Class 
 Book. 
 
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 GopgM°_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
t££* 
 
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TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. THOMAS YARRELL, Sr 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1914 
 

 Copyright, 1914, by 
 Mbs. Thomas Yarrell, Sb. 
 
 MAY -5 1914 
 
 f 
 
 >CI.A3 6 9 95 9 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 HAPTEK PAGE 
 
 I Setting Out 7 
 
 II The Jamestown Exposition ... 12 
 
 III Golden Hours at Sea 20 
 
 IV The Ruins of Pompeii 46 
 
 V Eome 53 
 
 VI Florence 68 
 
 VII Villa Trollope 74 
 
 VIII Venice 80 
 
 IX Milan 88 
 
 X The Mountains op Switzerland . . 92 
 
 XI Lucerne 97 
 
 XII Airolo 103 
 
 XIII From Lucerne to the Italian Lakes . Ill 
 
 XIV Genoa 117 
 
 XV Under the Turquoise Blue .... 123 
 
TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 SETTING OUT 
 
 Given good weather, clear skies, a panorama 
 of beautiful scenery, a comfortable Pullman, 
 and genial companionship, and you have every- 
 thing that is necessary for a lovely journey. 
 Under such favorable conditions we began our 
 summer trip. Our destination is to be some- 
 where among the Alpines of Switzerland, or 
 perhaps the Austrian Tyrol. 
 
 We are resolved to enjoy to the utmost each 
 day with its varied scenes, its sunshine or its 
 rain, and expect to be the recipients of indelible 
 impressions; these I shall jot down, and if a 
 reading public cares to go with me on this pleas- 
 ure jaunt, I shall be delighted to have their 
 company. I only hope to be intellectually stim- 
 ulating and helpful in so far as I can direct 
 their thoughts for a while into familiar chan- 
 nels. I am convinced that busy people do not 
 care to be bored with statistics, nor to be 
 drowned by a Niagara of overwhelming gush. 
 Neither do I in these letters, aim at any literary 
 
 7 
 
8 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 surprises, but, in attempting to pass away the 
 time, I should be glad to serve the same pur- 
 pose for others. 
 
 The motives to travel are many, though the 
 impulse is universal. One may travel for 
 health, fashion, sight-seeing, or pleasure. The 
 singular fact about it is that so few really know 
 why they travel. But whether it be a little 
 visit to our relatives in the country, or the 
 grand tour of Europe, it is well to put away the 
 little cares and worries of every-day life. 
 
 The Carpathia, a Cunard boat, will sail from 
 New York on the morning of May 16, 1907, 
 and is due at Naples, May 30. Thus far our 
 route is pre-arranged, and from then on the 
 covering of ground is a consideration of no 
 importance. I imagine there is no sensation 
 more pleasing than that of finding one's self in 
 a foreign land, and under no particular obliga- 
 tion to go either north, south, east, or west. 
 
 To travel through the country in the month 
 of May is to witness a continuous exhibition of 
 nature's beauties before they are withered by 
 a scorching summer's sun. As the train glides 
 along there is an ever-changing and never-end- 
 ing panorama of beautiful scenes to charm 
 the eye. Here a farm with its promising corn ; 
 there another with its waving grain; here an 
 orchard laden with summer foliage; a little 
 farther on one gorgeous in its blossoms of 
 beauty ; here a group of forest trees, filled with 
 
SETTING OUT 9 
 
 warbling songsters; there flows a meandering 
 stream, whose winding course is marked by 
 the trees that are watered by it. Through an 
 opening where the slanting rays of an evening's 
 sunset dazzle the eye is seen the country home. 
 Some of these have every indication of pros- 
 perity, while others show that easy, thriftless 
 life so often seen in other countries. 
 
 Because of the "Rock-a-bye" and other noisy 
 lullabies that one enjoys so much on a first night 
 in a sleeper, we expect but little sleep. 
 Though, however little, we realize that we have 
 slept at the rate of from thirty to forty miles 
 an hour. The distance one can pass over, even 
 in one short night, is surprising. 
 
 The morning finds us still looking upon fields 
 of growing corn and other crops, and as we see 
 the farmer riding on his cultivator we realize 
 what progress has been made in agricultural 
 methods. It is easy to locate the farmer who 
 would object to new methods in agriculture, 
 for he would soon find himself in the rear of 
 the procession, and in the rear of the market. 
 Since the days of Brindley, Watt, and Ark- 
 wright how many inventive geniuses have arisen 
 to devise machinery to meet the requirements 
 of modern agricultural aspirations, — industrial 
 art! 
 
 Leaving St. Louis we were pleasantly enter- 
 tained by beautiful scenery, and while the en- 
 tire route was a continuous stretch of pano- 
 
10 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 ramie views, yet, after leaving Cincinnati, our 
 enthusiasm arose on account of historic as- 
 sociations. Over mountains and through val- 
 leys we pursued our way, — with gorgeous 
 scenery on both sides, the most beautiful being 
 like the Piedmont valley of Italy. All that 
 was needed was a little sunshine to make it 
 compare favorably with the views in Switzer- 
 land. 
 
 By the time we reached Richmond, Virginia, 
 our minds were well filled with historic remi- 
 niscences. We leave historic Richmond, whose 
 300th anniversary we are celebrating, and con- 
 tinue our journey over the battle-fields of the 
 Revolutionary and the Civil Wars. We are 
 now come to the beginning of things, — Wil- 
 liamsburg, the Capes, Hampton Roads, Fortress 
 Monroe (now Point Comfort), where the Eng- 
 lish got their first permanent footing in the 
 new world. 
 
 Here came the first suggestion of a new na- 
 tion; here the battle which closed its struggle 
 for freedom; here the first battle of a later 
 war which shook the nation to its foundations, 
 and here the first conflict of ironclads which 
 transformed the navies of the world. Here 
 the white man wielded the ax to cut the trees 
 for the first log cabin in the first village, and 
 this village was destined to be the first state 
 capital. At Jamestown convened the first legis- 
 lature in this country, and the United States 
 
SETTING OUT 11 
 
 may be said to date its being from the founda- 
 tion of the general assembly which convened 
 there in 1619. 
 
 So universal is the impulse to do honor to 
 heroism and to perpetuate the memory of heroic 
 deeds that it may be said to be spontaneous 
 in the minds and hearts of men. At any rate 
 it is born of patriotism, and is in harmony with 
 that intense spirit of Americanism which is the 
 leading characteristic of our country. We are 
 glad that we have the privilege of seeing this 
 grand monument to our nation's birth, — the 
 Jamestown Exposition. 
 
n 
 
 THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION 
 
 The interest that centers in the Jamestown 
 Exposition is very great in this conntry be- 
 cause of its historic location and surroundings. 
 The American people are so truly patriotic that 
 to celebrate the founding of the first English 
 colony in America, and in that the beginning 
 of American civilization, makes the heart of 
 this nation swell with pride. Here a nation 
 was born, and a germ of life was planted in 
 Virginia soil which has since budded and blos- 
 somed into a civilization that equals any in the 
 world. 
 
 All school children are taught that the first 
 colony was settled here in 1607. To let our 
 minds go back 300 years the most prominent fig- 
 ure that looms up before us is Captain John 
 Smith, who had the most common of names, but 
 who was the most uncommon of all the John 
 Smiths. Go back with me to the eastern part of 
 England to the estate of Lord Willoughby, and 
 there we find a family of poor tenants, who had 
 a son born in 1579, and they named him John. 
 Mr. Smith, like most modern fathers, soon 
 wanted his boy to go to work, and John, like 
 
 12 
 
THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION 13 
 
 some modern sons, tried running away from 
 work. Like most runaway boys lie had a 
 rough and tumble life. But we see his pa- 
 triotism assert itself, and he enlists as a sol- 
 dier, fancying, no doubt, that a soldier's life is 
 all pleasant adventure. We learn that John 
 Smith was shipwrecked and robbed, and, if we 
 may believe his own story, he was thrown into 
 the sea by a company of pilgrims, who ac- 
 credited him with causing the storms, like 
 Jonah in the Bible. However, this must have 
 happened near the shore, for he reached land 
 without the aid of a whale. 
 
 We then see him fighting the Turks, who 
 captured him and made him a slave ; and while 
 working for his cruel master we imagine he 
 felt like the prodigal son and sighed for home. 
 There is a limit to a slave's endurance, and 
 John Smith slew his master and escaped. 
 When he got back to England he found the 
 English people enthused with the idea of set- 
 tling a colony in North America. This wan- 
 dering, daring Smith was delighted to join the 
 company, which set sail in 1606. We imagine 
 they were a lot of adventurers, expecting to 
 pick up gold, certainly with no idea of what was 
 before them, nor of the great wave of progress 
 to be set in motion by them. 
 
 They settled at Jamestown, and our history 
 began. The school boys love to read of Cap- 
 tain Smith's experiences with the Indians, 
 
14 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 while the sentimental lads and lassies associate 
 him with Pocahontas. We all admire his in- 
 genuity in managing the Indians. His fitting 
 up of Powhatan's wigwam with "bedstead and 
 wash basin" served its purpose, but failed to 
 satisfy, just as our luxuriously furnished 
 apartments fall short of our cravings. Hu- 
 man nature is the same the world over, and we 
 are all temporarily lured on with the same 
 "blue glass beads." 
 
 Jamestown suggests another historic name, 
 that of Pocahontas, whose daring heroism 
 saved the life of Captain Smith, and whose 
 goodness of heart fed the starving settlers. 
 In 1609 ships from London brought another com- 
 pany to Jamestown, which was determined to de- 
 pose Captain Smith, who had become governor 
 of the colony. What a pity that more of those 
 who make our history do not take the view that 
 Admiral Schley vitalized into a phrase at San- 
 tiago: "There's glory enough for us all." 
 Then there would be less friction in life's com- 
 plicated machinery, — from the national admin- 
 istration down to the bickerings of rival clubs 
 in two-by-four towns. However, "charges" 
 were brought against Smith, and he was sent 
 away, to the detriment of Jamestown, for 
 Powhatan ceased to be friendly, and Poca- 
 hontas came no more to see the English. All 
 may be "fair in love and war," but I never 
 could excuse the deception practiced in making 
 
THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION 15 
 
 Pocahontas a prisoner and in telling her that 
 Smith was dead. It was natural that some Eng- 
 lishman should fall in love with her : and is it not 
 strange how many descendants John Eolfe and 
 Pocahontas have? This marriage brought 
 peace with the Indians, and I love to picture 
 Pocahontas making the change from the smoky 
 bark hut to high life in England; and I think 
 it a matter of regret that she never came back 
 to Virginia. 
 
 The ruins of the old church in which Poca- 
 hontas was baptized are still seen in James- 
 town, but the baptismal font is shown in the 
 Bruton parish church in Williamsburg. This 
 church has also the silver service presented by 
 Queen Anne, and another that was given by 
 King George III. Williamsburg is about seven 
 miles distant, and because of its historical set- 
 ting is quite interesting. So also is the epoch- 
 making Yorktown, for it was there that Corn- 
 wallis surrendered his entire force. A monu- 
 ment has recently been erected to commemorate 
 that event. Yorktown boasts of picturesque 
 streets and visitors enjoy it. One is shown the 
 colonial mansion of the Nelsons, where the ar- 
 ticles of surrender were drawn up by Washing- 
 ton and Cornwallis. Yorktown also boasts of 
 the first customs house in this country. 
 
 The Jamestown Exposition has three miles 
 of water front, which necessarily makes the 
 naval display a prominent feature. The 
 
16 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 general plan of the grounds is, to a certain 
 extent, similar to the other expositions we have 
 had. A central court surrounded by imposing 
 buildings, — or rather, three sides by buildings, 
 for the fourth rests on the water front. This 
 body of water is called Smith's harbor, in honor 
 of Captain Smith. 
 
 There are about twenty-five exposition build- 
 ings, many of them handsome palaces, after the 
 colonial style of architecture. It is gratifying 
 to see so many states represented, and some 
 of these buildings are among the most attrac- 
 tive features of the fair. The Virginia build- 
 ing is a reproduction of the home of the Madi- 
 sons. The Georgia building is of special 
 interest because it is a copy of Bullock Hall, 
 the birthplace and home of President Roose- 
 velt's mother. Pennsylvania has a copy of 
 Independence Hall; Maryland is found in Car- 
 roll Hall, a representation of the home of 
 Governor Carroll, — a signer of the Declaration 
 of Independence. Connecticut is housed in a 
 copy of the colonial mansion of Talmadge. 
 The Massachusetts building is a replica of the 
 old state house in Boston. The Daughters of 
 the Confederacy are domiciled in Beauvoir, the 
 Mississippi home of Jefferson Davis. 
 
 The military drill plane, containing thirty 
 acres, is surrounded by beautiful trees, and the 
 drills are conspicuous features. The sight of 
 marching troops is always thrilling, but the 
 
THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION 17 
 
 most novel and attractive feature of the entire 
 exposition is the international naval spectacle. 
 At the invitation of our president, the great 
 nations of the world have sent their warships. 
 It is a great sight to see the battleships of about 
 fifteen nations anchored in Hampton Koads, 
 which means as many different flags unfurled 
 to the breezes. Never before has there been 
 such a gathering of fighting vessels, and each 
 one will return to its own waters with new 
 ideas. 
 
 A special feature on the naval program is a 
 reproduction of the famous battle between the 
 Merrimac and the Monitor, which was fought in 
 1862. In the "War Path," which takes the 
 place of the far-famed "Midway" at the Chi- 
 cago fair and the "Pike" of the St. Louis ex- 
 position, is found the same collection of vil- 
 lages, — Indian, Japanese, Eskimo, and so on. 
 And there are the same attractions to amuse 
 one, — the attractions that take all your small 
 change. Near-by is Old Point Comfort where 
 is seen the greatest fortress in the United 
 States. At Newport News is one of the largest 
 shipbuilding plants and dry docks in the world. 
 
 Among the towering monuments to great men 
 among the loftiest should be one of Lafayette. 
 The part taken by him in the struggle of the 
 thirteen American colonies to become a free 
 republic was of a nature that demands excep- 
 tional interest and recognition in America. 
 
18 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 His chilvaric devotion to the cause of liberty 
 when it seemed most gloomy and hopeless will 
 cause a throb of gratitude in the hearts of 
 Americans. The struggle of the American 
 colonies had attracted little attention in Eu- 
 rope until the Declaration of Independence. 
 At an officers' dinner the dispatches were 
 received that made Lafayette resolve to of- 
 fer himself to our cause, and his whole ca- 
 reer in America was noble, honorable, and 
 generous. In the beginning of this cam- 
 paign his soldiers were so scantily clothed 
 that Lafayette borrowed $10,000 from the 
 merchants of Baltimore to buy cloth for 
 them, and he induced the ladies of that city to 
 make the garments required. 
 
 We care only to perpetuate the good, and 
 Jamestown has no monument erected claiming 
 the authorship of American "strikes." You 
 remember after Berkeley Lord Culpeper op- 
 pressed the people with fresh taxes, and the 
 first "strike" occurred in Yorktown when the 
 assembly tried to stop the over-production of to- 
 bacco by cutting the young plants. It took 
 them some time to learn that the best way to 
 stop over-production of tobacco was to en- 
 courage other industries. 
 
 The Jamestown exposition is truly an his- 
 torical study of the last three hundred years. 
 One learns many things at an exposition, no 
 matter where it may be located, and the knowl- 
 
THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION 19 
 
 edge that may be gained at any of them will go 
 far toward regulating trade conditions and 
 stimulating advancement in art and manufac- 
 ture. Virginia, that great state that has given 
 the nation seven presidents, may well be proud 
 of its eventful history and its mighty progress. 
 This historic ground that echoes to the tread 
 of thousands of hurrying feet on pleasure bent 
 may resume its humdrum existence, yet the ef- 
 fects of the exposition will not be transient. 
 A greater knowledge of art, of science, of in- 
 vention, of various industries, of agriculture, 
 of horticulture, of education, of transportation, 
 and of a hundred other things will abide and 
 bear fruit in a better civilization. For the visi- 
 tors will carry home impressions of the things 
 that they saw, heard, and felt; and the effects 
 of these impressions or ideas will be seen in 
 better homes, more conveniences, better pic- 
 tures, greater inventions, improved machinery, 
 and in a thousand other ways. 
 
Ill 
 
 GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 
 
 The summer season comes arrayed in her 
 greenest robes, with her hair decorated with 
 full blown roses, and her eyes bright with sun- 
 shine. The earth is carpeted with green vel- 
 vet tapestry, and Nature, in matured beauty, is 
 at her best. 
 
 In the "good old summer time," when the 
 mercury is climbing up the tube toward the cen- 
 tury mark, all nature makes an appeal that is 
 hard to resist. We hear the low, sweet music 
 of the whispering pines as they nod in the cool 
 breeze sweeping over the lake or from the moun- 
 tain tops ; the call of the murmuring brook, like 
 Tennyson's, goes on forever, while the balmy 
 air, over the ocean's briny deep, is still more al- 
 luring in its perpetual call. Summer offers 
 various opportunities in compensation for the 
 intensity of its heat. She bids one seek the 
 coolness of the mountains or the seaside, and 
 we think it is expedient to use summer in such 
 a way as to restore our energies, and be better 
 fitted for the work of the strenuous seasons. 
 
 Variety is not only the spice of life but the 
 salt of life as well. It is the treadmill round of 
 
 20 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 21 
 
 duties that wears out both body and mind, for 
 monotony is the foe to health and happiness. 
 A sense of relief will come when one can turn 
 away from the grind of daily toil into some by- 
 path. Of course there is a difference in opinion 
 as to what is most worth while, but one must 
 have a change. 
 
 Resistance was useless, and the call for an 
 ocean voyage finds us on the great steamer 
 Carpathia. We are leaving New York for 
 Europe, to summer among the Alpines of 
 Switzerland. When the last gangway was 
 drawn ashore slowly and majestically the great 
 liner swung out and turned toward the ocean. 
 The Battery was passed, we took our final look 
 at the statue of Liberty, while the domes and 
 steeples and sky-scrapers of New York dis- 
 appeared behind us. 
 
 We are steaming away at increasing speed. 
 The day is ideal, — a clear sky, clouds of chased 
 silver floating in sapphire depths, a breeze that 
 tips every wave with white and opalescent 
 gleams, and the waters beaming all over with 
 rippling smiles and dimples. 
 
 Everything promises well for a lovely jour- 
 ney, but cutting loose from the world and going 
 out into a trackless, treacherous sea is very 
 impressive. The stoutest heart, having any 
 just sense of the responsibilities and dangers, 
 must feel the need of that great Pilot who 
 knows all the perils of the voyage, and whose 
 
22 TRAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 word once quieted the stormy sea and hushed 
 the noise of its tumultuous waves. 
 
 Transient as these journeys are, they are 
 thrice enjoyed, — once in anticipation, once in 
 actual experience, and ever more in memory. 
 But the enjoyment of any place, no matter how 
 Edenic it may be, depends largely upon per- 
 sonal associations. Our ship is a little world 
 of its own, — an inhabited floating island. How 
 utterly alone one can feel in this vast crowd of 
 voyagers. To some extent each person is 
 wrapped up in an impenetrable barrier, and so 
 must live out his life. 
 
 How seldom does one really commune with a 
 living soul! The mountains seem to under- 
 stand the sky; the clouds love and adore the 
 sunset ; yet souls, gifted with latent powers they 
 dream not of, live near one another, and live out 
 their allotted time without comprehending the 
 deeper thoughts of their dearest friends. Yet 
 how little life would mean if it were deprived 
 of the joy and inspiration, the ennobling in- 
 fluence, and the deep satisfaction of its friend- 
 ships! There are no conditions more favor- 
 able to the forming of friendships than are 
 those afforded by the life on board ship. Re- 
 stricted surroundings and community of in- 
 terest have a tendency to break down the 
 barriers of ordinary reserve. 
 
 The days are glorious, with little wind and a 
 smooth sea. The salt air acts as a tonic, cours- 
 
GOLDEN HOUES AT SEA 23 
 
 ing like an elixir through the blood. Passen- 
 gers are amusing themselves with games, pac- 
 ing the deck, talking, reading, writing, or 
 sleeping. But one can get nearer the heart of 
 things lying on his steamer chair watching the 
 white cloud-ships sail by under the blue canopy 
 of heaven than by reading all the philosophies 
 and political economies extant. As we gaze 
 into the sky we see that older revelation of 
 which the psalmist spoke when he said : 
 
 "The heavens declare the glory of God, 
 And the firmament showeth his handiwork." 
 
 These voiceless messengers from their mid- 
 night throne proclaim the same great messages 
 which they disclosed to David when he watched 
 his flocks on the plains of Bethlehem. In 
 solemn stillness the stars move on in their ap- 
 pointed orbits, 
 
 "Forever singing as they shine, 
 
 'The Hand that made us is divine.' " 
 
 It was the gifted Byron who, loving nature, 
 wrote : 
 
 "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods. 
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore; 
 There is society where none intrudes, 
 By the deep sea, and music in its roar." 
 
