mistake, in forgetting our passports, and were peremptorily denied entrance; but I
plume myself upon my powers of persuasion in the
French language, inasmuch as I did at last soften the
heart of the Cerberus in uniform, and we entered.
The tapestry is of exceeding beauty, the pieces
exhibited being copies of the best paintings of the
masters. Even Raphael's Transfiguration is exquisitely copied. We saw, also, the work in progress.
The warp is suspended, the stout threads running
perpendicularly, while the woof is wrought in by the
workman sitting behind it, with the picture to be




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             295
copied still behind him. The outlines of the figures
are sketched upon the white warp. After the transverse threads- are introduced, instead of being beaten
up by a beam, they are brought close by a small fiat
stick, about three inches wide, with teeth that pass
between the threads and beat the woof down hard.
The work, when the coarse threads are perpendicular, is called haute lisse, and when horizontal,
basse lisse.  The pieces now in hand are for the
Tuileries and other French palaces, and it is entirely
a governmental work.  The tapestry is wrought
upon the wrong side of the work, but the carpet
upon the right, and the threads afterwards sheared
closely, like velvet. Among the pictures is a very
fine portrait of the Emperor, which it took four
years to finish —one of the Empress is still more
beautiful. I could fancy that blindness might be
the result of looking steadily at colors through the
glimmering lines of white thread.
Oct. 29. The weather is unpropitious for lounging,
but we have not been idle. We have driven about the
city, visited the Luxembourg; the Chapel of St. Ferdinand; the Pantheon; and have seen, in passing, the
Artesian well, which supplies water from a bore sixteen hundred feet in depth; and the column occupying the spot where once stood the mysterious prison
of the Bastile. And with that sight rises the long
succession of histories of undeserved incarceration,
of lettres du cachet, of incredible escapes, of lifelong imprisonments and nameless deaths, and finally,




296         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
of that overwhelming mob that forced the commandant to surrender the keys, set the prisoners at large,
and razed the dreaded building to the ground.
We visited the Palace of Industry, which was disappointingly meagre; went to the Pantheon, which,
although it has been converted into a church, still
wears the temple air, and is a noble edifice.
The Chapel of St. Ferdinand is erected upon the
spot where the Duc d'Orleans died, after a fall from
his carriage, in 1842. It is a beautiful monument —
a gem of a chapel, and contains a fine effigy of the
duke in marble, executed by Triquiti. Behind the
altar is the sacristy, which contains a large painting,
representing the scene of his death, with the portraits
of the royal family present at the time.
Upon what a slender thread hang the destinies of
nations! The restiveness of a pair of horses, in all
probability, changed the dynasty of the French
throne; for the duke had a strong hold upon the
affections of the French people, and might have succeeded his father in peace. Nevertheless, the French
need an iron hand at the helm, and they have it now.
We went to the beautiful palace of the Luxembourg; I believe the most ancient of the French
palaces. It is now used as a senate house.  The
halls are all adorned with modern pictures, of living
artists, in which the two Napoleons figure as the
foreground. The chief room, in size and adornings,
is the throne room; a lofty and spacious saloon,
gilded and decorated with elaborate art




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             297
The Senate Chamber is a very handsome council
room. It has chairs of green velvet, ranged in a
semi-circle, rising in rows, one above another; the
tribune of the president, and the seats of the ministers directly below it, occupying one side of the
room. A small ante-room adjoining is shown as
having been used by Robespierre for a prison, during
the time of the Girondins.
Last of all, and most elaborate, is the bed chamber
of Mary of Medici, the queen of Henry Quatre.
Upon the ceiling is a painting of Mary, by Rubens,
and the walls are covered with the works of great
artists. It has been kept in beautiful preservation,
and the attendant said that there had been millions
expended upon its decorations.
it is now the place where the civil contract is
signed, upon the occasion of the marriage of any
of the senators. The gardens are beautiful, but the
situation of the palace is any thing but desirable.
We have another French palace to visit to-morrow,
but I feel a little like repeating the formula by which
the Grand Monarque was pleased to be addressed at
the morning reception of his courtiers, "Sire, Marly!"
But that scene of almost fabulous extravagance has
sunk into desolation and oblivion.
20




298        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
CHAPTER XV.
FRANCE.
Versailles - Pere la Chaise - Havre - English Channel.
I SCARCELY know how to begin a description of a
day spent in exploring the beauties of such a place
as Versailles. The many descriptions of the place
which I have seen, have failed to convey to my own
imagination any proper idea of its magnificence; and
any jottings of my owni can only recall to myself the
pleasure of the day —not by any means to convey
any conception of it to another. We went by rail
through a very pleasing country, passing the forest
of St. Cloud; a place of much interest as a favorite
residence of the first Napoleon, but not at present
open to the public, as it is occupied as a summer
palace by the present Emperor.
The country is more hilly than I had supposed;
the railway ascends continually, and passes through
a number of long tunnels, Versailles being two hundred feet higher than Paris. It must be a charming
drive during the early summer. It gave me the first
real idea of the compactness of population in this
country. The whole route, except by the pleasure




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               299
grounds, leads through a succession of towns and
villages, forming an almost continuous suburb.
We arrived early at the gates, and were fortunate
in securing the services of Marchand, the palace
guide; a former valet to Napoleon; an old man of
seventy-seven vigorous years, who has seen eleven
different governments in France.  He saw  Marie
Antoinette queen in these very grounds, and, judging
from the versatility of the French genius, he may
yet add some dynasties to his present experience.
The old servant has been a more discriminating
and profound observer of human character and
events than many a politician of higher rank, and
knew all the points of real lasting interest in the
palace and its history. He aptly said, "there are
many fine cities in the world, but one Versailles."
It is the most spacious of royal abodes, taking into
account the groundls, and the smaller establishments
of the Trianons.  It is the focus of seven wide
avenues of approach, which radiate to tile palaces and
principal cities of the empire.  We enter a paved
court of great extent, around which the palace
buildings form three sides of an irregular hollow
square. The middle, or main building was erected
by Louis the Thirteenth, and is distinguished by the
introduction of red stone or brick in the fagade.
Among the buildings of the left wing is an excellent
exterior view of the chapel.
In the midst of the court of entrance stands an
immense equestrian statue of Louis Quatorze, who




300          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
completed the splendid edifice, and held his luxurious, almost oriental court here, during the long years
in which he lived to oppress the nation, and to draw
from it the resources which he lavished upon foreign
wars and domestic extravagance.  The splendor
which so dazzled the world during his reign, has
sunk into a darkness from which neither historian
nor poet dares longer attempt to extricate it. Around
the court are arranged busts of distinguished men,
recently transferred firom Paris. Directly in front of
the great entrance, and looking down the long
avenue which leads to Paris, is the balcony upon
which Marie Antoinette led her children, in response
to the furious demand from the mob, on the fatal
(lay of that terrible outburst. And there, when the
same mob, thirsting for her blood, demanded that she
should put away the children whose presence was her
protection, she put them firmly badk, and stood alone,
royally brave, in her undefended womanhood; until
even that brutal multitude was, for the moment, disarrmed, and reserved her, with a cruel forbearance,
for a sadder fate.
The unhappy Marie, with the sins of many generations visited upon her fair young head, was the last
mistress of this wonderful domain.
After the devastating fury of the revolution had
wrought its will, it fell into neglect and desolation;
until Louis Philippe restored its noble saloons, and
made of its long galleries a museum of art, such as
may well attract the admiration of the world; and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              301
the magnificent palace and park are now royally
kept for the pleasure of that public which was, of
old, royally oppressed.
As the palace was not yet open, we made our first
visit to the pleasure grounds; and I can do very little
towards describing them.
The combination of wide avenues, broad terraces,
fountains filled with groups of statuary, smooth lawns,
closely clipped hedges and pyramids of' yew, artificial lakes and canals, grottoes, copse and forest, is
something passing my powers of description.
From the private front of the palace, the view
looks down a broad avenue, descending by stone steps
to a very large fountain, and, beyond, to another still
lower; and the distance is bounded by the pretty
sheet called the Swiss Water, shut in on each side by
the forest.
The tall dark yews are trimmed in various forms,
chiefly pyramidal, and the box forms a broad hedge
lining the stone parapets with a continuous arbor.
At every opening a new fountain presents itself,
all adorned with sculptures; and the fountains take
their name from the groups - such as the Diana
fountain - the Neptune-the Latona, &c.
The wide parterres were stripped of their bloom,
but the lawns were still green and smooth as velvet;
and it needed little effort of the imagination to picture the scene when the waters are in full play, and
the flowers in all their beauty.
We went through the stately forest, by paths




