LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS GOLD APPLETON. 
 
 PREPARED BY 
 
 SUSAN HALE. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 I, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
 1885. 
 

 Copyright, 1885, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
y^ 
 
 :?/ 
 
 " . . . I am become a name 
 For always roaming with a hungry heart. 
 Much have I seen and known; cities of men 
 And manners, climates, councils, governments ; 
 Myself not least, but honored of them all. 
 . . . Yet all experience is an arch where-through 
 Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades, 
 Forever and forever when I move." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 Biographical . 
 
 . 
 
 . 7 
 
 II. 
 
 Boyhood. 1812-1825 
 
 
 14 
 
 III. 
 
 Round Hill. 1826 
 
 . 
 
 . 23 
 
 IV. 
 
 Round Hill Letters. 1827 
 
 
 38 
 
 V. 
 
 College-Life. 1828-1832 
 
 . 
 
 . 62 
 
 VI. 
 
 First Voyage. 1833 
 
 
 83 
 
 VII. 
 
 London. 1833 
 
 . 
 
 . 103 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Paris. 1833 
 
 
 123 
 
 IX. 
 
 Switzerland and Gennany. 
 
 1833 • 
 
 . 142 
 
 X. 
 
 Florence. 1 833-1 834 . 
 
 
 166 
 
 XI. 
 
 Southern Skies. 1834 
 
 . 
 
 . 185 
 
 XII. 
 
 Two Weeks in a French Chateau. 1834 
 
 211 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Wandering Years. I. 1835-1844 . 
 
 . 232 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Wandering Years. II. i 
 
 845 . 
 
 252 
 
 XV. 
 
 Wandering Years. III. 
 
 1846-1854 . 
 
 . 270 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Oatlands Park. 1855 
 
 . 
 
 291 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Home Wanderings. 1856- 
 
 -1863 
 
 . 304 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Commonwealth Avenue. 
 
 1864-1874 
 
 318 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Years of Repose. 1875-1883 . 
 
 . 335 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Last. 1884 . 
 
 • • 
 
 345 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 Thomas Gold Appleton was born in Boston, 
 Massachusetts, on the 3TSt of March, 1812. His 
 father was Nathan Appleton, a merchant of Boston. 
 
 The Appletons emigrated from Suffolk, England, 
 to America, in 1635, and settled in Ipswich, Massa- 
 chusetts. A part of the original grant of land held 
 by them still remains in the possession of the family. 
 Samuel Appleton, their ancestor, was a sturdy Puri- 
 tan ; he transmitted his principles and convictions to 
 his sons, John and Samuel, who gained distinction in 
 their time as stanch defenders of civil and religious 
 liberty, by resisting the arbitrary measures of Sir Ed- 
 mund Andros, the colonial Governor, in 1687, a pe- 
 riod when such resistance entailed persecution and 
 imprisonment. 
 
 Nearly a century later, Deacon Isaac Appleton, of 
 the fifth generation since the emigration of the family 
 to New England, went to New Ipswich, New Hamp- 
 shire. Of his twelve children, two sons — Samuel 
 
8 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 and Nathan — became eminent men in Boston. The 
 brothers were leaders in the commercial development 
 of New England ; to Nathan Appleton is due, in a 
 great measure, the first introduction of the power- 
 loom into this country, with the foundation of the city 
 of Lowell, and other enterprises establishing large 
 manufacturing industries. 
 
 Nathan Appleton, born October 6, 1779, died July 
 14, 1 86 1. He married Maria Theresa Gold, of Pitts- 
 field, Massachusetts. Their children were : 
 
 1. Thomas Gold, died April 17, 1884. 
 
 2. Mary, married Robert Charles Mackintosh. 
 
 3. Charles Sedgwick, died 1835. 
 
 4. Frances Elizabeth, married H. W. Longfellow, 
 died 1861. 
 
 5. George William, .died 1827. 
 
 Mrs. Appleton died in February, 1833. In 1839 
 Nathan Appleton was married for the second time. 
 His wife was Harriot Coffin Sumner, of Boston. Their 
 children were : 
 
 1. William Sumner, married Edith Stuart Ap- 
 pleton. 
 
 2. Harriot, married Greely Stevenson Curtis. 
 
 3. Nathan. 
 
 Thomas was born in Boston, and there passed the 
 greater part of his childhood. He was for some time 
 at a private school in Jamaica Plain, kept by Mr. 
 
Biographical. 9 
 
 Charles Greene, who is still remembered by the pupils 
 who were under his care as an excellent and popular 
 teacher ; he passed a year at the Boston Latin School, 
 and in 1825, at the age of thirteen, joined a school 
 established at Round Hill, Northampton, by Mr. 
 George Bancroft and Mr. Joseph Cogswell. Three 
 years later, in 1828, he entered the sophomore class 
 at Harvard University, and graduated in 1831 ; he 
 remained at Cambridge, in the law -school, during 
 1832. 
 
 Not long after the death of his mother, in the 
 spring of 1833, Thomas sailed for Europe. This was 
 the first of a series of voyages across the Atlantic, in 
 the course of his life, during which he visited many 
 lands, and became familiar with the languages, pict- 
 ure-galleries, and scenery of Europe. In his first 
 tour, which lasted little over a year, he formed ties, 
 never to be severed, with friends in England and upon 
 the Continent ; and laid the foundations for the life of 
 intellectual study and artistic enjoyment which he was 
 destined to lead. 
 
 For many years following, either alone or with 
 members of his family, he passed much of his time 
 in Europe, drawn by the attractions of Paris to take 
 an apartment there for a whole winter, or tempted to 
 London by the society of his sister, Mrs. Mackintosh, 
 who, after her marriage, was established there. He 
 
lo Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 disliked the winter climate of Boston, and generally 
 avoided it. He was, however, fond of the American 
 summer, and not unfrequently suddenly recrossed the 
 Atlantic, for the sake of the fresh breezes of Nahant, 
 or the charms of Newport society. 
 
 Several years after her marriage, Mr. Appleton 
 took a house in Cambridge, to be near his sister, Mrs. 
 Longfellow, to whom, and whose growing family, he 
 was warmly attached. As he approached the age of 
 fifty years, even his ardor for travel and active spirit 
 of observation were yielding to the wish for repose and 
 the charms of a fireside. He thought of a more per- 
 manent establishment, and, buying land in Common- 
 wealth Avenue, built the house in which he passed 
 the rest of his life. 
 
 It was finished in 1864. Before it was ready to 
 live in, Mrs. Longfellow's death occurred, followed 
 a few days later by that of his father. The loss of 
 these two, so dear to him, made a void in his life 
 never to be filled ; but his strong regard for his 
 brother-in-law, Mr. Longfellow, his affection for his 
 nephews and nieces, the children of so beloved a sis- 
 ter, and his warm interest in his half-brothers and 
 sister, from this time forward fully occupied his heart ; 
 while the rest of his life was devoted, in a great meas- 
 ure, to the advancement of his native town in art, 
 literature, and every form of intellectual culture. He 
 
Biographical. 1 1 
 
 had been a trustee of the Boston Athenaeum from the 
 early beginning of its modest collections in Pearl 
 Street, and watched and aided its advance as it 
 grew into the present Museum of Fine Arts. The 
 Public Library was also an object of his care ; in- 
 deed, all schemes for the adornment and improve- 
 ment of Boston found in him a ready advocate and 
 worker. 
 
 In 1868, after an interval of several years, Mr. Ap- 
 pleton again went to Europe, this time in company 
 with Mr. Longfellow and his daughters ; in 1874 he 
 made the Eastern tour, passing that winter on the 
 Nile, and the spring of 1875 i^ Syria. 
 
 This was his last foreign journey. With the ex- 
 ception of several excursions in America, and sum- 
 mers passed either in Nahant or Newport, the rest of 
 his life was spent in Boston. In the winter of 1877, a 
 fall on the ice caused an accident to his leg, confining 
 him to his bed for many weeks ; the lameness which 
 followed, although not permanent, rendered him cau- 
 tious in his movements, more sedentary, and less in- 
 clined than of old to bodily effort. His mind, how- 
 ever, was never more active. He had already pub- 
 lished several volumes of essays and reminiscences ; 
 during the time that he was shut up in the house he 
 wrote, by dictation, " Syrian Sunshine," containing his 
 impressions of Palestine. An accomplished artist, Mr. 
 
12 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 Appleton had devoted many hours in his life to the 
 use of the brush and pencil ; these occupations now 
 served to fill up the time and give pleasure to his 
 friends. His poetical thoughts from boyhood found 
 easy expression in graceful verse, plentifully scattered 
 through his journals and among his papers. Some of 
 these poems have been collected and published. 
 
 Mr. Appleton never lost his zest for travel, and, 
 in the later years of his life, often ran on to New York 
 and Washington in the spring, to vary the monotony 
 of a long Boston winter. It was upon the last of 
 these excursions that he caught cold ; and, detained 
 in the Albemarle Hotel, New York, by pneumonia, 
 he died there, after a brief and not painful illness 
 of a few days, on the 17th of April, 1884. 
 
 Always industrious, even in the pursuit of pleas- 
 ure, Mr. Appleton left ample journals of his earlier 
 travels. It is chiefly from these, and from his full 
 and frank letters to his father from abroad, that the 
 following pages have been compiled. 
 
 Everything of a strictly private nature has been 
 omitted, and much of the detailed account of build- 
 ings, picture-galleries, and scenery of foreign lands, 
 which, wonderful to the enthusiastic young tourist, 
 were set down with minute description for the benefit 
 of untraveled friends at home. Such descriptions, 
 with the glow omitted, to be sure, may be found now 
 
Bio graph tea L 13 
 
 in the more hackneyed phrase of guide-books and 
 countless books of travel. 
 
 Only such passages have been selected as should 
 give the thread of Mr. Appleton's life, and present 
 some idea of the wide circle of its observation and 
 its sympathies. It would be, doubtless, possible, at 
 some future time, to gather from the surviving cor- 
 respondents of Mr. Appleton a full collection of his 
 letters, but no such completeness has been now aimed 
 at. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 BOYHOOD. 
 1812-1825. 
 
 A HAPPY little boy, the son of devoted parents, 
 making light of lessons, and working hard at play, 
 popular with his playmates, and a favorite with his 
 teachers, is the image called up by the earliest letters 
 and the latest reminiscences of Thomas Gold Apple- 
 ton. 
 
 He has described himself going to school in Pond 
 Street (now Bedford), so called because there really 
 was a pond in it — playing upon the wall which kept 
 the sea from overflowing Charles Street ; once jump- 
 ing upon a scow there, and falling into the water, 
 afterward taken home to be well warmed and well 
 scolded. In those days the Common was a beautiful 
 field of natural grass, where cows might graze, in- 
 closed in a double fence of wooden rails. Mr. Apple- 
 ton used to tell how the boys of his day loved to walk 
 upon the top rail of this fence ; and how one of them, 
 
Boyhood, 1 5 
 
 engaged in this sport, slipped and fell, biting his 
 tongue so that it had to be sewed up. He loved to 
 recall the adventure of finding one day some money 
 scattered on a path of the Common, which he sup- 
 posed at first to be nothing but buttons ; his joy in 
 discovering they were really fourpences, and his de- 
 cision to spend them for the common good of the 
 boys in figs and raisins. The Frog-pond was a frog- 
 pond then, with real frogs in it ; the shores were 
 muddy, and a willow hung over the water on the 
 Beacon Street side. Thomas once lost a jackknife 
 in the pond, and, to his latest day, often looked wist- 
 fully into its waves, as he passed by, in the vague hope 
 of discerning this long-lost treasure. 
 
 In winter there was coasting, from the upper cor- 
 ner of Park Street across to Tremont, then, as now, 
 the favorite direction for it. Tom's sled, named 
 *' Nimble Dick," is still remembered " by some old 
 gentlemen," he says, " as the ne plus ultra of speed 
 and beauty." 
 
 In those days a horse and chaise was a favorite 
 means of pleasure-travel ; with his father, Tom took 
 long drives in the country, and learned his first les- 
 sons, by close observation, in a love of Nature, which 
 clung to him all his life. One of these drives was to 
 the Appleton pulpit in Saugus, where Samuel Apple- 
 ton, an ancestor of the family, in 1687, exhorted his 
 
1 6 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 listeners to resist the tyranny of Sir Edmund An- 
 dros. It is a pretty spot ; a steep, almost perpen- 
 dicular, cliff rises from a grassy base, with trees and 
 shrubs inclosing it. The flat top, at the edge of 
 the precipice, is a fine, commanding position for an 
 orator. Some years since, by Mr. Appleton's direc- 
 tion, a tablet was fastened on the surface of the 
 rock, to identify the place, and commemorate the 
 occasion. 
 
 Another object of their drives was Nahant. Mr. 
 Nathan Appleton was fond of the sea, and liis son 
 inherited the taste. Driving across the long beach, 
 and watching the creaming waves, the boy talked with 
 his father on every subject. Many traces of these 
 conversations remained in his mind in later years. 
 There was from the beginning the closest companion- 
 ship between them, and the warmest sympathy and 
 affection. 
 
 Mrs. Appleton, the mother of Thomas, was a lovely 
 woman, of great personal charm, a superior intellect, 
 and deep religious sentiment. An invalid for the later 
 years of her life, she impressed all who saw her, and 
 her children especially, with the purity of her char- 
 acter. Her memory was always treasured by her 
 son with a reverence and affection deeply pervading 
 his character. From his father, Thomas, even as a 
 little boy, received some knowledge of the Unitarian 
 
Boyhood, 1 7 
 
 views announced by Dr. Channing. A pew in Dr. 
 Channing's church, in Federal Street, belonged to the 
 family, and remained in their possession after the 
 congregation migrated to Arlington Street, where, in 
 his later years, Mr. Appleton was a constant attend- 
 ant. 
 
 Two of his companions in early youth were Wen- 
 dell Phillips and John Lothrop Motley, with whom 
 Tom had a close intimacy. The dramatic instincts 
 of all three sought development in a series of per- 
 formances in the Motley house in Walnut Street, 
 where the young performers, without audiences, used 
 to strut and rant in impromptu costumes. 
 