 Besides that sort of "society" and "music" 
 we have also enjoyed the privilege of a fine 
 library on ship. In literature there are those 
 
24 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 authors whom we admire because they teach us 
 and inspire us; there are those whom we pity 
 because they seem to fight with such difficulty 
 the struggle of life; and there are those whom 
 we love. An author of the last group brings 
 relaxation and relief from our surroundings, — 
 so complex in their manifold relations. 
 
 So often one pines for companions who can 
 show us brightness and help us to see some- 
 thing more than the ' ' daily intercourse of life. ' ' 
 Stevenson said, "A happy man or woman is a 
 better thing to find than a five pound note." 
 Then the next best thing would be a happy 
 writer. What an exceeding privilege it is that 
 one can transport himself into the past, or peo- 
 ple his brain with the great thoughts of the 
 great thinkers who have blessed the world; or 
 by the royal gift of imagination put himself for 
 the time in an ideal realm, where the highest 
 dreams of the soul are fulfilled. 
 
 As usual one soon discovers that Baedeker's 
 Italy maintains the distinction of popularity, 
 for one must familiarize himself with his own 
 itinerary. What a joyful thrill is felt over the 
 first glimpse of land, — the Azores Islands. 
 Next we see the coast of Portugal with its moun- 
 tains and its little white towns nestled among 
 their cliffs. These towns with their tragic his- 
 tory grow dimmer in the distance until we again 
 realize there is nothing but * 'water, water every- 
 where. ' ' 
 
GOLDEN HOUES AT SEA 25 
 
 The bright sunny days have continued 
 through the week. Many times we have seen 
 the sun rise from his magnificent couch in the 
 crimson chambers of the East, then through the 
 gorgeous coloring of an evening sky we have 
 seen him pass through the golden gateway of 
 the West. We have had some rare and wonder- 
 ful combinations of color effects, in which sun, 
 sky, sea, and atmosphere have played their re- 
 spective parts. Some days great pillars of 
 clouds stand on the far western horizon, like 
 the pillars of Hercules marking the supposed 
 limits of the world, when the sun will pass in 
 royal glory into the vast beyond, leaving be- 
 hind a crimson and golden pathway across the 
 waters of the deep. Other days the sun 
 emerges from the clouds just before the setting 
 and sends out his rays of gold over the deep 
 blue waters, turning the clouds above into gold- 
 en and saffron curtains by his parting beams. 
 
 To-day we have witnessed some cloud scenes 
 as in infinite variety of form they move across 
 the blue sky. First the white floating clouds 
 sailed high in the heavens like great ships sail- 
 ing across the sea of immensity ; then came the 
 clouds of vapor gathering about the setting 
 sun and borrowing glory from his radiance. 
 These form themselves into mountain ranges 
 along the horizon, assuming fantastic shapes, 
 which the imagination can turn into all sorts 
 of objects. 
 
26 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 And now a brisk breeze turns the sea into an 
 army of whitecaps, wearing a variegated uni- 
 form of purple and blue, woven by the sun out 
 of the floating cloud-shadows. 
 
 Next will come a glorious day, cloudless skies, 
 and a deluge of welcome sunshine, while the 
 blue skies seem to breathe their benediction up- 
 on the world. How rapidly do these golden 
 days flit by. We spend the greater part of 
 them on deck, for 
 
 As the shadows melt in the crucible of dawn, 
 Or the twilight falls o'er the water made fair 
 By the last lingering rays of the setting sun — 
 We love to linger in the open air. 
 
 Another glorious morning finds us up with 
 the lark "to meet the sun," but this morning 
 promises more attractions than the rising sun, 
 for 
 
 "In the dimmest northeast distance 
 Dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray." 
 
 This is one of the greatest fortifications in 
 the world, situated at the junction of some of 
 the most important ocean highways. As we 
 steam slowly toward this great wonderful for- 
 tress we think of that last great siege of Gi- 
 braltar, — that great bombardment of 1782, — 
 and of the gigantic efforts of the British. One 
 can fancy the bosom of this bay covered with 
 great solemn-looking battleships, — then picture 
 the coasts of Spain and Africa and the surface 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 27 
 
 of the Mediterranean aglow with the lurid light 
 of those burning war vessels. Then we look at 
 that wonderful rock, — with every available 
 point bristling with artillery, — and we do not 
 wonder that Hannibal and his fellow Cartha- 
 ginians were awake to its importance. We 
 anchored in this historic bay and remained for 
 several hours. 
 
 The town of Gibraltar has three parallel 
 streets, and the houses are a mixture of Eng- 
 lish architecture and Spanish houses. The 
 combination tends to spoil the whole. We see 
 ships from every quarter, and people that are 
 a mixture of every race and clime. 
 
 Now we are steaming away from this won- 
 derful rock, — so like a lion couchant, — and we 
 are all watching the coasts of Spain and Af- 
 rica recede from us and fade in the hazy dis- 
 tance, and now we are sailing over the bluest 
 of blue waters, — the Mediterranean, — and ;. i 
 
 The skies overhead, with fair cerulean hue, 
 Reflect from the waters the same tint of blue. 
 
 Who can tell what a night may bring forth? 
 A change has come over the spirit of our 
 dreams, and a decided change in the elements. 
 James Whitcomb Riley says : 
 
 "It's the songs ye sing, and the smiles ye wear, 
 That's amak'in' the sunshine everywhere." 
 
 But where are the songs and the smiles this 
 morning? If there is one time in life that you 
 
28 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 need Mrs. Wiggs's philosophy more than an- 
 other it is out on the ocean, not smoothly sail- 
 ing, but being tossed about by the whimsical 
 fancies of a furious gale. 
 
 "It is easy enough to be pleasant 
 
 When life flows along like a song; 
 But the man worth while is the one who will smile 
 When everything goes dead wrong." 
 
 A few things have gone wrong to-day, or at 
 least not the way we meant they should. When 
 we ventured on deck this morning there were 
 dark lowering clouds, high west wind, a wild 
 rolling sea, and an ominous darkness. The 
 jolly promenaders were no longer seen; the 
 happy laugh had been exchanged for the melan- 
 choly dirge of the billowy waves. 
 
 We remember Eiley's words that "not every 
 morning can be sad," and we try to "just be 
 glad," but it is a feeble effort, so we begin to 
 philosophize in order to pass away the time. 
 To-morrow's sun may be shining, and while the 
 waves are rolling high we know that down be- 
 neath the tumult of waves there is a deep un- 
 disturbed calm, which so fitly represents the 
 depths of the human heart. It is a beautiful 
 figure that compares life to a voyage on the 
 ocean, and its trials and temptations to the 
 storms and billows which the voyager en- 
 counters in crossing the sea, for we are truly 
 passengers from time to eternity, and we al- 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 29 
 
 ways need the Pilot who stilled the waves of 
 Galilee. 
 
 One who has been in a storm at sea can 
 readily recall how quickly a storm can gather, 
 and with what rapidity a cloud can spread over 
 the heavens, cancelling the sun and turning the 
 sea from blue to somber steel. This is one time 
 that man is made to feel his littleness, his in- 
 feriority, and his utter dependence. One feels 
 like the tiniest speck in existence. It is very 
 interesting to watch the movement of the clouds 
 when they are driven here and there by the 
 furious gale, but when they come in collision 
 with the immensity of the great deep ocean the 
 majesty of the scene is greatly enhanced. 
 What a spectacle! We watch the whitecaps 
 chase one another while the great deep is being 
 churned into a fury. 
 
 But picture the delight occasioned when this 
 storm was followed by a rosy sunset and a 
 starry night. This stormy day closed with a 
 glimpse of the great red sun playing hide and 
 seek behind some bars of horizontal clouds, — 
 as if he were coquettishly laughing at our fears. 
 And with that peaceful calm "good night" he 
 drops beneath the horizon. Now the glad, 
 happy passengers seek their accustomed places 
 on deck, and mirth and good humor predomi- 
 nate again. 
 
 The moaning of the sea brings sadness, be- 
 cause it seems to be a requiem over the millions 
 
30 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 it has devoured since man began his efforts to 
 master it. Yet we love the resounding notes 
 of "the deep heaving sea" and the roar of its 
 wild waves. Then again we love its quiet 
 beauty, and its peace. 
 
 The soft winds may sigh through cedar and pine; 
 White clouds float high through the sunshine fine; 
 Joys are all so brief, begrudge us not, please, 
 These tender caresses of sun and breeze. 
 The soothing and healing of Nature's balm 
 Come to all, like that soft subdued calm 
 After the storm, when the gladdening ray 
 Of a glorious sunset closes the day. 
 
 "Heaven's ebon vault, 
 Studded with stars unutterably bright, 
 Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls. 
 Seems like a canopy which love had spread 
 To curtain her sleeping world." — Shelley. 
 
 Oh, the charm of a summer night with its 
 soft stillness! The wind has gone down with 
 the setting sun, and the quieter voices of Na- 
 ture assert themselves. The stars, too, seem 
 to shine out of the far-away heavens like angel 
 eyes watching over a sleeping world. To-night 
 their radiance is somewhat dimmed by the half- 
 full moon, whose silvery beams are sparkling 
 and dancing over the glassy surface of the blue 
 Mediterranean. 
 
 Who can gaze up into the stellar depths of 
 God's infinitude of worlds, or down into the 
 mysterious, treacherous sea, and not feel re- 
 
GOLDEN HOUES AT SEA 31 
 
 buked for all his vanity and conceit? The 
 ceaseless murmur of the fathomless ocean 
 might be the voice of God calling man to adora- 
 tion. Its grandeur and majesty could serve as 
 a rebuke to human pride; its magnificence, a 
 challenge to all that is noble in man, while its 
 wonderful bountifulness might be made to con- 
 demn his stinginess. There is a blending of the 
 beautiful and the sublime in ocean or sea that is 
 especially charming. Coleridge's " Ancient 
 Mariner" said of the music that filled the sea 
 and the air around him: 
 
 "And now 'twas like all instruments, 
 Now like a lonely flute; 
 And now it is an angel's song, 
 That makes the heavens he mute." 
 
 One can not help being touched by the loneli- 
 ness of the sea, nor by its music, for there is 
 music in its breaking billows when it is driven 
 into fury by the storm king, and there is the 
 lullaby of gentler tones when it is in quieter 
 mood. And such grandeur ! It is grand in the 
 daytime when the sunlight flashes over its 
 smooth surface; in the evening when the sun 
 paints a pathway of gold across its bosom, or at 
 night when it is bathed in the soft light of the 
 moon, or when over it there is a canopy of star- 
 lit heavens. 
 
 How we love to watch the setting sun, es- 
 pecially as he sinks to rest over the even plane 
 
32 TEAVELS IN EUKOPE 
 
 of a wide expanse of water. Somehow it sug- 
 gests the closing of a human life. While we 
 admire the beautiful sunset with its brilliant 
 colorings it would be inexpressibly sad if we be- 
 lieved we were taking a last look at it. But 
 we think of the sun going down in connection 
 with his rising again on the morrow. How 
 beautiful to carry out the thought in regard to 
 the human life, seeing in it only the close of 
 life's little day to usher in a brighter and 
 eternal to-morrow. 
 
 From time immemorial poets and moralists 
 have likened human life to a stream down 
 which we mortals are floating to the sea of 
 eternity. And surely there is much to suggest 
 the simile. All rivers run into the sea, all life 
 runs into eternity. Life has its deeps and its 
 shallows, its rapids and its whirlpools. This 
 life-stream may lead us through majestic 
 scenery, — through trees filled with singing 
 birds, — or it may take us through dismal 
 swamps, or monotonous deserts, and we all ask 
 the same question: Whither is it bearing us? 
 
 At the present writing we are passing be- 
 tween the coast of Spain and the Balearic Is- 
 lands, and the turquoise blue of the Mediterra- 
 nean has changed to melted gold. The sinking 
 sun has turned a million tiny clouds, floating up 
 from the distant horizon, into clusters of rose- 
 pink, lacy, filmy gauze. While the whole west 
 was ablaze with glory, and we were watching the 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 33 
 
 setting sun's fireworks die down to the ruddy 
 ashes ' glow, lo ! the great round full moon came 
 up in her queenly dignity, and the sunset glow 
 turned into a white silvery moonlight. The 
 gold faded from the clouds, leaving them pink 
 and violet, and as transparent as gauze, through 
 which the rising moon is sifting silver spangles. 
 
 The sunsets, all through this voyage, have 
 maintained their reputation as exhibitions of 
 the Master's art, and the few sunrises that we 
 have seen have been no less glorious in their 
 gorgeous colorings, presenting pictures far 
 above the skill of human artists. Such master- 
 pieces as we have seen on the Mediterranean! 
 Such reds and yellows and blues, as Nature only 
 can paint! These are the pictures that in- 
 spired Murillo and Raphael. 
 
 Now we are watching the hills of Genoa, 
 beautiful Genoa, with its half-circle harbor, 
 nestled so cosily at the foot of the Apennines. 
 The slopes of the hills behind the city, down 
 to the water 's edge, are covered with buildings, 
 terraced gardens, and groves of orange trees, 
 while the summits of the loftier ranges are 
 capped with forts and batteries. 
 
 Leaving the beautiful harbor of Genoa, the 
 next place of interest is Elba, — the island in- 
 separably connected with Napoleon's history. 
 And no doubt this man of such strategic genius 
 is discussed by every ship load of passengers 
 as this famous island comes in sight. Elba and 
 
34 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 Corsica may brood on the memories of Na- 
 poleon, but this trackless sea has certainly 
 washed away his footprints. The great iron- 
 clads may plow through her surface; the 
 storm king may pile her waves mountain high, 
 but she calmly smooths her smiling face, and 
 utterly denies her past. So different from 
 poor old mother earth, whose face is furrowed 
 with wrinkles mountain deep! 
 
 But as we dream and wonder the sun again 
 sinks beneath the western wave, spreading 
 crimson over the surface of its water, and as 
 we listen to the music of its melodies we count 
 it a privilege to be able to take inspiration 
 from the majesty of its ever changing moods. 
 Men may come and men may go, but this sea, 
 with its cerulean blue, sings on its song forever, 
 while its tragic history extends throughout 
 eternity. 
 
 If we ever thought that this world was a 
 small space as it spread before us on the map, 
 that thought will vanish as we contemplate the 
 vastness of the ocean. One cannot help but 
 wonder at its tranquillity, its restlessness, its 
 fury. On a calm, bright day we wonder how 
 such peaceful water can wax into fury until 
 nothing can survive it. We wonder how life 
 is sustained beneath those dark green waves; 
 we wonder at the laws that govern it, then at 
 the mind of man that conceived the possibility 
 of a track across this trackless waste of water. 
 
GOLDEN HOUES AT SEA 35 
 
 Then we wonder at the courage of Columbus, — 
 the daring Genoese, — 
 
 Who towers like Olympus above the mole hill — 
 
 A picture forever sublime — 
 A monumental figure for all ages, 
 
 Defying the ravages of Time. 
 
 And we wonder what his feelings were when 
 
 Our golden planet pierced through the dark gloom, 
 As God guided him through wild waves foam, and he exclaimed, 
 "See, there trembles the misty outline of a hill," — 
 America's land — our home, sweet home. 
 
 The end of an ocean voyage finds the pas- 
 sengers divided into several classes. Some are 
 restlessly pacing up and down the deck, in an 
 attempt to walk off the ennui of the voyage; 
 others sit dreamily smoking; others stand star- 
 ing, and seem to be calculating when the journey 
 will end, while yet others recline listlessly on 
 their steamer chairs, devouring a book, or idly 
 dreaming. The passengers may show various 
 attitudes of weariness, yet one thing is notice- 
 able among the sailors. They never seem 
 tired. They work with zest and fortitude from 
 beginning to end of the journey; through fair 
 and stormy weather, working always the same. 
 
 The lesson these hardy sailors teach us is 
 that he who would reach some distant difficult 
 port across life's stormy sea must not turn aside 
 because of wind and wave, to find some quiet 
 harbor, but must push on to the desired haven. 
 
36 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 One is reminded of those heroic lines of Joaquin 
 Miller on Columbus : 
 
 "Behind him lay the gray Azores, 
 Behind the gates of Hercules ; 
 Behind him not the ghost of shores, 
 Before him only shoreless seas. 
 The good mate said, 'Now must we pray, 
 For lo! the very stars are gone. 
 Brave Adm'rl speak! What shall I say?' 
 'Why, say : Sail on ! sail on — an' on.' " 
 
 And this seems to be all that is required of 
 the faithful sailor, — to work on and to "sail 
 on." 
 
 Interest is now increasing, everybody is up 
 early to watch for the Italian coast and the 
 great Vesuvius. The Island of Ischia, — the 
 largest island near Naples, — is one of the 
 prettiest coast sights. For many miles we see 
 its rugged surface dotted over with houses and 
 imposing castles. It is evidently of volcanic 
 origin. 
 
 The Italian coast still rises clear and sharp, 
 the rocky shape of Capri lifts itself from 
 the blue water of the Bay of Naples, and 
 then beyond looms the volcanic pyramid of Ve- 
 suvius. As we sail into the beautiful bay of 
 Naples we rejoice in the thought that we are 
 about to enter "Fair Italy" and enjoy the 
 balmy air of Italian skies. Every ripple of 
 this historic voiceless bay thrills with its dis- 
 tinguished memories; the zephyrs, sweeping 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 37 
 
 over its placid bosom, could whisper illustrious 
 names. 
 
 As we leave the blue smiling Mediterranean 
 and go into the Bay of Naples we seem already 
 to feel that delicious softness of the climate, 
 and we are forcibly impressed with the clear 
 atmosphere that makes Naples famed among 
 the cities of the world. The bay is twenty 
 miles wide, and extends inland for about ten 
 miles. What a beautiful picture it makes! 
 The rippling waves break in soft lace-like foam 
 on the rocky shore ; farther up are the red tiled 
 houses and white palaces, with their blooming 
 gardens. All lie spread out like some perfect 
 picture painted in the bright blue of Mediter- 
 ranean sunshine, and the whole dotted over with 
 brilliant russet of Mediterranean roofs. 
 
 This being one of the chief centers of com- 
 merce and industry of Italy and one of the prin- 
 cipal stations of Mediterranean steam naviga- 
 tion, we wonder that they have not better facili- 
 ties for handling the business ; but they evidently 
 lack our American thrift. Large steamers can 
 not dock at Naples, so they anchor outside, and 
 passengers are brought over on tenders. Boat 
 loads of nude boys put out from shore to enter- 
 tain us by diving for coins. Mandolin quar- 
 tettes and strong-voiced singers cruise about in 
 small boats, making music with their familiar 
 melodies, — "Bella Napoli" and "Funiculi- 
 Funicula." 
 
38 TBAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 In the usual bustle we land, when conies the 
 necessary farce of going through the custom 
 house, which is a veritable Babel. One thing, 
 however, must be said to the Italian's credit, — 
 our baggage was not opened. There seems to 
 be only two articles dutiable in Italy, — tobacco 
 and alcohol. Three other large steamers came 
 in on the day of our arrival, which added to the 
 confusion. The Neapolitans were not able to 
 handle the crowd, and the facilities of the cus- 
 tom house were inadequate. In the language 
 of Byron we would say : 
 
 "Fair Italy ! 
 Thou art the garden of the world, the home 
 Of all art yields, and Nature can decree." 
 
 It must be confessed that one landing in 
 Naples is not likely to become enraptured over 
 the people, however enthusiastic he may be over 
 the beautiful bay, lovely Sorrento, or the 
 stately Vesuvius. Speaking of the Italians as 
 a race is very much like speaking of the climate 
 of the United States, — we have our Maine and 
 our Louisiana, our east and our west. One 
 would have to know which climate is referred 
 to. So there is Italy, and Italy, and one would 
 go wide of the mark in lumping all the Italians 
 together. Think how small Italy looks on the 
 map, and then remember there are twenty-eight 
 different dialects, — all Italian. 
 
 Naples has its fine palaces and elegant hotels, 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 39 
 
 and it also has the most imposing arcade filled 
 with shops to be seen in any city in the world. 
 It is the largest and most populous city in Italy, 
 and disputes with Constantinople the claim of 
 occupying the most beautiful site in Europe. 
 It is built on the slopes of a range of hills, and 
 nestles cosily in amphitheater form on the 
 shore of the classic bay. Very few cities can 
 rival Naples in location. In artistic interest 
 Naples cannot compare with some of the towns 
 in central or northern Italy, but the matchless 
 treasures of antiquity found at Herculaneum 
 and Pompeii in a measure compensate. 
 
 The streets are well paved with lava, which 
 renders them both noisy and slippery for 
 horses, and gives Naples the name of being a 
 noisy city, for you hear the clatter of wheels 
 and the cracking of whips at all hours of the 
 day and night. This cracking of the whip nat- 
 urally arouses sympathy for the horses until 
 one learns that it is done either to clear the 
 street ahead or otherwise to attract attention. 
 The old streets are narrow and crooked, and in 
 some places they are connected by steps. 
 
 The houses are more noted for their size and 
 the solidity of their construction than they are 
 for beauty or elegance of taste. Flat roofs 
 seem to be very popular, and they are often 
 ornamented with flowers and shrubs. The 
 hotels compare very favorably with ours; one 
 can get anything he can pay for. The churches 
 
40 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 are remarkable rather for richness of internal 
 decoration than for architectural beauty. 
 