302        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
thickly strewn with the brown and yellow leaves of
autumn, to a charming artificial grotto, called Apollo's
Bath. It is adorned with large statues of gods and
animals, and the spot is as natural in rocks and
water as a dell in the mountains of Switzerland.
The day was unpropitious for an out-door excursion, but we walked miles through the beautiful
grounds.
We next visited the Grand Trianon, a summer
palace built by Louis Quatorze for Madame Montespan, and afterwards inhabited by La Valliere, becoming finally the possession of Madame Maintenon.
The Petit Trianon, with its Swiss surroundings,
built by Louis the Fifteenth for the Duchess Dubarry,
we had no time to explore.
Both these abodes, fit exponents of the days of
the grand monarch, were given by the better Louis
to Marie Antoinette; and the Grand Trianon was
one of the homes of Napoleon and Josephine. It is
an elegant dwelling, adorned with frescoes, paintings,
sculpture and carvings. It was prepared for an expected visit of Queen Victoria, who, however, preferred St. Cloud, and did not occupy it. It still
remains as prepared for the expected guest.
The interest of the Trianon centered in the apartments of Napoleon, which remain precisely as occupied by him —his study, with the very table and
chair of his habitual use, unchanged —his council
room and bed room.
In the council room is a table covered with a faded




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              303
velvet cloth, upon which were signed the articles of
divorce, which broke the heart of Josephine, the devoted wife and gracious queen, and dimmed the star
of Napoleon.
It is eminently suggestive to reflect upon this act
of bitter injustice and its motive, under a roof protected and embellished by the royal grandson of
Josephine.
From the Trianon we proceeded to the stables, to
see the state carriages, which our guide assured us
are such as are to be seen no where else in the world.
The great state carriage was built for the coronation
of Charles the Tenth. It is a most superb affair, surmounted by a crown. The interior panels are exquisitely painted, and the very hammercloth is a magnificent embroidery of massive gold. There was also
the coronation carriage of the first Napoleon, and the
carriage built for the christening of the Prince Imperial; in all seven carriages of elaborate splendor, with
sedan chairs of centuries ago — one built for Marie
Antoinette - a sledge hollowed out of a panther for
Madame Montespan, and a goat carriage, presented
to the present prince by the Sultan.
The spotless oaken floor was polished to the top of
its bent for the visit of the grand equerry, which was
momentarily expected.  Indeed, the trial of the day
lay in these polished floors, which made the long
miles of traverse as difficult and fatiguing as if we
had been treading upon ice.
We reached the palace at last. Its very name




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evokes the shades of that half century, which was
truly the brilliant cycle of European history. Not
only in France, but in Great Britain, were the great
lights of literature, of oratory, of pulpit eloquence,
of statesmanship and martial glory, burning in such
a constellation of splendor as has never risen upon
the horizon, before nor since.
If the walls of the old palace could speak, what
tales could they relate, of luxury, surpassing Persian
magnificence, of beauty, of wit, of intrigue, of
tyranny.  The centre of the palace contains the
royal apartments, and the wings the museum of
paintings and sculpture.  The King's suites of rooms
are on the right, the Queen's on the left.
The apartments of Louis the Fourteenth remain,
in all respects except the furniture, as when he
inhabited them. Some fine pieces of furniture remain —the bed upon which he died, some clocks,
two entresols, and one or two tables; one of the last
covered with the same velvet cloth in use during the
King's lifetime. The bed is in a room directly upon
the balcony of the court from which the death of the
monarch was proclaimed as soon as the breath had
left his worn out body, and the plaudits with which
the succeeding government was hailed, testifies to the
character of French loyalty. No silent sorrow, no
wail of grief, bespoke a nation's mourning for one
whose reign had exceeded the length of most of
their lives; and yet no eastern monarch ever received
more prostrate servility, more cringing adulation.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            305
This bed room is the most gorgeous apartment of
the palace.  The ceilings are exquisitely painted,
carved and gilded, and the paintings are of great
beauty. Next in splendor is the bed room of the
Queen; similar in adorning, and, to my taste, more
beautiful. The ante-room of the King's bed chamber
is a long, elegant room, called from the shape of the
window in both ends, the gallery of the bull's eye.
This room is famous. In it were gathered the wit,
the beauty, the finesse, the ambition, and the greed
of such a court as the world has seldom seen. HIere
the vain King delighted to keep in attendance a
crowd of flatterers, and no servility was too cringing,
no adulation too gross to please his morbid palate.
The magnificence of all these private apartments
of ancient royalty can scarcely be described. Precious
stones, curious,and costly works of art, paintings
beyond price, rare tapestries, time-pieces of elaborate
workmanship, give one an idea of what these rooms
must have been when they were furnished with a
gorgeousness appropriate to the palace and its masters.  The palace is filled with portraits of the
Bourbons, especially of the family, from Louis the
Thirteenth down; of the Queens of the Fifteenth and
Eighteenth Louis - beautiful women both — to say
nothing of the still more beautiful favorites of the
court. We passed, during the day, through two
hundred and sixty rooms, and eight galleries.
The history of France, from Clovis down, is garnered up in the pictures and sculptures of Versailles;




306         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
and it is pleasant to rest the mind and eye upon historical paintings and sweet, natural landscapes, after
the weariness of Holy Families and St. Sebastians.
The galleries are long arcades of elegant architecture, lined with pictures of great merit and interest,
depicting the victories, of which France has many to
record. The brilliant exploits of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, and the splendid achievements
of the eighteenth, are here portrayed, with a perfection
of art well calculated to stir the enthusiasm  of a
French heart, since it rouses that of uninterested
foreigners.
Horace Vernet has immortalized himself in the
power with which he has rendered the splendid history
of France.  He is one of the few painters who
possess the power of painting the human figure in all
its spirit, and the animal in its perfection.
There is one picture, covering the entire side of
one gallery, which alone should make any man
famous. It represents the surprise of the camp of
Abdul Kadir by the French troops. In the same
room is a splendid picture of Napoleon liberating
Abdul Kadir — the latter a grand figure of a man.
Besides the pictures of these battles, we find portraits
of all the generals who have distinguished themselves, especially those who rose during the republic
and the first empire. The Napoleonic presence runs
like a thread through all these scenes. The historic
pictures of which I speak are a study for a month;
there are many charming landscapes interspersed,




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               307
which we had no time properly to enjoy.  These
galleries owe their renovation to the munificence of
Louis Philippe, than whom there could be no greater
contrast to the great Louis. He laid no imposition
upon the people for the embellishment of public
buildings, but out of his private purse he devoted
immense sums for the restoring and beautifying
of this palace.  One of the finest galleries, that
of Battles, which bears also the name of Louis
Philippe, is most magnificent.  One of the royal
apartments of imposing elegance, is the ball room,
with a small saloon at either end, called respectively
the saloons of War and Peace. They are beautifully
painted in frescoes appropriate to their titles. In
one of them Marchand pointed to a corner by a
window, saying that there Madame Montespan lost
at play four million of francs in one night. From
such seeds as these sprang the deadly Upas whose
poisoned branches overshadowed the empire for
many years, and whose roots still lurk in the soil,
watered to fruitfulness by the blood and tears of half
a century.
Another splendid hall, called the Glazed, is lined
on both sides with mirrors set like windows, which
reduplicate the objects of the room, giving it the
appearance of a triple hall of immense size. It is
lighted by a skylight, stretchinog the entire length of
the gallery. The corridors and staircases correspond
in beauty and art with the saloons and galleries.
The Salle de Spectacle, a theatre for royalty alone,




308         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
a gem set in the midst of these gorgeous galleries,
is capable of holding two thousand spectators. It is
semi-circular in form; the seats are cushioned with
crimson velvet, and rise in gilded galleries, lined with
mirrors, which reflect the magnificent lustres with
which the saloon is hung.
Among the spectacles which I should like to see,
would be this exquisite place of display in full
brilliancy of light, and scenery, and music, and rank
and beauty.
The chapels, both of the palace and the Trianon,
are beautiful-the latter far tile prettiest.  I think it
was introduced in the time of Madame Maintenon.
This deserted palace employs the labor of one hundred
and eighty attendants; to a utilitarian eye it seems
too gireat a loss to royalty, to lay out of its dwellings
the palace which, of all its possessions, is most befitting its abode.
All this conveys not even a meagre idea of the
magnificence of this vast edifice - this one Versailles,
which crowns the long splendor of royal dwellings
with a diadem of riches which scarcely belongs to the
home of any other kings in the world.
Oct. 31. Visited Pere la Chaise, which, apart from
the fact of its having been the first city cemetery beyond the churchyard burial places in the midst of the
population, and its affording a noble view of Paris,
possesses less interest than most cemeteries. The
largest and most elaborate of the monuments is that
of the Russian princess Demidoff; the one most




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             309
worthy of a pilgrimage is the small temple, where lie
side by side, unworthy conjunction, the effigies of
Abelard and the unhappy Heloise.
Most of the monuments consist of small chapels,
like boxes, in close contiguity, within which are hung
garlands of immortelles, and sometimes of beads.
Sometimes beautiful natural flowers stand in pots
upon the little altar, and more frequently bouquets
of artificial flowers supply their place. The French
taste is, for many reasons, more successful in behalf
of the living than of the dead, and the cemetery is
a stiff one.
The most touching of all the resting places, to me,
was a small plot, enclosed by an iron railing, with a
hedge - without monument or inscription. By careful inspection one finds, rudely scratched upon the
gate, as if by the point of a nail — Ney. It is a text
for a volume of sermons.
We looked into the Jews' burial ground, which
seems beautifully kept, with a quiet, un-Frenchy
seclusion —the monument of Rachel is near its
entrance. We saw the tombs of various French
authors, and the statue of Casimir Perier, but found
an hour or two in the streets of the necropolis a
sufficient type of the whole.
Called at the American Minister's, and for the
succeeding wet days did little beyond the shopping, which seems here to be never at an end.
It is a beautiful, gay, well governed city, and its
streets are charming; but Paris has taken no