 Dr. Holmes, in his " Life of John Lothrop Mot- 
 ley," has described this period. He says : 
 
 " His father's family was at this time living in the 
 house No. 7 Walnut Street, looking down Chestnut 
 Street, over the water to the western hills. Near by, 
 at the corner of Beacon Street, was the residence of 
 the family of the first Mayor of Boston ; and at a 
 little distance from the opposite corner was the house 
 of one of the fathers of New England manufacturing 
 enterprise, a man of superior intellect, who built up 
 a great name and fortune in our city. The children 
 from these three homes naturally became playmates. 
 Mr. Motley's house was a very hospitable one, and 
 Lothrop and two of his young companions were al- 
 
1 8 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 lowed to carry out their schemes of amusement in 
 the garden and the garret. If one with a prescient 
 glance could have looked into that garret, on some 
 Saturday afternoon, while our century was not far 
 advanced in its second score of years, he might have 
 found three boys in cloaks and doublets and plumed 
 hats, heroes and bandits, enacting more or less im- 
 promptu melodramas. In one of the boys he would 
 have seen the embryo dramatist of a nation's life- 
 history — John Lothrop Motley ; in the second, a fa- 
 mous talker and wit, who has spilled more good things 
 on the wasteful air in conversation than would carry 
 a * diner-out * through half a dozen London seasons, 
 and waked up, somewhat after the usual flowering- 
 time of authorship, to find himself a very agreeable 
 and cordially welcomed writer — Thomas Gold Apple- 
 ton. In the third, he would have recognized a cham- 
 pion of liberty, known wherever that word is spoken, 
 an orator whom to hear is to revive all the traditions 
 of the grace, the address, the commanding sway of 
 the silver-tongued eloquence of the most renowned 
 speakers — ^Wendell Phillips." 
 
 Some childish letters are still preserved, written 
 on long foolscap paper, now yellow with time, the 
 lines carefully ruled with pencil, the capital letters 
 conscientiously formed, the sheet adorned with flour- 
 ishes, and occasionally marred with blots. The spell- 
 
Boyhood. 19 
 
 ing in these early letters leaves something to be de- 
 sired, and evidently called forth reproof from the 
 watchful father, followed by apology and improve- 
 ment. This one, written on a visit, for the bene- 
 fit of his health, in the country, shows a little 
 longing for the comforts of home : 
 
 New Ipswich, 18/// July. 
 
 MoN CHER Pere : I now undertake to write you 
 for the first time. I shall put it in a sort of journal, 
 beginning — 
 
 Monday. — When you left me, I went into Mr. 
 Newell's, and read of the water - spout, etc., in his 
 book of curiosities. After breakfast, I drew a little 
 of that mill-view I got of Mr. Brown ; after which I 
 mowed a little with my host, Sam, and another, but 
 very poorly. After dinner, I helped them to get in an 
 exceeding large load ; going into the barn, my head 
 struck, very nearly, the beams, I being on top. I am 
 as yet well pleased with my host and hostess, and 
 hope to be contented. 
 
 Tuesday. — I went for the first time to-day to that 
 den of tyranny, a school. I recited a lesson in Sal- 
 lust, and was pretty well worn out before I came 
 home. This afternoon I stayed from school to write. 
 ... I do not think school did me much good to-day, 
 and I don't want to stay there long. I long to see 
 
20 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 you and the rest of the family, as I am rather tired 
 of New Ipswich. 
 
 I remain, your 
 
 Ever-loving son, 
 
 T. G. Appleton. 
 P. S. — I hope to come home before a month is out. 
 
 His next letter is more cheerful : 
 
 New Ipswich, July iith. 
 
 My Father : You can not conceive what pleas- 
 ure I felt in reading your letter. I have been much 
 better the last two days, which I am sure you will be 
 glad to hear. We had two very affecting sernfions 
 yesterday by a Mr. Danforth : the afternoon one was 
 a funeral sermon ; the text was, " And there is no 
 hope." He gave a very animating description of the 
 torments of the sinner in hell, for whom there is no 
 hope, upon whom the dark waves of eternity roll, 
 tinged with the bitter wrath of the Almighty. 
 
 On Saturday, I had a visit from Mr. Wallace, who 
 offered to lend me any books he had, and invited me 
 to come over and play chess with him, and showed 
 beaucoiip de la politesse. I read " The Absentee," by 
 Mrs. Edgeworth, and am reading " Clarentine." I 
 have drawn as yet three pieces, one of them, for Sam, 
 a scare -crow. The dog-days begin to-day, and it 
 rains, and I feel rather dogmatic. I did not go to 
 
Boyhood, 2 1 
 
 school this morning, but expect to this afternoon, 
 although it rains. 
 
 There is a postscript to this letter from his host- 
 ess, in which she says : 
 
 "I think Thomas's health is improving, and I 
 should like to have him spend several weeks with us, 
 as his company is very pleasant and agreeable. He 
 submits to every inconvenience with cheerfulness, 
 and I do not think it a task to have him here." 
 
 In the boy were to be traced the germs of char- 
 acteristics which in manhood became strongly marked. 
 Shy and sensitive, for fear of being laughed at, he 
 said and did things to turn the laugh upon him, that 
 he might laugh himself with the rest. An original 
 mind, a keen perception of the differences and like- 
 nesses of objects animate and inanimate, a gift of 
 comparing things most extreme, were born with him. 
 His temper was quick, and his views of his own rights 
 exacting, which put him at times at odds with his 
 playmates ; but his good spirits and marvelous power 
 of entertaining made him, even at an early age, a 
 favorite companion. 
 
 Vanity was lacking among his early traits of char- 
 acter ; that love of praise and flattery, which leads 
 boys to show off their accomplishments, was held in 
 
22 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 check by a sensitive pride, born of fear of ridicule 
 and doubt as to success. At Mr. Greene's school, 
 however, and later, at the Latin School, he held a 
 good rank in his classes, showing early a turn for lan- 
 guage which served him always in good stead. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 ROUND HILL. 
 1826. 
 
 When Thomas was thirteen, in 1825, he was sent 
 to the school at Round Hill, in Northampton, Massa- 
 chusetts. He published, nearly fifty years afterward, 
 his reminiscences of this famous school, where he 
 passed three years. The fresh recollections he retained 
 of the place are a proof of the good system employed 
 there. 
 
 Two American gentlemen, Mr. Joseph Green Cogs- 
 well and Mr. George Bancroft, both scholars familiar 
 with the educational systems of Germany, determined 
 to attempt in their own country the experiment of a 
 school on the Fellenberg plan. 
 
 The institution of Fellenberg, at Hofwyl, in Switz- 
 erland, was intended to combine thorough culture of 
 mind with physical training. Situated within easy 
 reach of Alpine peaks, whose white crests indented the 
 horizon, it offered a perpetual promise of vacation 
 climbing after diligent study. Not only the fascina- 
 
24 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 tions of Alpine ascent, but the severer home discipline 
 of the gymnasium, secured development for the physi- 
 cal man, while careful attention was given to the rou- 
 tine of study through training by books. 
 
 Such double advantages, to boys of mental and 
 physical growth, inside the school-house and in the 
 open air, these American gentlemen were determined 
 to obtain. Drawn by the laws of association and ex- 
 ternal resemblance, they selected the beautiful emi- 
 nence called Round Hill, near Northampton, for the 
 site of the experiment. 
 
 Their prospectus drew, like a magnet, boys from 
 all parts of the country ; the school was opened in 
 the autumn of 1823, and lasted about ten years. 
 
 It was a new thing, full of life and vigor, sus- 
 tained by the proved scholarship and genius of the 
 historian Bancroft, and of the large staff of officers 
 under him ; while its success was due, in great meas- 
 ure, to the singular combination of admirable quali- 
 ties possessed by Mr. Cogswell. He was a man who 
 united the characteristics of the man of study and of 
 action. His head, filled as it was with the learning 
 of America and Europe, could not overbalance his 
 generous large-heartedness ; he won completely, with- 
 out attempting it in any manner, by the direct display 
 of his own character, the respect and confidence of 
 his scholars. At one time the boys must have num- 
 
Round Hill. 25 
 
 bered as many as a hundred and fifty ; they came 
 from almost every State in the Union. Not war, not 
 distance, not time, could break the bond between 
 them ; and the clasp which held them all was their 
 reverence and affection for Mr. Cogswell. 
 
 The relation of Mr. Cogswell with his scholars 
 was peculiar. He was not by nature fitted for the 
 austere duties of the schoolmaster. There was very 
 little of Dionysius the tyrant in him, whose relish for 
 the sufferings of young people intrusted to him has 
 survived in nests of cruelty of the type of Dotheboys 
 Hall. In fact, in no sense was there much of the 
 mere schoolmaster in Mr. Cogswell. He regarded 
 details of book-learning and study as but accessories 
 to the larger intention of making the man and the 
 gentleman. In the school-room, as on summer excur- 
 sions, where he led off the procession, he was one of 
 the party — a boy, though of larger growth and ma- 
 turer experience ; by no means a Jupiter Tonans, 
 frowning upon the rest from his raised platform. 
 
 Indeed, his relation to the boys was scarcely even 
 
 that of a teacher. He was the organizer, manager, 
 
 and father of the community ; his department was 
 
 that of affectionate moral influence ; besides which, 
 
 he was head farmer, builder, gardener, and treasurer 
 
 of the place. He loved his school, his boys, his 
 
 Round Hill ; and pursued his plans of expansion 
 3 
 
26 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 and embellishment in every direction, without much 
 thought of profit or personal advantage. 
 
 These duties were enough for one man, without 
 the fatiguing details of instruction and recitation, 
 which fell to the share of a large staff of teachers — 
 German, French, Italian, and Spanish, as well as of 
 young men fresh from our college-training — all under 
 the able general supervision of Mr. Bancroft. 
 
 The indirect influences of education are often 
 overlooked. Many a scholar, many a noble genius, 
 has contracted the habit of devotion to letters, with 
 deficient love of the outer world. The outside influ- 
 ences of Round Hill were, perhaps, the best part of it, 
 and are certainly what its scholars loved and remem- 
 bered the best. Let any one visit the lovely situation, 
 and he will readily imagine how the converging influ- 
 ences of such scenery acted upon the boys. 
 
 At the foot of the eminence, shining through or- 
 chard-bowers, was the then stately town of Jonathan 
 Edwards, and over the rich distance were seen 
 glimpses of the indolent circuit of the Connecticut 
 River. Mount Holyoke, one of the few real mount- 
 ains of Massachusetts, of noble outline and sufficient 
 height, was ever encamped over against Round Hill, 
 to stimulate imagination with desire and mystery. 
 
 The area of Mr. Cogswell's domain was something 
 like three quarters of a mile square ; its borders were 
 
Round Hill. 27 
 
 known as " The Bounds," beyond which it was a 
 pleasant wickedness to pass. The scholars were sore- 
 ly tried, and did not fail frequently to violate the laws 
 of limitation, for, on one side, under the hill, nestled 
 hospitable roofs, and shops of succulent attraction for 
 growing boyhood ; on the other, were noble woods 
 peopled with game — squirrels of all colors, wood- 
 chucks, rabbits, and even, very rarely, wild turkeys — 
 to be hunted down leafy alleys, under majestic trees, 
 which opened, to the ardent fancy of the boy, like 
 vistas of the " Faerie Queen," where possibly a Una 
 might be hid — one where surely glamour and enchant- 
 ment reigned. 
 
 Though limited usually by the bounds, the boys 
 were permitted excursions both in summer and win- 
 ter, sometimes with Dr. Graeter, an eccentric German 
 drawing-teacher, to sketch the lovely scenery which 
 abounded near the Hill. It was a delightful after- 
 noon's occupation, frequently leading the young art- 
 ists as far as the banks of the Licking-water. Some- 
 times the doctor, as the boys called him, would leave 
 them to sketch by themselves for a time. On one 
 occasion a boy (perhaps Tom himself), profiting by 
 this liberty, had enjoyed, with a party of his compan- 
 ions, a glorious swim in the river. The only sketch 
 which he had to show later to the doctor, as the re- 
 sult of the afternoon, was the drawing of a palm-tree, 
 
28 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 which happened to be in his book. In broken Eng- 
 lish and with much solemnity the doctor desired to 
 be conducted to the tree. After taking the good man 
 some distance, in the vain hope of tiring him out, the 
 boy said the palm-tree was so far south, he feared 
 they would not get back in time for supper. *' I 
 should dink so," remarked the doctor, without mov- 
 ing a muscle of his face, and they returned without 
 visiting the palm. 
 
 To bathe in the Licking-water, though it was, of 
 course, not equal to the sea, was a great delight., So 
 lucid was it that the bottom was everywhere visible. 
 The sprays of over-arching trees touched and made 
 music upon its surface, birds flew and sang overhead, 
 scarcely was there a sign of man visible, and all 
 seemed poetry and enchantment. Nor was the charm 
 of the river diminished in winter, when, beneath the 
 flawless ice, as through glass, were seen the pebbles 
 below. To make a first impression upon its surface, 
 to carve their initials with the sharp steel of their 
 skates, was rapture to breathless flights of skimming 
 boys, each seeking to outstrip the others. 
 
 In midwinter, the boys were expected to study 
 from six in the morning till breakfast-time, by candle- 
 light, coming from warm beds to break ice in the pail 
 for washing, often grinding their young cheeks against 
 slabs of ice, as if they were so much soap. 
 
Round Hill, 29 
 
 The zeal of Mr. Cogswell for his school led him 
 to provide horses for the exercise of the boys, and in 
 a cloud of cavalry they scoured the plain to the dis- 
 tant banks of the Connecticut. Sefior San Martin, 
 the Spanish teacher, v/ho accompanied them, was an 
 accomplished horseman ; he rode, well seated, with 
 depressed heel, and had all the look of a true cabal- 
 lero. This professor had the typical pride and iras- 
 cible temper of his nation. He was watchful for in- 
 sult in certain mistranslations affected by the boys ; 
 and when the Spanish word todos occurred, which he 
 feared to hear rendered toads^ the expectant passion 
 in his face was a wonder to behold. 
 