 We had heard that Naples swarmed with 
 beggars, and had learned to say "niente" with 
 emphasis, but had no occasion to use the em- 
 phatic negative. The best way to see the 
 sights of Naples is to get your hotel clerk to 
 select from the cabs that seem to be fixtures 
 around the hotel one whose driver can explain 
 the objects of interest. Then engage him for 
 certain hours every day, and he will always 
 be waiting for you. 
 
 Be sure to drive on some fashionable boule- 
 vard just before sunset, and you will see a gay 
 scene, composed of the beauty and fashion of 
 the city. But along with this wealth and beauty 
 you will see the poor and the donkeys laden 
 with merchandise and all kinds of footmen 
 dodging the vehicles. Then, to give a finish to 
 this picture of bustle and activity, are seen the 
 graceful palms, orange trees, with fountains 
 and marble statuary in abundance. No other 
 place seems to combine so much natural beauty 
 with so many objects of interest. 
 
 When visiting a city in any country we learn 
 a great deal about the national characteristics 
 of the people by watching their every-day 
 habits and studying the life of its great thor- 
 oughfares. It is interesting to note the pecu- 
 liarities of the people and the change of manners 
 and customs as one goes into each new locality. 
 
GOLDEN HOUES AT SEA 41 
 
 When these observations grow monotonous in 
 Italy we have but to turn to nature and study 
 the architecture of the lofty mountains, beauti- 
 ful valleys, or brilliant sunsets. All around 
 Naples nature has given quite a bit of choice 
 handiwork; yet, this beauty is always menaced 
 by sullen, threatening Vesuvius, which is al- 
 ways in sight, no matter in what direction one 
 may go. ■ 
 
 Vesuvius is about three leagues from the 
 city, but its loftiness makes it seem much 
 nearer. It is thirty miles in circumference and 
 4000 feet high. In spite of its numerous erup- 
 tions the region around Vesuvius has been 
 densely populated, and many white houses 
 glisten around its base. It seems strange that 
 this burning mountain was once covered with 
 fertile fields and vineyards. The Vesuvius Ob- 
 servatory is on a spur of the mountain, and, as 
 a result of man's wonderful invention, is said 
 to contain an instrument so delicately and won- 
 derfully constructed as to indicate by its needle 
 the degree of the volcano's activity. 
 
 "See Naples and die." We fancy the author 
 of this proverbial saying must have been domi- 
 ciled in one of those ideal hotels on Corso Vit- 
 torio Emanuale. If the acme of beautiful 
 sights was essential to insure his willingness to 
 depart this life, we feel sure it was the view 
 from our veranda that inspired the proverb. 
 Directly in front we have the beautiful bay, 
 
42 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 dotted over with white sail boats; across the 
 bay is the island of Capri, — once the home of 
 the Caesars. To the left of this panoramic view 
 rises Vesuvius, pointing heavenward its lofty 
 summit; along the base of the volcano towns 
 are glittering in the moonlight. To the right 
 is Pozzuoli, where St. Paul landed on his way 
 to Rome in A. D. 62. Below are the terraced 
 gardens, beautiful palms, orange groves, and 
 the beautifully colored landscape. Just at the 
 water's edge rises the Castello del Ovo, which 
 was built in the 12th century by Frederic II, as 
 a place of safety for his treasures. It is now 
 used as a military prison. The whole edge of 
 the bay from Castello del Ovo to Posillipo is 
 lined by a massive embankment and carriage 
 way, called the Via Caracciola. A little to the 
 left we can discern the Galleria Umberto, called 
 the arcade, where is found the most attractive 
 shops. In every direction are seen the spires 
 of churches, while the terraced streets below 
 are filled with many and various kinds of ve- 
 hicles. 
 
 The radiant sunshine is now bathing all the 
 landscape in its warm beams. The buds of 
 orange blossoms are bursting into bloom. The 
 sweet notes from some Italian singers softly 
 float upon the summer breezes, while overarch- 
 ing all is the bluest of blue skies, accentuated 
 by floating white clouds. It is good to sit and 
 breathe in all the beauty and fragrance one 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 43 
 
 feels. All nature seems to win you with, subtle 
 charms. Somehow the whole of Italy seems 
 steeped in the spirit of romance. Surely it 
 would be an easy task to gather the inspiration 
 for writing where everything is so inspiring. 
 Milton went to Italy, — the home of art and cul- 
 ture and song, — to broaden his views, and when 
 we see "beds of violets blue and fresh-blown 
 roses washed in dew" we think of his L 'Allegro. 
 But one need not go from home to be im- 
 pressed by his sublime figures of rhetoric. In 
 any land, in any clime, one can see his royal 
 highway to heaven, — the milky way, — 
 
 "A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, 
 And pavement stars." 
 
 There is something in this balmy air, these 
 bright sunny days, moonlight nights, the odor 
 of orange blossoms, and the rustling palms to 
 stir the sentiment and quicken the pulsebeat of 
 any one who is not a veritable Methuselah. 
 The sun opens his eyes in the glowing east, and 
 looks across the bay, whose quiet waters re- 
 flect his smile. These are the things from 
 which pictures are made and books are written. 
 Yet how often one 's highest aspirations resolve 
 themselves into a fine mist, and are as over- 
 whelmingly consumed as are the rainbow tints 
 of the sun's great beams. The shadowy visions 
 may fly away, yet they served a purpose, — food 
 for the mind, — like the glories of an ocean sun- 
 
44 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 rise. Sometimes the failure is so evident that 
 the timid one concludes that it was perhaps a 
 species of conceit; yet Holmes tells us, "Conceit 
 is to human character what salt is to the sea ; it 
 keeps it sweet and renders it endurable." So, 
 from Holmes' logical reasoning, one has to sus- 
 tain a normal and healthy egotism in order to 
 keep from wilting utterly under the blight of 
 disenchantment and repression. 
 
 Some one has said that life, after all, is but a 
 bundle of hints. If only as the bundle is un- 
 loosed each part may be found to contain some- 
 thing bright and cheery, — some hope ahead ! It 
 is always good to have something interesting 
 just ahead of us, to which we may look for- 
 ward with pleasure. No doubt many people die 
 because they have nothing especially to live for. 
 
 We are becoming too theoretical, so back to 
 our sightseeing. One must visit a few of the 
 churches, — especially the St. Januarius. It, 
 however, presents an incongruous mixture of 
 various styles, owing to the frequent restora- 
 tions occasioned by earthquakes. This church 
 is in the French Gothic style, and was built in 
 imitation of the Pantheon at Eome, but, after 
 seeing the great Pantheon, one calls this a poor 
 imitation. Here one finds many noted monu- 
 ments and noted paintings and pieces of sculp- 
 ture. 
 
 Then visit the National Museum to see the 
 great collection of antiquities, and the excavated 
 
GOLDEN HOURS AT SEA 45 
 
 treasures of Herculaneum and Pompeii, and 
 the picture gallery. The ancient bronzes are 
 well worth seeing, for there is nothing to be 
 compared with them anywhere else. 
 
 While all the relics of antiquity together with 
 their tragic histories are very interesting it is 
 the unsurpassed climate and natural beauties 
 that appeal to us most. Italy shows such a 
 panorama of sea and mountains, such flowers, 
 such olive and fig orchards, and such gardens 
 and villas as one seldom sees. Of course back 
 of all this is its antiquity, its importance in the 
 history of the world. The extraordinary inter- 
 est of this land of monumental greatness is 
 kept alive by castles, monuments, and excava- 
 tions that have outlived the ravages of centur- 
 ies. No matter with what vivid preconception 
 one may enter this fair land, there will be found 
 plenty to satisfy the most exuberant fancy. We 
 are charmed with Naples, and feel convinced 
 that we will soon say with Browning: 
 
 "Open my heart, and you will see 
 Graven inside of it — Italy." 
 
IV 
 
 THE RUINS OF POMPEII 
 
 One of the greatest attractions in the neigh- 
 borhood of Naples is the partly exhumed city 
 of Pompeii. The very thought that it should 
 lie buried for 1,700 years gives it a weird and 
 peculiar fascination. In August, 79, this town 
 was buried thirty feet under a shower of red- 
 hot ashes and pumice stone. History tells us 
 that at the time of its destruction Pompeii had 
 a population of 20,000 to 30,000. The earth- 
 quake of 63 a. d. had destroyed a great part of 
 the town, and in rebuilding there was a new 
 Eoman style introduced. The ruins show very 
 plainly that the final catastrophe came before 
 these buildings were completed. This was dis- 
 cernible in the unfinished carvings on the sta- 
 tues and columns. 
 
 Though thousands of visitors may tread this 
 city of the dead with an indifferent interest, and 
 may perhaps see nothing but ruins, yet it speaks 
 in forcible language of fallen greatness. Those 
 lonely columns stand like sentinels guarding the 
 hallowed spot and refusing to desert their posts. 
 
 Boast as we may of our modern up-to-date- 
 ness, there is a charm about antiquity that holds 
 
 46 
 
THE EUINS OF POMPEII 47 
 
 us captive. When we remember that this was 
 the summer resort of the rich Eomans a host 
 of visionary thoughts crowd into our mind, giv- 
 ing rise to feelings tender and melancholy, ac- 
 companied with a sort of objectless sympathy 
 for something unknown, yet something unde- 
 serving of such a tragic ending as came to this 
 ill-fated city. 
 
 The modern excavations are simply the cut- 
 ting off of the top of the hills formed by the 
 volcanic matter. To the tourist it offers the 
 picturesque desolation of a vast ruin. We 
 reach Pompeii on an electric railway; almost 
 the entire route we are going through vineyards 
 and orchards, while the orange blossoms are 
 seen in profusion. On the way we passed 
 through a field of lava, which a few years ago 
 partly destroyed the town of Boscotrecase, a 
 town of 9,000 inhabitants, though only one hun- 
 dred were killed. Two-thirds of the houses 
 were buried in this lava, which looks like coal. 
 Often we would see only the tops of chimneys 
 above the lava, the house being entirely buried. 
 Some of the houses were untouched, because 
 this lava did not come from the top of the cra- 
 ter, but from a crevice in the side, and ran 
 down into the town. 
 
 The streets of Pompeii are paved with huge 
 stone blocks, while the sidewalks are about two 
 feet above the streets, with large stepping- 
 stones at the cross streets for the benefit of 
 
48 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 footmen. The reason for such queerly con- 
 structed streets is that they drained the town 
 through the streets, the water flowing into the 
 sea. We see the worn ruts of chariot wheels; 
 the deeper the groove, we assume the more pop- 
 ular was the street for driving. One sees the 
 fountain, with the edges worn where the thirsty 
 one rested his hands while drinking. I thought 
 of that old saying, "A constant dropping of 
 water will wear away a stone," and I wondered 
 how many had leaned on those fountains thus to 
 wear away the stone. These streets all lead to 
 the baths, the theaters, the market, the temple of 
 justice, and the Forum. 
 
 Most of the Pompeian houses were entered 
 from the street by a narrow passage leading 
 into a large court. In the center of the build- 
 ing was nearly always a garden inclosed by 
 columns. Most of the apartments are very 
 small, and I suppose families pass the greater 
 part of their time in the airy courts or gardens. 
 The walls are very brilliant with mural decora- 
 tions, and there is brightly painted stucco every- 
 where. There is a great deal of similarity in 
 the houses, and to describe one would give an 
 idea of them all. The House of Pansa is one of 
 the largest in Pompeii; the House of Faun is 
 the most sumptuous, and was but slightly in- 
 jured in the earthquake of 63. In this home we 
 found the celebrated mosaic of the Battle of 
 Alexander, which represents the battle at the 
 
THE EUINS OF POMPEII 49 
 
 moment when Alexander, whose helmet has 
 fallen from his head, charges Darius with his 
 cavalry, and transfixes the general of the Per- 
 sians before he has time to disentangle himself 
 from his fallen and wounded horse. 
 
 In the House of Adonis there is a fresco, life 
 size, of Adonis, — wounded, tended, and be- 
 wailed by Venus and the Cupids. In the House 
 of Vetti the beautiful paintings and marble dec- 
 orations are left as they were found. It is 
 adorned with monumental paintings and 
 brightly painted stucco, in which red and yellow 
 predominate. On the frieze above are groups 
 of Cupids. The garden is gorgeous with flow- 
 ers, — the same kind that were grown in that 
 long ago. We asked how they knew they were 
 the same, and were told, "From the paintings 
 around the Court." One flower most prom- 
 inent and beautiful was the acanthus, and the 
 leaf of this plant always forms the top decora- 
 tions of the Corinthian columns. 
 
 The Court is embellished with numerous 
 statuettes and marble tables. The rooms are 
 decorated with fine paintings; above the dado 
 are groups of Cupids and below are chariot 
 races and mythological groups. 
 
 Much interest is centered in the Forum. The 
 basilica, which fronts the Forum, was used 
 as a market and law court. The interior 
 was roofed in; around this was a passage 
 with twenty-eight brick columns. These had 
 
50 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 evidently been damaged by the earthquake 
 of 63 and were undergoing repair, as they 
 were partly covered with marble. We come 
 now to the Forum proper. In the most 
 conspicuous place rises the Temple of Jupiter 
 on a basement approached by fifteen steps. 
 Near by is a large triumphal arch. The open 
 space in the center was paved with large slabs 
 and embellished with numerous statues. The 
 Forum was protected against the trespass of 
 riders or wagons by pillars at the ends of 
 streets that converged there. At the corner of 
 one of these streets is seen a relief, with figures 
 of two men carrying a wine jar, — this being the 
 sign of a wine merchant. 
 
 In the Museum one sees the models of doors, 
 windows, skulls, and skeletons of men and ani- 
 mals, but the principal objects of interest are 
 the casts of human corpses and one of a dog. 
 When the excavations are made it requires ex- 
 ceeding care to remove these casts. We were 
 told that when a skeleton is found then all work 
 ceases, except by hand. The dust is very care- 
 fully removed from without and within, and not 
 a bone dislocated. When the interior is clear 
 then they pour in a liquid cement, which hard- 
 ens and looks like plaster. One figure shows a 
 girl with a ring on her finger. Some of the fea- 
 tures are well preserved. 
 
 Another object of interest is the great theater 
 which once seated 5,000 spectators. The open- 
 
THE EUINS OF POMPEII 51 
 
 ing in the ground for the rising and falling of 
 the curtain is still seen. On the summit of the 
 outer wall are the stone rings for the poles 
 which supported an awning for use in sunny 
 weather. Then there is the small theater ad- 
 joining, which was roofed in, supposedly for 
 musical performances. Tier above tier, 1,500 
 seats cut out of stone are still to be seen. 
 
 The House of the Golden Cupids was exca- 
 vated a few years ago. Nothing in it has been 
 removed, and it is a perfect wonder. The wall 
 paintings are marvelous, the colors as bright 
 and clear as if painted yesterday. On the 
 frieze are golden Cupids. The ceilings are 
 gorgeous; they are decorated with Cupids of 
 gold and garlands of lovely hues. Surely the 
 art of making these lasting colors was buried 
 with Pompeii, for never since have such colors 
 been produced. In every available niche and 
 corner of this house are well-preserved Cupids. 
 
 This house was the most interesting of all, 
 because everything remained intact just as it 
 was found, while in most of the others were seen 
 only copies, — the originals having been placed 
 in the Museum at Naples. 
 
 We next visited the street of the Tombs, 
 which is just outside the gates of the city. 
 Here are the richly built, magnificent tombs, 
 after the manner of those of the Emperors 
 along the Appian Way at Eome. The excava- 
 tions here are not complete, but in point of 
 
52 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 scenery the place is very picturesque. Of 
 more interest than the street was the superb 
 view from the hill overlooking the tombs. Ve- 
 suvius is on one side, sending up its smoke into 
 the blue sky ; on the other is the Bay of Naples, 
 with Castellamare and Sorrento sparkling like 
 jewels on its shore. We were glad to exchange 
 the sight of the old ruins, with its scowling sen- 
 tinels, for this lovely vision of beauty and life. 
 
 How the mighty have fallen! we're led to exclaim, 
 And, no matter what their purpose or aim, 
 The centuries of Time, with wonderful story, 
 Reveal alike their same weird history. 
 
 Time is the great sifter. It is God's mill 
 To grind out the ages of his own will. 
 Centuries of granite strength plainly tell 
 Of the decay of civilization. Where Kings fell 
 Time furnished others to feebly stand — 
 Through the coming ages of shifting sand. 
 
V 
 
 KOME 
 
 "An empty urn within her withered handa, 
 Whose holy dust was scattered long ago." 
 
 — Bybon. 
 
 Rome ! There is magic in the word to call up 
 visions of a tragic past; of fallen kingdoms; of 
 gallant fights and dark deeds ; of chivalry and of 
 treachery ; and of those days when sheer power 
 and might ruled paramount. This "eternal 
 city," whose history goes back for twenty cen- 
 turies, deserves to stand first in the world's 
 history. This home of the Caesars was the ad- 
 ministrative center of the world. What must 
 this city have been in the days of its glory ! 
 
 Notwithstanding its many fine modern build- 
 ings, it is a city of ruins. At one glance one 
 can see the pagan, the Christian, the modern 
 Rome. Quaint streets and arcades remain as 
 remnants of a style of architecture which has 
 been replaced by modern shops. Among some 
 of the up-to-date shops will be seen the strong 
 walls of some ancient castle. 
 
 The seven-hilled city is built on both sides of 
 the yellow legend-laden Tiber. If this river, 
 rolling on like molten gold, could whisper of the 
 
 53 
 
54 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 many lives it had remorselessly strangled and 
 sent into eternity, we would turn from it in 
 horror. We can but admire the nerve of the 
 French in proposing to turn its channel in order 
 to find its hidden treasures. 
 
 Rome is considered a healthful city, and is a 
 good representation of regenerated Italy. Its 
 whilom dirty streets have been transformed in- 
 to a magnificent system of boulevards, which 
 necessitated the demolition of many of its his- 
 toric landmarks. While thousands of these 
 gave way to the exigencies of modern civiliza- 
 tion and progress a great many remain. 
 
 The first attraction for every visitor to Rome 
 is St. Peter's Cathedral. This magnificent 
 church occupies the place of the garden and 
 circus of Nero. It was believed that the body 
 of Peter was buried there, and Constantine the 
 Great was the first to build in honor of St. 
 Peter. Nicholas V decided to build this mag- 
 nificent temple in honor of the prince of apostles. 
 Owing to the death of the different popes and 
 to the fact that the work changed hands so 
 often, it required 176 years to complete St. 
 Peter's, at a cost of 10,000,000 pounds. It 
 covers an area of 240,000 square feet, and re- 
 quires 6,000 pounds annually to maintain it. 
 
 The approach to St. Peter's is very imposing. 
 It is in the shape of an amphitheater, formed 
 by 284 columns in four rows, and is practicable 
 also for carriages. On the entablature which 
 
EOME 55 
 
 surrounds it stand ninety-six colossal statues. 
 In the center of the piazza is a magnificent 
 Egyptian obelisk without hieroglyphics. This 
 is not the largest in Rome, but it has the merit 
 of being the only one which has been preserved 
 entire. This one was transported to Rome by 
 Caligula, and was placed in the circus of Nero. 
 A pagan obelisk seems an inappropriate decor- 
 ation for a church, but this shaft first witnessed 
 the martyrdom of many Christians in Nero's 
 circus. 
 
 The exterior of St. Peter's may be just a little 
 disappointing, but the interior is so gorgeous 
 and so strikingly impressive because of its vast- 
 ness and beauty that one readily forgets his 
 first impression of disappointment. This may 
 be justly called the most magnificent modern 
 building in the world, since the greatest artists 
 in the world exerted themselves to the utmost 
 of their ability in order to embellish it. On the 
 principal door is a bas-relief representing the 
 Savior consigning the keys to St. Peter. Five 
 doors give access to the vestibule, which is rich 
 in marbles, in gildings, and in stuccoes. At 
 either side are the equestrian statues of Con- 
 stantine and Charlemagne. Beneath the dome 
 in the center is a canopy over the tomb of St. 
 Peter; to the right is his statue in bronze, a 
 work of the 5th century. 
 
 Near the door is a round slab of porphyry, on 
 which the Emperors were crowned in ancient 
 
56 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 times. It was here that Charlemagne on De- 
 cember 25, 800, received the Eoman imperial 
 crown from the hands of Leo III. It wonld 
 grow tiresome to describe many of the chapels, 
 so we will only mention a few. The first on the 
 right is called the chapel of the Piety, — from 
 the statue of the Madonna with the dead Christ 
 on her lap, — by Michael Angelo. The grief of 
 the Madonna is touchingly shown, and the mod- 
 eling of the figures is exquisite. The Chapel 
 of Sebastian shows the martyrdom of St. Se- 
 bastian in mosaic. 
 
 Under the next arch is the monument of Inno- 
 cent XII, with the three little cream jugs, — the 
 device of the family to which this pope be- 
 longed. The Gregorian Chapel was from the 
 design of Michael Angelo, and in here is found 
 the first mosaic in St. Peter's. The chair of St. 
 Peter is behind the confessional. Above the 
 altar is inclosed the supposed chair. It is cov- 
 ered by a glory composed of angels and sera- 
 phim ; the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove in a 
 transparent field has a most beautiful effect. 
 Surrounding these are figures of Truth and 
 Prudence and the statues of many of the saints. 
 