310        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
hold upon my affections -not so much as by a hair's
breadth.
Nov. 4. We came down to Normandy through a
beautiful undulating country, much finer and more
picturesque than the route from Chambery.  The
cultivation seems to be conducted with great care,
but the soil does not look fertile. The whole route
was a succession of field and forest, village, chateau,
park, church and tower. The ancient city of Rouen
lies beside the way, with two grand old edifices
towering above it; the cathedral, with a still unfinished spire, and the still more beautiful church of
St. Ouen.
We enjoyed the day at Havre with kind welcoming
friends in the family of our Consul, and went on
board the small black steamer at ten.
As we groped our dark way down the steep ladder
to the boat, whose smoke pipe was just upon a level
with the pier, I cogitated upon what would be the
appearance of things at low tide if this were supposed to be high. It turned out that the advertisement was mistaken in the hour, and we did not get
out to sea until two in the morning. The passage
was excessively rough —the gale which had done so
much damage along the coast not having blown
itself out.  However, we learned that the shorter
passages had been much worse, even perilous. We
were all glad to come under the lee of the Isle of
Wight, and welcomed the calm  of Southampton
water like mariners of the long voyage. We saw




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.               311
Osborne house in the distance, and Her Majesty's
yacht off Cowes. The country must be very charming; the shore is bold and wooded, and the verdure
remarkable for the season. We passed Calshott
Castle, at present a rendezvous for the coast guard;
saw Netley Abbey, and a fine hospital on the
mainland.
Landed at one o'clock, and at three set off for
London, through a country such as is to be found no
where except in England.
It was pleasant to find that our former admiration
of the country was not due merely to the pleasure of
novelty, but that it has suffered no diminution after
the majesty of Switzerland and the softness of
Italy. There is nothing else like it. The natural
beauty of the pretty (not grand) scenery is carefully
preserved, and superadded is a cultivation which
seems to have reached perfection.
The green waves of land roll back upon forests
almost as green; the tilled fields, bordered by
hedges, are laid down in lines so carefully and finely
wrought as to become of themselves beautiful; the
great flocks of sheep, which always enliven English
scenery, are spread over the downs; and here and
there cluster the picturesque villages, with the spires
of edifices worthy the name of church; and quiet;
snug farm houses, which wear the wiarm, cheerful
air of home, are scattered abroad upon the soft
slopes.
Nor is the interest of antiquity wanting. Vener



312         WAYSIDE  SKETCHESE
able ruins, wrecks from the dim sea of the past,
still cling to the shores of the present, and tell of
civilization, and art, and science, in the ages when
the wild Indian was the sole monarch of our wilds.
At last we are in London.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.                   313
CHAPTER XVI.
ENGLAND.
London — Madame Tussaud - National Gallery - Houses of Parliament -
Courts —St. Thomas, Chartreux - Iord Mayor's Day - Hampton Court -
Sydenham Palace - Zoological Gardens - Thames River - Tunnel - Christ's
Hospital - Westminster Abbey.
Nov. 6. Our voyage of discovery in the great
city has scarcely begun; but by way of commencing
at one end or the other of a climax, we have been to
Madame Tussaud's. An exhibition of wax-work has
always seemed to me one of the very last sources of
attraction, but Madame Tussaud has proved herself a
real artist, and would, I doubt not, have Inanaged
the clay of the studio with great skill. It is truly a
wonder in its way, to see the power with which she
has rendered the lifelike expression of face and
figure, especially in the eye, the feature which, more
than all the rest, would seem difficult to imitate.
Her rooms are filled with the celebrities of the past
century; the best of all is the Iron Duke as he lay
in state, which one can scarcely realize not to be
actual life, or rather actual death.  It has a reality
much more impressive than sculpture.
The most amusing feature of the rooms is the
21




314         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
figure of Cobbett, in Quaker costume, seated upon
one of the benches, snuff-box in hand, and spectacles
on nose.  He turns his head occsionally, with an
intelligent scrutiny of the objects around him, and I
believe that it is no uncommon thing for people to
beg pardon of the old gentleman for brushing too
near his person. Madame Tussaud's successor has
not inherited her skill; the recent figures are quite
imperfect, especially the group of Americans, who
would pass equally well for any other characters that
might be attributed to them.
Nov. 7. Have been to the National Gallery, to
the Houses of Parliament, and various courts.
In the National Gallery are works of most of the
masters, but one should see this gallery before going
to Italy, in order to enjoy it. The two best pictures
that we have seen, by Murillo, are here; a St. John
and lamb, which is a picture of exceeding beauty,
and a Holy Family, in which the infant Saviour
satisfies one's conceptions of what such a face should
be, without a fault.
Another gem, which surpasses all pictures of the
same subject, is Corregio's Ecce Homo. The great
Ecce Homo of Guido is here, but I think no one
could fail to feel the great superiority of the former.
Indeed, among all attempts to embody the divine
spirit, shining through human sorrow and suffcring,
it stands, in my judgment, pre-eminent.
There are some charming pictures by Turner-especially two landscapes, which by his own desire, hang




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              315
beside two similar ones of Claude Lorraine; they are
four pictures of restful beauty. But it seems to me
a mistake to group such a number of pictures by one
artist, all in precisely the same style. They are so
often repeated that one gets sated with hazy atmosphere -which, I believe, is quite heterodox to say
in England.
Rain, Speed and Steam, is exactly calculated to
exhibit Turner's peculiar power. I am glad to think
that the indistinctness of all these pictures is owing
to the want of durability in the coloring; for the
engravings from them are very charming.
The Houses of Parliament are in the old Palace
of Westminster, and have the quiet, stately rnagnificence of old English architecture. But their great
interest lies in the crowd of associations which throng
these ancient halls. When the liveried guardians of
such places as these take the customary fee of
entrance, they little imagine what trains of dignitaries
and notables enter with the silent visitor.
The great state trials, the royal pageants, the important councils, the struggles and the decisions of
ages, are invisibly inscribed upon these lofty walls,
and the imagination of the beholder supplies the
war mth, which brings the mystic characters to light.
We took a peep at the four Courts in session, one of
which was the Court of Queen's Bench, and one the
Nisi Prius.  We saw that, of which every one has
read, the assembly of the law in gown and wig. The
former is a very decorous garb for a court of dignity,




316        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
but the wig is nothing less than a deformity. It is a
close cap of stiff gray horse hair curls; and I fancy
it would be difficult to recognize our familiar acquaintances of the legal profession, in such guise.
The sittings were characterized by a quiet, dignified courtesy, but I should think they would sometimes lack the interest of animation. There is certainly one advantage to be gained by the habit of
discountenancing declamation — if one may not declaim, he will not be likely to make many efforts at
speechifying unless he has something to say.
Wie saw the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Alexander
Cockburn, and a number of judges, who did not need
the judicial robes to give them dignity.
The House of Lords is a small room, richly furnished; and the House of Commons surprised us by
its lack of size. When one reads of the Houses of
Lords and Commons, he unconsciously conceives an
idea of vastness proportioned to the importance of
the assembly.
It seemed to me a worthy juxtaposition, that the
halls in which the great living men of England strive
for the great rights of the nation, should stand hard
by the resting-place of England's greatest dead.
Nov. 8. Have been to St. Thomas, Chartreux,
to hear one of my favorite writers, Dean Trench -
now newly appointed Archbishop of Dublin - a
worthy successor of that distinguished man, Archbishop Whately. By law of custom, the dean of
Westminster succeeds to the see of Dublin.




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              317
In the afternoon we went to St. Paul's, to hear
Archdeacon Hale. I liked them both very much;
it was a pleasure to hear real thinkers preach once
more. I liked the intonation less than ever, and fear
that I should never learn to pray in cathedral service.
I was struck with one idea at St. Thomas'. It is a
very common complaint among clergymen at home
that there seems to be no way of securing the attention of children in general during church service.
This was accomplished here by making the children
the most active assistants in the service. They occupied the entire organ loft, and led both chants and
responses audibly and reverently. The proper observance of the entire service by the whole body of
worshippers is very marked, and might be profitably
imitated by our own people.
There is a manliness in the way in which Englishmen show respect to public worship, which impresses
us wherever we go —both in England and abroad.
They go to church as a matter of course, and read,
and sing, and pray, and listen with an earnestness
and decorum, which, even if it have no deeper root
than a sense of propriety, cannot fail to influence the
character for good, in some wise.
Nov. 9.  This, the Lord Mayor's day, is the
Prince of Wales' birthday as well. The new Lord
Mayor goes in state to be sworn at Westminster, and
afterwards makes a grand progress. through the city;
while the day is closed with an immense dinner at
the Guildhall, which is just at the foot of our street.