 One of the great pleasures of the boys was a gar- 
 den, a considerable bit of ground where many infant 
 lessons were gained in farming. Most of the boys 
 were as awkward with the roots of their flowers and 
 vegetables, handling them in defiance of the laws of 
 patient development, as they were with those tougher 
 roots which fill the soil of Greek and Latin culture. 
 An impatience of the growth of pease and peppers, 
 cucumbers and melons, has always characterized the 
 young farmer. The willingness of youth to see 
 whether his bean or nasturtium may have taken root 
 is the cause of a metaphor applying the process to 
 the more tender sprouting of the affections ; Officious 
 friends have been accused of pulling up many a half- 
 
30 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 rooted attachment, in hope of discovering whether it 
 was really fixed in the soil of the heart. 
 
 A greater pleasure than the garden to the boys was 
 the unexpected bliss, through the generosity of Mr. 
 Cogswell, of being co-proprietors of a boy-town, not 
 to be found on any map, which received the name of 
 Crony Village. Its site was a sloping hill, running 
 downward to a brook. Bricks and mortar were fur- 
 nished, beams and boards, and the little colony was 
 constructed by the boys themselves, generally divided 
 into families of two. Soon the evening smokq as- 
 cended from many hearths, round which the inmates 
 of these happy homes were seated, reading or playing 
 friendly games, or devouring, with a relish no after- 
 meals could give, Carolina potatoes drawn from the 
 ashes — each an ingot of pure gold, with added gold 
 of butter ; game, such as squirrels, the spoil of the 
 bow, or rabbits caught in traps ; to which were some- 
 times surreptitiously added pies and doughnuts, 
 brought in mysterious raids from distant taverns and 
 farm-houses. 
 
 All such delights have but their day. After a time 
 Crony Village was found not to work well ; the raids 
 for pies and doughnuts were regarded with disfavor by 
 the authorities, and the boys heard with anguish, from 
 Mr. Cogswell's lips, the agonizing words, " ' Delenda est 
 Carthago^ Crony Village shall be no more ! *' A com- 
 
Round Hill. 31 
 
 mittee of destroyers, chosen from among the boys 
 themselves, was appointed by Mr. Cogswell to do the 
 work. With heavy hearts they proceeded on their fatal 
 errand, under the magnificent chestnuts, which seemed 
 to wave in sympathy with their woe, and soon all the 
 work of their hands was destroyed. So deep was their 
 reverence and respect for Mr. Cogswell that even this 
 great calamity was accepted as a thing not only in- 
 evitable, but just ; and they could bear to see without 
 flinching the carious hollows along the hill where their 
 dwellings had been. 
 
 Mr. Cogswell's theory was one of guidance. Such 
 occasional departures from right as became human 
 nature were punished by loss of privileges, depriva- 
 tion of play-time, or degradation to a lower form in 
 the school-room, even by expulsion, but never by vio- 
 lence : he occasionally threatened, when the sinful ele- 
 ment predominated, to bring the boys into the slavish 
 routine and military subjection of West Point ; but it 
 was only a threat, and the boys knew it. There was in 
 use, however, one mysterious punishment for Titanic 
 breaches of authority which impressed the school 
 through its grandeur. This was the " Dungeon," in 
 which the most refractory subjects were sometimes 
 put. Through accident and infirmity even the most 
 beloved and orderly boys would sometimes manage 
 to get in, under some strain of their irrepressible na- 
 
32 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 tures, in which, according to the Calvinistic belief, as 
 in bottled ginger-beer, a thousand original sins were 
 always ready to pop forth. 
 
 In the main, the male sex predominated on the 
 Hill. The masters were men, the boys were little 
 men, and woman was a rara avis in terra. But one 
 room there held two functionaries without whom no 
 boy's life can be complete. 
 
 Mrs. Ryder supplied to him a little the place of 
 his mother ; by her cozy fireside he found something 
 of the old home feeling, and could ease the choking 
 homesickness that at times must rise in his throat. 
 In her room were no turbulence, no competition, only 
 woman's sympathy and tender care. Mrs. Ryder may 
 well have wondered why the boys loved her so much, 
 but she half understood it at least. She felt expanded 
 in her motherly nature until she could embrace with 
 something of a mother's tenderness so large a family, 
 and this well-spring of affection made green the waste 
 places of her life. In her room was the boy allowed 
 to sit, and say and ask those things which could not 
 be said elsewhere. In her hospitable shovel could be 
 run the lead for the tops of feathered arrows, and 
 hatchets whose edge was not of the finest. She could 
 say nay to no wish of the boys. 
 
 Behind, in the background, her rosy daughter stood 
 for them all as an ideal of womanhood. She had less 
 
Round HilL 2>Z 
 
 to say to the boys than her mother, but distance and 
 withdrawal did not lessen their devotion. Once the 
 elderly woman was taken with a fever, to the great 
 grief of the school. Daily messages of love were sent 
 to her which the daughter returned through her tears. 
 Just as she was expected to die, Mrs. Ryder had a 
 vision of one of the boys standing with a glass of soda 
 in a certain place by her bed. The boy was told of it, 
 procured the soda, and gave her, standing as the vision 
 indicated, the refreshing draught ; after taking it, she 
 immediately recovered. 
 
 The organ of nourishment is something marvelous 
 in its demands. The man looks back upon his youth- 
 ful appetite which is a part of the boy's ardor, in- 
 nocence, and activity, with reverence and envy. In 
 young puppies, and other browsing and feeding ani- 
 mals when young, he sees something of the energy of 
 that youthful mastication. In the boy, as in the pup- 
 py, food seems instantly to be converted into fresh 
 life, so that there is always a yawning void which no 
 amount of ordinary meals can fill up. In vain does 
 he throw into the abyss peanuts, maple-sugar, and all 
 the foreign fascinations of the grocer's shop — semper 
 atque recurrit. 
 
 Nothing could be less like Mr. Squeers's table than 
 the generous board of the Round-Hillers. It was one 
 of the habits of the school to prescribe occasionally at 
 
34 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 meals conversation in various modern languages ; but 
 over that trivial barrier the hound-like appetite of the 
 boy could easily leap. No Spanish difficulty in ren- 
 dering "doughnuts," or apple-pie, kept him long from 
 those dainties. 
 
 Twice a week there was cake for tea. The boys, 
 in playing marbles, after losing to cleverer players 
 their superb "blood-alleys," would pledge in advance 
 on the issue of the game their cake of many cake-days 
 ahead. It was distressing to see these victims of bad 
 luck or skill surrendering to one haughty victor, the 
 cake of weeks ! 
 
 This not morbid, most healthy, and animal hunger 
 of the boys found a dangerous gratification in parcels 
 of goodies placed by naughty carpenters and work- 
 men, willing to accept money from the boys, in cachets 
 agreed upon beforehand. Sometimes, too, the sim- 
 plicity of a boy would induce him to procure from a 
 town friend a box of fabulous attraction : guava, heavy 
 and luscious in its filmy boxes ; prunes, purple and 
 pretentious, with mystical French titles upon the corks ; 
 gingerbread — with tenderness and aroma ever de- 
 creasing, until it became but a chestnut sawdust ; pre- 
 served peaches, huge fans of raisins, looking like those 
 of Eshcol. Such boxes were always seized by the 
 authorities and confiscated on their way to the person 
 whose name they bore. Too often, with heavy heart, 
 
Round HilL 35 
 
 he would be allowed to look beyond the lifted lid 
 upon the treasures that were denied him. At the end 
 of the term he was allowed to recover his spoil, and 
 to divide it among his friends. This was mostly a 
 funereal pleasure, as only a few of the things, such as 
 squares of chocolate, were none the worse for keeping. 
 
 The most distinctive element of the school, bor- 
 rowed from the Fellenberg system, was the annual 
 journey of the boys. They went with horses and 
 wagons, " ride and tie," not to fatigue the weak ones. 
 Cities were visited, villas of friends admired and ex- 
 amined, rivers crossed, until at last the little army 
 found itself encamped upon a great water, Long Island 
 Sound, at Saybrook, being usually the farthest point 
 reached. A comfortable fishing-smack was provided 
 for them, and many were the specimens of marine life 
 that flopped and fluttered upon its deck. 
 
 All sorts of sports were encouraged as well as fish- 
 ing, and the woods around Round Hill furnished an 
 abundance of wild creatures for the exercise of skill in 
 shooting. The huge chestnut-trees literally swarmed 
 with squirrels, red and gray ; the chipmunk, or, as the 
 Southern boys used to call him, "fence-mouse," was 
 too tame to be counted as game. In summer evenings 
 the flying-squirrel might be seen floating from tree to 
 tree. Rabbits and woodchucks were to be trapped j 
 but the birds — robins, blue-jays, woodpeckers, among 
 
36 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 them the superb yellow-hammer, and kingfisher — fell 
 before the arrow. The bows were made of ash, with 
 arrows of hickory ; their heads, tipped with steel points 
 or sharpened cones of tin, would often go clean through 
 a squirrel or a robin. Much of this game served for 
 the repasts of Crony Village. 
 
 Mixed with this dawn-flash of animal spirits, be- 
 hind these bounding pulses, unspoken of, were work- 
 ing outward the religious, immortal germs of inner 
 life. Many a journal, blotted by tears, received the 
 heart-agony, the aspirations, the longings which none 
 suspected. 
 
 The respect and reverence which the boys felt for 
 Mr. Cogswell were entwined with a feeling, softer and 
 tenderer, of true affection. Many years afterward all 
 the surviving scholars of Round Hill were summoned 
 to meet at a dinner in honor of their beloved teacher, 
 given at the Parker House in Boston. Several of the 
 instructors of the school, and all the "boys" who 
 could come, were present. Again the old sunshine of 
 the master's countenance beamed upon his children, 
 and the old memories were revived. Old anecdotes 
 of boyish pranks, old nicknames, came to the surface ; 
 gray-bearded men were again restored to boyhood by 
 the spirit of the hour. 
 
 After Mr. Cogswell's death, which occurred in 
 187 1, his surviving scholars united to erect over his 
 
Round Hill. 37 
 
 grave a simple monument, in affectionate remem- 
 brance of their teacher. In speaking of it, Mr. Apple- 
 ton says : 
 
 " As they look across that grave, from the sunset 
 of their lives, they will see through the interval of 
 years, bright with success or dark with sorrow and 
 bereavement, their old master, their old school-days, 
 themselves moving through the dilation of the crim- 
 son mists of morning. Everything then will be ideal- 
 ized, and that unfulfilled promise, which earth can not 
 keep, may be to them dearer than the conquests which 
 years have won for them, or the fugitive successes of 
 life's arena." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ROUND HILL LETTERS, 
 1827. 
 
 During the three years he was at Round Hill, 
 Thomas wrote regularly and with great frankness to 
 his father. Many of these letters have been preserved, 
 their style advancing from that of a child to one of 
 maturer thought. 
 
 In the first one he describes his masters and stud- 
 ies, and then adds : 
 
 " I am building a house, which makes a pretty 
 respectable appearance, in Crony Village. ... I have 
 been perfectly well since I came. As to my spirits, I 
 am in as good as I could expect away from home. I 
 want my sled, and I want all of you to write me often." 
 
 He was not long to enjoy the house. He writes : 
 
 January 15, 1826. 
 
 . . . Just before I wrote this, Mr. Cogswell de- 
 clared that which will materially injure the happiness 
 
Round Hill Letters, 39 
 
 of the boys, which is, that our houses, or caverns, as 
 he terms them, must be abandoned, and destroyed 
 immediately. The reason is this : Mr. C has fre- 
 quently observed certain boys to be absent from meals. 
 He soon suspected something, and at last discovered 
 the whole affair, by his cunning and sagacity, which 
 is this : The boys, for their greater accommodation at 
 their houses, have by stealth purchased sundry articles 
 of the people in the neighborhood, and thus became 
 acquainted with them, and went to their houses. Some 
 of the articles were these : sausages, flour, potatoes, 
 apples, etc. He stated that he considered it inconsist- 
 ent with his duty to permit them to do things that he 
 knew their parents would disapprove, and to prevent 
 which he took them under his charge, and he made 
 quite a long speech to us in the evening. Mr. Cogs- 
 well has a penetration and knowledge of human na- 
 ture, with the like quality I hardly ever saw any man 
 endowed. He possesses a wonderful awe over the 
 boys, and there is hardly any boy who can conceal a 
 lie or deceit from him. I have several instances of 
 his cunning. I will relate one : One unpleasant and 
 moist evening he told the boys he thought that it was 
 unsafe to go down to their houses, and therefore for- 
 bade it. Some few, either not understanding him, or 
 from a motive not so good, went down there. He, al- 
 though one would think he would be detained by 
 
40 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 some more important business, and the unpleasantness 
 of the weather, but still under the bare chance of find- 
 ing some, went, and surprised them all in their holes. 
 In one of the houses they were enjoying themselves 
 on a pudding of their own make, little expecting such 
 a visit. Hearing him knock, and thinking he was a 
 boy, they opened the door. How greatly he and they 
 were astonished, and how soon the pudding went under 
 the bench, I leave you to imagine. Saturday evening 
 presented a dismal sight. About thirty houses were 
 utterly destroyed from the face of the earth, and their 
 inmates sent forth to mourn for the loss of their prop- 
 erty. The destroyers came, and that which was before 
 a flourishing village, rapidly increasing in houses and 
 inhabitants, was soon reduced to nothing but a heap 
 of ruins. And all this destruction was perpetrated by 
 only two emissaries of Mr. Cogswell, except those 
 houses that were destroyed by the voluntary despair 
 of their owners. Here one could see the remnant of 
 a roof, and there a smoking pile of boards. The axe 
 and club first demolished the houses, and then fire 
 was applied to consign them forever to oblivion. But 
 enough of this. 
 
 In the same letter he tells what he is studying : 
 
 As I believe you have not heard much concern- 
 ing the books that I study, I will now inform you. In 
 
Round Hill Letters. 41 
 
 Latin I am advanced about six sections in the 
 second Catiline oration ; in French, I study Louis 
 XIV and Mr. Hentse's * French Reader * ; in arith- 
 metic, I am half through Colburn's * Sequel ' ; and 
 in Spanish, I am getting along pretty fast, study- 
 ing * Colmena Espafiola,' que es un libro de las 
 piezas escogidas de varios autores EspanoleSy par F. 
 Sales. 
 