 The Clementine Chapel was interesting. It 
 contains a copy in mosaic of the celebrated 
 Transfiguration by Eaphael. The transept 
 contains confessionals for ten different lan- 
 guages, — as the inscriptions indicate. To the 
 right beneath the next arch is the tomb in which 
 
EOME 57 
 
 the most recently deceased pope will rest until 
 the completion of his tomb and monument else- 
 where. The remains of Leo XII were placed 
 here in July, 1903. In the center of the Chapel 
 of the Baptismal font stands the sacred font. 
 Here is a very beautiful picture, representing 
 the baptism of Christ. 
 
 Michael Angelo was most fortunate in his 
 construction of the dome. He completed the 
 drum of the dome, and left behind him draw- 
 ings and models for the completion of the work. 
 The whole is embellished by mosaics and gilt 
 stuccoes. One must not fail to ascend the wind- 
 ing stairway to the top of the dome. To convey 
 some idea of the vastness of St. Peter's, just re- 
 member that it has 44 altars, 150 splendid 
 tombs, 748 columns, and 390 statues. Its grand 
 columns, sculptured monuments, and wonderful 
 paintings are simply bewildering, for all these 
 combine to make St. Peter's the most magnifi- 
 cent church in the world. 
 
 After St. Peter's the most remarkable attrac- 
 tion in Eome is the Vatican, and one needs a 
 whole month to take in all its riches. The place 
 is literally crammed with artistic wonders, 
 which are too crowded to be effective. This 
 magnificent palace dates back to 352 a. d. In 
 the time of Charlemagne it had reached such a 
 degree of splendor as to accommodate that mon- 
 arch when he came to Eome to be crowned by 
 Leo III, 800 a. d. It was not the official resi- 
 
58 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 dence of the popes until the return of Gregory 
 XI from exile in 1377. Many popes, availing 
 themselves of such men as Bramanti, Bernini, 
 Raphael, Michael Angelo, and others, added to 
 the buildings until it has become the most sump- 
 tuous and magnificent palace in the world. Be- 
 sides the museums and galleries, it contains 
 over 4,000 rooms, eight grand staircases, 200 
 smaller ones, and 20 courtyards, — in all 11,000 
 rooms. 
 
 The most beautiful room is the Sistine 
 Chapel. The ceiling is the work of Michael An- 
 gelo, and he took four years to complete it. In 
 the first section he depicts in the air God Al- 
 mighty, who, with the motion of his arms, sepa- 
 rates light from darkness ; in the second section 
 He creates the sun, moon, and the plants on 
 the earth ; in the third section God is surrounded 
 by angels regarding the waters and commanding 
 them to bring forth the fishes of the sea. The 
 fourth section is the most beautiful of all, rep- 
 resenting the creation of man. God is touching 
 Adam with his forefinger, imparting to him life, 
 while his other arm is around a group of angels. 
 The fifth section is the next best one, where God 
 draws from Adam's side the woman, who, with 
 folded hands stretched out toward God, wears 
 a sweet expression as if thanking him, or per- 
 haps receiving a blessing. 
 
 In the sixth the demon, in female form from 
 the waist upward and otherwise a serpent, coils 
 
EOME 59 
 
 around a tree ; lie persuades Adam and Eve to 
 disobey their Creator, and hands the forbidden 
 fruit to the woman. In the second part of this 
 section you see the pair driven out by the angel. 
 On their faces you can discern despair and dis- 
 appointment. In the seventh section Noah's 
 thank offering is represented. In the eighth is 
 seen the flood, with Noah's ark on the water at 
 a distance, and a few people clinging to it in the 
 hope of saving themselves. Nearer is a boat, 
 crowded to overflowing with terrified people. 
 Still nearer is the top of a mountain, where a 
 number of men and women have sought refuge, 
 as if on an island. In this scene the wrath of 
 God is represented with great art, for He sends 
 upon them lightnings, waters, and storms. The 
 ninth and last represents the story of Noah, who, 
 when lying drunken on the ground, is mocked 
 by his son Ham, but is being covered by Shem 
 and Japheth. On the lower part of the vault- 
 ing are the prophets and angels. All are 
 triumphs of art 
 
 In 1534-40, nearly thirty years later than this 
 ceiling, Michael Angelo painted on the altar 
 wall the Last Judgment. This painting covers 
 the entire wall, which is 64 feet wide, and 32 feet 
 high. In this picture Christ is represented as 
 Judge, seated with the virgins, and surrounded 
 by saints, prophets, and patriarchs, while be- 
 low the archangel summons the dead to judg- 
 ment. On the right are the redeemed, and on 
 
60 TRAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 the left are the lost. Above are two angels 
 with the cross. Unfortunately this great paint- 
 ing has been darkened with the smoke of cen- 
 turies. 
 
 The next most interesting rooms are the 
 Stanze of Raphael, — four large rooms decor- 
 ated with stupendous frescoes by Raphael and 
 his pupils. The principal painting in one of 
 these rooms is the "Incendio di Borge," or 
 ' ' The Conflagration. ' ' The traditional incident 
 is that fire had broken out in the Vatican quar- 
 ter, which was extinguished by the sign of the 
 cross made by Pope Leo IV from the loggia of 
 St. Peter's. This is all represented in the 
 background. The foreground shows the ter- 
 rors of a fire, the efforts of the people to save 
 themselves, and the paralyzed condition of the 
 women and children. This is the most popular 
 of Raphael's pictures. The ceiling in this hall 
 represents Christ in glory, and is so exceedingly 
 beautiful that it is beyond description. 
 
 Another picture commanding universal ad- 
 miration represents St. Peter delivered from 
 prison. It is in three sections. In the first sec- 
 tion St. Peter is sleeping in the dungeon, chained 
 to two watchmen, and is being awakened by the 
 angel; in the next section he is being led away 
 by the angel, while the third shows the watch- 
 men awake and excited on finding their prisoner 
 gone. 
 
 Another mural painting by Raphael, and es- 
 
ROME 61 
 
 pecially beautiful, was the "Disputa," — the 
 Glorification of the Christian Church. The con- 
 gregation around the altar sees heaven open, 
 showing Christ enthroned, attended by the Ma- 
 donna. Above him is the half-figure of God, 
 the Father, and below him is the symbol of the 
 Holy Ghost, at each side of Whom are two 
 angels holding the books of the gospel. A choir 
 of angels forms the background, and angels 
 bear the clouds, on which a little lower down the 
 heroes of the Old and New Testaments are sit- 
 ting. 
 
 How difficult it must be in such a collection of 
 masterpieces to have a choice, but it is univer- 
 sally admitted that "The Transfiguration," by 
 Raphael, is one of the most celebrated paintings 
 in existence. "What a privilege to see the 
 works of such artists! 
 
 The Pantheon is considered the most splen- 
 did monument of antiquity in Rome, both in 
 style and preservation. 
 
 "Relic of nobler days, and nobler acts, 
 Despoiled, yet perfect." 
 
 The portico is supported by sixteen magnifi- 
 cent columns of oriental granite. These col- 
 umns are fifteen feet in circumference, and 41 
 feet in height. In the interior one sees gran- 
 deur and elegance, so different from the many 
 churches whose walls are lavishly decorated. 
 Being of circular form, it is commonly called 
 
62 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 "La Eotonda." The height and diameter of 
 the building are each 142 feet. The building 
 is lighted from the aperture in the center of the 
 dome, which is thirty feet in diameter. The 
 walls are 22 feet thick, and the altars and 
 chapels are cut in the wall and ornamented with 
 columns of marble. The tomb of Eaphael is by 
 the third altar. The statue of the Madonna on 
 this altar was executed in accordance with 
 Eaphael 's last will. 
 
 Quaint old Eome, with its modern airs, its 
 dismal ruins, its broad thoroughfares, its nar- 
 row, crooked streets, and its piazzas in all 
 shapes ! At every turn towers some stone com- 
 memorating ancient bravery and chivalry. 
 
 Prominent always is Garibaldi, that great 
 Italian patriot, and the central figure in Italian 
 independence. Turning from him, we see 
 Pompey — the idol of the people. But when 
 one sees the statue of Caesar, — the central fig- 
 ure of antiquity, the figure around which all 
 others cluster as lesser satellites, — one thinks 
 of him as the greatest general of ancient times, 
 and calls to mind his generosity and magna- 
 nimity expressed in these few words, " After 
 a victory Csesar knows no enemies." 
 
 Notwithstanding such varied vicissitudes, 
 Eome is as she was in the past, one of the most 
 beautiful cities in the world. The tourist of 
 any and all ages may attempt a prosaic descrip- 
 
ROME 63 
 
 tion of Rome, but he can never excel Byron, 
 who said: 
 
 "But Rome is as the desert, where we steer, 
 Stumbling o'er recollections: now we clap 
 Our hands and cry: 'Eureka! it is clear — ' 
 When but some false mirage of ruin rises near." 
 
 "Rome was not built in a day;" neither can 
 it be seen in a week. However, one can see 
 enough old ruins in that length of time to make 
 him feel like brushing the cobwebs off his brain. 
 And there is so much to be seen that it is hard 
 to discriminate ; that which appeals to one does 
 not interest another. 
 
 The most weird historic thoroughfare in the 
 world is the Via Appia, which merits the title 
 of the "Queen of Roads." For miles one sees 
 the remains of ruined catacombs. These once 
 beautiful specimens of Roman art are now 
 nothing more than ghosts of the past, telling to 
 a curious world their tales of tragedy and 
 misery. This was once the fashionable burial 
 place of ancient Rome. One tomb very promi- 
 nent is that of Metella, the ' ' stern round tower 
 of other days." On every turn we are re- 
 minded of how much we owe to Byron for his 
 descriptions of so many things in this land of 
 history and art. The author of "Childe Har- 
 old" has given us some beautiful lines on this 
 "woman's grave." 
 
64 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 "What was this tower of strength ? 
 Within its cave 
 What treasure lay so locked, so hid? 
 A woman's grave." 
 
 This Appian Way awakens endless memories. 
 St. Paul traveled this way as he came to Rome 
 to preach the "unsearchable riches" of his re- 
 ligion. Emperors, with their prisoners and 
 spoils of war, came this way. Not far from 
 here are the great ruins of the Baths of Cara- 
 calla, which were enclosed by porticoes a mile 
 in length. Within its limits were beautiful gar- 
 dens and gymnasiums. Fancy a reservoir sur- 
 rounded by 1,600 seats of sculptured marble, 
 and a pool where 3,000 could bathe at one time. 
 They also contained a theater and a museum. 
 Excavations show that there were subterranean 
 passages, with frequent entrances to the main 
 floor. 
 
 One can be completely submerged with an- 
 cient history and a conglomeration of ruins, in 
 which are shown all things, from the site of the 
 palace of Augustus to the place where Faus- 
 tulus, — the shepherd who rescued the twin 
 brothers from the vultures, — had his hut; and 
 where grew the black thorn tree, which sprung 
 from the stick of Romulus. 
 
 The palace of the Caesars was on the Pala- 
 tine, which is called the aristocratic hill, because 
 only consuls, patricians, and emperors lived 
 upon it. Here 2,600 years ago historic Rome 
 
EOME 65 
 
 had its beginning, with the fortress built by 
 Komulus. This hill now resembles a museum 
 of antiquities, so many excavations have been 
 made in it. The Forum is the level space be- 
 tween the Palatine and the Capitoline hills. 
 Can one realize that the most stupendous 
 dramas in Eoman history were performed here? 
 
 "The Forum, — where the immortal accents glow, 
 And still the eloquent air breathes — burns with Cicero." 
 
 This was the place of political meetings from 
 the surrounding hills, designated as the "open 
 place, ' ' where the markets and courts of justice 
 were held. The Forum was abandoned for 
 many centuries, and became a receptacle for 
 rubbish, but the extensive excavations of the 
 present century have brought to light many in- 
 teresting historical ruins. 
 
 The Arch of Titus crowns the summit of the 
 Sacred Way, and was erected 81 a. d. by Domi- 
 tian in honor of Titus, the conqueror of Jerusa- 
 lem. We can picture him in his chariot drawn 
 by snow-white horses; ahead of him were the 
 captives he had brought from Jerusalem. And 
 now when the procession reaches the arch of 
 Tiberius the train of the victor is parted in 
 two; the hero, with his attendants, goes on his 
 way to the temple of Jupiter, while the poor 
 prisoners are turned off toward the Mamertine 
 prison, perhaps there to be executed. 
 
 The temple of Concord was made famous for 
 
66 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 being the scene of Cicero's exposure of Cati- 
 line's conspiracy. In these recent excavations 
 has been unearthed the rostrum of Julius Caesar, 
 where Cicero made the speech against Mark 
 Antony, which cost the orator his life. One can 
 picture the greatest tragedy in Roman history. 
 See Julius Caesar going through the forum on 
 the ides of March, heeding not the soothsayer 
 who warned him to "beware of the ides of 
 March." The "lean and hungry look" of 
 Cassius even warned him, but on he rushes to 
 the end, with "Thou, too, Brutus!" Then 
 comes to mind Mark Antony's superb address, 
 which awoke and aroused the populace to mad- 
 ness. It is said that on this rostrum the body 
 of Julius Caesar was exhibited to the crowd 
 by Antony, and here the head and hand of 
 Cicero were hung up after his murder. 
 
 No ruin equals the great Colosseum. It may 
 well be termed "the colossal skeleton of Eoman 
 power." It is well preserved and one of the 
 most interesting ruins in the world. It was 
 finished by Titus; covers five acres of ground, 
 and would seat 5,000 people. History tells us 
 most horrible stories about its dedication. 
 The Colosseum covers the ground occupied by 
 Nero 's golden house, and was finished in 76 a. d. 
 This wonderful structure was built by the Jews 
 taken captive by Titus after the siege of Jeru- 
 salem, and was brought to Rome. It was once 
 used for a fortress; later it was turned into a 
 
EOME 67 
 
 hospital. Then during three centuries the 
 palaces and churches in Rome were built from 
 stones and materials torn from the Colosseum. 
 
 Near the Colosseum stands the arch of Con- 
 stantine, during whose reign Christianity was 
 made the state religion and the heathen temples 
 were closed. Whether Constantine was told in 
 a vision to place the monogram of the name of 
 Christ on his soldiers' shields, or whether it 
 was an hallucination, the result was the same: 
 and whether in midday, in the thickest of the 
 fight, there was or was not seen in the sky a 
 flaming cross, with the inscription, "By this we 
 conquer, ' ' we know it has proved to be the right 
 banner. 
 
 To the Christian visitor the Colosseum has an 
 interest particularly and peculiarly sad, for 
 these walls which he sees witnessed the same 
 arena soaked with the blood of the martyr of 
 the cross. For this reason the solemn awe of 
 this venerable ruin can never be taken from it. 
 Being a symbol of the greatness of Eome, the 
 Colosseum gave rise to this prophetic saying: 
 
 "While stands the Colosseum Rome shall stand, 
 When falls the Colosseum Rome shall fall, 
 And when Rome falls with it shall fall the world." 
 
VI 
 
 FLOBENCE 
 
 Summer has clothed the forest with garb of greenest hue, 
 
 And stretched overhead the bending arch of blue; 
 
 The morning clear and bright has sharpness in the breeze 
 
 That fans so gently the leaves upon the trees. 
 How busily Spring has worked, both night and day, 
 Weaving wonderful robes that in time she may 
 Wave her magical wand over hill and tree — 
 When, like a flash, they are clothed in beauty. 
 
 The country around Florence is celebrated for 
 the abundance of its flowers, and it presents a 
 remarkably fertile field; corn, vines, and olives 
 cover bills and valleys, while the surrounding 
 mountains are covered with cypresses, chest- 
 nuts, arid pines. Florence is built on both sides 
 of the beautiful Arno. The walls, north of the 
 Arno, have been demolished, leaving the gates 
 isolated, huge monuments of the past. The 
 river is spanned by six bridges, — two suspen- 
 sion and four of stone. The Ponte Vecchio, or 
 Jeweler's bridge, alone retains its ancient form, 
 and is still flanked on both sides by goldsmiths ' 
 shops. 
 
 This bridge is not only the oldest, but it is 
 also the most picturesque, and George Eliot im- 
 parted to it the charm of romance. In her 
 
 68 
 
FLOEENCE 69 
 
 novel "Romola" it was from the arches of this 
 Ponte Vecchio that Toto, to escape the mob, 
 leaped into the river. When he swam ashore 
 he met the fate he had deserved, — death by the 
 old man whom he had betrayed. 
 
 The villa Trollope, where George Eliot lived 
 while she wrote ' ' Romola, ' ' is now a fashionable 
 pension (pronounced pon-se-one), and we have 
 the distinguished privilege of occupying a room 
 adjoining the one in which she wrote ' ' Romola. ' ' 
 These beautiful spacious rooms and galleries, 
 surrounded by an inner court or garden of 
 flowers and fountains, make an ideal spot apart 
 from its historic atmosphere. The "Lily of the 
 Arno" has more than its share of historic as- 
 sociations. It would be only necessary to men- 
 tion a few from the long list of painters, sculp- 
 tors, cathedral builders, poets, and humorists, 
 whose work was the prelude of modern civiliza- 
 tion. Even the hills around Florence echo and 
 re-echo with classic memories. Here Milton 
 wrote, and it was here Michael Angelo gave the 
 world his best productions. The hills surround- 
 ing Florence are one continual source of plea- 
 sure, because they are all historic ground, — 
 the homes of men and women whose lives have 
 filled the world with their renown. The land- 
 scape in its wondrous delicacy of tones seems 
 a filmy covering of beauty that is too heavenly 
 for this earth; the mountains are wrapped in 
 silver mist and a soft dreamy haze. The warb- 
 
70 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 ling notes of some dear little birds come float- 
 ing softly over the perfumes from the garden. 
 The warm still air is freighted with aromatic 
 scents from the pines and shrubs on the moun- 
 tain side. The air seems as pure and clean as 
 if it had been sifted through silk. 
 
 Of all the cities in historic Italy Florence is 
 the cleanest, happiest, and most cheerful in ap- 
 pearance. Rome and the others carry a senti- 
 ment of sadness, but Florence is bright, easy- 
 going, and seems to possess the secret of per- 
 petual youth. The Florentines are a music- 
 loving people ; they sing while they work. Yet, 
 with all its brightness, tragic memories hover 
 over this ancient city; in it the glory of antiqu- 
 ity and advanced civilization are well combined. 
 
 One may be dazed by a visit to St. Peter's in 
 Rome, but all its grandeur does not impress one 
 as does a visit to the monastery of San Marco 
 in Florence, for here one would love to burn a 
 pinch of incense at the shrine of the uncanon- 
 ized saint of Savonarola. Why should he not? 
 Only four great names in religious history pre- 
 cede that of Luther, — Wicliff e in England, Huss 
 in Bohemia, Wessel in Germany, and Savona- 
 rola in Italy. Of them all we deem Savonarola 
 the most striking and splendid character; he 
 "smites vice with whips of steel." His domi- 
 nating thought was righteousness. The place 
 seems hallowed by his preaching. It must have 
 required extraordinary power to stir up the 
 
FLORENCE 71 
 
 people to such an extent that women flung finery 
 and jewels on his "bonfire of vanities." In 
 piazza Vecchio, in front of the Great Foun- 
 tain, is a circular bronze slab which marks the 
 site of the stake at which Savonarola was 
 burned. 
 
 It is said that when the mob came to carry 
 him away Bartolomeo, the convent painter, 
 stood by Savonarola with a crucifix for a wea- 
 pon, and repelled the invaders until he was 
 overpowered. Then, when the prophet had 
 been burned and his ashes scattered, he re- 
 turned to San Marco, and painted that famous 
 portrait of Savonarola which is now seen in 
 cell No. 13, which was his cell. In it are seen 
 his desk, his books, and his writings. One feels 
 a reverential awe even to be in this hallowed 
 cell and gaze through its little iron-grated win- 
 dow into the garden. Then, what a privilege to 
 touch his old rickety chair. The interior of 
 San Marco is brilliant; the frescoes, the mo- 
 saics, and the paintings seem to stand out so 
 perfectly, and the coloring is exceptionally 
 beautiful. There are more candelabra on mar- 
 ble pedestals and more gold and silver candle- 
 sticks than are seen in any other church, and 
 since there are more bronze statues than are 
 usually seen one could scarcely imagine what 
 the brilliancy would be if they were all lighted. 
 
 The Loggia is a beautiful arcade of lofty 
 arches, and for more than half a century it has 
 
72 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 been a delight to visitors. It is filled with mag- 
 nificent works of art. One realizes that though 
 the great sculpture and art galleries are over- 
 flowing with treasures the generous Italians 
 have even extended them into the streets, for 
 the admiration of the passer-by. Here, with 
 many others, is seen the famous group of bronze 
 by Cellini, representing Perseus holding up the 
 head of Medusa. Nearby is the masterpiece 
 of Pedi, representing a subject in Mythology, — 
 the seizure of Polyxena by Achilles. The Flor- 
 entines made Fedi promise never to duplicate 
 this group. What a continued source of pride 
 and inspiration to the Florentines it must be to 
 have such masterpieces continually in sight, for 
 their very presence must speak encouragement, 
 while the cold stones look approval. No other 
 city can boast such facilities for studying art. 
 