318         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
It is a general holiday, and we had a fine opportunity
of seeing an English crowd, which, if it differed at
all from the same affair in America, did so to its
own disadvantage.  It was coarser, poorer, more
quarrelsome than the masses that I have seen awaiting a spectacle at home.
The procession passed us in the afternoon. It was
not much of a display. The troops of the city were
represented only by their bands; the main feature of
interest being a small band of Knights, in the armor
of different periods. The sheriffs were arrayed in
furred robes, and the servants in the gaudiest of
gilded trappings. The day was chill for the long
white silk stockings of the coachmen and outriders;
it is to be hoped that they have learned to enjoy it,
and to fancy that fashion supplies the lack of comfort. The Mayor's carriage is a cumbrous, rather
stately machine, apparently of bronze, drawn by six
gaily caparisoned horses with postillions. The new
Mayor was attended by his own clergyman and two
mace bearers. As it is strictly a city display, there
was no representative of the throne in the procession,
which was, in itself, not much of an affair.
In the evening, there were elaborate illuminations
at the West end in honor of the Prince. Our street
was barricaded to prevent the passage of any other
carriages than those conveying the guests to the
Guildhall; and all night tile police were busied in
keeping the arriving and departing lines in proper
order, and in summoning carriages. HIow tedious the




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              319
banquet must have been can be imagined from the
fact that the arrivals began before even this early
twilight, and it was not all over before four in the
morning.
Nov. 10. Hampton Court. Went by rail to Hampton. This is a palace built by Cardinal Wolsey, and
afterwards absorbed by his royal master. It was a
royal residence during many reigns, and the favorite
abode of William and Mary.  During their reign
the buildings were reduced in number, and a line of
grounds, once occupied by a wing of the palace, was
planted with shrubs, and trained into a long arbor,
called Queen Mary's Walk. The last kingly occupants of the Palace were George the Second and his
family. At the present time the upper stories are
inhabited by the remnant of several noble families,
who have been reduced in estate, and are here provided with home and attendance by the Queen. One
could bear some loss of fortune with tolerable equanimity, if it were compensated by the privileges of
such a charming abode.
The palace is built around a large court, and fronts
upon the most lovely grounds, garden and park, a
sweet, perfect picture, in which the repetition of lawn,
tree, shrub, flower, walk, forest, gives very little idea
of the quiet, picturesque beauty that characterizes
this charming domain.
The buildings are massive and rather low, but very
extensive. The Hall, a guard room which forms the
first of the long suite of state apartments, is adorned




320        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
with arms of all descriptions, arranged in many curious
figures. They represent the mode of warfare of almost
all ages.  The arrangement belongs to the time of
George the Second, and was copied in the similar
disposition of weapons in the Tower. The room is
wainscoted with oak, and the old oaken floors are
every where uncarpeted. The pictures of the guard
room are all portraits of admirals, or representations
of naval engagements.
From the guard room there leads out a long succession of halls, saloons, bed rooms, banqueting
rooms, galleries and private apartments, such as I
cannot particularize.  They all looked upon some
charming view of park, forest, or garden, still green
and fresh with the tender verdure which we connect
only with the idea of spring. This is one of the
perpetual charms of England, and they say that
even in winter the fields retain this beauty.
The long ranges of apartments are filled with
pictures, many by eminent English painters.  The
portraits by Sir Godfrey Kneller and Sir Peter
Lely, are very beautiful, which is undoubtedly
owing, in part, to the wonderful specimens of beauty
that were the subjects of their pencil, and which it
would seem, should have inspired even ordinary
fingers.
There are some fine pictures by Gainsborough;
one in particular, a picture of Col. St. Leger, is extremely beautiful. There are several fine pictures by
West; several of Titian, among which a Lucretia is




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              321
one of his best figures. Almost all the Italian artists
are represented, and there are some works of Vandyke. Two of the most pleasing pictures are by Denner-two heads, representing Youth and Age, in
which the beauty of expression is combined with exquisite coloring in no ordinary degree. Here, too, are
the famous cartoons, or paintings upon paper, by Raphael -magnificent pictures of course. They are
upon the death of Ananias; Elymas the Sorcerer;
Peter and John at the Beautiful Gate; the Miraculous
Draught of Fishes; Paul and Barnabas at Lystra;
Paul Preaching at Athens; and, most beautiful of
all, Christ's Charge to Peter.
These cartoons line the walls of a large hall, built
on purpose for their reception. It is difficult to do
justice to the paintings at Hampton Court, for the outdoor picture from every window is too enticing for a
careful attention to art within.
From the palace we went to the gardens to see the
immense grape vine which forms a notable attraction
to the grounds. This vine, ninety-seven years old,
measures thirty-six inches round its stem; and its
branches, in full bearing, -cover an area of seventy by
thirty feet. The weight of the fruit, now hanging in
tempting purple clusters is about eight hundred
pounds. The grapes are cut for Buckingham palace
after the other graperies are exhausted, and therefore
are allowed to hang until January.
Such places as Hampton Court bridge over the
mighty chasms of time, and link the present with the




322         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
past in such wise that history ceases to seem the
dralma which it is wont to appear, and claims the
sympathies of present actuality. To tread the very
courts which the ambitious cardinal trod; which
the monarch, who lives more for us in ShakspearQ
than in our real faith, adorned for his beautiful
favorite, impresses one with a conception of the sixteenth century which no books can give.
The foggy weather, which so circumscribes the
view at this season, deprives us of the pleasure of
seeing the far-famed scenery of Richmond.
Nov. 11. It was with' no especial anticipations of
pleasure that I set out for Sydenham.  Every one
has said, " You must by all means go to Sydenham,"
but I fancied it to be much the same thing as our own
Crystal Palace, or that at Paris, which had proved
disappointing; and we have hitherto gone upon the
u-rinciple, in our sight-seeing, not to expend our
precious time upon things of which we have a fair
type at home. We were therefore little prepared for
the beauty of the serial structure, or the still more
charming attractions of the grounds.
If I remember rightly, the extent of the palace is
sixteen hundred by three hundred feet, and the
grounds enclose two hundred acres, with just the
variety of undulation sufficient to double the apparent
extent.
There are a few pleasing pictures in the gallery,
and casts from all the greatest sculptures of Italy,
but at present the best part of the exhibition is to be




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              323
found among the tropical plants and birds, which are
numerous and comprehensive, being natives of all
the hot countries of the earth. Conspicuous in the
wing appropriated to them, is the gigantic tree from
California, whose rings mark an age of three thousand
years. Its trunk was cut just below the branches,
and measures a hundred and sixteen feet in height,
the entire distance to the top of the branches being
three hundred and sixty-three feet.  The trunk
measures thirty-one feet in circumference, and the
bark is eighteen inches thick. This bark was carefully removed in sections, and reconstructed as it now
stands. The conservatory is a wilderness of rare and
beautiful plants; from this enormous tree, down to
the tender moss that fringes the borders of the basins,
every thing is exotic, and the air is heavy with
tropical warmth and perfume, and rings with the
songs and screams of birds of more than rainbow
plumage. There are also here models of the colossal
monsters of sculpture which are found in the longforgotten temples of Nineveh and Babylon - hideous
figures, that give one such degrading ideas of the
conceptions of humanity in the lower degrees of
civilization.
Another curiosity is a pyramid, representing the
amount of gold brought to England from Australia,
between the years 1851 and 1861. I did not learn
its volume, but it towers up, a mass of golden
semblance, very rich in suggestion. Various articles
of merchandise are displayed throughout the edifice,




324         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
evidently more for the purpose of advertisement than
for profit.
There were two concert performances during our
stay, and some very fine organ music. The grounds
are tastefully laid out with  terraces, fountains,
mounds, arbors, lakes, and every variety of miniature
landscape charm.
A very interesting part of the grounds, to me, was
the quarter exhibiting the geological formations of
the earth. It was done under the direction of the
late Prince Consort. The regular succession of strata
has been carefully produced, and upon an island in
a little lake, are huge models of the extinct species,
constructed according to the fossils. Here the gigantic saurians gape at each other, in all their stages
of advance, and make one devoutly thankful that
the species is truly extinct.  We had no object in
ascending the tower, for the fog was so dense that it
was impossible to tell whether the view beyond the
grounds were upon city or forest.
Nov. 12. We have visited one of the great parks,
which spread their greenness over such vast extent
in the very midst of a crowded city like London, that
they'give the sense of quiet and solitude like that of
the country.
And in the midst of these green fields we find a
wide area of many acres, devoted to the animals of
every quarter of the globe. The exhibition here is
much larger, and on a better scale than that in Paris.
The creatures are admirably appointed, and are the