 As the cold weather prevailed, T. G. was still 
 anxious to have his sled " Nimble Dick " sent to 
 him from Boston. His father seems to have made 
 some objections, for the son writes : 
 
 February 5, 1826. 
 ... I do not think your arguments against send- 
 ing up my sled are very powerful. In the first place, 
 you say it is not worth while to send wood into the 
 country ; but you must know that what most consti- 
 tutes a good sled is the ironSy and that it should run 
 several years to be as good as mine ; therefore, you see 
 that we boys can neither make irons nor good sleds ; 
 as to the skates, we can not get good ones up here, as 
 they are all quite low and poor ; and my poor skates 
 have received a mortal blow beyond repair, as both 
 the iron and wood are broken. So I present my peti- 
 tion a second time, hoping that you may pardon my 
 boldness. 
 
42 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 He goes on : 
 
 I am rather surprised at your not mentioning any- 
 thing about coming up yourself ; nevertheless, I must 
 remember that '''' patientia omnia vincity 
 
 This school has done a good deal of good to me 
 as to my manners, etc. ; for, as you know, it is com- 
 posed of boys from all quarters of the Union, as we 
 have some from almost every State ; and, on that 
 account, the customs, phrases, and appearance of us 
 Yankees seem strange to them ; as likewise the. flat 
 dialect and strange pronunciation of the letter a by 
 the Southerners seem disagreeable to our ears. On 
 account of these dissimilitudes we are constantly quiz- 
 zing one another ; but I am sensible that the poor 
 Yankees have the worst of it, as the whole school, 
 masters and all, are constantly mentioning our faults 
 — for instance, the pronunciation of been, ben, while it 
 ought to be pronounced bin^ the adding the letter r to 
 several words that want it, and not pronouncing the 
 ing in participles, and many other Boston peculiarities. 
 The effect these things have had on me is to mend my 
 pronunciation, cause me to walk straighter than be- 
 fore, and pay greater attention to neatness, which I 
 am deficient in. 
 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 T. G. Appleton. 
 
Round Hill Letters. 43 
 
 Here is the whole of a letter written at this time : 
 
 March I2, 1826. 
 
 My dear Father : On Friday evening I received 
 your much expected and wished-for packet. I could 
 not read it as soon as I wished, as a rather ludicrous 
 circumstance was going on ; for two boys were tried 
 by the other boys for whispering, and convicted, and 
 as in the evening their punishment was to stand up 
 half an hour, the uproar the boys made prevented me 
 from its perusal then. But when I did it was with the 
 greatest pleasure, as the cash was sufficient, and the 
 matter good. 
 
 At first I could not imagine what the packet could 
 contain, and I was m.uch gratified in seeing what it 
 was (and, indeed, I wish you would send me more 
 newspapers and pamphlets than you do). I have read 
 a good deal in it, and think it excellent, just as I 
 should think Mr. Channing would write. I think the 
 first half is the best ; I mean by that what I under- 
 stand the clearest, and written with most spirit and 
 beauty. I like very much his comparison between 
 Johnson and Milton, and his description of " Paradise 
 Lost," which I intend to read. 
 
 On Friday the sun shone for the first time since 
 eleven days, awakening me from my drowsy slumbers 
 rather earlier than usual, and by its cheerful smile ex- 
 
44 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 citing in every heart mild feelings of buoyancy and 
 delight, which the former dark and dismal days had 
 suppressed. 
 
 It was a fine day, and all the boys valued it the 
 more, it being so rare to have a pleasant Saturday. 
 Now at six o'clock, where three months ago we needed 
 lights, the sunshine is as bright as at midday. 
 
 I have performed a feat worthy of being under- 
 taken by Hercules, for I have asked Mr. B that 
 
 question you desired me to about the elephant and 
 the serpent ; for the other day, as we were going from 
 school to breakfast, I lagged behind to meet Mr. Ban- 
 croft, and when I asked him he smiled (this shows, 
 by-the-by, how near his brain is to the end of his 
 tongue), for, before I had hardly finished, he said : 
 **The author, I believe, is Pliny ; but," said he, "I will 
 write your father about it." But I doubt if he will. 
 For my part, I can not see anything applicable to our 
 question in Pliny, unless he refers to the immense 
 serpent, supposed to have been a boa, on the coast of 
 Africa, that obstructed the passage of Regulus and his 
 army : the snake was so tough and large that Regulus 
 was obliged to bring his battering-ram and machines 
 against it, as in besieging a city ; at length he van- 
 quished it, and sent parts of it to Rome as trophies. 
 
 I can't help giving you an account of a walk I took 
 yesterday afternoon, the most interesting I have had 
 
Round Hill Letters. 45 
 
 here. With three other boys, as the day was beauti- 
 ful, and the balmy air and waving trees, together with 
 the holiday, invited us to walk : we set out over the 
 back of the Hill ; we crossed fields verdant with ever- 
 green and rendered pleasant by the warbling of the 
 birds and the beauty of the distant scenery, till at last 
 we arrived at a beautiful wood of pines, and there we 
 started the project of walking to the Licking- water. 
 *Twas no sooner proposed than undertaken ; we crossed 
 fences and woods, till at last we scarcely knew where 
 we were, leaping brooks, and pushing through thick 
 woods. After about half an hour's walking we began 
 to think we must be near the stream, and presently we 
 ascended a small hill and saw before us a steep bank, 
 and could catch through the waving pines glimpses of 
 the river. We descended the bank by the assistance 
 of twigs and decayed trunks, overthrown by some tem- 
 pest, till at last we found ourselves on the brink of 
 the river, enjoying one of the finest scenes I ever be- 
 held. I sprang on a rock to enjoy it better. We could 
 trace the river with our eyes to some extent both up 
 and down, rolling over rocks with a harmonious sound 
 which together with the sweet sighing of the lofty 
 pines, agitated by the gentle breeze, formed such rav- 
 ishing contrasts that it seemed as if I could sit for- 
 ever there and enjoy the enchanting scene. The pict- 
 ure was beautiful, the water here tumbling over the 
 
46 Tko7nas G. Appleton, 
 
 rocks in small falls, there hurrying along over a smooth 
 bottom, sometimes green, at others of a dirty hue ; now 
 and then a huge oak or pine rooted up by the mount- 
 ain-blast lay across the water, forming a natural 
 bridge, or draggling in the stream that foliage which 
 before had kissed the skies. I could fill a letter with 
 the account of this walk, but as, unfortunately, my 
 paper is full, I remain affectionately your son, 
 
 Thomas. 
 
 May 28, 1826. 
 
 The gardens come along pretty well, and every 
 day the old saying of "ill weeds grow apace" is proved 
 
 to be true. Mr. C says he does not remember 
 
 the time when weeds and ants did so much damage ; 
 and it is true, for my melons, radishes, pepper-grass, 
 everything is prostrated before the gripe of this ruth- 
 less invader. The whole artillery and strength of lime 
 and ashes thunders impotent upon the head of the 
 common enemy. They continue to advance, and un- 
 less the hand of Providence quickly brings relief, there 
 will not be a vegetable fit to be seen in the whole 
 garden. 
 
 I expect to begin to ride before long, for now al- 
 most every Saturday Mr. Cogswell takes some boys 
 to ride with him. The bow is now the principal im- 
 plement of play among the boys, and almost every 
 
Round Hill Letters, 47 
 
 one has one. Bathing is one of the things I like best 
 of all the summer amusements, it is so cooling and — I 
 must stop, for the sounds, " T. G. ! " from the mouth of 
 Mr. Bancroft, vibrate upon my ear. It is very strange 
 that twice lately, just as I was finishing a letter, I 
 should have been interrupted by the agreeable sum- 
 mons — " A letter for you, T. G. ! " — but so it is. 
 
 The summer vacation was passed at home, and a 
 second school-year entered upon. Thomas writes : 
 
 January 21, 1827. 
 
 It would seem, dear father, that the late cold 
 weather had frozen the communication between us, as 
 neither of us has written or received any letters for 
 some time. The cold here is extreme, the sleighing is 
 remarkably fine, and has been for some time. . . . 
 
 Lately I have got very high in Mr. Bancroft's fa- 
 vor, and he has given me many flattering testimonials 
 of it — taking me sleigh-riding with him, inviting me 
 to his room, with many other marks of favor. I think 
 I can trace it to my themes. He told me the other 
 day that, as I wrote so well, he wanted exceedingly 
 to make me a perfect writer ! He also asked me to 
 write him a poetical theme ; and I have written one, 
 but there are many lines of false metre. I have a 
 good mind to send it to you, but you must remember 
 that it is not finished off yet. 
 
48 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Proud bird of my country, to thee I sing; 
 
 To the Muses I call for aid. 
 Thou art borne aloft on the whirlwind's wing, 
 
 In thunder and darkness arrayed. 
 
 2. 
 
 Undaunted thou look'st on the sun's red glare, 
 And viewest the earth with scorn, 
 
 As thou sailest on high through regions of air, 
 Or dartest gayly along. 
 
 3- 
 Thou buildest thy nest on the mountain's cliff, 
 
 Or skimmest along the main ; 
 And hailest afar the adventurous skiff — 
 
 Forever thou art the same. 
 
 4. 
 When war's crimson hand our land bathed in gore, 
 
 Oh ! then thou left'st thy repose ; 
 When foreign invaders encumbered our shore, 
 
 And slavery threatened its woes : 
 
 5- 
 When kindred met kindred in battle's rude shock, 
 
 Thou hovered over our head ; 
 Then thy broad wings were our nation's firm rock, 
 
 Or a shelter to the unfortunate dead. 
 
 6. 
 
 When Mars, red with blood, had quitted the field. 
 And Britain had recrossed the sea, 
 
Round Hill Letters. 49 
 
 Victory by your presence you joyfully sealed — 
 Oh, joyful may victory be ! 
 
 7. 
 And now the strife's over, our vows we will make 
 
 On the altar to Liberty's form ; 
 And long in our memory may thy look live. 
 
 Which watched us in battle and storm ! 
 
 My new clothes please me very much. They are 
 made very well, and the color suits me to a T. 
 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 T. G. A. 
 
 This juvenile, patriotic effort is ornamented by a 
 huge penmanship eagle, such- as is the delight of the 
 writing-master, the admiration and terror alike of the 
 
 unskilled pupil. 
 
 Februaty 8, 1827. 
 
 Dear Father : Mrs. G has arrived. After 
 
 supper at her house, as we were alone, I suppose 
 
 she meant to give me a verbal chastising. She asked 
 
 me if I had read Mr. Channing's sermon in New York 
 
 (which, by-the-way, I want you to send up). I replied 
 
 in the negative, but said I supposed it was excellent, 
 
 as the rest of his publications are. She smiled, and 
 
 said she liked the style, but not the sentiments. She 
 
 seemed to think Mr. Channing a bad man, who did 
 
 not act conscientiouslv. This led to religion ; her argu- 
 5 
 
50 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 ments seemed to lead to disputation. I had to reply, 
 and as they were such as are generally objected to our 
 sect, and such as, in our conversations on the sub- 
 ject, I have often heard you refute, I found it easy to 
 answer them ; and I fancy her victory was not so 
 easily obtained as she expected, or rather she ob- 
 tained no victory at all, for I answered all her argu- 
 ments, and even asked her to explain some passages, 
 till at last the entrance of some one put an end to the 
 conversation. She seemed to think that a good Indian, 
 who, guided by the light of nature and of conscience, 
 did his best, would not be rewarded ; and that no 
 conscientious Christian of another sect than her own 
 would be saved ! She pardoned all other sects but the 
 Unitarians ; she said they sapped the root of Chris- 
 tianity, that they took away all hope, etc. And what 
 surprised me most was that, while she was complain- 
 ing that Mr. Channing railed at her sect too badly, she 
 herself was caviling us terribly. Do not think that I 
 mean this as a display of my vanity, but to fill up the 
 letter, and make it altogether entre nous. 
 
 Mrs. Ryder was extremely pleased with her gown, 
 and praised it above all the other presents she had ; 
 and was quite surprised to hear that it was an Ameri- 
 can production. I was really glad to see the joy tes- 
 tified by the old lady. It must have come in good 
 season, as the doctor's bill would require all her 
 
Round Hill Letters, 51 
 
 spare cash, and make it rather inconvenient to buy- 
 gowns. 
 
 The illness referred to here made a deep impres- 
 sion upon the boys, all of whom regarded the matron 
 with an affection transferred in part from their moth- 
 ers* share. 
 
 March i8, 1827. 
 
 Mr. Bancroft has had a fine ball, of which I sup- 
 pose you have heard. He invited two hundred peo- 
 ple ; but not so many came. Out of the school-boys 
 only about eight were invited, but I was among this 
 favored few. But the worst of it is that, while every 
 one was congratulating me on my good luck, I had 
 the fate to be racked with a wretched headache which 
 incapacitated me from going. So I had to sit down 
 in a corner of Mrs. Ryder's room, moping while the 
 sounds of joy and revelry rang in my ears, of which I 
 might partake if it were not for my headache. Never- 
 theless, the quiet of the old lady's room soothed my 
 pains and before long it almost went off. . . . Mrs. 
 Ryder told me her husband was the most industrious 
 of three brothers, yet he was always unfortunate, and 
 they prosperous ; to use the old lady's expression, his 
 brothers would put a fourpence into their pockets and 
 go to sleep, and in the morning it would be a bright 
 ninepence ; while her husband would put a fourpence 
 in his pocket, and work, and yet lose it ! 
 
52 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 I shall depart hence, I believe, a week from next 
 Wednesday. Huzza! Your affectionate son, 
 
 T. G. Appleton, 
 
 with a fine flourish. His writing was much improving 
 
 at this time, and already bore the characteristics of 
 
 his later hand. 
 
 July 6, 1827. 
 