 The Ufiizi Gallery and the Pitti Palace have 
 thousands of fine paintings. To behold the 
 work of such artists is indeed a privilege. To 
 have the privilege of copying them must be of 
 inestimable value to ambitious artists. The 
 Tribuna is an apartment in the Uffizi that is 
 superbly grand. Its cupola is encrusted with 
 mother-of-pearl, mural decorations, gilded ceil- 
 ing, and has a mosaic pavement. This hall 
 alone is said to have cost 100,000 dollars. In 
 here are seen five masterpieces of ancient sculp- 
 ture and the choicest paintings in the gallery. 
 One of the five is the famous Venus de Medici, 
 
FLOEENCE 73 
 
 the statue that "enchants the world." One of 
 the most beautiful paintings is Raphael's Ma- 
 donna and Child, and another is Michael An- 
 gelo's Holy Family. Many days might be 
 spent in this gallery of Tuscan, Italian, Dutch, 
 Flemish, German, French, and Venetian 
 Schools, but there is such a thing as being sur- 
 feited, — even with beautiful art. 
 
 The Pitti Palace was the residence of the King 
 and Queen during the time that Florence was 
 the capital of United Italy. It stands to-day 
 as a monument of solidity and strength peculiar 
 to the architecture of that age. This building 
 has successfully defied the ravishing touch of 
 Time; none of its massive stones have ever 
 needed replacing. And what a treasure house 
 of art ! Its ceilings are covered with paintings 
 framed in gold ; the cornices are decorated with 
 statues; and there are exquisitely inlaid floors, 
 and great elegance everywhere. The fact that 
 its walls are entirely covered with the world's 
 great masterpieces makes it bewilderingly in- 
 teresting. 
 
 All this pomp and splendor reminds us of the 
 legend that when a prince lay dying in this 
 palace an old priest undertook to comfort him 
 and tell him of the mansions in the skies. The 
 dying man said he "would be willing to remain 
 in Pitti." 
 
VII 
 
 VILLA TROLLOPE 
 
 Ages, and moss, and ruins make classic ground, 
 And these walls, like an old Cremona, abound 
 And vibrate with the music of a dead master — 
 And whose tones make pulse to vibrate faster, 
 As, in imagination, we catch the thrill 
 Of the dying echoes o'er valley and hill. 
 
 The most seductive of lands is this land of 
 sunshine and blue skies; it is most tena- 
 cious in its hold upon you. "We have done 
 but little, yet the day has fled; a little idling, 
 walking, riding, seeing a few of the thousand 
 things to be seen, and a week, a month, is gone. 
 The full moon is shining down from a cloudless 
 sky, turning night into a softer day. The air 
 is absolutely laden with the fragrance of the 
 orange blossoms in the garden. With the 
 witchery of moonlight shining out of a tur- 
 quoise sky, soft balmy air, and the fragrance of 
 the orange blossoms, it seems the world is full 
 of music, and life crowded with beauty surpass- 
 ing our wildest dreams. 
 
 Is there one who has ever heard music, and 
 not felt within him a capacity for being better? 
 It seems impossible even to see grandeur and 
 
 74 
 
VILLA TROLLOPE 75 
 
 beauty without having a feeling in the inmost 
 soul of unearthed and unsatisfied conceptions. 
 We are writing in the quiet hush of the night 
 while the stars that keep their stately rounds 
 in the far-away heavens shine out like the eyes 
 of angels looking down with eager interest upon 
 a sleeping world. We never could have 
 realized the grandeur of the universe without 
 the night to bring forth her starry legions mar- 
 shaled over wide-extended plains. The reali- 
 zation that these golden opportunities will soon 
 be reckoned as memories casts a shadow of re- 
 gret, which I hastily brush away, for I must 
 jot down my fascinating explorations of to-day. 
 Before the church of Santa Croce is an im- 
 posing monument to Dante. At his feet is the 
 figure of an eagle, showing the king of bards 
 towering above the king of birds. The Santa 
 Croce is a very beautiful Gothic church which 
 was begun in the twelfth century. The front 
 of it is of variegated marble, the interior is 
 very impressive, and it is interesting because of 
 its numerous monuments to celebrated men. 
 Near the door is the tomb of Michael Angelo; 
 just beyond is the monument to Dante. At some 
 time, at the instance of some heathenish taste, 
 the beautiful paintings in this church were 
 covered over with whitewash. This is now being 
 removed and the most gorgeous paintings are 
 being revealed. In this church are the tombs of 
 Cherubini, Galileo, and many others. 
 
76 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 It adds interest to Florence that Michael 
 Angelo was born here. Not only did he write 
 sonnets here, but, as an engineer, he built the 
 fortifications of Florence. This great sculptor, 
 painter, and architect built unto himself monu- 
 ments that will last until time shall be no more. 
 His home was bequeathed to the city by his de- 
 scendants, and it would be very gratifying to 
 touch the easel, the armchair, or the walking- 
 stick of the illustrious man who said, " It is only 
 well with me when I hold the chisel in my 
 hand. ' ' 
 
 It has been universally conceded that the 
 palaces of three cities, — Florence, Rome, and 
 Venice, — are the finest that the world possesses. 
 And the erection of these princely edifices pro- 
 gressed from one of the cities to another, start- 
 ing at Florence. The Florentine palaces are 
 monuments of the early Renaissance, which art 
 culminated in Rome. Reaching the best type 
 of palatial structure is the Farnese Palace, 
 which was designed principally by Michael 
 Angelo. At that time it was unique, the only 
 one of the kind in Europe. It was so beautiful 
 and extraordinary that all the world fell to 
 copying it, and has not yet ceased to do so. 
 Even the whole of Fifth Avenue, with its brown 
 stone residences, is a copy of the Farnese Pal- 
 ace. Michael Angelo 's perfection of house- 
 building seems to serve as a standard, a classic. 
 The Italians expressed their admiration of his 
 
VILLA TROLLOPE 77 
 
 wonderful design of cornice by a long word, 
 ' ' Stupendissime. ' ' 
 
 The Duomo, Campanile, and Baptistry form 
 an architectural trio of beauty, and a quotation 
 from Stoddard would convey the meaning at- 
 tached to them: "The Baptistry, at whose 
 sacred font the dawning life of every Floren- 
 tine receives its consecration; the Duomo, whose 
 gigantic roof arches above him as he kneels in 
 prayer, and the ethereal Campanile, pointing 
 heavenward, as if reminding him of immor- 
 tality. These three symbolize the triology of 
 human history, — birth, life, and death." 
 
 The Campanile, meaning a bell tower, was 
 designed by Giotto in the 14th century, and was 
 intended to surpass, both in height and work- 
 manship, any of the remains of antiquity. It 
 is square, 292 feet high, and is universally ad- 
 mitted to be one of the most beautiful struc- 
 tures in the world. It is made of variegated 
 marble, and has exquisitely pointed windows 
 and innumerable sculptured decorations. "It 
 is as beautiful as the Campanile" has become 
 an accepted phrase to express the climax in 
 things beautiful. 
 
 The Baptistry is much less pretentious in ap- 
 pearance than the Cathedral or Campanile, but 
 it is a towering structure of marble made fam- 
 ous by its bronze doors, which have won the 
 admiration of the world. Their panels are 
 filled with life-sized figures. Michael Angelo 
 
78 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 said of these doors, ' ' They are worthy to be the 
 gates of paradise.' ' 
 
 The world-renowned Duomo rises from the 
 center of the city, like a towering mountain, — 
 a mountain of marble, adorned with artistic 
 sculpture and Florentine mosaic, — and every 
 stone bears witness to grand ideals and great 
 achievements. The dome of this cathedral 
 served Michael Angelo as a model for St. 
 Peter's at Eome. 
 
 Florence is noted for its beautiful parks and 
 driveways. The Cascine is a pretty park and 
 a fashionable rendezvous in the late afternoon, 
 particularly for driving; but the most pictur- 
 esque drive is on the road to Miniato. On this 
 elevation is a famous church, founded in honor 
 of St. Minias, who suffered martyrdom in the 
 third century. On the top of the hill stands 
 a fine bronze copy of Michael Angelo 's 
 ' ' David. ' ' We were told that George Eliot was 
 particularly fond of the view from this height 
 and came often at sunset to gaze on the beau- 
 tiful city of Florence, and muse upon its glor- 
 ious history. How delightful and inspiring 
 such a place must be, while basking in the glor- 
 ious Italian sunshine, and inhaling inspiration 
 from this classic atmosphere! 
 
 The glow of early morning is on the land, 
 All respond to the gentle touch of day. And 
 There lingers yet the stillness of the night; 
 The leaves barely tremble. A pleasing sight, 
 
VILLA TROLLOPE 79 
 
 For sky is as blue as the jay-bird's wing — 
 While every voice in nature seems to ring 
 With the summons to come out in the open air, 
 And enjoy the glorious sunshine, bright and fair. 
 
VIII 
 
 VENICE 
 
 "I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, 
 A palace and a prison on each hand," 
 
 and surrounded by the same bewitching halo 
 and dazzling beauty, I, like Byron, 
 
 "Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles, 
 
 Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles." 
 
 This singular city of marble palaces seems to 
 rise visionlike from a very unsubstantial sea; 
 and this unstable foundation, with its humid 
 surroundings, makes it at all times more or 
 less fascinating. But it is doubly beautiful 
 when the tides are highest, and each palace is 
 doubled by reflection in that " green pavement 
 which every breeze breaks into new fantasies." 
 Venice can surely boast that no other city re- 
 sembles her; there is but one Venice. For 
 hundreds of years her streets have been water, 
 and her vehicles boats. Instead of the usual 
 noise of street-cars and cabs what a pleasant 
 change to find a multitude of boats ; and instead 
 of the rattle of wheels on paved streets we 
 noiselessly glide along to our destination. 
 
 80 
 
VENICE 81 
 
 The Grand Canal is the main thoroughfare 
 for traffic and pleasure, but the city has about 
 150 smaller water streets, by means of which 
 visitors are carried to every quarter. It is 
 simply enchanting, and no matter how many 
 times one has seen it on paper, nor how familiar 
 with its history he may be, a genuine surprise 
 awaits him. There is a pleasing sense of 
 novelty which appeals to all alike. Byron has 
 sung of the beauties of Venice, and given many 
 of its details in poetic form. We may know this 
 city is built upon its hundred isles, separated 
 by as many canals, which are spanned by its 
 300 bridges, but we cannot be prepared to see 
 its buildings rise out of the sea, and one can 
 almost fancy oneself in some enchanted wonder- 
 land. 
 
 The Grand Canal, which is 200 feet wide, is 
 the Broadway of Venice, and it is lined with 
 marble edifices and palaces nearly its entire 
 length of two miles. From every door marble 
 steps descend to the canal, and tall posts serve 
 as a mooring place for the gondolas. Across 
 this great thoroughfare is a structure that we 
 recognize as the "Bridge of the Rialto," the 
 huge arch of which is entirely of marble, the 
 span of which is 100 feet, and the height from 
 the water 25 feet. The width is 72 feet, and it 
 is divided into three streets, the middle one 21 
 feet wide, and there are two rows of shops. 
 
 As the refugees from Padua resorted to the 
 
82 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 Rialto, so do all visitors. And we wonder if 
 the princely merchants still congregate on the 
 Rialto, and of all the shops on either side of this 
 famous bridge we wonder which was Shylock's, 
 in which 
 
 "In the Rialto you have rated me 
 About my moneys and my usances." 
 
 It is not difficult to find a Bassanio, for either 
 north or south, east or west, it is an easy mat- 
 ter for a young man's heart to turn to an 
 heiress — and we suppose the same might be 
 said of the "fair speechless messages." 
 
 One must get into a gondola just as the moon 
 comes up above the waters of the Adriatic; 
 then the pen fails in description — and only a 
 Titian could paint it. As one glides along over 
 the smooth glassy surface one's interest in- 
 creases as he is shown the historic houses that 
 were the homes of illustrious people, such as 
 the house where Byron lived and wrote : 
 
 "I loved her from my boyhood; she to me 
 Was as a fairy city of the heart, 
 Rising like water columns from the sea." 
 
 We are shown the home of Titian, of George 
 Sand, then the stately mansion in which "Wag- 
 ner died, and the home of our much-loved Rob- 
 ert Browning, who had " Italy graven in his 
 heart. ' ' 
 
 One must visit the Academy of Fine Arts, 
 
VENICE 83 
 
 which contains almost exclusively works of 
 Venetian artists. It is here we see Titian's best 
 productions, and this is the collection that Na- 
 poleon said he would give a nation's ransom 
 to possess. The Academy is very rich in elabo- 
 rate carvings, paintings, and works of decora- 
 tive splendor, but it is hardly equal to similar 
 buildings in Florence. 
 
 In the beauty and interest of its domestic 
 architecture Venice ranks before any other city 
 in the world. One would fancy that, being 
 built on a number of small sandy islands, Ven- 
 ice was not on a firm or solid foundation; but 
 it is claimed that very few houses have suffered 
 seriously from settlement. At a depth of ten 
 to sixteen feet there is a firm bed of very stiff 
 clay, and below this a bed of sand and gravel, 
 and then a thin layer of peat. In boring for 
 artesians wells to a depth of 1,500 feet a regular 
 succession of these beds, — clay, gravel, and 
 peat, — is repeated again and again, as far as 
 the borings have reached. 
 
 One of the chief glories of Venice is the ex- 
 tensive use of very beautiful marbles, which 
 give a wealth of magnificent color such as is 
 seen in no other city in the world. A still 
 greater splendor of effect is given by the lavish 
 use of gold and color, — especially the costly ul- 
 tramarine blue. 
 
 "Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, 
 Their gilded collars glittering in the sun." 
 
84 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 The Piazza of St. Mark is the center of at- 
 traction. Here we require no guide to point 
 out some of its monuments, for we recognize 
 the lofty Campanile, the sumptuous palace of 
 the Doges and others. 
 
 St. Mark's church is unequaled in richness 
 of material and decoration. Above the portals 
 we see the famous bronze horses, — those his- 
 toric horses of Lysippus, which Napoleon stole 
 and carried to Paris, but which the Emperor 
 Francis restored to Venice, the same horses 
 that the Crusaders carried off from Constanti- 
 nople. The work of beautifying this old church 
 was carried on for 500 years, and it is a won- 
 derful blending of different arts. Some of its 
 marble columns were brought from Ephesus, 
 others from Smyrna, others from Constanti- 
 nople, while many were brought from Jerusa- 
 lem. Each column possesses a different, yet 
 eventful history. St. Mark's is the treasure 
 house of Venice, where was stored the booty 
 gained from her conquests. The domes, and 
 vaults, and walls too are completely covered 
 with brilliant mosaics, the ground being in most 
 cases of gold. The rest of the surface of the 
 walls is covered with richly colored marbles, 
 relieved by pure white marble, sculptured in 
 panels. No less than 500 costly marble columns 
 are used to decorate this church. The mosaics 
 are among the finest in the world. On the nave 
 dome the subject is the Descent of the Holy 
 
VENICE 85 
 
 Spirit; the tongues of fire radiate upon colossal 
 figures of the Apostles, and below them, on the 
 drum of the dome, is a second series of figures 
 representing the various nations of the world 
 who were converted through the inspired teach- 
 ing of the apostles. 
 
 In the baptistry are the life of St. John the 
 Baptist and scenes from the life of Christ, — 
 all exceedingly beautiful. Another remarkable 
 cathedral is San Marco, said to contain over 
 4,000 square feet of mosaic work. The vault- 
 ing consists entirely of mosaic, representing 
 scenes from the Creation on — and even through 
 the New Testament. In a prominent place in 
 this church is the receptacle, guarded by the 
 statue of the twelve apostles, where is kept the 
 body of St. Mark. 
 
 Opposite the entrance stands the towering 
 Campanile, which required over 200 years for 
 its construction. This is ascended by a wind- 
 ing way instead of steps, and it is said that Na- 
 poleon rode his horse to the top, which feat 
 does not seem surprising for one of his daring. 
 It was in this tower that Galileo prosecuted his 
 scientific experiments, though his first complete 
 telescope was tested from the tower of St. 
 Mark. 
 
 The Doges' Palace is full of historic interest. 
 It has a variety of architectural styles, yet it 
 is massive and imposing. As we wandered 
 through its various apartments we were as- 
 
86 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 tonished at the splendor, for the ceiling and 
 walls are covered with enormous masterpieces 
 set in golden frames. We were shown the 
 Giant's Staircase where, on the topmost stair, 
 standing between two colossal statues repre- 
 senting Mars and Neptune, the Doges were in- 
 augurated into sovereignty. This staircase 
 naturally calls to mind Faliero, — the Doge who 
 betrayed his trust, — and we shudder as we call 
 to mind Byron's tragedy of Masino Faliero, 
 which closes with, "The gory head rolls down 
 the Giant's Steps." 
 
 The Bridge of Sighs communicates between 
 the Doges' palace and the prisons. It is a 
 covered gallery, and a lamentable monument to 
 tyranny. If it could tell its tales of woe, what 
 cries of lamentation would be heard ! 
 
 It is a well-known fact that the Venice of to- 
 day is by no means the same city as the Venice 
 of earlier and more famous days. Ruskin, in 
 his "Stones of Venice," gives this thought in 
 the following beautiful language: "The Ven- 
 ice of modern fiction and drama is a thing of 
 yesterday, a mere efflorescence of decay, a stage 
 dream, which the first ray of daylight must dis- 
 sipate into the dust. No prisoner, whose name 
 is worth remembering, or whose sorrow de- 
 served sympathy, ever crossed that Bridge of 
 Sighs, which is the center of the Byronic ideal 
 of Venice; no great merchant of Venice ever 
 saw that Rialto under which the traveler now 
 
VENICE 87 
 
 passes with breathless interest." But it is not 
 good to eliminate everything but stern realistic 
 facts, and, taking it all in all, Venice is a dream, 
 marvelously beautiful, and must continue to be 
 of extraordinary interest. 
 
 A conscientious and energetic sightseer would 
 lose haste and learn to loiter in Venice, and be 
 willing to linger indefinitely. There seems to 
 be a soothing effect in the Venetian atmosphere ; 
 even the gondoliers are mild-mannered and 
 quiet. Their boats lie in rows at the various 
 "stands," and applicants take the one at the 
 end, while the returning boats take their place 
 at the other end. The legal fare for a gondola 
 is equivalent to twenty-five cents an hour, and 
 a gondola will accommodate five persons. We 
 are loth to leave this wonderland. 
 
 "And of the happiest moments which were wrought 
 Within the web of my existence, some 
 From thee, fair Venice, have their colors caught." 
 
IX 
 
 MILAN 
 
 Like Milton's man, who 
 
 "Trudged along, unknowing what he sought, 
 And whistled as he went, for want of thought," 
 
 SO 
 
 We write away, hardly knowing what we say, 
 Yet scribble, just for want of thoughts, to-day. 
 
 Alternating between brilliant sunshine, ex- 
 cessive heat, and thunder storms, the days of 
 the past week have been fraught with uncer- 
 tainty for excursionists and sightseers. Milan 
 is so situated in the Lombardy plains that when 
 it is hot 'tis scorching hot. Next to Naples, 
 Milan has the largest population of any town in 
 Italy. It is the wealthiest manufacturing town 
 in the country, silk being the principal article 
 manufactured. Being located near the begin- 
 ning of several of the great Alpine passes se- 
 cures for Milan a high degree of prosperity. 
 It is built in a circle, the Cathedral being the 
 central point ; it is surrounded by a wall, seven 
 miles in circumference, and immediately out- 
 side the wall a fine broad thoroughfare makes 
 the circuit of the city. 
 
 88 
 
MILAN 89 
 
 Milan is a great commercial and yet a great 
 musical center. The Scala is one of the largest 
 theaters in Europe, and the Milanese are rather 
 conceited in regard to their musical advantages, 
 believing that no singer could be worth hearing 
 who has not sung in the Scala. The focus of 
 the commercial and public life of Milan is the 
 Piazzo del Duomo, in which is located the cele- 
 brated Gothic Cathedral, which is really one of 
 the wonders of the world, there being only two 
 larger in Europe. It is marvelously beautiful. 
 Its dimensions might convey some idea of its 
 magnitude, but pen would fail in depicting its 
 grandeur. The interior is 500 feet in length, 
 over 200 feet in width, while the dome is more 
 than 360 feet in height. There are one hundred 
 towers or pinnacles, the loftiest one being 360 
 feet high. The exterior is ornamented with 2,- 
 000 marble statues. The building is built in 
 brick, cased in marble. The interior has double 
 aisles, and is supported by 52 pillars, each fif- 
 teen feet in diameter. The pavement is 
 finished in marble and mosaic. The effect of 
 the whole is almost fairylike in the moonlight. 
 This magnificent edifice was 500 years in course 
 of construction. 
 