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              325
best specimens of their kinds. The magnitude of the
expense, and the stable persistence of such establishments as these, are as remarkable among the things of
the old world as its mountains or its architecture, and
tell of the slow sifting process of time as truly as its
monuments and its palaces.
Nov. 14. To-day we have b'etaken ourselves to
the great highway which runs silently through the
heart of the metropolis.
We went to see the monument which stands near
London Bridge, marking the spot where the great
fire of 1666 broke out; a long inscription records
the ravages of the fire, and the fact that th'e monument was completed in 1677.
The approach to the river landings is blind, intricate, and rendered difficult by the throng of vehicles
in the narrow streets near the water side. The boats
do not receive and discharge passengers at the same
landing, thereby avoiding much confusion, but
occasioning considerable inconvenience, and, to a
stranger, perplexity.
WVe took a steamer and went up to Milbank,
passing Southwark, Blackfriars, Waterloo and Westminster bridges, and Lambeth Palace, and stopping
just short of Vauxhall bridge. The most beautiful
of all these noble structures is the Westminster
bridge. It rests upon iron arches., with an upper
bridge and balustrade of stone.
There is no point of view so fine for many of
the London buildings as the river. St. Paul's, the




326         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
Parliament Houses, Westminster Abbey, Somerset
House, Lambeth Palace, and the Tower are all seen
to good advantage.
The sail was full of historic memories.  One
could almost fancy the gay barges of the pleasure
loving nobles, or the swift vehicles of their secret
vengeance, among the prosaic boats that now ply
their trade under the argus eye of the police. It if
far better to lionize among the monuments of the
olden centuries, than to have lived, with one's life
upon the breath of some capricious mortal, even in
the days that seem so picturesque in the distance. I
think all real life is in the straight line of prose,
until we reach such a distance as shall enable us
to take in the mighty curve by which the seeming
straight line becomes the line of beauty and grace.
We next went down the river to the Tunnel, the
great useless wonder of achievement, by which the
miracle of old is verified, and we wallk by a dry pIatl
through the midst of the sea.
This long arch is a beautiful piece of work, and
it is utterly impossible to realize that the waters are
tossing, and ships riding over our heads.  It is
well lighted, and its recesses are filled with small
stands of vendible articles, which wvould seem to be
a pursuit of commercial advantage under unusual
difficulties.
The great depth of this work, necessitating a descent of one hundred steps on either side, is alone
sufficient to destroy the feasibility of the plan; and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.              327
the difficulty of constructing a carriage approach has
proved insurmountable.
However, all is not lost that proves impracticable.
The great lessons of practical mechanics are never
learned, but by repeated failures; although people
are apt to forget that there is as much necessity for
learning what cannot be done, as what is truly feasible. Perhaps Brunel has accomplished no unworthy
mission in demonstrating impossibilities by the reductio ad absurduin.
We crossed from Wapping to the Surrey side, and
were obliged to walk a long distance for some means
of conveyance to the city, through streets such as
we read of in English books - the very reverse of
Piccadilly; most dingy and uninviting; that middle ground between comfort and squalidity, in which
a vast number of people must make their habitation;
but which is almost equally repulsive to the feelings
with utter poverty. I was glad, however, to have
seen that phase of London suburbs, which we pass
usually by train, and without notice.
Nov. 15. Went to morning service at Christ's
Hospital, and afterwards to the gallery of the dining
hall, to see the boys at table. It was a place of great
interest to me. Christ's Hospital was founded by
Edward the Sixth, whose effigy surmounts the inner
entrance. Its original intention was, like that of
many similar institutions here, the education of poor
children; but, like many others of its class, it has
passed into an establishment into which entrance




328         WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
must be obtained by influence; and is diverted to
the benefit of a rather different class of society from
that for which it was at first intended.
The appearance and manner of the boys showed
plainly that they belong to no substratum of society.
They retain the dress prescribed at the foundation, a
most peculiar and inconvenient garb; consisting of a
long blue cloth gown, belted with a leather girdle;
a yellow flannel tunic like an apron or short petticoat;
yellow stockings and russe't shoes; no collar, but
cambric bands like those of a clergyman, and no
covering for the head save the luxuriant protection
of nature.  Eight hundred of these boys filled the
gallery of the chapel and led the responses. In the
chancel was a table spread with loaves of bread,
which were distributed to the poor at the close of
the service. The sermon was preached by Rev. Dr.
McCall, a scholarly divine, who has been engaged in
the work of revision of scripture; and was in behalf
of the Fishmongers' and Poulterers' charity.
After service we brought up the rear of the long
procession of boys through the cloisters of the quadrangle, and established ourselves in a gallery which
overlooked the dining hall; a long stately room,
adorned with paintings and stained windows; with
an organ gallery at the opposite end.  Eighteen
tables were laid in the hall, with long benches for
seats; and along these tables the boys clustered, like
bees about a hive. A detachment girded up their
gowns into their belts, and brought in the huge




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.              329
covered dishes of meat, one to the head of each
table, and tall.baskets of bread and tubs of potatoes,
which were all deposited beside the matrons of the
tables, who proceeded to carve the beef. When this
was done, a chapter was read from the desk,
prayers were said and grace chanted by the boys,
accompanied by the organ. How devout the service,
would probably depend somewhat upon the appetite.
Then the viands were served, the boys still acting as
waiters, the bread and beer distributed, and, their
dinner being fairly inaugurated, we went home to
our own.
In the afternoon we went down to the venerable
abbey of Westminster, to enjoy the magnificent service, and to hear the new dean, Dr. Stanley, late of
Oxford. Altogether, it was the most imposing service that I have ever attended. The church, or
rather that part of it screened for service, was
thronged - it was impossible to obtain a seat. The
majestic old cathedral, stretching its dim arches above
the lofty aisles; the stately monuments of the reverend dead, lifting their ghostly forms in the shadowy
aisles of nave and transept; the poet's corner, not
only crowded with living worshippers, but instinct
with the immortality of genius; the remembrance
that we were encircled by chapels, the depositories of
the royal dust, and the renowned ashes of ages; the
solemn swell of the great organ, bearing the rich
deep voices of the choir through the vaulted roof;
the prayers, hallowed and mellowed by the memo22




330          WAYSIDE  SKETCHES
ries of the saints and martyrs, who have breathed
their holy aspirations in this very language —in
which the humblest Christian utters his lowly worship; and, added to the majesty of the service, the
sermon -a clear, strong, evangelical unfolding of the
character and work of the Saviour of men, plain to
the understanding of the ordinary man, yet profound
to the comprehension of the scholar —and well
worthy the reputation of Dr. Stanley; all this went
to constitute a satisfaction and solemnity such as I
never felt in any service before. Happy is a church,
in which such a preacher can find, in such an edifice,
such a congregation to listen to the simple gospel
of JesusI




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            331
CHAPTER XVII.
ENGLAND.
London - Hyde Park - Theatres - South Kensington Museum - Guildhall -
Oxford — Birmingham - Liverpool.
WE have driven about the city, and have seen
enough of London to carry away with us some idea
of its vast extent, and some satisfactory identification
of localities with which we have long been familiar
by name.
Among these innumerables, we have seen Whitehall and the Banqueting House, in front of which
King Charles was beheaded; Marlborough House,
the present residence of the Prince of Wales; Apsley House and the Triumphal Arch; all sorts of
statues; have driven about Piccadilly and Belgravia,
and the parks; have admired the wide fields and
charming views of Hyde Park, and the cultivation of
Kensington gardens, and have seen markets and
theatres. We went to St. Giles' Cripplegate, where
Milton is buried, but were not able to obtain admission. We walked through the by-ways of Doctors'
Commons and have driven round more squares,'and
through more streets than I can attempt to remember.
We saw the shop, No. 21 Bow Street, which occupies




332        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the site of Will's Coffee House; the Rainbow Tavern,
and many other spots of more or less historic interest.
We have paid our respects to the play in London
at four theatres, the Adelphi, the Olympic, Drury
Lane and the Haymarket. Covent Garden, which is
a very fine looking structure, partly enclosed by a
glazed roof, we did not visit; not having a fancy for
the English Opera, which is its present attraction. I
am little qualified to criticise the stage, but the English play is certainly far superior to any thing that I
have seen at home. Even the inferior parts were
good, and carefully sustained.
Manfred, at the Haymarket, was said to be the
finest scenic representation ever put upon the English
stage, and I can easily believe it to be true.
The Alpine scenery was wonderful; mountains,
waterfalls, and the great Jung Frau itself; while the
supernatural scenes were gorgeous.
Manfred was played by a young actor, who, upon
the authority of Macready, is destined to achieve
great things upon the stage; but the single utterance
of " Manfred," by the phantom of Astarte, embodied
a dramatic power, of which I had before no conception. None of the theatres were large, but they were
handsome and well appointed.
One of the greatest pleasures that we have enjoyed
was the gallery of pictures at South Kensington
MuSeum. It is a gallery of British artists, and comprises three private collections —the Vernon, the
Sheepshanks and the Ellison. It afforded far more




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             333
gratification to my taste than the National gallery.
There is scarcely a picture there which has not great
merit. I cannot remember all, even of those most
striking to me, but will endeavor to rescue some of
them from the treachery of my memory.
Here are treasured up the works of Hogarth, Wilkie, Lawrence, Reynolds, Gainsborough, West, Landseer, Turner, and, of less universal note, Leslie, Ward,
Etty, Cope and many others, who would be distinguished any where except under the shadow of such
pre-eminent genius.
We have often sought for some trace of the brush
of Hogarth, and have found it here alone; but the
series of pictures which here represents him scarcely
suggests the bold, strong painting which the history
of Hogarth marks as his characteristic. Marriage a
la mode is full of spirit, but it does not seem to
belong to Hogarth.
Nor are the pictures of Wilkie quite equal to
what I had supposed, although some of them are
very pleasing; most of them are sketches of village
life - the best to my taste is The Refusal.
There is a splendid full-length picture of West, by
Lawrence, and another of Kemble as Hamlet, two
masterly works. There are lovely real children by
Reynolds, and the beautiful picture of Samuel, the
parent of all the pretty engravings of infant prayer;
but owing to the failure of some of his experiments
in coloring, many of his best pictures are faded and
disfigured.