 Our 4th of July was a very pleasant one. Our 
 mathematical master, Mr. Walker, was the orator of 
 the day. His speech equaled if not excelled that of 
 Mr. Bancroft, and he was warmly congratulated by his 
 friends on his success. He committed the whole of it 
 
 to memory (O labor ^ sudor que f)^ but Mr. B read 
 
 nearly all his. In the evening we took tea, as is cus- 
 tomary, in a meadow shut out from vulgar gaze, and 
 decorated with arbors lined with cakes crowned with 
 flowers, and glittering with gold and sugar, the volun- 
 tary labor of the village matrons. Mr. B was gay 
 
 and Mr. W " bore his blushing honors thick upon 
 
 him." From lack of acquaintances, we Round-Hill- 
 ers were rather taciturn. We drank our coffee in 
 haste, fearing the coming shower. 
 
 '* Sky lowered and muttering thunder, and some sad drops 
 wept," 
 
 at our festivity. We, however, escaped to the hall, fur- 
 nished for a ball (to which I also was invited), before 
 
Round Hill Letters, 53 
 
 the rain fell fast. I danced a little, but soon got out 
 of partners, and went home rather early, the night 
 being as dark as pitch. 
 
 I received a letter from L. Motley lately, and he 
 states that they have about got through their studies 
 at his school, and that the vacation will begin in 
 about three weeks, which he fears will be a great 
 bore ! I have not so poor an opinion of mine, I 
 assure you. 
 
 P. S. — Tell mother I have finished " St. Valentine's 
 Day," and like it very much. I was surprised it agreed 
 so much with history. 
 
 It was the custom at Round Hill to give holidays 
 in the spring, and many of the boys went home at that 
 time for a joyful visit to their parents and families. 
 Traveling from Boston to Northampton in those days 
 was not without its difficulties, as is shown by the fol- 
 lowing letter, describing the return to Round Hill : 
 
 April 26, 1827. 
 We have, my dear father, been neither killed nor 
 wounded, and yet we have experienced all the evils we 
 well could have met with. We went as far as Worces- 
 ter, as you know, with the Governor, and the only evil 
 we had till then was that it rained ; but my bag was 
 not wet, as it was under cover. We had a tolerably 
 
54 Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 good dinner at Brookfield, but after that misfortunes 
 were showered thick enough. In the first place, as we 
 were packing the stage, my box being treated rather 
 roughly, swelled with rage, the effect of which was 
 that the top came off, and out fell a pair of shoes et 
 alias res. I had to leave it at the tavern, to be sent on 
 by the mail next morning. When we got agoing, we 
 underwent the miseries of a full stage (it containing 
 twelve), a hard rain (which wet my bag, it being on 
 top, which I could not prevent), a muddy road, and 
 lazy horses. I believe I saw a beaver, and Mrs. Wat- 
 son corroborated my opinion. We plodded along as 
 well as we could and reached Round Hill about eight. 
 As we entered the gate we gave three cheers, which 
 were echoed back by one hundred roaring boys. Look- 
 ing out of the window, I could discern nothing but 
 heads, and the air was rent with shouts. Charles, on 
 descending the steps of the stage, was greeted with a 
 stare and " Who's that ? " so that the poor boy was 
 very much amazed. We put everything in order that 
 night and this morning, and though it rained all the 
 time, Charles evinces no symptoms of homesickness, 
 and we are perfectly well. 
 
 Charles Sedgwick Appleton was two years younger 
 than Thomas. This was his first appearance at Round 
 Hill, where he now shared the room of his brother, 
 
Round Hill Letters. 55 
 
 and soon became initiated in the routine of work and 
 play. 
 
 The next letter from Thomas contains a confes- 
 sion : 
 
 June 17, 1827, 
 
 Dear Father : I have nothing pleasant to com- 
 municate, and the reason I have written this before 
 the time is, that I have an occurrence to relate, viz. : 
 R. Apthorp has sent me a box, by my wish, contain- 
 ing sundry articles, pour manger^ etc., which the boys 
 
 have often received before, and Mr. C has made 
 
 no objections. But he took this in great dudgeon, and 
 said I should not have the box ; and, I believe, said 
 he should send it to you ; so you may expect it in a 
 
 few days. . . . 
 
 June 24, 1827. 
 
 I have received yours of the 19th, and I admit all 
 you said concerning my recent adventure to be per- 
 fectly just. I own I acted very foolishly in sending 
 for them ; but boys are apt to do in one minute what 
 they repent of the next. But, if you were here, you 
 would allow that it is very agreeable to have a few 
 things to satisfy that hunger which I often feel, with- 
 out being able to allay it. 
 
 This must have been the box which, fifty years 
 later, Mr. Appleton still remembered vividly enough- 
 to describe in his Round Hill reminiscences. 
 
56 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 July 22, 1827. 
 My dear Father : . . . You asked me to write 
 you concerning my studies. In Latin, I study Virgil, 
 Livy, and " Elegantiae Latinae," each two days in the 
 week. I am well enough in this department. In 
 mathematics, I have reviewed Colburn's *' Sequel," 
 and now study Legendre's " Geometry." If I am to 
 go to college, I ought to review Euler's "Algebra," 
 which I shall not have time to do. In Greek, I am 
 only half through Greek " Reader," and, to go to col- 
 lege, I ought to know all that perfectly, and some- 
 thing of the Testament. I study Spanish, but not 
 French any longer, because I have to give more time 
 to college-studies. Dr. Graeter takes his scholars in 
 drawing now and then off the Hill, to draw from Na- 
 ture, which is very agreeable. I have taken one or 
 two views, and shall take several more. We are going 
 to have an exhibition, at which I am to speak. 
 
 To this year probably belongs an (undated) letter 
 written in Spanish, well expressed and fairly gram- 
 matical. At the end of it he says : 
 
 " No debes considerar esta carta corta, car he 
 ocupado mucho tiempo en escribiendola, y me ha 
 causado scahere caput como dice mi amigo Horatius. 
 Tenemos ahora un veritable Francese, maestro di 
 danza quien antiquamente deba lecciones d las hijas 
 
Round Hill Letters, 57 
 
 del gobernador del Canidad ; piense que es abajo su 
 dignidad de tocar el violin su mismo ; por este razon 
 ha alquilado un negro para tocar en su lugar." 
 
 The question of entering college was now under 
 discussion. It would seem that Mr. Bancroft ad- 
 vised Thomas to try for entering in the autumn of 
 1827, although he had not been preparing for exami- 
 nation through the year. His intimate friend John 
 Lothrop Motley was to go to Harvard, and Thomas 
 strongly inclined to begin his course there at the same 
 time. In the end, however, he stayed another year at 
 Round Hill, studying for examination at Cambridge, 
 to join Motley's class — the class of 1831 — in their 
 sophomore year. 
 
 Accordingly, he returned to Northampton after the 
 summer vacation, with the usual mishaps en route. 
 
 Round Hill, September 9, 1827. 
 The first part of my journey, my dear father, was 
 by no means agreeable ; for, in the first place, before 
 we had got out of Boston (for it took an hour to get 
 out) the transient (or transle) bolt broke. We soon 
 remedied that, and we were going along rather slowly, 
 when suddenly, crash ! down came the stage, and the 
 wheel rolled across the road. We were an hour fixing 
 it, for the man had to go back to the last house, and 
 get flax and twine, etc., to tie the wheel up with. 
 
58 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 After some time we proceeded, with fear and trem- 
 bling, four miles, when we got another stage. We 
 were going on at a brisk rate, to make up for lost 
 time, when suddenly, crash ! down we came from our 
 elevation, and we found that the main beam, passing 
 under the stage, was shivered. The driver carried 
 back this stage, and returned with the one we had 
 before. These were all the break-downs we had, and 
 these happened within fifteen miles of Boston. They 
 were caused by the immense quantity of baggage pos- 
 sessed by a lady going to Albany. 
 
 The winter of 182 7-* 2 8 was devoted to hard study, 
 especially in Greek ; " dashing on," he says, " in Ho- 
 mer at the rate of eleven knots an hour — blinding 
 Miss Polly Phemus, sacking cities, falling in love with 
 goddesses with the greatest celerity." 
 
 Exercise was not neglected : 
 
 Mr. C , in his bounty, has put me in a class 
 
 which rides every other day on horseback. This 
 recreation to boys of my age is particularly pleasing, 
 and, I assure you, I take no little delight in it. Al- 
 though I have not practiced, save on our White 
 Mountain pony, yet I found I could ride well enough. 
 The horses here are very good ones, and, though they 
 have thrown three or six fellows, yet they have slain 
 no one. 
 
Round Hill Letters, 59 
 
 P. S. — Mr. Cogswell has made an invention quite 
 ingenious — squirrel-power. Two gray squirrels turn a 
 wheel, which communicates with another which turns 
 a coffee-mill ! In this way he grinds all his coffee. 
 Quite a snug device, is it not ? 
 
 The last letter preserved from Round Hill is 
 dated 
 
 July 27, 182&. 
 
 Dear Father : A growling thunder-storm, accom- 
 panied with his noisy and glaring attendants, kept the 
 night in continual uproar, to the detriment of light 
 sleepers. Notwithstanding the commotion of the pre- 
 ceding night, all Nature received rising Aurora with 
 sweetest smiles, and everything promises not only a 
 fair, but, I fear, even a hot day. 
 
 At the beginning of the past week a bright galaxy 
 of wisdom and learning was assembled here. Dr. Ware 
 preached, and Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland stayed here 
 several days. Mr. Bancroft invited us collegians to 
 his house Monday evening, where these and many 
 more literati were assembled to be introduced to the 
 inierrex^ Dr. Ware. We found the object of our visit 
 and our host absent, and we were introduced by our 
 fair hostess to the ex-president, but got no chance of 
 being introduced to Mr. Ware. 
 
 You want to know when I shall come. At the 
 
6o Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 soonest in a fortnight from last night, perhaps a few 
 days later. 
 
 You, thinking yourself rather in the dark as re- 
 gards my erroreniy demand, and shall have, a little 
 more light on the subject. Transgressing the bounds 
 (never assigned to us) has not been punished or no- 
 ticed for a long time. Seeing everybody round me 
 continually practicing it, and seeing and hearing no 
 notice taken of it, I naturally concluded that it could 
 be nothing very sinful, for the vice through frequency 
 lost half its ugliness. I feel that I can plead " up'on 
 this argument." If it be a sin, it is one of no very 
 dark complexion. Mr. C has a custom of mak- 
 ing rules he never tells us of, and I have committed 
 several of these petty crimes. Having thus shown that 
 I committed a sin whose heinousness I was ignorant 
 of, one that has been commonly practiced and com- 
 monly winked at, I will leave the subject, stating only 
 that I think the picking of berries by one unconscious 
 of crime is pardonable, and I hope it will be so to 
 you. 
 
 I think of sending my books down before my own 
 appearance ; so you need not be puzzled by the arrival 
 of an old pine chest and a rat-eaten trunk next week. 
 Love to all, and pleasant times. 
 
 I remain, yours, affectionately, 
 
 Thomas. 
 
Round Hill Letters. 6i 
 
 P. S. — Father, if you stumble on a room that I can 
 have, out of college, I should be agreeably surprised 
 by your engaging it when I return. 
 
 Here the boy -life ends, with the close of the 
 Round Hill period. Thomas entered Harvard in the 
 autumn of 1828. The full letters he had been in 
 the habit of writing to his father stop here for a 
 time, as Cambridge was too near home to make cor- 
 respondence necessary. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 COLLEGE-LIFE. 
 1828-1832. 
 
 Thomas entered Harvard College as a sophomore 
 in the autumn of 1828, joining the class which was to 
 graduate in 1831. He found already on the field sev- 
 eral old Latin school classmates, and some of his 
 Round Hill friends, who had entered, freshmen, the 
 year before. 
 
 The greater part of his college course was passed 
 in rooms in the old Brattle House, still standing, but 
 his first room was in another place. His first estab- 
 lishment and subsequent removal are spoken of in his 
 letters to his brother Charles, who had returned alone 
 to Round Hill for another year. 
 
 Cambridge, September 8, 1828. 
 
 ... I will try to give you some idea of my room 
 
 and situation at present. Figure to yourself a large, 
 
 neat, well-papered, four-windowed room, in a light 
 
 retired house, on the second story, and you have a 
 
College-L ife. 6 3 
 
 picture of it in its naked state. Fill it up with a table 
 covered with a green cloth, a desk, and divers books, 
 novels, etc., spread over it in scholastic confusion. A 
 crimson-cushioned rocking-chair rolls tranquilly be- 
 fore the table, and other easy-chairs occupy various 
 parts of the room. A neat bed in one corner is bal- 
 anced by a secretary full of books in the center of the 
 opposite wall. Those two water-scenes I drew at 
 Brown's occupy a station over the mantel-piece. Wash- 
 stand, trunks, dumb-bells, pitcher and tumblers, mir- 
 rors, fill up and ornament the chamber. I shall soon 
 have a carpet, fender, tongs and shovel, and more pict- 
 ures. There ! do not you call this a prime abode ? 1 
 have not a very laborious life. Reading, studying, 
 visiting, and eating alternately, fill up my time. ... I 
 went to Nahant a short time since, and killed plenty 
 of peeps, four at one shot and three at another. 
 
 November i6, 1828. 
 The circle of my employments here is not con- 
 fined as on the Colline Ronde ; if there is not a lesson 
 to recite, there is a duck on the river, or a play at 
 the theatre. . . . There is no news, except such as : 
 Jackson is elected ; Miss Sales is sick of the croup ; 
 Mr. Quincy has had a wound from the fall of a lad- 
 der ; Doc. Pop is down with a cold, and such-like. 
 So good-by. 
 
64 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 It was perhaps at this time that Thomas executed 
 for a friend, who still retains it in his possession, a 
 likeness of a celebrated professor, on the cover of a 
 snuff-box. He was responsible for a drawing, a front- 
 ispiece for the catalogue of the " Med. Fac," a secret 
 society already popular, of a skull and cross-bones with 
 the somewhat questionable motto : 
 
 " Nil desperandum Satano duce." 
 
 The next spring he changed his room, of which he 
 thus writes : 
 
 May 26, 1829. 
 