 For an extensive view one should climb the 
 500 steps to reach the summit of this cathedral 
 and find himself so far above the city that the 
 buildings will look like toy-houses. The dis- 
 tant view is particularly fine. The fertile 
 
90 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 plains stretch away in all directions until they 
 meet the foot-hills of the Alpine range, or ex- 
 tend toward the shores of the Adriatic. One 
 can almost imagine he recognizes the Tyrolean 
 Alps with their white snow-caps glittering in 
 the bright sunshine. 
 
 The Palazzo de Brera is the main picture 
 gallery of Milan, and contains some of Ra- 
 phael's famous pictures, and here the Venetian 
 School is particularly well represented. In the 
 center of the handsome court is a bronze statue 
 of Napoleon I as a Roman Emperor. 
 
 In Santa Maria delle Grazio may be seen the 
 celebrated Last Supper of Da Vinci. This pic- 
 ture is painted in oils on the wall, and has been 
 more and more defaced until it is almost ruined. 
 Milan is rich in works of art. It has been the 
 home of many excellent sculptors and archi- 
 tects. 
 
 The characteristic features of Milan are its 
 commercial activity and the bustling, busy 
 crowd in its streets, so different from the easy- 
 going Tuscan of Florence, whose only aim in 
 life seemed to be an endeavor to be happy. 
 The Milanese rush about from shop to shop, 
 from cafe to cafe, much in the manner of New 
 Yorkers, as if there were something very ur- 
 gent just ahead of them. The streets are al- 
 ways brilliantly lighted at night, and the gay 
 crowds fill the restaurants and cafes, eating, 
 smoking, listening to the bands, chatting gayly, 
 
MILAN 91 
 
 and all the time gesticulating. The Italian 
 language appears to be about one half gestures. 
 
 One does not see many Englishmen nor 
 Americans in Milan, and one hears less English 
 spoken there than in any other Italian city. 
 There are many Germans in Milan and that 
 city seems to have adopted much of the German 
 thrift. 
 
 The shadows of our last night in Milan have 
 passed, and rosy-fingered Aurora is now paint- 
 ing the east with her saffron hues. There lin- 
 gers the stillness of night, but the glow of a 
 fast approaching sunrise is upon the sky tinting 
 the landscape. Taking an early train to Lu- 
 cerne gave us the opportunity of witnessing 
 the beauties of the early morning, and bright 
 are our anticipations of the mountainous ride 
 ahead. 
 
 Foreign lands with their varied customs are 
 strangely fascinating, — so different from what 
 we are accustomed to in America. In Europe 
 a few hours ' travel in any direction brings one 
 among new nations, with new manners and cus- 
 toms. One passes from the rapid tongue of the 
 French, the wit of the Irish, the soft accent of 
 the Scotch, to admiration of the honest Swiss 
 and of the cleanliness of the Dutch. There are 
 characteristic changes at every turn, and each 
 variety adds its own peculiar spice to life. 
 
THE MOUNTAINS OF SWITZERLAND 
 
 The pine tree sparkles with the dripping dew, 
 Exhaling sweet odors on the morning new; 
 Nature seems gladdened by sun's cheery rays 
 As we speed along o'er these mountainous ways. 
 
 The experience of the ride through the moun- 
 tains of Switzerland cannot soon be erased from 
 memory. Switzerland is a feast of blue lakes 
 and snowy peaks, and one feels there the ex- 
 hilaration of fine air. The mountains round into 
 graceful forms, clothed with forests bearing the 
 variegated hues of their different trees, and the 
 peaceful valleys lie between ; and there are wild 
 gorges through which rush foaming streams 
 with their roaring cataracts. 
 
 As we listened to a noisy mountain stream we 
 were reminded of one of Scott's characters in 
 "Old Mortality," who in one of his reveries 
 said to the noisy brook : ' ' Murmurer that thou 
 art, why chafe with the rocks that stop thy 
 course for a moment 1 There is a sea to receive 
 thee on its bosom; and there is an eternity for 
 man, when his fretful and hasty course through 
 the vale of time shall be over. What thy petty 
 fuming is to the deep and vast billows of a 
 
 92 
 
SWITZEELAND 93 
 
 shoreless ocean are our cares, hopes, fears, joys, 
 and sorrows to the objects which must occupy 
 us through the awful and boundless succession 
 of ages." 
 
 This ride on the St. Gothard is one contin- 
 uous unfolding panorama of beauty and splen- 
 dor, — nature's moving-picture gallery. How 
 one loves to gaze on the mountains when tree- 
 clad ridges roll, like mighty green billows, into 
 the far distant sky, and green forests lie aquiver 
 in the mountain breezes and shimmer in the 
 sun and the soft blue haze of summer time. To 
 vary the beautiful landscape a great ledge of 
 rock will protrude like a cornice on the moun- 
 tain side; then a little farther on is the little 
 cascade of white foamy water dashing furiously 
 down the little time-worn crevices into the rag- 
 ing stream below. The scenery along this route 
 is superb, — a strange beauty, — an enchantment. 
 These mountains, — tireless, world-old sentinels, 
 — have an air of grim finality, and they seem 
 to declare that they have always been and will 
 always remain hard, obdurate, and proud of 
 their snowy peaks. 
 
 Sometime in the ages long ago these same mountains 
 Lifted their lofty peaks; and each succeeding night 
 
 The same lonely stars in the velvet purple darkness 
 Have silently, hut grandly, flooded them with light. 
 
 People in this hurrying world have too little 
 communion with nature and know too little of 
 her free and honest ways. We are too prone 
 
94 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 to hie away to the haunts of fashion and arti- 
 ficial amusements, and come back tired and out 
 of sorts. But nature never deceives, never 
 leaves us worse of body or soul for her com- 
 panionship. Music is soothing; and Nature is 
 vocal with the musical birdnotes, the rippling 
 brook, the fall of the cataract, the deep-toned 
 mountain pine, or the murmuring melodies of 
 the briny deep. As our own poet-laureate has 
 sung: 
 
 "If thou art worn and hard beset 
 With sorrows that thou wouldst forget; 
 If thou wouldst read a lesson that would keep 
 Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep, 
 Go to the woods and hills. No tears 
 Dim the sweet look that Nature wears." 
 
 If an art gallery educates the taste, or the 
 sense of beauty, why should not the pictures in 
 nature, which the best of art can only imitate, 
 do so even more? Then another question 
 arises, — How can a soul look upon these splen- 
 did visions of beauty, painted by the hand of 
 the divine Artist, and not recognize the God 
 who worketh in all the changes of earth and 
 sky and in all the manifestations of life and 
 beauty? 
 
 One gets strong contrasts of scene and sur- 
 roundings while going through this mountain- 
 ous country. How inspiring and grand are the 
 mountains! How grand as their white sum- 
 mits glisten in the morning sun, or glow at 
 
SWITZERLAND 95 
 
 evening time with its parting rays, and as the 
 light and shadows play upon them! What 
 scenes for a painter ! Such blending of colors ! 
 We are going over the mountain crest, enrap- 
 tured with all this gorgeous scenery, when lo! 
 we find ourselves within a tunnel. This is of- 
 ten repeated until finally we come out of a long 
 tunnel just as the moon rides up the heavens, 
 shedding her silvery light upon range after 
 range of mountains and valleys, from which 
 there comes no sound of human life. It was 
 all nature, — wild, weird, rugged, silent, and 
 sublime. Above were the star-lit heavens, be- 
 low the rugged seams of the face of nature. 
 As our California pioneer poet, Joaquin Miller, 
 sings : 
 
 "They stand in line of lifted snowy isles 
 High held above the toss'd and tumbled seas, — 
 A sea of wood in wild, unmeasured miles: 
 White pyramids of Faith where man is free; 
 White mountains of Hope that yet shall be 
 The mounts of matchless and immortal song." 
 
 The St. Gothard is a mountainous group 160 
 square miles in area, with a number of dif- 
 ferent peaks, extensive glaciers, and about 
 thirty small lakes. It is famous for its rich 
 Alpine flora. One gets very near to heaven 
 up among the Alps; the skies are bluer, the 
 stars are closer; the earth seems far below 
 when one is on these great heights. Nothing 
 can surpass this region of hill and dale and 
 
96 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 mountain and azure lakes, — girdled with their 
 native trees and shrubs. 
 
 The light effects among the mountains are al- 
 ways finest just before sunset, but then the 
 higher summits are often enveloped in clouds. 
 But one of the grandest sights is in the early 
 morning. Just fancy a faint streak in the east 
 and the stars gradually paling until the birth of 
 day is heralded. Then watch this change to a 
 band of gold on the horizon as each lofty peak 
 becomes tinged with a roseate blush; then the 
 shadows between mountain tops are lifted, and 
 they melt away when the sun bursts forth from 
 behind the mountains in all his majesty, flooding 
 the superb landscape with his golden beams. 
 
 From one of these lofty peaks one can look 
 down on the babbling brook, smiling in its silver 
 ripple and never growing old, though it goes 
 on forever. Or from a peaceful, quiet valley 
 one may say with Byron : 
 
 "Above me are the Alps, 
 The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls 
 Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, 
 And throned Eternity in icy halls 
 Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls 
 The avalanche, — the thunderbolt of snow." 
 
XI 
 
 LTJCEENB 
 
 The mountain tops rise above the mist 
 That floats o'er valleys low; 
 Their peaks so bright, reflecting light 
 From the early morning's glow. 
 
 The garden is flooded with pale moonlight; 
 the breath of the night is coolly sweet; the moon 
 has touched the jagged contour of the range 
 of mountains with a shimmering radiance and 
 edged with silver a solitary snowy cone hover- 
 ing between earth and sky. A green golden 
 glow tinges the lake and makes a gracious part 
 of the glimmering setting. What a picture! 
 The blue of this lake can neither be painted nor 
 described. Its color is a deep sapphire — its 
 transparent waters mock the blue sky above. 
 The surroundings blend the different tones of 
 blue, and when one first sees the beautiful post- 
 cards, representing the beauties of the lake, his 
 first exclamation is, They can't be natural! 
 But he soon finds that they are perfectly ac- 
 curate. It is the most beautiful lake in the 
 world. 
 
 The scenery around Lucerne is unsurpassed 
 in Switzerland in grandeur and variety. The 
 
 97 
 
98 TEAVELS IN EUEOPE 
 
 river Eeuss and the towering Alps combine to 
 make its beauty and magnificence incomparable. 
 The most imposing mountains are the Eegi, 
 Pilatus, Burgenstock, Horn, and Stanser Horn. 
 Three or four tiers of mountains are visible 
 from Lucerne. Some are terraced gradual 
 slopes, while at the foot are grown the chest- 
 nut, the fig, and the almond. 
 
 The clear emerald-green Eeuss issues from 
 Lake Lucerne with the swiftness of a torrent. 
 It dashes so furiously that Mark Twain said it 
 "went hurrahing out of town." It is spanned 
 by seven bridges, but the two most interesting 
 are the mediaeval bridges, — the Kapell Brucke 
 and the Spreuer Brucke. Both are covered, 
 and on the interior of their roofs are interesting 
 paintings. The first has more than one 
 hundred scenes from the lives of the patron 
 saints of Lucerne and from the town history. 
 The Spreuer Brucke has scenes pertaining to a 
 Dance of Death. This is a queerly constructed 
 wooden bridge, and is one of the quaintest 
 sights of all Europe. It was built in the 14th 
 century, and the paintings are arranged over- 
 head so that in going in either direction the 
 townsmen are reminded that death must one 
 day call for them all. 
 
 Eising out of the Eeuss is the old Wasser- 
 turm, and, according to tradition, this building 
 was once a light-house, — lucerna, — which gave 
 the name to the town. Switzerland enjoys a 
 
LUCERNE 99 
 
 halo of natural glory of which one never tires. 
 The sight of the kingly Alps, — with snow-clad 
 summits, lofty grandeur, and imposing great- 
 ness, — thrills the heart with exaltation. The 
 keen tonic of the mountain air is so rejuvenating 
 that one feels its increasing benefit from day 
 to day. 
 
 There is something very inspiring about 
 mountains, — God's monuments commemorating 
 the great upheavals of the dim and distant past. 
 They are the sublimest personalities known to 
 earth, and it augurs well that man can endure 
 their proximity. A nation from among the 
 mountains should be unequaled in intrepidity 
 and daring. No wonder that the spirit of the 
 people of Switzerland would brook no fetter of 
 tyranny. 
 
 The greatest charm of Lucerne is the gor- 
 geous view of the lake and mountains, and the 
 town is absolutely cleanly. One can not enter 
 a shop without noting the orderliness of the 
 people. In some towns one feels as if he were 
 among people who have come from Greece, or 
 Italy, or Turkey, with their tempting wares, — 
 strangers to do business with strangers, — but it 
 is not so in Lucerne. There seems to be a pe- 
 culiar pride among the people in the fact that 
 their fathers and grandfathers before them 
 dwelt in the same place and carried on the same 
 business. One would imagine that the same 
 mutual trust and feeling of brotherhood which 
 
100 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 made Lucerne brave and powerful in mediaeval 
 times keeps it to-day public-spirited, honest, 
 and industrious. 
 
 It was our good fortune to be at Lucerne on 
 a Fourth of July, which was celebrated with the 
 accustomed eclat, and the hotels were ablaze 
 with electric lights; this, added to the display 
 of fireworks, seemed to set the river Reuss and 
 the lake on fire with their reflected glory. The 
 bridge and the tower were jeweled with in- 
 numerable lights; the lights on the boats 
 flickered as they glided hither and thither; 
 across the Lake the lights from the hotels on 
 the Burgenstock with its funicular railway rip- 
 pled from base to summit with meteoric beauty ; 
 and added to all this was the dazzling splendor 
 from the great search-lights from the Stanser- 
 horn, casting brilliance across the darkness. 
 All combined, these things made one feel that 
 he was back in some enchanted land of old 
 Arabian tale. At first one naturally wonders 
 at these foreigners hoisting the American flag, 
 and having such a gorgeous display of red, 
 white, and blue fireworks, but then he remem- 
 bers that the Americans are taking Europe. 
 These great hotels are filled with Americans, 
 who know how to spend their money. So it is 
 the American who has helped to build these fine 
 hotels, and by his presence every year in a 
 measure he maintains them. 
 
 Lucerne is called the tourist center of Europe. 
 
LUCERNE 101 
 
 The season is from April to October inclusive. 
 All around the curving lake runs one vast wall 
 of masonry, which is a continuation of palatial 
 hotels. In front is a line of chestnut trees that 
 give shelter to the promenade. Conspicuous 
 are the tall spires of the brown-roofed Cathe- 
 dral, and the nine towers upon the rampart wall 
 rise clear against the sky, or dark against the 
 gray hills beyond; while higher, with exquisite 
 broken outline, slope up the green fields and 
 purple woods into the curling mists and floating 
 clouds that veil the top of the snow-clad Alps. 
 
 Lucerne has had a history, and the men who 
 built their wooden bridges in the 14th century, 
 or rebuilt their houses in the 16th, though mute, 
 have much to tell us and much to interest us 
 as we stroll through their picturesque streets 
 and by-ways. Lucerne is quite interesting on 
 market days, for then the market boats push up, 
 through the early dawn, and one finds himself 
 in a picturesque confusion of buyers and sell- 
 ers of fruits and flowers and vegetables. But 
 by noon the confusion has all disappeared, and 
 everything is silent, while the sweepers only are 
 busy, and it is astonishing how quickly the 
 streets are made spotlessly clean again. 
 
 Not a house in Lucerne in the 16th century 
 but had its outside walls frescoed, and enough 
 has remained to make them unique and inter- 
 esting. 
 
 Every visitor to Lucerne must see the Lion, 
 
102 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 the national memorial to Swiss faithfulness 
 and valor. It is a wonderful piece of carving, 
 — a huge lion carved in the rocky side of the 
 mountain, with a broken lance in his side, though 
 still clutching with his paw the lily shield that 
 lies in the dust. The work was done in 1821 in 
 memory of 26 officers and of about 760 sol- 
 diers of the Swiss guard who fell in defending 
 the Tuilerrio in 1792. This dying lion, shelter- 
 ing the Bourbon lily with its paw, is a touch- 
 ing memorial scene, and no doubt the Swiss 
 come often to drink afresh of the fountain of 
 heroic memory. 
 
XII 
 
 AIEOLO 
 
 After leaving Lucerne and going through the 
 St. Gothard tunnel, we come to Airolo, an Ital- 
 ian village in Switzerland, about 4,500 feet 
 above the sea. The air is like a tonic — the 
 mountains surrounding are covered with snow. 
 Occasionally the gray clouds hide their summits. 
 The Swiss are wonderful people, yet they have 
 no language, and in Airolo everybody speaks 
 Italian. The beauty of the Swiss scenery beg- 
 gars description. It has a fresh revelation 
 each morning. The valleys are the same, the 
 mountains are the same; yet each day brings 
 new wonders. Such beauty, such magnificence 
 and grandeur as her lakes, valleys, and moun- 
 tains show! One would think Switzerland 
 would produce the finest artists in the world, 
 yet she has no artists. She has no poets nor 
 musicians; yet one would think that all the 
 Swiss would be poets and musicians. One les- 
 son I learned : environment may count for some- 
 thing, but it is not such a large factor in human 
 development as I had always believed. 
 
 The Swiss are a thrifty, businesslike, and 
 money-making people. They are the greatest 
 
 103 
 
104 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 road builders in the world. They think nothing 
 of tunneling eight or ten miles. They have the 
 most perfect and wonderful roads and the most 
 wonderfully constructed railroads in the world. 
 Their roads are smoother and better kept than 
 many of our streets in our large cities, — more 
 like a perfectly built and well kept Kentucky 
 turnpike. 
 
 One who is accustomed to the broad prairies 
 of the West can but be impressed with such 
 thrift and industry. Every available space is 
 in cultivation. When the hillsides are too steep 
 to plant anything clover and grass grow on 
 them, and above them on the steepest are vine- 
 yards. Not an inch of ground is lost. They 
 drink their native wines and a cordial, made 
 from cherry pits and sweetened, called creme de 
 kirsch. These Swiss are wonderful people, and 
 their country seems to be the best cared for, the 
 most scientifically cultivated that I ever saw. 
 Thrift and comfort, well-kept fields, and houses 
 with red-tiled roofs everywhere. The people 
 are never idle. Even on Sunday one sees men 
 and women working in the fields. Evidently 
 the Sabbatical idea is Anglo-Saxon, for both in 
 Switzerland and Italy every one works on Sun- 
 day as on any other day of the week. 
 
 Airolo is the ideal spot of the world. Our 
 hotel is an old palace, and the mural paintings 
 are well preserved. The gardens are beyond 
 description, — oleanders, magnolias, cape jas- 
 
AIROLO 105 
 
 mines, palms, olives, lemons, and oranges, — all 
 growing together in great profusion. With 
 flowers of every hue, Nature, like Joseph, wears 
 the coat of many colors. And when the sun- 
 beams are scattered riotously the garden has an 
 undeniable attraction all its own. The sky is a 
 pale azure, while the whole landscape is made 
 up of the grays and mauves and olives of tender 
 buds, all melted into one indescribable hue. 
 
 It is in the power of a beautiful scene in Na- 
 ture, or of a sublime panorama of mountains, or 
 in some great work of art to stir thoughts that 
 lie too deep for utterance. More than once 
 have I thought of the old colored woman who, 
 looking upon a scene in which her soul felt its 
 power, said: "When I looks on a scene like 
 dat I feels somethin' in heah," — placing her 
 dark hands on her bosom, — "which I jess can't 
 'spress." She evidently had the same feeling, 
 though differently worded, as Tennyson had 
 when he said: 
 
 "And I would that my tongue could utter 
 The thoughts that arise in me." 
 
 I feel very much like the colored woman did, 
 for it is a heavenly morning, the sky is blue and 
 cloudless, and the whole of nature seems liter- 
 ally to be smiling. What a beautiful bouquet 
 each orange tree makes as the rich green color 
 of its leaves contrasts with its perfect golden 
 fruit. Here it seems to be perpetual spring, 
 
106 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 and springtime anywhere is the best season of 
 the year, because of the marvelous renewal of 
 life that comes with it. The lake is no longer 
 muddy gray. The trees are showing tender 
 green; the orchards are a mass of pink and 
 white blossoms; the early roses are in full 
 bloom, while the tall, stately poplars have on 
 their tips of renewed green. 
 
 Along with this exuberance of life one feels 
 there is something behind all this activity. 
 Through the flowers we see the fruit, and be- 
 yond the budding greens we picture the har- 
 vest. In this dreamland Nature seems to feel 
 her own loveliness, and has a way of making 
 you not only admire her, but unconsciously re- 
 joice with her. 
 
 Looking to the north we see the lakes, while 
 farther on are the stately snow-capped moun- 
 tains. The atmospheric conditions seem at all 
 times to be just right for a great painting on the 
 western sky. How grand it always is as the 
 sun drops through the thin clouds that blush to 
 crimson and gold as he approaches. And after 
 the great red disk disappears some of the most 
 marvelous effects are produced. One can, in 
 imagination, see a golden city rising terrace 
 upon terrace, with walls and towers glowing 
 like palaces of light. Now back of all this the 
 hidden sun sends upward his parting shafts, 
 and turns to crimson the wreaths of clouds 
 arching the sky above. 
 