334        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
West's great picture of Christ Healing the Sick is
full of study. I wonder if the president of the Royal
Academy were ever perplexed upon the subject of
his own identity, as he looked back from London
upon the little boy in the wilds of Pennsylvania, who
despoiled his cat of her caudal clothing to furnish
materials for his prophetic brush.
But, if I desired to go down to posterity with the
prestige of loveliness, I should, among them all, select Gainsborough to paint my portrait. His picture
of Mrs. Siddons is, among portraits, next to Guido's
Beatrice in my reverence. It is said that no painter
can do justice to a beautiful woman, but I cannot
conceive of beauty that would not be glorified by the
touch of his pencil. Near by, another face, that of
a young man, looks out from Gainsborough's tints -
the same exquisite style is visible in a portrait of
Colonel St. Leger at Hampton Court.
There is another picture of Mrs. Siddons at Kensington, by Lawrence; but, fine as it is, it breathes of
no such loveliness as this of which I speak.
The wonderful paintings of Landseer are here in
abundance; the famous pair of Peace and Warthe latter has scarcely a rival; the pictures in which
he invests the perfectly executed animal with a suggestive human interest, such as Dignity and Impudence; Town Life and Country Life; Alexander and
Diogenes; then the pictures of the mere animals,
such as the Sleeping Bloodhound, and, perhaps the
best of all, the Shoeing of a Horse.




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.             335
Most pathetic in its truthfulness and simplicity is
the Shepherd's Chief Mourner. The great dog lies
in mute abandon of woe, stretching his shaggy head
over the solitary coffin with a faithful, clinging tenderness that touches the most reserved sympathy.
The Sacking of Basing House shows that Landseer
is not of necessity limited to the depicting of animal
life.
Among many pictures by Leslie are My Uncle
Toby and the Widow Wadman; a charming picture
of the Princes in the Tower; Queen Katharine and
Patience; a portrait of Queen Victoria in coronation
robes, and Sancho Panza and Dr. Pedro Snatchaway.
The fall of Clarendon, by Ward; The Foundling,
by O'Neil; a Venitian scene of the Guidecca and
the Jesuit's College; and a beautiful picture of the
Crypts of Roslin Castle, are prominent among a score
of attractive paintings; and there are two which I
should like to see again especially. One is a picture
of the ante-room  of Lord Chesterfield, with Dr.
Johnson among the waiting multitude. I do not
remember the artist, but the picture is the very
embodiment of the old doctor's character and history.
The ill-concealed scorn of himself, which mingles
with his scarcely restrained impatience and contempt
for his own position and his desired patron, is
inimitable. The other picture, by Johnson, is one of
great pathos; Lord and Lady Russel receiving the
sacrament before his execution. The sentinel has
withdrawn to the prison window, and the husband




336        WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
and wife kneel, side by side, before the priest, in
whose countenance a curious but sympathetic observation mingles with the solemnity proper to the rite.
Lord Russel, in devout attitude and with downcast
eyes, is evidently wholly absorbed in the spiritual
office —not so the wife. She kneels, indeed, beside
her husband, but her devotion seeks no inward
shrine; her despairing gaze devours the lineaments
before her, as if she would drink in the beloved image
and weave it with the very fibre of her being. You
can read, in that steadfast, beseeching gaze, the
preciousness of the fleeting moments, the tenderness
of her breaking heart. Priest, prison and sacrament
have no place in her thoughts- "that single spot is
the whole world" to her, and your thought outruns
the scene, and you forget the unworthy fate of the
noble husband in the agony of widowhood that is
about to spread its living pall over the wife.
I cannot enumerate half the striking pictures of
South Kensington Museum, and have absolutely forgotten Turner, that idol of English criticism.
We came home by that very enjoyable mode of
conveyance, the top of an omnibus, a long hour's
ride through the dense interminable city. By Oxford
Street and the Strand and Fleet Street, up Ludgate
Hill, through St. Paul's churchyard and down Cheapside, past the Church where the Bow bells are still
swinging, and as we alight we look down the street
to the Guildhall. And I feel, as I write these names,
that I belong to the past generation, and that Addison




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             337
and his compeers are still gathered in the coffee house
at the corner of Bow Street; or that Goldsmith is
reading the Vicar of Wakefield to Dr. Johnson in
the sponging house; or that the goldsmiths are negotiating a loan to King James in Lombard Street; or
that the scaffold is rising before the Banqueting
House; or that De Quincy is fainting with starvation
in Oxford Street; or that Mr. Pickwick is learning
human nature in the Fleet; and, from all this chaotic
chronology breaks forth the idea that this is really
London.
Nov. 17. We have been to the Guildhall, the " city
building" of London. It has a rather fine effect, as
it closes the view of King Street, Cheapside, and has
retained its original color better than most of the
buildings of the kind. The blackness of London
smoke gives an effect which can not be confounded
with the venerable, inasmuch as new structures
readily acquire the same hue. The principal hall of
the Guildhall is adorned with the escutcheons of the
various fraternities of the city, and bears panels with
the names and dates of the various Lord Mayors.
Here are the two uncouth wooden city giants, Gog
and Magog. One can not help remembering, by
contrast, the sculptures which adorn the streets and
porches of almost every town in Italy. These figures
are of little higher civilization than the rude sculptures of our own aborigines.
We have been traversing the now familiar streets
with lingering and reluctant steps. We have seen




338         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
some of the objects of interest to the traveller in
London, but we feel that a lifetime of wonder and
richness lies beneath the surface to which we have
grown, in a degree, accustomed; that London itself,
without regard to the vast treasures of wealth, and
knowledge, and power, and research stored up within
her walls, means more to us than all the other cities
of the earth.
Setting aside sectional prejudice and party questions, it is evident to the thoughtful mind that this is
the fountain from which have gone, and still go forth
streams of blessings for these later ages.
The acorn of civil and religious liberty was planted
in this cold, distant, wave-defended island by no less
than a divine hand. Protected by its poverty, its
remoteness and its rudeness, it had nothing to attract
the rapacity of the continental hordes, the trampling
of whose armies would have beaten down the germ
of the mighty shoot, the moment it had lifted its head
above the soil. Then, the stubborn phlegmatic race
were in no haste to turn their dominion into a hotbed,
to force the precious plant to an unhealthy maturity.
Thus it grew slowly upward, all the more thriftily for
the ploughing and delving necessary to the daily
bread of the toiling inhabitants; sometimes watered
with blood, sometimes shaken by whirlwind; sometimes checked in its growth, and reft of many a
goodly bough, it still grew, for it was of a divine
seed, and rooted itself strong and wide, until, at this
moment, the nations are eating of its fruit, and re



WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             339
posing under its shadow. And we, who have drawn
the principles of our political life, the nourishment
of our intellectual power, and the spirit of our
religion from this root, must feel bound to this great
Saxon heart of civilization by a thousand ties of
sympathy and association, such as belong to no other
land. Her history is our history; her literature is
our literature; and the reading world of our own
land is more familiar with London and its associations than with any other subject of history in the
world,
The emotions which swell the heart in London are
too impressive and too complicated to express or even
to analyze. These streets which we pace, musing
ever as we go, have been shaken by the tramp of the
legions of Caesar; have rung with the clang of the
mailed hosts of the Crusaders; have echoed the
tread of the grim battalions of the Revolution; have
blazed with Romish faggots, and glittered with
Protestant bonfires; have echoed the shouts of
acclaim to Saxon and Norman, to Plantagenet, Tudor,
Stuart, Cromwell, Orange and Brunswick. And,
amid all these changes and chances, the English
people have held on, in the main, their steady way;
guarding, with jealous conservatism, their ancient
laws and customs; maintaining with stubborn independence their legal rights, or those which they fancied belonged to them, against foreign foe and native
tyrant; fostering institutions of learning and religion
at home, and planting them beside their flag abroad;