 Charley, I have changed domiciles ; the other 
 house was to be sold, so I had to " cut a stick," and 
 am now lodged at Uncle Sam's old farm, do you re- 
 member ? Finest location in Cambridge ; trees, pond, 
 peaches, cherries, etc., in abundance. My new room 
 presents the same brilliant appearance as the other, 
 only its glories are somewhat tarnished by smoke, as 
 my chimney ejects the aforesaid article voluminously. 
 I learned oil-painting, as I suppose you know, in the 
 vacation ; and have had my apparatus conveyed hither, 
 for the purpose of whiling away an idle hour, as you 
 express it ; maidens, horses, and landscapes dazzle 
 around the beaming apartment, and the very air is 
 tainted with oil and varnish. The government is as 
 savage as thunder. Sent off J. L. Motley, Binney, 
 
College-Life, 65 
 
 Harris, and Devereux last week. Think of that — a 
 little while ago, Motley was second scholar. 
 
 " Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! " 
 
 But, after all, college is a splendid place. I live 
 here at my ease, near Boston, and possess everything 
 to make a man as happy as he can wish. . . . Josiah 
 Quincy is chosen for our next president. The inaugu- 
 ration will take place next week. 
 
 In Dr. Holmes's memoir of Motley, already referred 
 to, is a reminiscence, by Mr. Appleton himself, of his 
 life in the Brattle House : 
 
 " Motley's room," he says, " was on the ground- 
 floor, the room to the left of the entrance. He led a 
 very pleasant life there, tempering his college duties 
 with the literature he loved, and receiving his friends 
 amid elegant surroundings which added to the charm 
 of his society. Occasionally we amused ourselves by 
 writing for the magazines and papers of the day. Mr. 
 Willis had just started a slim monthly, written chiefly 
 by himself, but with the true magazine flavor. We 
 wrote for that ; and sometimes verses in the corner of 
 a paper called the * Anti-Masonic Mirror,' in a corner 
 of which was a woodcut of Apollo, inviting to destruc- 
 tion ambitious youths by the legend underneath : 
 
 * Much yet remains unsung.' 
 
66 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 " These pieces were usually dictated to each other, 
 the poet recumbent upon the bed, and a classmate 
 ready to carry off the manuscript for the paper of the 
 following day. 
 
 *' * Blackwood's ' was then in its glory, its pages red- 
 olent of mountain-dew in every sense ; the humor of 
 the shepherd, the elegantly brutal onslaughts upon 
 Whigs and Cockney poets by Christopher North, in- 
 toxicated us youths. It was young writing, and made 
 for the young. The opinions were charmingly wrong, 
 and its enthusiasm was half Glenlivat, but this de- 
 lighted the boys. There were no reprints then, and 
 to pass the paper-cutter up the fresh, inviting pages 
 was like swinging over the heather arm-in-arm with 
 Christopher himself." 
 
 A manuscript book remains, containing the liter- 
 ary effusions of college-life, in which, among poems, 
 sketches, stanzas, snatches of rhyme, in Mr. Appleton's 
 handwriting, comes the following in another hand : 
 
 SONNET TO T. G. APPLETON ON HIS INIMITABLE POMES. 
 
 Brattle Manor. 
 
 As, in the room where Shakespeare first saw light, 
 Travelers ambitious write their humble name, 
 Tracing the hour when, pilgrim-like, they came 
 To make the Orient home of luster bright. 
 Whose beams have lit the raven wings of night 
 Until they shone with a time-spurning flame — 
 So I, in limping verses, dull and lame. 
 
College- Life, 67 
 
 Here reverently my name and tribute write 
 Witliin this book, the curious birthplace 
 Of your quaint thoughts, that, " after many days," 
 
 When, looking on this place of its location, 
 
 My humble name with yours I'll see entwined. 
 
 Like Gait's with Byron's — and, like him, I'll find 
 
 I've gained an "amber immortalization." 
 
 J. L. M. 
 
 Dear Tom : If you swallow that without straining, 
 the camel will go down unbuttered. 
 January 23, 1831. 
 
 A short extract will suffice from a long poetical 
 letter from Thomas to his brother : 
 
 January 26, 1830. 
 
 How comes it, dear Charlie, we write one another 
 
 So rarely of late, although brother and brother ? 
 
 For, though all the rest of the folks get a plenty, 
 
 Me miserum I do not have one out of twenty. 
 
 However, nimporte, as the French lubbers say, 
 
 We 11 not retrograde, but write more from this day. 
 
 . . . This winter in Boston has been very gay — 
 
 They've had bachelors' balls and loud times, they do say. 
 
 Aunt William herself undertook, magna arte, 
 
 To perpetrate a most delightful large party ; 
 
 Where coxcombs were strutting and belles looking bright, 
 
 And with mirth and dancing vexed the ear of night. 
 
 Miss Marshall there looked as fair as any peri. 
 
 And flashed around lightnings from out of her dear eye. 
 
 There Juniors sported their crow's-feet, and Seniors 
 
 Outrivaled town-bucks, though outvied by the Juniors. 
 
 And so on. 
 
68 Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 In the vacation of his senior year Thomas took a 
 trip to the Canadas, etc., of which the account is pre- 
 served in a journal, the first of a series which he had 
 the good habit to keep up for several years. The ink 
 is faded and yellow, but the handwriting has all the 
 characteristics of his later years. It is decorated with 
 many flourishes and little vignettes. Half the book is 
 filled with poems, chiefly original, some copied from 
 Shelley and the favorite authors of the moment. The 
 journal is preceded by this quotation : 
 
 " A word on the spot is worth a bushel-basket of recollec- 
 tions." — Grays Letters. 
 
 His companion was his cousin, Isaac Appleton 
 Jewett, of the class before him in college, just grad- 
 uated. They went first to Burlington, Vermont, and 
 thence by boat to St. John, where he had letters of 
 introduction. 
 
 "29/^ — Went with my new acquaintances and 
 Jewett to see the Gray Nuns ; we were carried round 
 by the famous one-legged John. Bought a pin-cushion. 
 Struck with the face of a young nun, whose portrait 
 would make a capital Madonna. Did not perpetrate 
 any verses on the occasion." 
 
 They went all the way to Quebec by water, enjoy- 
 ing the fine scenery, and stayed there several days. 
 Their first expedition was to the Falls of Montmorenci : 
 
Co liege- Life. 69 
 
 " It is the most beautiful fall and display of natural 
 beauty I have seen yet. It seemed to me as if a mass 
 of the purest smoke was bounding downward, in oppo- 
 sition to its seeming lightness, from rock to rock." 
 
 ''^August 2d. — I got a soldier of the last war to 
 carry me to the Plains of Abraham. He was a lo- 
 quacious fellow, and told me many stories of his expe- 
 rience in the last war. He was in the chase of the 
 Constitution by the British fleet. It was a beautiful 
 evening, and I enjoyed my long -cherished wish of 
 standing upon the Plains of Abraham. I could easily 
 perceive the rashness of Wolfe's attempt, and conject- 
 ure pretty nearly the disposition of the two armies." 
 
 *' To say a few words upon the Canadian character. 
 They are spirited, but mean ; slovenly to a proverb ; 
 ignorant and prejudiced, thinking their own country 
 the finest in the world, and themselves worthy pos- 
 sessors of it. They are avaricious, and seem to think 
 the merest service worthy a pecuniary recompense. 
 Though, from this cause, their frankness and even 
 kindness may excite suspicion, I, for my own better 
 enjoyment, and the dignity of our species, am de- 
 termined to look always on the bright side, and, in a 
 doubtful case, to believe that which does most honor 
 to the agent." 
 
 " We set sail — abominable bull ! we left — Quebec 
 
70 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 at eleven o'clock, with many regrets and lingering 
 looks behind. It was a glorious moonlight, and every- 
 thing united to produce a novel and pleasing effect. 
 The gleaming waves, the variety of costume, the dis- 
 cordant voices, the merry cheering of neighboring 
 sailors, the receding towers of story-hallowed Quebec, 
 the distant watch-fires, the glorious moon, and last, 
 not least, the society of a pretty miss among the pas- 
 sengers, irresistibly combined to render me happy." 
 
 This was retracing his steps on the river. They 
 reached Montreal early the next morning, but passed 
 on, without stopping, to Burlington, where they had 
 letters, and were lionized for a couple of days. 
 
 ** July "jth, Whitehall. — On the steamboat the night 
 was hot. Haunted by the boot-black, who said at 
 last, with a simper : * Sir, ahem ! perhaps you are not 
 aware that sixpence is the perquisite of my office.* 
 In the morning, fine weather ; we saw Ticonderoga 
 dimly, and longed to go on shore. Scenery around 
 both grand and beautiful. We ought to have got out 
 at Ticonderoga and gone up Lake George, but the 
 other steamboat had struck upon a rock ; so we had 
 to go on." 
 
 They drove from Whitehall to Saratoga over a 
 sandy road : 
 
College-L ife, 7 1 
 
 ** Went all day at the rate of three miles an hour. 
 Mem. : Avoid that road in future. It grew cool and 
 sunny as we approached the Springs. We found every 
 house full. So many strangers never known there 
 since the memory of man. We boarded at Union 
 Hall, but were * colonized ' at a private house, and 
 that a mere rat-hole, between us two. We looked in, 
 in the evening, at a hop at the United States. Lots of 
 beauty ! " 
 
 They found many acquaintances, and joined in the 
 current gayeties. 
 
 "Scared the old Quakers by using a cue at bil- 
 liards. Thirteen left the room in hysterics. In the 
 evening went to a grand ball. Van Buren was there. 
 He looked to me like a little, waspish, withered, cun- 
 ning diplomatist, but developing more of the littleness 
 of the fop than the dignity of the statesman. Mrs. 
 Otis was the belle ; she had on a kind of crown, with 
 a tiara of feathers, and was habited in gold and pur- 
 ple." 
 
 ^^ July \2th. — Took leave of Jewett and bustling 
 Saratoga — the last place in the world one would think 
 an invalid would be stationed at. His nerves are per- 
 petually shattered through the day by the rattling of 
 wheels, the tramp of hurrying feet, and the discordant 
 jargon of a hundred tongues ; and, in the night, the 
 
72 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 murdering of a hundred tunes by a hundred instru- 
 ments." 
 
 From Albany, Mr. Appleton went down the Hud- 
 son to New York ; probably this was his first visit 
 there, as railways had not yet made communication 
 easy from Boston. 
 
 ^^July \()th. — Spent the morning at the splendid 
 English Gallery of Paintings. Murillo's piece pleased 
 me the most, also a landscape by Claude Lorraine 
 and a Van de Velde. In the evening went to the 
 Bowery. Sam Hackett played * Rip Van Winkle.' " 
 
 " 2Qth, — Lounged about — admired the Battery 
 and Castle Garden ; hardly ever saw a scene equal 
 in variety to the view before me, a complete pano- 
 rama. 
 
 " Started about 4 p. m. in the Chancellor Living- 
 ston. I found a pleasant circle of acquaintance on 
 boat, and had a delightful sail up to Newport. We 
 passed rapidly through Providence, and reached Bos- 
 ton at three minutes of three o'clock. Five minutes 
 earlier I could have taken the boat for Nahant, where, 
 as I learned to my disappointment, every one of the 
 name of Appleton in our street was then vegetating." 
 
 Not much more is to be gathered, out of the for- 
 gotten past, of the three tranquil years of college-life. 
 
College-Life, ']'iy 
 
 After graduating, Thomas entered the Law School in 
 Cambridge, in pursuance of the wish of his father. 
 
 Mr. Nathan Appleton took his seat in Congress in 
 December, 1831. His absence from home, in Wash- 
 ington, gave occasion to his son to write to him, and 
 the letters for two winters following are full and fre- 
 quent, showing that, while at the Law School, Thomas 
 devoted himself with diligence to the study of the 
 
 law. 
 
 Cambridge, Mrs, Parker's, December 10, 1831. 
 
 Here am I with a musical fire wasting my nether 
 extremities, while Jack Frost, in the rear, careers on a 
 dozen blasts from a dozen cracks, in a knightly tilt 
 against my back and shoulders. I have a huge pile 
 of Blackstones, Rawles, Ricardos, etc., as a barrier to 
 his attacks, but, alas ! subtle Jack has no fear even of 
 the law ; and though this mound may slightly protect 
 my lower man, the advantage is compensated for by 
 the double numbness of my ears. Certainly to roast 
 and freeze at the same time is a torture surpassing 
 even the ingenious miseries of a Dionysius. 
 
 I am now beginning the fourth book of Blackstone. 
 Oh ! that the musty mazes of the law were all as clas- 
 sically garnished as those I have just trodden with Sir 
 William ! But, alas ! I see in the ample vista of the 
 future the melancholy ghosts of Illuminated Dullness, 
 prosing Pedantry, and tumid Technicality. I see the 
 
74 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 Sahara of Learning, the level expansion of tedious 
 Drudgery, where never streamlet glittered, bird never 
 sang. 
 
 It is such fun to be euphuistic. I mean only to 
 say that, from all accounts, Blackstone is the most 
 elegant and delightful of law-books, and that Reports 
 and other duller details show themselves ahead. . . . 
 
 I am reading Rabelais. What a quaint, humor- 
 some old wight he is ! Sterne evidently transplanted 
 his flowers largely. 
 
 I am very tender of writing long letters, and know 
 your dire aversion to them. But, father, where the 
 heart is full, the mouth speaketh. One could write 
 for aye to those one loves. I am in perfect health. 
 Have you battled with your cold ? 
 
 Hark ! the bell chimes ! the paper is o'er blotted ! 
 
 Beso d listed los ?nanos. 
 
 T. G. Appleton. 
 
 This was but the often-repeated expression of his 
 affection for a father who, he used to say, " was loved 
 more than five hundred fathers were ever loved." 
 
 Boston, December, 1831. 
 Dear Father : To keep your mill a-going, I will 
 now add one to the stream of epistles flowing almost 
 daily, I believe, from our family. I have had, for the 
 
College-L ife. 7 5 
 
 last week, what is called Thanksgiving vacation, and, 
 barring the influenza, I have had little positive amuse- 
 ment besides sketching. We are, it is true, just now 
 an ailing family, and yet as well off for fun and com- 
 fort as ever, bating your loss, of which we are hourly 
 reminded. Alas ! the key-hole now waits in vain for 
 the tinkle of your wonted key. Your capacious arm- 
 chair now remains unfilled, and the blooming turkey 
 weeps through her oysters for the skillful weapon of 
 its departed carver. . . . We get along as well as I 
 expected since your sun set, but the immediate effects 
 of the consequent gloom were a later bed -leaving, 
 more gravy spilt on the table-cloth, a slight assump- 
 tion of dignity, and a general influx of bills. 
 