AIEOLO 107 
 
 A continuous miracle is being performed by 
 the rising and setting sun, and yet some people 
 do not believe in miracles. There is something 
 pathetic in the fact that some people live out 
 their lives and pass away without having dis- 
 covered anything beautiful and wonderful in 
 the world in which they have lived. They see 
 nothing to delight the soul or charm the eye in 
 the daily panorama of the rising and setting 
 sun, of floating clouds, of birds and flowers, of 
 arching sky, or even in the pageantry of the 
 seasons. 
 
 We were very fortunate in being at Airolo 
 during moonlight nights, and when the moon 
 arose in all her glory the mountains and lakes 
 by moonlight surpassed, if possible, the scene 
 at sunset. The quiet city, folded in the arms of 
 the mountains and wrapped in the robes of 
 night, is an ideal expression of rest. The set- 
 ting, too, is ideal. "While a strong sunshine is 
 best to show the full glory of the mountains, 
 with their snow-white rising mists, yet the soft- 
 est gray light can bring out the local colors, 
 while even night will make its own revelations. 
 
 To be fully appreciated the scene must be 
 studied in minutest detail as well as in broad 
 pictures, for the beauty of its minor delights 
 is as astonishing as its dramatic splendor. 
 
 Some one has said: 
 
 " Come and take choice of all my library, 
 And beguile thy sorrow." 
 
108 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 I may love to browse among new books, to 
 spend to-clay with them and forget them to- 
 morrow, but my choice would be one of the old 
 books ; like my true and tried friends, they have 
 been silent companions of auld lang syne. I 
 selected one of these old tried book-friends, and 
 sought an ideal spot in this beautiful garden 
 in which to renew our friendship. 
 
 My proclivities for early rising do not as- 
 sert themselves every morning, but these glor- 
 ious days seem filled with the wine of life, and 
 I am positively afraid I shall miss seeing some- 
 thing beautiful. We love the morning hour 
 when the first rays of the sun are casting their 
 golden sheen over valley and hill. There is a 
 quietness in awakening life that puts one in a 
 meditative mood and makes one feel glad to 
 be living. A beautiful fountain is playing in 
 the garden, casting out its prismatic lights as 
 the sun rises in splendor. 
 
 Book and pencil fall idly down as I loiter by 
 this babbling water, and idly count the tiny 
 white clouds that sail along the sky so softly, — 
 even as the dear by-gone memories creep over 
 the vault of life. There is a perfect sea of 
 quiet, with nothing around but the perfume of 
 flowers, and the constant rippling murmur of 
 the laughing waters, which, like Tennyson's 
 brook, might "go on forever." We are en- 
 joying to the fullest the sunny hours, the balmy 
 air, and the gorgeous views. 
 
AIROLO 109 
 
 Macaulay said: "A page digested is better 
 than a book hurriedly read," but I fear these 
 lovely surroundings will cheat me out of even 
 the page. When one has been surfeited with 
 sight-seeing, especially with the grotesque, this 
 is refreshing. To have to give up these beauti- 
 ful haunts of nature for weird antiquities is 
 not very pleasing, yet how strange it is to re- 
 flect upon the actual life and vitality that was 
 once connected with the bits of metal, brass, 
 and stone catalogued in the antique museums 
 or " rogues' gallery." Could the old snuff-box 
 or brass candlesticks tell their tales of love and 
 despair, we would have parts of history per- 
 haps more exciting and thrilling than we read 
 in book form and dramas more fiery than those 
 we see acted upon the stage. 
 
 When the sunlight fades from the silver 
 mountain tops the air soon becomes chilly. 
 The valley is passing into shadow, the sky is 
 ablaze with orange and gold. To the left float 
 a few purple clouds, made purple by the yel- 
 low and rose glint of the brilliant sunset. An- 
 other day has gone, and to-morrow we leave 
 this, the most charming spot in the world. Its 
 beauties will be a part of the paintings on 
 Life's canvas, and they will vary from a tragic 
 grand oil painting, with its storms and light- 
 ning's flash, to an exquisitely dainty water color, 
 full of flowers and sunshine. 
 
 We are reminded that our life-boat can not 
 
110 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 be always securely anchored in the harbor, — 
 especially in the harbor of happiness, or on 
 sunny seas, where soft winds blow. Some- 
 times we will drop anchor in mid-ocean, and 
 listen to the doleful notes of the fog-horn; 
 sometimes we must take our bearings and start 
 anew. 
 
 Sometime — somewhere — in the coming years, 
 When life must assume a more somber hue 
 Our thoughts will go flying across the sea — 
 To this beautiful land — with its skies so blue. 
 
xm 
 
 FROM LUCERNE TO THE ITALIAN LAKES 
 
 The golden sunshine now falls in chequered masses, 
 Sprinkling diamond dust on dew-kissed grasses; 
 All nature is awakened from refreshing sleep, 
 As the sparkling dew-drops their vigils keep. 
 
 Switzerland is looking its very best at this 
 season when the slopes of the mountains are 
 covered with beautiful pine woods with their 
 tips of bright fresh green forming such a pleas- 
 ing contrast to the dark green of the under 
 branches; and the meadows are one carpet of 
 lovely flowers, ranging in brightest color from 
 the deepest yellow to the most delicate pink 
 and blue. Above all are the bluest of blue 
 skies, and the most glorious sunshine. The air 
 is cool, dry, and stimulating, and puts one in 
 a mood to say with Bryant : 
 
 "View the haunts of Nature. The calm shade 
 
 Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze 
 
 That makes the green leaves dance shall waft a balm 
 
 To thy sick heart." 
 
 It is only a few hours ' journey from Lucerne 
 to the Lakes, but it is one that makes the trav- 
 eler doubt which is the more worthy of his 
 
 111 
 
112 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 admiration, — the everchanging panorama of 
 the mighty works of God which surround him 
 or the ingenuity of man who has conquered and 
 bound these giants of the Alps with his ribbon 
 of shining steel. We are borne over mountains, 
 above forests of pine, with glimpses of green 
 valleys and sparkling streams ; then through in- 
 numerable tunnels piercing the sides of moun- 
 tains, which have much of the appearance of 
 our famous Colorado mountains, and are as 
 endlessly attractive. The sun, shining through 
 violet mists which bathe the mountain sides, 
 makes the snow-capped tops seem to rise from 
 a transparent sea. 
 
 No matter where one goes in this grand old 
 country there is an opportunity afforded for 
 studying ancient history. Even among the 
 lofty towering mountains are seen the ruins of 
 Eoman fortifications. By the time one has 
 traveled forty miles he has ascended nearly 
 3000 feet through loops and tunnels. He soon 
 reaches Wassen, with its noted loop tun- 
 nels and its loftily situated church, which so 
 persistently remains in sight, on one side, then 
 on the other, as he goes in and out through the 
 mountain. After threading the tunnel under 
 the hill one goes around it in corkscrew fashion 
 through two or three tunnels, and is dazed at 
 man's ingenuity in the construction of this won- 
 derful railway. 
 
 We next come to the famous St. Gothard 
 
THE ITALIAN LAKES 113 
 
 Tunnel, which runs nearly 6000 feet below the 
 St. Gothard Pass. This wonderful structure 
 is twenty-eight feet broad, twenty-one feet 
 high, and nine and one-half miles in length. 
 Leaving the St. Gothard we begin to descend 
 and soon reach two noted loops, or corkscrew 
 tunnels, each nearly one mile long, situated one 
 below the other in corkscrew fashion. One is 
 a descent of 115 feet and the other of 118 feet. 
 
 An endless medley of rock and forest and 
 lake glimmered in the rays of a setting sun. 
 Then a great gorge through which rushed the 
 noisy torrent of water sparkled in the crimson 
 glow of the fading sunset. It is peculiarly fas- 
 cinating to be where one hears only the call of 
 nature, not yet tamed to man's needs or fancies. 
 Out of these interminable shadows of moun- 
 tains and forests one rushes into the broad 
 moonlight as it glimmers and dances over the 
 surface of a shining lake. One may be touched 
 by the loneliness of this wilderness, but cannot 
 help being impressed also by its boundlessness. 
 
 Far away are the hills rolling ridge on ridge 
 like the waves of a great sea until in the blue 
 distance they are in the sky, — that blue, blue 
 sky with its myriads of cloud-ships sailing to 
 the unseen ports below the hills ; and one natur- 
 ally wonders what that world beyond the far- 
 thest cloudlike ridge is like. 
 
 Next comes Chiasso, — the last Swiss village, 
 — and here is the custom house. The officers 
 
114 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 come in and ask if you have anything dutiable, 
 then pass out. 
 
 ' 'Beyond the Alps is Italy," and we soon 
 reach the three famous Italian Lakes, — Como, 
 Lugano, and Maggiore. England's Tennyson 
 has written very beautifully of these lakes. 
 ''For in the dust and drouth of London Life" 
 he still had his "visions of the lake." Father 
 Ryan also gives some beautiful lines on Como. 
 Byron, too, sang of these famous waters. 
 
 We catch the music of the breaking waves, 
 We see swaying branches nod to the breeze; 
 We feel the cool air sweeping o'er the lake — 
 See the flitting shadows among the trees. 
 
 Lake Como is in a beautiful valley sur- 
 rounded by richly clad mountains, and is dis- 
 tant twenty-eight miles by rail from Milan. 
 Because of the beauty of its scenery and the 
 mildness of its climate Como is one of the most 
 celebrated of all Italian lakes. The shores are 
 studded with ancient castles, nourishing ham- 
 lets, and the villas of wealthy proprietors. No 
 doubt the history of Lake Como has been as 
 stormy as its waves when roughened by fierce 
 gales, and generations have come and gone, 
 leaving no more marks of their existence than 
 do the boats that ply through its sparkling 
 waters, or the colors that are reflected in its 
 changeful surface and that fade away with each 
 setting sun. 
 
THE ITALIAN LAKES 115 
 
 Lake Lugano is partly Italian and partly 
 Swiss, and takes its name from the town of 
 Lugano on its banks. It is supplied from the 
 numerous torrents from the surrounding Alps, 
 and is drained by an unimportant stream flow- 
 ing west into Lake Maggiore. It was in this 
 vicinity that Napoleon I began his great ca- 
 reer, and near here that Napoleon III and Vic- 
 tor Emmanuel gained their crowning victory 
 over Austria. Two imposing towers have been 
 erected to commemorate this event, — one by the 
 French, and one by the Italians. 
 
 The beauty of these lakes has been copied by 
 brush and reproduced by camera; poets have 
 sung and will continue to sing of their loveli- 
 ness; travelers have endeavored to write of it 
 in prose — but they are beyond description. 
 Their greens and blues and purples are accen- 
 tuated by the dazzling brilliancy of perfect sun- 
 shine, and even when dimmed by a falling veil of 
 twilight they are simply gorgeous. But what 
 can compare with the beauty when the blue 
 dome of heaven sends out its great searchlight, 
 the moon, to trace a path of silver across the 
 pansy-purple water? 
 
 The earth is wrapt in a mantle of gold — 
 Shimmering and fading as night will unfold. 
 
 The wind plays in softest zephyrs and the stars 
 blaze in the sky, mirroring themselves in the 
 blue waters of the lake. 
 
116 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 One thing impresses me forcibly among these 
 mountains and lakes, and that is the wonderful 
 clearness of the atmosphere. Glorious moun- 
 tains! — marvelously beautiful when morning 
 spreads her streaks of crimson upon their lofty 
 summits, or when evening wraps them in pur- 
 ple and gold. They are always impressive, al- 
 ways grand. As Longfellow has so beautifully 
 said: 
 
 "But breathe the air 
 Of mountains, and their unapproachable summits 
 Will lift thee to the level of themselves." 
 
 Whether on mountain top or in the valley 
 the voice of Nature teaches many lessons. 
 
 The sublimity of the starry heavens, and 
 The grandeur of the mountains alike demand 
 A reverence for One who holds in His power 
 The infinitude of worlds. Each little flower, 
 Yonder milky way. with its circle of shining worlds — 
 Each speaks in its silent language, and unfurls 
 The thought: "There's a wideness in God's mercy 
 Like the wideness of the sea." 
 
XIV 
 
 GENOA 
 
 Hundreds of years ago there lived in Genoa 
 a working man who had four sons, and one of 
 them was named Christopher Columbus. An 
 immense marble statue of this famous Genoese 
 stands at the railroad station to greet the trav- 
 eler with its stony stare. 
 
 Genoa is a quaint old town, cosily nestled at 
 the foot of the Apenines. It circles the 
 water's edge and rises in terrace form. The 
 harbor is semi-circular, nearly a mile across, 
 with a lighthouse 400 feet high, and the light 
 from its dazzling reflectors is visible for more 
 than twenty miles. 
 
 In Genoa there are many places of interest 
 because of their historical fame and architec- 
 tural beauty. The old town is a network of 
 narrow and steep streets, but the newer quar- 
 ters have broad thoroughfares. The heights 
 around the town are covered with detached 
 forts. The Via Roma is the most important 
 focus of traffic. At the terminus is an immense 
 statue of Victor Emmanuel II. 
 
 Among the fine old churches is the Gothic 
 Cathedral of St. Lorenzo, built in the 12th cen- 
 
 117 
 
118 TEAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 tury. Among the curiosities to be seen within 
 its walls are the two urns said to contain the 
 ashes of St. John the Baptist. It is claimed 
 that they were brought from the city of Myr- 
 rha, in Lycia, 1097. There is also on exhibition 
 an emerald dish, which is said to have held the 
 paschal lamb at the Last Supper. This dish 
 was captured from the Saracens in 1101 at the 
 storming of Cesarea. 
 
 The narrow Garibaldi is flanked with a suc- 
 cession of old palaces, — now turned into all 
 kinds of shops. One deserving especial men- 
 tion is the municipal palace, with handsome 
 marble staircase and court. The Palazzo 
 Eosso, so named from its red color, was pre- 
 sented to the city along with its library and 
 picture gallery. Some of these palaces are ex- 
 tensively decorated with sculpture. 
 
 Genoa, with all its beauties, curiosities, and 
 charms is a fine point from which to sail, and 
 we are homeward bound. 
 
 "Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 
 Who never to himself hath said: 
 This is my own, my native land?" 
 
 So sang Walter Scott, and there are few hearts 
 which do not respond to this sentiment. 
 Wherever life's pilgrimage may lead us our 
 hearts will ever turn backward in loyal devo- 
 tion to our native land. When John Howard 
 Payne wrote: 
 
GENOA 119 
 
 " 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
 Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home," 
 
 he made his name immortal because he struck a 
 universal chord of the human heart. Home is 
 the one oasis in life's desert way — to the rich 
 and poor alike, for there are the "friends that 
 must cheer on life's rugged road." There is 
 nothing that gives more zest to a journey than 
 its destination. Our going may be filled with 
 brightest anticipations, but our returning is 
 made up of pleasurable realities. 
 
 Two impressions of our journey will remain 
 with us. One is how large this world is : such 
 a wilderness of water, and such infinitude of 
 land. Then again, how small it is, because 
 these immense distances are so quickly cov- 
 ered by fast trains and faster steamships. 
 
 In planning for a summer holiday in Europe 
 the first consideration naturally is the ques- 
 tion of health. How it may be restored, if 
 broken; how re-invigorated, if sound, to meet 
 in better form the assaults of climate that early 
 or late awaits us all on our return. Of course, 
 with this is included the important element of 
 "enjoyability," and the still more important 
 idea that the continent is a place to economize 
 in. We do not think it is the place for people 
 who have to pinch. Poverty at home is a bad 
 enough companion, but poverty in a foreign 
 land is hardly worth the trifling margin that is 
 saved at the expense of a strained exile and the 
 
120 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 jars of a strange life. But for those who do 
 not mind three or four pounds a week the com- 
 fort and general charm of a summer abroad 
 are incomparably greater than anything pro- 
 curable for the same outlay in our own coun- 
 try. 
 
 When it is considered how many come home 
 every year whose horizon of desire is bounded 
 by a summer "on the river" it is sad to think 
 how much they miss in health and in the en- 
 joyment that only flows from health by not ex- 
 tending their summer trips, — at least beyond 
 the malarial districts. 
 
 The tide of travel is now homeward. How 
 swiftly this holiday has flown into the irrev- 
 ocable past, yet it will be ever linked to the 
 present by a golden chain of memories. 
 
 "Far away where the summers are sleeping 
 Lie the beautiful dreams of the past." 
 
 Oh, for a Joshua to make the sun stand still, 
 that these lovely days might be a little longer, 
 for it would be difficult to conceive of more ideal 
 weather conditions. The sky is of that deep 
 blue which melts away into the infinite azure of 
 the upper deep. There is enough coolness in 
 the air to make the sunshine welcome. In this 
 glorious atmosphere one seems to breathe in 
 health and vigor through the very pores of the 
 skin, and to feel that life is very much worth 
 living. 
 
GENOA 121 
 
 August, with her golden days and her calm 
 starlit nights, sits queenlike on her summer 
 throne, and reminds us that it is highnoon of 
 the summer season, and the time to think of re- 
 turning home. And, though we may look wist- 
 fully back over these happy days, we realize 
 it is best to be homeward bound. Surely one 
 of the best results of travel abroad is the in- 
 creased love it gives of one's home and the 
 homeland. It is good to meet new faces, hear 
 new voices, form new friends, and even to 
 struggle with new languages, but it is exceed- 
 ingly good to come back to familiar faces, to 
 the good old mother tongue, and the dear old 
 friends. 
 
 To tread the deck of a great ocean liner as it 
 rides the mountain waves and goes down into 
 the valleys of the sea is an experience worth 
 having; it is well to know something by obser- 
 vation of the beauty and the grandeur of the 
 scenes in other lands and under other skies ; but 
 it is better to be able to see and appreciate the 
 loveliness and the sublimity of the scenes which 
 we come in almost daily contact with, and to 
 know that ours is among the favored countries 
 of the world. We are sorry to leave this dear, 
 delightful climate and beautiful country, in 
 which Nature seems to blend all the beauties 
 of all the seasons. Here we have the promise 
 of spring, the brilliancy of summer, the satisfy- 
 ing richness of autumn, and we can feel in the 
 
122 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 crisp morning and evening temperatures the in- 
 vigorating qualities of winter. These days 
 might be painted with purple, gold, crimson, 
 and violet, with an illuminated haze to tone and 
 blend them. While things may assume an 
 aerial tint which belongs only to dreams no 
 matter how high among the clouds one may 
 soar, nor how ethereal may be his visions, there 
 are certain stated times when he gets very 
 earthy, — meal times. We are reminded that the 
 hour is approaching. Was it not Hawthorne 
 who said: "The fair Italian air was good for 
 dreaming, but not so good for work"? We 
 certainly agree with him in regard to the 
 dreaming. 
 
XV 
 
 TJNDEK THE TUKQUOISE BLUE 
 
 The marvelous splendor and absorbing won- 
 ders of Europe are left behind, for 
 
 "Out on the ocean, rocked by the billow, 
 Homeward our good ship tosses the spray." 
 
 Lovely Italy, Grand Switzerland, and glorious 
 Islands of the Sea! To thy towering moun- 
 tains, lovely valleys, silvery lakes, and the 
 time-old burying-grounds we bid adieu. A 
 tender farewell, for we take from you most 
 priceless souvenirs in treasured memories of a 
 happy summer time. Adieu, for now 
 
 We're sailing through mid ocean, above is the sky of blue; 
 Riding the crested billows, with only white caps in view. 
 Away in the hazy distance, as far as the eye can see, 
 Are snow-white frills and laces, floating so gracefully. 
 The lacy caps of the mermaids bob up or float idly along, 
 While the splash and roar of ocean keep time to mermaid's 
 
 song; 
 They plunge, then leap coquettishly, then we wonder where 
 
 they go — 
 Their rippling track has disappeared into unknown depths 
 
 below. 
 
 Our summer has ended, and we have not seen 
 all we hoped to, nor read all the books we in- 
 
 123 
 
124 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 tended to, nor accomplished all we planned. 
 If we have read fewer books, we have read 
 Nature's great outspread volume more, — that 
 great book of Nature, bound by rising and set- 
 ting suns, whose leaves are skies and clouds, 
 lands and seas, mountains and vales, and whose 
 printed pages are trees, flowers, rocks, sands, 
 and streams, and whose great author is the 
 Creator. In studying this Author one gets on 
 every leaf a message worthy of a lifetime of 
 study. 
 
 Our lives have been enriched by new scenes 
 and new experiences; our horizon has been 
 widened, and we come back with a new appre- 
 ciation of the old home, with a new set of mem- 
 ories and impressions to abide with us. 
 " Blessings brighten as they depart,'' and as 
 the time of our sojourn in the fair land of sun- 
 shine drew near its close every day seemed 
 more precious with its opportunities, and every 
 night more eloquent with its messages. Yes, the 
 summer days, with their distant blue skies 
 flecked with white, their genial sun rays, their 
 never-to-be-forgotten pleasures, have gone 
 glimmering into that misty past, where all the 
 beautiful summers are sleeping. But we have 
 such a storehouse of pleasant memories to take 
 home with us, where 
 
 Forgetting dull cares, we'll live in enchanted lands, 
 Dreaming, dreaming — as we sit with folded hands. 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 125 
 
 There is a liberal education in a European 
 trip. It is an investment that pays. What if 
 we do have to journey 3000 miles? What if it 
 were three times three thousand? The benefit 
 derived from the voyage would be three times 
 as great. We treasure our favorite epochs and 
 incidents in our own history, yet how very 
 young we are compared with the historical as- 
 sociations of the old world. With history, ro- 
 mance, and beauty in every niche and corner 
 the very air seems to vibrate with the comedies 
 and tragedies of piled-up centuries. 
 