340        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
spreading the white wings of their commerce upon
every sea, and laying the strong grasp of their power
upon every land. The finger of England is upon
the spring of civilization. That she is proud is very
true —too proud even to be vain; but when one has
dwelt, even for a little time, upon that which is
magnificent in her present, that which is venerable
in her past, and glances at the scroll upon which are
inscribed names which make illustrious the pages of
war, of statesmanship, of law, of science, of art, of
letters, of religion — he must, perforce, remember
that pride is human, but these worthy objects of
pride are English.
We linger still in these streets, resonant with the
echoes of centuries, and trace in their dust the footprints of Bacon and Newton, of Shakspeare and
Milton, of Addison and Johnson, of More and Russel and Clarendon and Chatham, of Warwick and
Marlborough and Wellington; we look once more at
St. Paul's and Westminster; we thread again the
intricacies about the Bank and the Exchange and the
Mansion House; and we write London indelibly and
reverently upon our memory. For to-morrow we
turn our steps towards the land, which, gathering up
the dropped threads of the past from a myriad of
nations, weaves them anew into the many colored
web of the future —God grant with such a patient
and skillful hand, that the fabric may endure the
scrutiny of the long ages, and no sleazy thread mar
the perfectness of the Master's design.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             341
Nov. 18. We bade, at last, farewell to London,
stopping on our way to Paddington to see a stone
effigy of the great Earl Guy upon a house in Newgate Street. We soon left the great city far behind,
and sped swiftly through the lovely country along
the Western Railway —lovely even now, although
despoiled of the green and gold of the summer harvest, which glorified the landscape when we last traversed it. Presently the massive outline of Windsor
Castle rose bold and sharp against the November sky,
with the royal banner drooping from its tower to
indicate the presence of the Queen.  The broad
oaken sea of foliage still ripples at its foot, and the
blue haze still curls up from the bosom of the silver
Thames, as it sweeps the base of this proudest and
noblest of royal homes.
Windsor stirs my heart with a pride akin to that
of one who looks upon the towers of his ancestors,
even though they may have long since ceased to
belong to his own birthright.
The stately vision soon faded in the distance, and
we turned eagerly to the gray towers and spires of
Oxford. This spot, venerable with associations most
dear to the scholar, means so much, and expresses so
little, that you feel continually baffled in the attempt
to identify your ideal with the actual. You know
so much of it, and you see so little, that it seems to
be an enchanted castle, which needs only the magic
word to open its inner depths and display treasures
hoary with antiquity, and precious with the riches of




342         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
many ages. But the blank, square, impenetrable
walls invite no scrutiny, and the stony gloom of the
ancient corridors and staircases may well remind one
of the days of monastic life.
We went to Christ Church, the largest of the cluster of colleges that compose the famous University.
The University College is the most ancient, boasting
King Alfred as its founder.
We visited the chapel, the dining-hall, and the
library. This last is neither large nor pretentious;
but it contains, beside its literary stores, gems of art
from the ancient masters, all the more welcome to
our recognition for having bidden them, as we supposed, a final farewell. We drove through the streets
and scanned the various colleges.  Although of
different periods of architecture, they all bear the
same general features, and it needed an effort of fancy
to invest them with the power and dignity of their
real importance.
A monument has been erected in front of Baliol
College to the memory of Cranmer, Latimer, and
Ridley, who perished here.
A few students in gown and cap, loitered about the
quadrangles of the college, but we were surprised to
see the place so deserted. What was our chagrin to
discover, too late, that of all the days of the year,
this was the one for the boat-races of the university.
and all the world was in Christ Church meadows. To
have just missed this event in Oxford life, was inexpressibly annoying.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            343
We went to the Bodleian library — a world of
books, ancient and modern, of curious volumes and
rare manuscripts. It is next in size to the library of
the British Museum, and contains, I believe, over
two hundred and forty thousand volumes. There
are, besides, models of temples, cathedrals and noted
ruins, portraits of royal and ecclesiastical dignitaries,
and objects of interest enough to tempt one to many
visits. Among the curiosities is the lantern of Guy
Fawkes.
There is a picture gallery belonging to the library,
but we were not particularly struck by any of the
pictures.
We saw there the Princesses Helena and Louise,
attended by Dean Stanley, Colonel Ponsonby and
the Honorable Mrs. Bruce. They are not handsome,
but pleasing and simple-mannered ladies.
We lingered among the treasures of the library,
until the bell warned us to retire, and, after driving
about the town, we came on to Birmingham, and
spent the night at the Hen and Chickens.
Nov. 19. We sallied forth through the smoky town
to see some of the establishments that make Birmingham noted at home and abroad. And, among the
beautiful things, the handsomest were the elegant
bronzes, which I have never seen equalled.  The
clocks, mantel ornaments, Busts, statues, statuettes,
were all admirable. We saw the process of electroplating, and its cognate operations, and were politely
received and conducted through the establishment




344        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
The manufactory of papier mache seems more like
a magazine of art than a place of mechanical labor.
Such beautiful things are done with dull opaque
heaps of brown paper as make one wonder at the
ingenuity and taste which, besides modelling furniture and household appliances and conveniences out
of such unlikely material, afterwards elevates them to
the dignity of works of art. There were tables exquisitely copied from Landseer; waiters pretty enough
to be framed for pictures; gems of scenery and
flowers; sketches of ruins, castles and cathedrals;
portfolios, boxes, books, desks, &c., &c., all enticing
and useful.
We saw the process of manufacture, from the
gluing of the sheets of paper into masses, to the
gilding and polishing at the close. Most of the work
seemed to be done by women. Indeed there are
many avenues of labor and occupation opened to
women on this side of the ocean, which ought
to satisfy any reasonable advocate of woman's
rights.
Women are found in nearly all the booking offices
of hotels; they are the book-keepers in shops; they fill
positions of respectability as housekeepers, and discharge, with propriety, many offices, such as we bestow upon men, who should be, instead, at the strong
armed work of bodily labor.
We spent a day in Liverpool, in rest from journeying, and in preparing for our voyage, Have been
about the streets of the city; have seen shops and




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES             345
markets; have been watching the arrivals of our
fellow passengers, among whom we have already
found some acquaintances, and have been indulging
the unusual feeling of having nothing to see, and
nothing to do.
23




346          WAYSIDE SKETCHES.
CH.APTER XVIII.
HOMEWARD  BOUND.
Scotia —Liverpool to New York.
Nov. 21. Once more afloat upon the tossing sea.
The good ship Scotia stands first among the means
of Atlantic transit, but the Great Eastern has spoiled
us for any thing short of a floating hotel, and our
accommodations seem narrow and stifling.
The last gleam of sunshine departed as we left
the shore and steamed down the Mersey to our ship,
and we had reason to congratulate ourselves on
taking the earliest tug-for the mail came down in
a pouring rain, and one of the passengers, losing
heart at the ominous commencement of the voyage,
forfeited his passage money, and returned to await
better auspices —to the great amusement of his fellows, who, however, learned before the voyage was
over, to feel some respect for the good fortune of an
individual so true to his instincts.
We dropped anchor the next night in the harbor
of Queenstown, and we went on deck to look at the
distant lights, and to bid a second farewell to the
Old World, and then betook ourselves to our berths,
where some of us were destined to remain for a large




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             347
part of the voyage. We had an unceasing gale to
New York, with almost continual storm, and the trip
was as bad as it could well have been without actual
danger.
My own friends maintained the most upright propriety, holding their position in the saloon in a creditable and seaworthy manner, while I lay in profundis,
meekly veiling my bonnet to steward and stewardess,
with not even a spar of resolution left upon which to
hoist a signal of distress.
But this horrible malady of the sea, while it
plunges you in despair as to your own individuality,
does not prevent your -watching with amusement
similar results in the person of others.
There was not even the sense of insecurity, either
to intensify or allay the incessant self-consciousness.
But as I lay, plunging at every billow, I could feel
the stout, firm solidity with which the ship met the
shock, and rose buoyant and obedient to keep the
unswerving line towards the news boat at Cape Race.
It mattered little to the imperturbable captain that
the sea swept the decks; he ruled his floating
world, and carved his beef, and read the church
service all the same.
I listened to the boom of the breaking waves, and
the swash of the returning water, to the rattling of
cordage, and the tramp at the heaving of the log. I
could see the faces of the few passengers who were
abroad, as they stole along the narrow passage,inflexibly set in the determination to persuade them



348         WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
selves and the rest of their world that they were not
at all sick.
Then there was the daily fib of the attendants, who
assured the patients that the weather was charming
above, and that they would be quite well " once they
got on deck;" the faint wail in reply; the carrying
of some refractory sufferer, vi et armis, into the
stormy air; there were kindly neighbors, who, with
the touch of sympathy which made that whole
world kin, proffered grapes and champagne to ungrateful strangers; and, as days wore on, the most
hopeless began to emerge from the lower obscurity,
and so at last did I. I crept to the saloon and lay
upon the cushions, the only stretch of which my
exertions were capable. We assembled in creditable
force to do honor to the Thanksgiving dinner, and
had a merry time, despite the stormy roar without.
We had a brilliant impromptu speech from  Mr.
Ruggles, who was returning from the Statistical Congress of Nations, and we underwent various political
demonstrations; for, albeit in an English ship, we
were representatives of almost every sort and condition of American life.
So passed the voyage. We found pleasant companions, not the least among whom was our kind and
genial friend of the house of Harper-and the en-'forced contact of our daily life developed acquaintance into familiar intercourse and intimacy.
We discussed dress and politics, theology and sentiment, poetry and education; compared notes of