 Cambridge, December 12, 1831. 
 
 As you say you like to receive a letter every day, 
 there can be no harm in my writing you again. I 
 have been at home the last two days, and am returned 
 here to-night. Just as I got back, I met Wendell 
 Phillips, who told me that, on account of the influ- 
 enza and a want of coal for the students, the vacation 
 was to begin this week, instead of next. I therefore 
 have got, as soon as possible, to "brail up my duds," 
 and race back again. 
 
 We had to-day, in the morning, a fine, masterly 
 sermon from Dr. Channing. I would like to give you 
 
76 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 a sketch of it, if I had room. The text, *' God careth 
 for us," was most philosophically illustrated, and God's 
 providence ably vindicated. It was one of his most 
 thoughtful, and connected as a train of reasoning. 
 The house was quite full. The doctor, at the begin- 
 ning, requested all the young folks to refrain from 
 talking, as far as possible. . . . The boys have been 
 catching ducks in the Frog-pond daily lately. An 
 interesting Scotch family have just come over. Aunt 
 Sam had the children at her house the other night, 
 and they danced beautifully. There is another Scotch 
 girl just come — a confectioner, named Burns McDon- 
 ald — quite a beauty. All the Appletons patronize her 
 hugely. Her " Walter Scott snaps " are all the rage. 
 
 Boston, December 25, 1831. 
 
 Dear Father : We all wish you a very mer- 
 ry Christmas. A right merry one, no doubt, you 
 will have, banqueting with the great ones of the 
 land ; but, after all, Christmas is essentially domes- 
 tic in its character, and its services are never so 
 sacred and endearing as when its altar is the family 
 hearth. 
 
 ... In your letter you mentioned the service that 
 letter-intercourse is to young men, and proposed occa- 
 sional topics, etc. Now, if I take you aright, you 
 seem to advise for me a little more correct, Addisoni- 
 
College-L ife, 7 7 
 
 an style than generally comports with my humor or 
 choice. Familiarity, colloquialness, and a rambling 
 ease are, as I think, the life of such an intercourse. 
 They are, to writer and reader, the " heart of the mys- 
 tery," and therefore I have generally avoided anything 
 like composition-writing. To write fine in a letter is 
 to me to be tedious, and who, in a family, would walk 
 on stilts ? However, I dare say I have misinterpreted 
 your meaning, and therefore I cry your clemency, and 
 promise to suit you to the best of my " gifts." We 
 have been once or twice to the theatre. But we have 
 done with Burke. No one can eat honey forever. He 
 has had good houses, but makes little sensation. 
 
 Cambridge, January 8, 1832. 
 Dear Father : My first act of duty, after perus- 
 ing a chapter of Kent's " Commentaries," I find to be 
 to reply to your last letter. It is in a very thoughtful 
 and retrospective spirit. Your sentiments on the New 
 Year are mine also. Heaped over as the cup of bless- 
 ing to us ever has been, we certainly should allow no 
 family to go before us in acknowledgments of favor, 
 and in a return of piety, for with sincerity I know no 
 one family that has been blessed so exceedingly in each 
 other as we. The hand of sorrow has not touched us. 
 Health, affection, prosperity, and honor are the gifts 
 with which we are favored. I pray Heaven we may 
 
78 Tho7nas G. Applet on, 
 
 none of us dispel this charm of happiness by any un- 
 worthy return for such benefits. . . . 
 
 Mr. Ashmun, I am sorry to say, is in delicate health. 
 As our studies are interrupted by his illness, I have 
 provided a canvas, as a relaxation. I contemplate 
 painting " The Dying Alchemist," a fine subject. Be not 
 afraid I shall waste my time. I am, to be sure, not a 
 little peculiar, in notions and practice, yet as to time 
 I am orthodox. I hate to be idle, yet I do not like all 
 employment. I never could make a drudge, yet, when 
 interested, I do not feel weariness. I will not give' up 
 my mind to what I feel to be useless or of doubtful 
 excellence. I study, as I do everything almost, to en- 
 large my mind, to multiply my ideas, to give a wider 
 range for thought. But I own I am sometimes restive 
 under some of the discipline which may be necessary. 
 I am rather too fond of variety, too fond of mental 
 excitement, too fond of the end, to be patient under 
 the means. I think a good deal, but rather unmethod- 
 ically. I know something, yet am ignorant, from lu- 
 bricity of memory, of many common things. I am 
 very variable in constitution, sensitive to weather — yet 
 with all these faults hope I shall do well. T. G. A. 
 
 Cambridge, January 9, 1832. 
 I have been alone all day, and am now just in the 
 humor for a social chat with a friend. Would that I 
 
Co liege- Life, 79 
 
 could transplant you to my rocking-chair, and have 
 you enliven the monotony of solitude with the persi- 
 flage and fun of the Capitol ! 
 
 The gift of ubiquity would be a glorious one — it 
 may be among the attributes of our future eternity of 
 happiness. To be at the same time in the presence as 
 well as the hearts of our dear friends, to feel space no 
 barrier, but to pervade the universe, and wherever 
 there is a throb of affection for us to be present to 
 enjoy it, would make life indeed glorious and every 
 moment golden. 
 
 I am again reading " Boswell " — how capital, is it 
 not ? I am nearly through. I wonder I never fin- 
 ished it before. It is, I think, the most delightful as 
 well as the most instructive book I ever read. Nor 
 do I think so meanly of Bozzy as I expected. He 
 certainly was knowing, polished, and affectionate. I 
 love the Doctor as much as Bos. did, certainly. He 
 was a noble fellow, saturated with knowledge ; a mag- 
 azine of satire, a powder-house of wit. Talking of 
 him and his dictionary, as, you know, he despised the 
 Americans, I will supply a few terms he probably over- 
 looked : 
 
 Congress. A place where business is evaded, 
 originating probably in the Jews* synagogue. (See 
 Bedlam.) 
 
 Representative. Member of the above body ; 
 
8o Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 consumer of the King's English, and of the Republic's 
 pens, paper, etc. 
 
 President. A national butt ; head-waiter at the 
 Tennessee Hotel ; his only vails, abuse and removal. 
 
 January 25, 1832. 
 
 Mr. Ashmun has begun a course of lectures, of 
 which we had one this afternoon, on testaments, and 
 very interesting. The professor seems to be in better 
 health than I expected. We have opened the term 
 with great spirit, have already finished the first volume 
 of " Kent," and begun on the second. 
 
 But I must stop ; on looking at my watch, I find 
 that I must hurry to a debating society, that meets to- 
 night to moot the question, " Were our ancestors fair 
 and honorable in their treatment of the Indians ? " 
 
 These extracts give some idea of how the young 
 law-student filled up his time. It was not all work or 
 solitary application. A dinner club of six or eight 
 men, classmates and friends, which lasted for a long 
 time, was then formed. 
 
 In the spring vacation of 1832, Thomas escorted 
 his mother and sister to the South, the main objects of 
 the excursion being Mrs. Appleton's health, and the 
 pleasure of joining the husband and father in Wash- 
 ington. The journey was taken by easy stops, with a 
 
College- Life, 8i 
 
 pause at Baltimore, from which Thomas writes to give 
 warning to his father of their approach : 
 
 May 17, 1832. 
 We arrived here after a rather long but very de- 
 lightful rjde, about a quarter of six last evening. We 
 have exceedingly good rooms, and are housed to our 
 satisfaction. Soft crabs are here in all their glory, and 
 we have them for dinner regularly. No wonder Crabbe 
 was a poet ; every one is full of poetry — so full, that 
 eating them inspires me, and hereafter I cut the Nine, 
 and woo these armed bards of the ocean for inspiration. 
 
 The happy life, without break, so keenly appreci- 
 ated by Thomas, was destined not to last beyond the 
 close of the year whose commencement had his notice 
 of so much family felicity. The health of Mrs. Apple- 
 ton became a cause of anxiety. In the autumn of 
 1832 she began to fail more rapidly, and, before spring 
 opened, Mr. Nathan Appleton was summoned home 
 from Washington by her death, which took place in 
 February, 1833. 
 
 On the ist of April of that year, Thomas sailed for 
 Europe. The sailing-packet Philadelphia left New 
 York with a merry set of passengers, many of them 
 already friends and acquaintances, who went from 
 Boston to Providence by stage-coach, and to New 
 York by the Sound. 
 
82 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 Mr. Appleton was just twenty-one when he thus 
 left America for the first time, his birthday coming on 
 the 31st of March. Well equipped with an inquiring 
 mind, the advice of wise counselors, the good wishes 
 of warm friends, and a moderate balance to his credit, 
 the young man started on the first of those voyages 
 across the Atlantic which for many a year formed an 
 important part of his career. 
 
 The next chapter is occupied by extracts from a 
 journal of the voyage, written day by day on board 
 the packet. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FIRST VOYAGE. 
 
 1833. 
 
 List of passengers in the Philadelphia, Captain 
 Champlin : 
 
 Mr. Grey, 
 Mrs. Grey, 
 Mr. Whitwell, 
 Mrs. Whitwell, 
 Dr. Bigelow, 
 Mrs. Bigelow, 
 Mr. Foote, 
 Mrs. Foote, 
 Mr. R. W. Hooper, 
 Mr. Blanchard, 
 Mr. O. W. Holmes, 
 Mr. G. M. Barnard, 
 Mr. T. G. Appleton, 
 Miss Barker, 
 Mr. Berry, 
 
 Mr. Baker, 
 
 Mrs. Hills, 
 
 Mr. Lane, 
 
 Mrs. Lane, 
 
 Mr. Hammersley, 
 
 Mr. Cook, 
 
 Mrs. Boott, 
 
 Miss Boott, 
 
 Monsieur Larague, 
 
 Mr. Guitshow, 
 
 Mr. T. B. Curtis, 
 
 Mrs. Curtis, 
 
 Miss Mary F. Curtis, 
 
 Mile. Victorine (maid), 
 
 Mr. Young. 
 
 Fifteen steerage-passengers. 
 
84 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 Journal. April i, 1833. — At ten o'clock, on the 
 morning of the ist, were assembled on board the 
 steamer Hercules the passengers of our ship. The 
 day was most enchanting, and a very large crowd of 
 friends were on the wharf, to be in our way, and to 
 bid us farewell. 
 
 The air exhilarated, the waters sparkled, and the 
 bell rang. Handkerchiefs waved, hands were kissed, 
 and we were off. The weather was so fine that the 
 little steamer was filled with a delightful party of girls, 
 ladies, and other passengers. 
 
 We had soon reached our ship, which was at an- 
 chor in the Narrows, and, as the little wind there was 
 was not favorable, the steamboat was lashed by the 
 side of the ship, for the purpose of conveying her 
 beyond Sandy Hook. The plump little Hercules did 
 not belie its name ; it took our majestic ship under 
 its arm, and bore it off from the smoke and clamor of 
 the city at a rate that made us wish for a longer ac- 
 quaintance with steam than we had a prospect of. 
 There was something ridiculous in the coolness and 
 ease with which the Hercules bore us off ; as Dr. 
 
 Holmes said, it reminded him of Mr. and Mrs. K , 
 
 sweeping down Beacon Street — she all paddle and 
 steam and smoke, he all dignified inertness. As we 
 were dashing along there was a hurried rush ; all eyes 
 were strained to windward, and the fearful cry of " A 
 
First Voyage, 85 
 
 man overboard ! " rose from the quarter - deck. I 
 sprang upon it, and saw a bluff sailor, with open 
 mouth, blanched cheeks, and waving arms, swept by 
 me into the ridges and froth of our track. I thought 
 it was all over with him, as he was borne, like a straw, 
 far into the distance. Some of us tossed the helm- 
 cover overboard to him. It floated presently within 
 his reach. He clung with a hearty good-will to it, and 
 soon was in a position that required only patience to 
 insure his safety. We held our breath until we saw 
 him safe in the boat sent out to him, and were re- 
 joiced that an accident, which would have been omi- 
 nous on our starting, turned out so well. 
 
 The North American, a rival packet, sailed side by 
 side with us, and we supposed she would be our con- 
 sort for half the way at least ; but presently her hull 
 began to sink beneath the horizon, and not long after 
 not even her mizzen-pennant was discernible above 
 the ocean view. 
 
 (Here let me enter my protest against pens called 
 ^'' Perry an'* I abjure and despise them ; they are vex- 
 atious, scratchatious, and detestable. I throw mine to 
 the winds, and henceforth vow, tailor-like, to stick de- 
 votedly to my goose.) 
 
 After reaching and passing the bar, our visitors 
 were regaled with a sumptuous collation, and soon 
 after took leave of their friends. A simultaneous 
 
86 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 cheer broke from either vessel as we parted company. 
 We held our course, and soon a strong and favorable 
 breeze wafted us out of all sight of fatherland. We 
 ran at the rate of ten knots an hour. In the evening 
 the moon rose full and cloudless, the sun setting in 
 the west in a sheet of crimson. We conversed and 
 promenaded till eleven, and then retired to our 
 berths. 
 
 April 2d. — After a delicious sleep, I rose and ran 
 up on deck. The breeze had died, and we were rock- 
 ing in a sea of silver. It was calm for the rest of the 
 day, with the exception of part of the afternoon, when 
 we held our course prettily. Breakfast at nine o'clock 
 is, I see, on the water, the key-stone of the day, being 
 most excellent, and sauced with an outrageous appe- 
 tite. After it, I took a walk with Mrs. Boott on the 
 deck. She told me she had been very sick, but the 
 calm had restored her. Though all day we did little 
 better than roll in the trough of the sea, I passed the 
 time most agreeably. I felt nothing of that do-little, 
 drowsy ennui that I had expected. I varied my 
 amusements, and found them all delightful. I talked 
 sentiment with Dr. Holmes ; then flirted in bad French 
 with Victorine ; soon joined with Mr. Curtis and our 
 two doctors in a cannonade of puns. This, by-the- 
 way, is our forte^ and we keep it up, each made nim- 
 ble-witted by the quickness of the others, till we have 
 
First Voyage, %"] 
 
 to desist from side-ache. Then I took Shelley into 
 the jolly-boat, and read — 
 
 " Our boat has one sail, 
 Our helmsman is pale," etc. — 
 
 or rather, for sympathy — 
 
 " Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream." 
 