 What any of us can contribute to the world 
 is infinitesimally small as compared with what 
 we have inherited from those who have gone be- 
 fore us. Few realize their indebtedness to the 
 past. What is humanity, after all, but a vast 
 procession moving across the narrow isthmus 
 of time, between two vast eternities ? The first 
 who came played their several parts, cherished 
 their little ambitions, dreamed their fond 
 dreams, and passed off the stage. They have 
 added their quota to the world's glory, and 
 for the benefit of the succeeding generations. 
 What matters a towering shaft in some ceme- 
 tery of the dead? Those whose names shine 
 out on the pages of history, like stars in the 
 night, were the ones who accomplished some- 
 thing. 
 
 We were glad to go; we are happy in return- 
 ing. We are enjoying the same sunsets, and 
 
126 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 they are always new, like Holmes' thought that 
 might have been uttered a " hundred times." 
 These sunsets come over a "new route," and 
 by a "new and express train of associations." 
 It is another boat, — another crowd of passen- 
 gers, — making a new world. One might feel 
 lost and lonesome, were it not for the dear old 
 familiar sunsets and the silver-lined clouds. 
 What a good habit to look for the silver lining 
 to the clouds! If one could only live those 
 beautiful lines of Riley's, and just be glad all 
 the time: 
 
 "Oh, heart of mine, we shouldn't 
 
 Worry so; 
 What we've missed of calm, we couldn't 
 
 Have you knowj 
 What we've met of stormy pain, 
 And of sorrow's driving rain, 
 We can better meet again 
 
 If it blow. 
 
 "For we know not every morrow 
 
 Can be sad; 
 So, forgetting all the sorrow 
 
 We have had, 
 Let us fold away our fears, 
 And put by our foolish tears, 
 And through all the coming years — 
 
 Just be glad." 
 
 To adopt the philosophy of James Whitcomb 
 Riley and pray the prayer of Mrs. Wiggs, ' ' Oh, 
 Lord, whatever comes, keep me from gittin' 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 127 
 
 sour," would perhaps cause us to feel with 
 Charlotte Perkins Stetson 
 
 "It is good to be alive when the strong winds blow, 
 The strong sweet winds blowing straightly off the sea. 
 Great sea, green sea, with swinging ebb and flow, 
 It is good to be alive and see the waves run by. 
 
 "It is good to be alive when the trees shine green, 
 And the steep rock hills stand up against the sky; 
 Big sky, blue sky, with flying clouds between — 
 It is good to be alive and see the clouds drive by." 
 
 In fact, has one any more right to go around 
 unhappy than he has to go about ill-bred 1 We 
 are apt to forget that we owe the world at least 
 the courtesy of a smiling face and one another 
 the inspiration of a cheery word. 
 
 It is the early morning hour, and far out over 
 the water the rays of sunlight are falling like 
 golden arrows from the quiver of the mighty 
 day-god. We wonder if the morning of that 
 first day could have been more calm and beauti- 
 ful, of which it is said, "And the evening and 
 the morning were the first day. ' ' First the fad- 
 ing stars, then the glowing tremulous light in 
 the east, when lo! the rising sun bursts forth, 
 driving back the darkness and gloom of the 
 night, flooding everything with its silvery 
 beams. But each morning since then some- 
 where some observant soul has partaken of the 
 beauty of that same first morning. We do not 
 realize that every morning spreads a new clean 
 
128 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 page in our life-volume before us, on which we 
 are to write deeds, words, and thoughts. 
 
 This early morning with its quiet beauty 
 Teaches a lesson of peace. It is one's duty 
 To believe always, — let come what may, — 
 After every storm will dawn a bright day. 
 We are like children with a picture book 
 Turning a new leaf each day we look 
 For Cinderellas, dragons, or ogres gaunt; 
 Or strain our eyes to see the flaunt 
 Of fairy-godmother's wonderful wand. 
 Half the charm lies in uncertainty. And 
 Each day comes with its precious gifts — 
 The morning may be cloudy, but the sun lifts 
 The gloom and sends his piercing rays 
 Into the meridian, or the close of our days. 
 
 The night is cool but clear, and the young moon 
 is hanging above us in a cloudless sky. The 
 starry hosts are out in parade, while the Dip- 
 per holds its accustomed place in the scenic dis- 
 play. Just a night to inspire music, and it 
 breaks forth among the steerage passengers. 
 There is something in the power of song and in 
 the sweet strains of an instrument that opens 
 both the mind and heart to the highest and best 
 things, and awakens within us longings and as- 
 pirations which have been dormant. The 
 power of music is like gazing on a great picture 
 or a natural scene of beauty, opening the win- 
 dows of the soul toward the infinite. 
 
 The wind, like an iEolian harp, is playing its 
 softest zephyrs, and the stars blaze in the sky 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 129 
 
 mirroring themselves in the blue of the Med- 
 iterranean. Was it imagination, or did we hear 
 the familiar notes of the cricket's song? Per- 
 haps he is a stowaway, stealing his first ocean 
 ride, or perhaps he is the mascot of this great 
 throbbing vessel. In an instant we are trans- 
 ported by his magic note to our own hearth at 
 twilight, just as a familiar odor of some old- 
 fashioned flower has the power to bring to 
 memory mother's garden, with its old-fash- 
 ioned hollyhocks, its sweet peas, and bachelor 
 buttons. And just so will the fragrance of a 
 flower, the note of an old song, or a breath of 
 balmy air bring back this summer with its 
 flood of bright memories. Under the magic 
 spell of memory pictures will appear on the 
 canvas that no artist can paint, and songs will 
 be sung that no voice can utter. 
 
 The dim line of gray heralding the dawn 
 Grows more clearly defined with advancing morn; 
 Then the dazzling rays o'er the sun-kissed seas 
 Glimmer and dance with the rising breeze. 
 
 As "the evening and the morning" marked 
 time "in the beginning," so the rising and set- 
 ting sun plays a conspicuous part in a two 
 weeks' voyage on the water. One must keep a 
 calendar in close proximity, or he might lose 
 the day of the week, — to say nothing of the day 
 of the month. Away back yonder in life's 
 early morning, when the hill-tops were yet 
 
130 TEAVELS IN EUKOPE 
 
 aglow with life's sunrise, it is strange how long 
 it seemed from one birthday to another, or from 
 one Christmas to another. As we advance in 
 years they follow in such rapid succession that 
 there hardly seems a breathing spell between. 
 Alas, the fleeting years, months, and days do in- 
 deed slip away, and, although we are slipping 
 away with them, we realize that we owe much 
 of the sweetness and strength of life to the 
 treasures and memories of our past. 
 
 We are out on the same blue Mediterranean, 
 and it is singing the same deep-toned anthems 
 and presenting the same wide expanse of blue, 
 blue waters, with their same varying tints and 
 changing moods. 
 
 How vivid are scenes to which we have so 
 recently bade adieu, — and what a vast picture 
 gallery they constitute ! It is a mistake to sup- 
 pose that when he have witnessed a scene of 
 surpassing beauty that the enjoyment ceases 
 when we cease to gaze upon it. To behold the 
 beauty and grandeur of the scene from Mount 
 Rigi or Pilatus once is to behold it forever. 
 The blue Swiss lakes lie beneath you, and the 
 vast Alpine range of mountains, some of whose 
 peaks are covered with snow, you see again 
 as you turn the leaves of memory. It is this 
 fact that makes travel worth while, for we are 
 storing up the impressions made upon us by the 
 scenes and the associations with which we come 
 in contact in our daily life. 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 131 
 
 Another advantage of foreign travel, and get- 
 ting acquainted with the customs of other 
 countries, and seeing other scenery, is that it 
 reminds us of what we in our provincialism are 
 likely to forget, — that we have no monopoly in 
 this country of all that is beautiful in nature 
 and in art. In this busy and bustling age, when 
 events crowd so thickly and the scenes in the 
 panorama of life change so rapidly, and the 
 wonders of to-day are forgotten in the yet more 
 marvelous achievements of to-morrow, it is 
 well that memory asserts itself and holds in 
 store many valuable and precious things. 
 
 What is rarer than this summer night? No 
 wind to disturb the peaceful waters; nor is 
 there a moon to dispute the primacy of the 
 stars. A perfect night does not need a moon 
 to eclipse the innumerable candles that shine out 
 of the dome of heaven. What a panorama of 
 shining worlds! Such a night one loves to 
 watch the pageantry of the heavens. Some- 
 where we saw this stanza: 
 
 "It isn't raining rain to me, 
 It's raining daffodils; 
 In every dimpled drop I see 
 Wild flowers on the hills." 
 
 And how true it is that we do not see things as 
 they are, but as we are. Perhaps that is why 
 this beautiful world has been so slandered by 
 the doleful strains: 
 
132 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 "Dark and thorny is the desert 
 Through which pilgrims make their way." 
 
 Another quotation which has not yet dropped 
 into the "innocuous desuetude" which it merits 
 calls the world "a howling wilderness." A 
 world so full of munificent gifts ! — the glory of 
 the sunrise and the sunset; presenting pictures 
 that no artist can equal; the starlit heavens, 
 majestic mountains, the clouds and deep re- 
 sounding oceans, the many hued rainbows, the 
 flowers and sunshine, and a thousand other 
 things to make life beautiful ! How much bet- 
 ter to strive to say with Dr. Van Dyke : 
 
 "So let the way wind up the hill, or down; 
 Though rough or smooth, the journey will be joy; 
 Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, — 
 New friendships, high adventure, and a crown. 
 I shall grow old, but never lose life's zest, 
 Because the road's last turn will be the best." 
 
 At the same time we should always say with 
 our good Quaker poet : 
 
 "I know not where His islands lift 
 Their fronded palms in air; 
 I only know I can not drift 
 Beyond His love and care." 
 
 Music is heard in the murmur of her waves, 
 Joy radiates from the beauty of her blue; 
 Every fiber in our heart will quiver in praise 
 As the early morning brightness comes into view. 
 Aye, we're riding the billows, our good ship flies 
 While sailing through the blue of fair summer skies. 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 133 
 
 There must be a strange fascination about this 
 "life on the ocean wave." Notwithstanding 
 the hardships and dangers, how accustomed to 
 them do the sailors and lovers of the sea be- 
 come. We suppose life on the land appears 
 insipid and tame to them. 
 
 Everything moves like clockwork in a great 
 ocean liner, and on the Koenig Albert every man 
 of the crew has his place and fills it. The stok- 
 ers who fill the great furnaces are quite as es- 
 sential as the officers. The scores of waiters 
 are polite and efficient. Breakfast is from eight 
 to ten, luncheon from one to three, and dinner 
 from seven to nine. Between breakfast and 
 luncheon bouillon is served; between luncheon 
 and dinner tea is served. This occupies a good 
 part of the time. So far we have not felt the 
 slightest inconvenience from that dreaded 
 malady, mat de mer, otherwise known as sea- 
 sickness. 
 
 This morning the sea is calm, and the sun is 
 still shining brightly, although in the night we 
 heard the fog horn sounding its dismal note. 
 Now the sun has dispelled the fog, and every- 
 body is happy, and the laughing sea seems to 
 appreciate and welcome the change. Life gets 
 much of its zest from contrasts, and on a great 
 ocean liner there are many and various types 
 to break the monotony. On a returning voyage 
 one fancies that the pleasure of homecoming is 
 easily discernible. To this is added the relief 
 
134 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 from the strenuous sightseeing in the great 
 cities of Europe, where civilization keeps up 
 its antiquities, and at the same time is sup- 
 posed to put on its latest touches. 
 
 But with all this behind us and while drift- 
 ing so quietly over the deep blue waters one 
 cannot get away from modern civilization. On 
 land or on sea there are the artificialities and 
 formalities ; and it is well, for one requires cer- 
 tain conventionalities and social exactions. It 
 is excellent discipline for people to smile and 
 greet one another every day, and have to wear 
 one's company manners from morning to eve- 
 ning. On the return trip there seems to be less 
 restraint, and passengers more easily become 
 acquainted. Many have enjoyed the same 
 sights, the same pleasures. Some preferred 
 the same mountains with their solitudes and 
 sublimities ; others enjoyed more the ocean bil- 
 lows over its briny waves; while yet others 
 are still raving over the wonderful sights and 
 scenes of Europe. But never a note of regret 
 or disappointment is heard. Everybody is 
 glad he went, and happy to be returning home, 
 and apparently enjoying every moment of his 
 vacation. 
 
 We believe that there is too much tension in 
 our American life. No matter what vocation 
 one has it is unnecessarily a ceaseless drudg- 
 ery, just because we haven't time to rest. How 
 much better to have a little more of the pleas- 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 135 
 
 lire of life as we go along, — even if we have 
 less money at its close. It is true that some 
 people "toil not, neither do they spin," and 
 they need no rest, while there are others so 
 happily situated that they can distribute their 
 vacation along through each month and week. 
 They are to be envied, for with this ideal life is 
 implied an ideal environment. 
 
 It is an admirable thing to make new friends ; 
 it widens our sympathies and keeps us in touch 
 with individuals and events in our time. In- 
 deed, new friends are like new books, — pleasant 
 and wholesome. We may spend a pleasant day 
 with each, and then lay it aside, but, like the 
 perfume from the broken vase, sweet memories 
 of them abide with us still. We are all con- 
 scious of the fact that there are certain persons 
 in whose presence we think our best thoughts, 
 and sometimes discover within ourselves cap- 
 abilities of which we were not conscious. 
 There is something in them that appeals to the 
 highest and best within us. It cannot be denied 
 that a pure and noble personality will give to 
 life an upward turn. 
 
 The sea is gray and leaden under the pearly 
 haze of dawn. We are up early to greet the 
 great Gibraltar again, and to bid adieu to the 
 Mediterranean, whose waters have a threaten- 
 ing look to-day. 
 
 Ah, beautiful Mediterranean, we are sorry to leave you sad, 
 We'd exchange your gloomy look for one both bright and glad; 
 
136 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 We've enjoyed your sparkling waters, and diamond studded 
 
 foam, 
 Plowing your fathomless depths, while wending our way home. 
 Deny it not, dear sea, for with what piteous zeal 
 In your feeble attempt your anger to conceal; 
 Restrain your fiery fury, keep mumblings low and deep — 
 We bid you a kind adieu while mermaids their vigils keep. 
 
 A dull gray Sunday, skies veiled with clouds, 
 and occasionally a few drops of rain on the 
 deck, which causes us to move back a little as 
 we pull our steamer rug more closely about us. 
 We are all barometers, more or less affected 
 by the weather, and somehow this kind of a 
 day puts us in a dreamy or retrospective mood, 
 and we are inclined to build bridges into the 
 past. And yet we realize that if life were 
 made up of glorious sunrises, perfect noondays, 
 and gorgeous sunsets, and the earth was all 
 aglow of purple and pink, we would miss life's 
 deepest and most valued lessons, for the crosses 
 of life grow dearer after we have carried them 
 awhile ; and we would not have it otherwise, for 
 when we meet Peter at the Golden Grate how 
 many of us are counting on the knocks and 
 bumps and smashing heartaches to pass us 
 through. 
 
 One can't live always in the clouds. We 
 cannot always look through youth's rose-tinted 
 glasses. And how our viewpoint changes as 
 we pass along the great highway of life ! With 
 the enthusiasm of youth we see only the rosy, 
 radiant hill-tops ; in just a little while we gaze 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 137 
 
 through the bright light of a midday sun over 
 the level plains ; then cautiously and slowly we 
 glide into the shadowed valleys, and it is then 
 we realize that 
 
 Each life is but a little boat at sea, 
 Blown hither and thither by destiny. 
 When the day has closed with the setting sun 
 It is well to reckon all the things we've done; 
 In summing them up, if we really can find 
 One deed or thought that was truly kind, — 
 Only one tender word on goodness bent, — 
 We may know the day was indeed well spent. 
 
 We left Gibraltar standing defiant as it has 
 stood for centuries, and also left the rain 
 clouds behind us, for the king of day went down 
 with a gorgeous display of crimson and gold, 
 when on his final departure below the horizon 
 he threw his parting smile and bathed the sur- 
 face of the waters with a soft mellow radiance 
 which glows like an amethyst above and 
 deepens into purple below. This was a sunset 
 never to be forgotten. The whole western sky 
 seemed ablaze with red and gold ; great masses 
 of clouds seemed like huge canopies looped with 
 gold over the sun on his gorgeous throne. The 
 water quivered with points of light as if it 
 were strewn with diamonds. Had you thought 
 that it requires clouds to make fine sunsets? 
 Just so do trials and sorrows develop the 
 grandest things in a human life. 
 
 Now, the sun having run his daily course and 
 
138 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 dropped below the horizon, night's candles shine 
 out in the dome of heaven. Then comes the 
 hush of night, when the "forget-me-nots" of 
 the skies are seen in all their glory. A little 
 later the moon, approaching her full orb, rides 
 through the cloudless heavens, painting its sil- 
 very pathway across the water. Before the 
 brighter glory that shines from her queenly 
 face the twinkling stars pale their ineffectual 
 fires. The silvery tints of evening seem to 
 hang like ragged edges on the shades of night 
 as the blue bends down to meet a bluer sea, and 
 the pearly sky above is flecked with rosy clouds 
 and streaked with gleams of gold. Then the 
 silvery moonlight floods the whole scene with 
 radiance; the sea, like a silver mirror, reflects 
 the calm loveliness of the full round moon. 
 
 We might say with Longfellow's "Village 
 Blacksmith, ' ' 
 
 "Each morning sees some task begun, 
 Each evening sees its close." 
 
 But the trouble is that on a two weeks' sea 
 voyage the "tasks" must necessarily become 
 monotonous. We are reminded each day, re- 
 gardless of tasks, that the chariot of Time is 
 rushing on in its remorseless course, and it 
 seems that its beaten track is as smooth and as 
 easy to travel as this glassy sparkling road bed 
 over which our good ship flies, for the days 
 seem to lap over one another in their mad haste ; 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 139 
 
 and this onrush of time only means the flight 
 of opportunities. But, regardless of individual 
 desires, the Koenig Albert rushes on apparently 
 with accelerated speed as the journey shortens, 
 determined to reach its destined port on sched- 
 ule time. 
 
 We still love to get up early, for it is delight- 
 ful to look at the eastern horizon and watch 
 the glowing white light driving back the shades 
 of the night, and later, taking on a saffron hue, 
 to be changed again into gold and crimson bars, 
 and finally into the splendor of a perfect day. 
 
 A perfect day, and nothing to worry about, 
 for we are learning to live in the present. Yes- 
 terday ended last night, and to-morrow may 
 never be. When one has learned not to worry 
 about the present nor the future, about what 
 can be or cannot be helped, he has accomplished 
 something of which to boast. 
 
 Just try to be happy, do the best you can do; 
 Look on the sunny side instead of being blue; 
 Though your burdens be heavy, you are fairly strong; 
 Your effort to be happy helps others along. 
 
 After a voyage of two weeks with what joy- 
 ous emotions does one stand again on terra 
 firma ! Yet we hate to part from the good old 
 ship that has brought us in safety through wind 
 and wave. She was our home on the sea, and 
 this thought alone would give a tinge of sad- 
 ness to our parting. 
 
140 TRAVELS IN EUROPE 
 
 But the hands of the watch tell us that the 
 night is passing, and soon the music of the 
 waters will be exchanged for the roar of traf- 
 fic, and life will take on a little tenser tone, for 
 to-morrow we are to reach New York. We may 
 long for a breath of the ocean's brine and the 
 glorious days that have been filled with the 
 wine of life, but one thing we know is that the 
 golden gleams of this happy summer time will 
 abide with us still. 
 
 With the thought of exchanging the music of 
 breaking waves for the din of the world's in- 
 dustry comes the memory of how depressing it 
 was to watch the faces that hurried past us on 
 the thoroughfares and in the shops. How care- 
 worn, overeager, and anxious the majority of 
 them seemed. One is led to wonder if this kind 
 of life is really worth while. The endless 
 stream of tired people shows little sign of the 
 joy of living, for the bloom of life seems to 
 have been worn off by a never-ending struggle. 
 It is thus the world is hurrying along, silent and 
 unsmiling, yet eager to attain some goal, and 
 the sole joy is in the struggle. 
 
 Our series of letters is ended. It is not hu- 
 man nature to be satisfied with our attainments. 
 Perhaps it is a species of egotism, but we are 
 always sure of possibilities lying within us that 
 are never fulfilled. No doubt we can all sym- 
 pathize with the poet who sang: 
 
UNDER THE TURQUOISE BLUE 141 
 
 "Our whitest pearl we never find; 
 Our ripest fruit we never reach; 
 The flowering moments of the mind 
 Drop half their petals in our speech." 
 
 THE END 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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