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             349
recent travel and present affliction; we had play and
merriment and nonsense -and it was not without a
touch of regret at separation, that we stood at last,
thank God, in health and safety, upon the welcome
shores of our own beloved land.
As I look back upon the enjoyment of the
last few months, I am continually surprised that in
a journey undertaken, on my own part, specifically
in search of health, so much has been accomplished
with so little consciousness of exertion or fatigue.
In order to enjoy any success in a short tour, it is
necessary to have a definite idea of the main points
of interest to be sought, and then to close the eager
eyes to many desirable things, which must be omitted, that the main design be not frustrated.
In a reasonably successful pursuance of this plan,
we have seen, in part, England, Scotland, Wales,
Ireland, Belgium, Prussia, Germany, Switzerland,
Austria, Italy, France and-Fairyland. It is evident
that in a tour like ours we were to see more of things
than of people; for to scan the people minutely requires a long and loitering divergence from the common routes of travel, and a familiar acquaintance
with their languages-begging, that one universal
language forgotten at the confusion of Babel, and
pourboire, by which the traveller is made to supply
the missing link between the justice of the employer
and the rights of the employed, being the only
intelligible communication to the unlearned tourist.
Our pleasure, then, with such knowledge of men




350        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
and society as came by the way, lay in scenery, art,
architecture, and the associations of antiquity, of
history, of poetry or of fiction.
And I would fain gather up more closely the
clews by which we have threaded the labyrinth of
foreign lands, and brought thence pictures to
brighten the chambers of memory for all our after
life. These various sources of pleasure are, of
course, always more or less combined, in all that we
have seen, but, for the sake of distinctness of remembrance, I would classify them in my own mind
under their most prominent characteristics.
In church architecture, we have seen the cathedrals
of Chester and Dublin and Glasgow; York Minster
and Westminster and St. Paul's; of Brussels and
Antwerp and Cologne; of Mayence and Frankfort
and Strasbourg and Notre Dame; of Milan and
Venice and Florence and Pisa - and we have seen
the great St. Peter's.
We have scanned the magnificence of noble life
at Eaton and Chatsworth and Warwick, and the
palaces of Hampton and Windsor, of the Luxembourg and Versailles and the Vatican.
We have seen the ruins of the past in Conway and
Caernarvon; in Holyrood and Melrose and Dryburgh;
in Haddon and Kenilworth; in the still splendid
remains of the castle of Heidelberg, and the countless
ruins of the Rhine land; in Herculaneum and Pompeii; and, greatest and saddest monument of desolation, we have seen Rome, whose feet are planted in




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.            351
the ruins of the imperial city, and whose head overlooks the ruins of the Campagna.
We have done homage to the memory of genius
at Stratford and Abbottsford and Westminster; at
Grasmere and Rydal and Ambleside and Haworth
and Ferney and Casa Guidi; we have seen the homes
of GoBthe, of Rubens, of Raphael, and of Michael
Angelo.
But when I come to speak of associations, there is
nothing to do but to measure step by step, the long
way, every foot of which is classic ground. There
was Chester, full of Roman and English antiquities;
Holyrood and the castles of Edinburgh and Stirling; London Tower; the battle fields of Waterloo
and Magenta; the tomb of the Invalids; the palace
of the Doges, the Roman Capitol, the Forum and the
Coliseum.
But this task is fruitless, and so would be the
attempt to enumerate the splendid works of art engraven on our memory.
It were enough to have seen the Dying Gladiator,
the Apollo, the Laocoon, Moses and the Venus de
Medici; the Aurora, and the St. Michael, of Guido;
the Transfiguration, of Raphael; the Last Supper, of
Da Vinci; the Descent, of Rubens; the Ecce Homo,
of Corregio; or the Assumption, of Titian. But
these are only the topmost peaks, beneath which lies
a world of art and beauty which it would take a
volume to describe.
But no art can equal the grand and beautiful pic



352       WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
tures of Nature which have marked our way from
the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. Old Snowdon
looked down upon us, among the green swells and
craggy defiles of Wales; we have rocked upon the
waves at the foot of the gigantic headland of the north
Irish coast; we have seen the clustering lakes, and the
heathery moors, and the brown sombre hills that
people the horizon at the summit of Ben Lomond;
we have followed the windings of the Teith and
Forth through the lowland plains, down to the broad
estuary which widens to the German Ocean.
We have drunk in the marvellous beauty of Westmoreland, by Ulswater, and Windermere, Rydal and
Grasmere; and of the lovely lakes sentinelled by
Skiddaw and Helvellyn.
We have climbed the steep ways of the West
Riding of Yorkshire; and have seen the flocks upon
the thousand green hills of Derby and Leicestershire;
we have wound through the quiet lanes and charming fields, and landscape gardens of Warwickshire;
and have admired the varied landscape, and the perfect cultivation of the South of England, and the
homely comfort of the farms of Kent. We have been
upon the banks of the Dee and the Tweed, the Ouse
and Derwent, the Avon and the Thames.
We have traversed the low flat country, rescued
by Flemish industry from the sea, where the Scheldt
pours its slow tide to the ocean; and the well tilled
plains of France, and the borders of the brown historic Seine.




WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.             353
We have seen the sun set upon the vine-clad hills
of the Rhine, from the " castled crag of Drachenfels;"
and we have followed the lovely river of song and
story from the rocky fortresses of Prussia to its
broader bosom in the plains of France and Germany.
We diverged to the sweet valleys of the Maine and
the Neckar, and the pretty basin of the Oos.
We floated, humbly and reverently, at the foot of
the dark solemn peaks that shut in the unparalleled
lake of Lucerne; we looked abroad from the Kulm
of the Rigi upon the snowy billows of the Bernese
Oberland; we overhung the emerald valleys and the
pretty lakes of Sarnen and Lungern; and the wild
chasm of the vale of Hasli, from the magnificent
road of the Brunig pass.
We watched the line of cascades that leap to the
Arve from the long curtain of the chamois mountains of Meiringeil.
We have listened to the roar of the Oltschibach
and the Seilerbach, the Giessbach and the Reichenbach, by which the waters of the upper world pour
their foaming tribute to the sea.
We climbed the rocky pass to the silent sea of ice
that hangs forever between the Wellhorn and the
Engelhorn; we skirted the sweet lake of Brienz,
amid fields greener than even Alpine valleys; we
were sprinkled by the feathery spray of the Staubbach, and did reverence to the immaculate Jung Frau
from the bosom of Interlachen.
We sailed down lake Thun, under the shadow of




354        WAYSIDE  SKETCHES.
the great Niesen; and over the blue waters of Lake
Leman, until Mont Blanc rose like a snowy cloud
in the summer sky.
We saw the " arrowy Rhone " shoot forth from the
quiet lake, and followed the gorges of the Arve to
its courses among the fastnesses of Savoy.
We gazed at the solemn monarch of the mountains
with his hoary beard of glaciers, from the pavilion of
La Flegere; and watched the Arveiron gushing from
the bosom of eternal ice.
We overhung the valley of the Rhone, from the
summit of the Forclaz; and traversed the stupendous galleries, beneath the awful glaciers and terrific
precipices of the Simplon.
We safr Monte Rosa from afar, as we dreamed
beside the blue waters of Maggiore; and we recalled
classic memories beside the Po, the Arno and the
Tiber. We swept through the picturesque fields of
Lombardy, climbed the purple Apennines, and traced
the lava hills of Southernl Italy to the foot of
Vesuvius.
Through all the tour, we learned to repose with
confidence upon the comfort, security and facility of
the means of travel, and the order and protection of
the governments. But beneath the orderly surface
of the continent, we could readily perceive the surging of the unquiet people, and the alert, expectant
attitude of the rulers —while our eyes turned ever
more and more anxiously to the land of our own
love, whose destiny hangs trembling in the balance.




WAYSIDE SKETCHES.               355
May the God, whose hand holds the beam of the
balance, grant, that, reading from afar the scroll of
the earlier world, she may learn to avoid the errors
and imitate the successes which it records.
That, unscathed by the fires of intolerance, un-,shattered by the earthquake of anarchy, unshackled
by the fetters of despotism, and unsullied by the
foulness of license, she may yet stand forth, even in
her youth, the fair type of that perfect liberty which
knows how to restrain the evil, without retarding
the good; to repress crime, without oppressing innocence; to cherish independence, without encouraging
insolence; to guard reverently the ashes of the past,
while she kindles the signal' fires of the future; and
while she stretches forth one hand to give freedom
to the nations of the earth, she may raise the other
to swear fealty to herself, and to the God of the
Nations!