 And right sound did our lazy ship sleep all day ; but, 
 thanks to her light build, did not snore, as some do. 
 
 At twelve we have lunch ; and, at four, dinner ; tea 
 at eight, and, quite marvelous, no supper. Dinner went 
 off famously ; the dullness of the weather had drawn 
 forth the social capabilities of our company, and we 
 found ourselves admirably supplied. A constant suc- 
 cession of stories kept us in a roar, and thus killed an 
 hour and a half without our noticing its decease. We 
 came to the conclusion that the, elements of social 
 happiness were distributed among us with very un- 
 usual good fortune. There is no sulky, cross-grained 
 vagrant to mar our merriment. Though incongruous 
 as the details of the witches' caldron, we all assimi- 
 late into a capital sea-broth, and seem likely to keep 
 always a-bubbling. 
 
 Mrs. Hill and Miss Lane, both uncommonly pro- 
 ficient and enchanting musicians, played for us all the 
 evening, without the painful process of supplication ; 
 and an admirable voice in the steerage gave us a sue- 
 
88 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 cession of stirring ballads, singing, with a full chorus 
 of bass voices — 
 
 " Britannia rules the waves." 
 
 We had a cloudy moonlight, which we enjoyed in 
 the round-house, entertaining each other with ghost- 
 stories and conundrums. Monsieur Larague was un- 
 usually frisky this evening, and we had some awful 
 punning at supper. 
 
 April 4th. — On rising from bed, I found myself 
 pitched nearly head-first through the window of 'my 
 state-room, and, having succeeded in dressing, bruised 
 and battered, I went aloft. Clouds were trailing along 
 the horizon, and a gale was blowing. It was a most 
 magnificent sight. The waves soared around our bows 
 in a very fiendish manner. The poor chickens and 
 ducks were chattering in terror ; the captain was 
 shouting pithy orders through a trumpet, and every- 
 thing presented a lively picture of animated nature. 
 All the still-life of the day previous had undergone a 
 sea-change. The sailors stood at ridiculously acute 
 angles with the deck, and the first movement I made 
 was to throw myself in an ecstasy of fondness upon 
 the bosom of the first mate, who, in a sort of fireman's 
 cap, and a picturesque overcoat with moony buttons, 
 was eying the spars aloft from the opposite side of the 
 vessel. 
 
First Voyage. 89 
 
 Few were there at breakfast, and fewer at dinner. 
 Only ten out of the thirty appeared, the rest being 
 employed in " shooting cats," as the captain calls it. 
 Dinner was the most absurd operation. With no 
 heart to eat, we had to be wary to prevent the dishes 
 from forcing themselves on our acceptance. There 
 might be seen an avalanche of turkey, with its vortex 
 of gravy, sliding into the bosom of a monsieur taking 
 wine with his vis-h-vis^ who pours his claret into his 
 waistcoat-pocket, instead of his verre de vin. All this 
 was amusing to me, as I have not in the slightest de- 
 gree suffered from sickness ; though, while I write, my 
 stool slides from under me, and the dinner-table jin- 
 gles with the rolling glasses. . . . 
 
 April ^th. — The worthy passengers begin to re- 
 cover from their troubles. Almost all were at dinner. 
 
 April 6th. — The sea a most beautiful sight ; lying 
 in shifting light and shadow, "deeply, darkly, beau- 
 tifully blue " — that blue which I had heard of, but 
 never saw before. The water hissed and simmered 
 as we clove its ridges, running off from the sides in 
 long, undulating sheets of foam, with partial breaks 
 of the most exquisite beryl tint. I have leaned this 
 morning hours on the taffrail, gazing at the stir and 
 tumult, the many beautiful shapes of the wreathed 
 spray, or watching the effects of light and shadow — 
 light which makes the distant billows look like a 
 
90 Thomas G. Appletoit. 
 
 twisted and wrinkled strip of tin-foil, and shadow that 
 gives to the sharp edge of the horizon the hue and 
 outline of a hacked carving-knife. Excuse the ro- 
 mance of the similes, for their truth. 
 
 This morning we lost a hen overboard. Mr. Cur- 
 tis thinks she will meet foul weather. . . . 
 
 April 6th. — A most delightful evening. The moon 
 showed but a lurid disk, and that was soon lost be- 
 hind the brown-black volumes of a long curtain of 
 hanging cloud. It was glimmering darkness, and our 
 sole spectacle was the water. How magnificent that 
 was ! The ship appeared trampling the powers of 
 darkness, and their faint anguish and smothered cries 
 hissed up from their livid lips as we dashed above 
 them. The vessel was every moment apparently on 
 the borders of night and chaos. It was almost fearful 
 to see her stepping off into what seemed a pitchy void. 
 The ocean was ink, the foam faint crimson, illumi- 
 nated and living with insect phosphorescence, and we 
 left a trail of vivid and whirling light. The dim sails 
 were as wings that fluttered our sea-bird over the 
 deep. After exhausting the intoxication of the sight, 
 we unromantically scrambled down-stairs to a penny 
 game of vingt-un. 
 
 April "jth. — This day is the Sabbath, and, though 
 no church-going bell pealed us to worship, we felt we 
 were in a nobler temple than we had ever before 
 
First Voyage, 91 
 
 offered up adoration in. I felt more fully than ever 
 the glory, grandeur, and mercy of the God of the great 
 sea ; and I needed not other impulse to render devout 
 heart-worship to him to whom I nightly pray for those 
 far away, whose prayers I feel are nightly offered up 
 for the absent one. 
 
 We have all been on deck this morning, the air is 
 so fresh and the day so seductive. Many of us were 
 sunning ourselves on the windward side, when, slap ! 
 a sea broke over us, and salted us all dismally. Such 
 a running, screaming, shaking, and laughing ! 
 
 We have all day run to the south, partly because 
 the captain wished to avoid ice, and partly because 
 he could not help it. We have not thus far been very 
 fortunate in our winds, but, as we are one third over 
 on our seventh day, if we are lucky, we may make yet 
 a shortish passage. The days begin to slip away al- 
 most unperceived, and without incident. 
 
 April 10th. — This morning is delightful, the warm- 
 est we have had. Every one, I believe, appeared at 
 breakfast, which was very excellent, as usual. We 
 have always fresh eggs, and often hasty-pudding ; and 
 to-day, in addition, an unusual appetite. 
 
 . . , What an odd, good-for-nothing life we lead ! 
 A prolonged morning nap, jokes, and a wire-drawn 
 breakfast ; a turn on deck, a sluggish conversation, a 
 book held in the hand for an hour or two, another 
 
92 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 turn on deck ; the bell sounds — we dash to dinner ; 
 three courses, laughter, candles, tea, and the moon. 
 And, voila^ the elements of ease and pleasure ! How 
 character is drawn out and made familiar ! We are 
 all inevitably brought in immediate contact. We are 
 one family. I already feel as if I had lived always 
 with these messmates. After tea to-night the shrill 
 and ]oyoMS fanfar on of a rooster sounded from behind 
 the mizzen at table. A hoarse and continued bray 
 rejoined. Geese shrilled, turkeys gobbled, horses 
 neighed, pussies mewed, lions roared, etc. We were 
 the ark, or a traveling menagerie. Each imitation was 
 furiously applauded. Victorine, the French maid, 
 must have thought the ^^ tristes Yankees" had become 
 Bedlamites, as the cabin rang with the discord of a 
 hundred animals. 
 
 April nth. — Mr. Curtis got out a chart, and we 
 found that we were within a degree of the spot where 
 the packet that last crossed saw vast islands of ice. 
 The night was utterly dark ; you could but just dis- 
 cover the horizon-line. This all frightened us pretty 
 considerably, and I could not get to sleep for hearing, 
 in fancy, the crushing of our ship on an iceberg, and 
 for seeing the pale and terrible splinters of an ice- 
 land. About one, the captain thought he saw the 
 lights of a passing ship, and put up his own to keep 
 us from hitting. It was so dark he could see nothing 
 
First Voyage, 93 
 
 farther. At breakfast we had a good laugh at our 
 poetic, romantic captain, who, it appears, had been 
 passing compliments with the moon ! 
 
 April 12th. — I got out of bed in a hurry to ascer- 
 tain whether we had perished or not in the course of 
 the night. The captain says we are now out of the 
 region of danger. 
 
 While gazing over the railing at the seething cal- 
 dron about the ship, I had a fair sight at that most 
 poetical of ocean-rovers, the nautilus. It was spin- 
 ning round in the foam, in shape like a sculpin, with 
 a many-colored and semi-transparent body, and two 
 beautiful azure, gauze-like wings or sails. I saw no 
 oars. It was whirled instantly out of sight. 
 
 April \^th. — . . . We have progressed famously, 
 and sanguinely expect to see English ground in four 
 days. Looked over Carter's letters and Mrs. Cush- 
 ing's "France and Italy"; came to the conviction 
 that there is no book that may be made so dull as a 
 book of travels, and take a hint therefrom as to my 
 own management of the matter. 
 
 In the evening we organized a lottery with refer- 
 ence to the day of our arrival. Tickets were a crown 
 each. Mine fell upon the 29th of April, from 6 a. m. 
 till noon — this being the last in time ; so, as the rule 
 is that I have the benefit of all possibilities of arrival 
 after this date, I stand a pretty good chance. This 
 
94 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 occupied the evening very pleasantly, and gives some 
 of us a divided interest in the matter. 
 
 April i6th. — A calm began about nightfall, and we 
 found it still holding us this morning. This, of course, 
 has affected the price of stocks, and I have had offers 
 at a high percentage for my ticket, but would not sell. 
 We have regular exchange-hours, and Hammersley is 
 now having auction-sales overhead. Mem. : To call 
 him at dinner the Knight of the Hammer. 
 
 I had written thus far when I heard from the deck 
 the cry of " Whales ! " I rushed up-stairs, and, with 
 the rest, breathlessly strained my eyes over the bul- 
 warks. Close by the ship the surface parted, and a 
 broad, black, and smooth-looking snout was slowly and 
 gracefully evolved from the still water. A fountain of 
 foam shot into the air, accompanied by a blowing like 
 the letting off spare steam of a steamer. There were 
 about us four whales at least, and of the largest kind. 
 They appeared to be about sixty feet in length, and left 
 a wake much longer. Two of them were lovers ; they 
 swam on in company, rose together, and sympatheti- 
 cally poured forth their souls in a simultaneous blow. 
 They proceeded in magnificent disdain of our ship, 
 showed themselves once or twice very near, and the 
 next we saw of them was their long backs and vaporous 
 spout at the distance of a mile and a half. Immense as 
 they are, they positively look smallish in contrast to the 
 
First Voyage, 95 
 
 boundless pond they swim in. Seen in museums, they 
 had to me always looked gigantic and out of all pro- 
 portion ; but here there is a sense of fitness to their 
 element. What would I not give to straddle one of 
 these fellows, hold on to his ears, and be borne down 
 to his sunless cells and his waving meadows of sea- 
 weed ! — to leave my card for all the mermaid belles, 
 and call on some old Triton at his coral country-seat, 
 paved in the court with pearls, fenced with sea-wrecks, 
 and lighted throughout with one moon-like carbuncle ! 
 If the old fellow was rude enough to give my charger 
 a twitch, and, whizz ! to be spun back to the insipid 
 regions of air and daylight. 
 
 I heard this morning from deck the cry, " Sail, 
 ahoy ! " — ran up, and discovered on each bow a brig 
 running with the wind. It was a fair race between 
 them. I should have been glad to have my canvas 
 and brushes with me, as the sea and clouds were of 
 an excellent kind for a picture, the waves being short 
 and high, with lucent transparence of clear green, and 
 their tops blown off, like smoke. Here's a sonnet 
 about it : 
 
 With sudden birth, from forth the murmuring west, 
 Before mine eye a glorious phantom grew 
 To instant beauty from the vacant blue. 
 A faery creature, in bright colors dressed. 
 Like some fair angel on an errand blest, 
 Of mercy, with soft, floating wings it flew. 
 
96 Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 Most silent and most swift, through the dropped dew 
 
 Each wave holds trembling on its silver crest. 
 
 A hundred prayers shall follow it with tears, 
 And anxious wishes round its path shall fly. 
 
 It shoots before my eye, and now appears 
 In gray relief against the troubled sky. 
 
 Behind the ocean-rim it disappears. 
 And now 'tis sunk beyond it utterly. 
 
 This shows the advantages of poetry. I have taken 
 no less than two egregious poetical licenses. In the 
 first place, I have called her a ship, when it was only 
 a brig ; and, in the next, I have made her come out of 
 the west to get to America ! because, forsooth, east 
 only has rhymes 'va yeasty beast — both evidently unsatis- 
 factory. 
 
 April i2>th. — The night was very uncomfortable to 
 all of us, the ship rolled so much ; and dinner was a lit- 
 tle more angular than it has been heretofore. I was to 
 windward, and consequently had nothing to do but to 
 hold on to my plate ; but, to leeward, many a waist-coat 
 and shirt-bosom reeked with the good things of our 
 larder, and the table literally ran with milk and honey. 
 
 April 19///. — The breeze this morning left us, and 
 we were all out sunning ourselves, looking like a pack 
 of lazzaroni^ and listlessly watching the flapping sails 
 of a brig about half a mile to starboard — 
 
 " As idle as a painted ship 
 Upon a painted ocean." 
 
First Voyage, 97 
 
 About an hour before, she was sailing down on us in 
 fine style, when we were rolling in a dead calm. She 
 kept on, all sails set, like the Flying Dutchman, till 
 within half a mile. Then the calm struck her, and 
 there she stuck. She then let down her boat, and it 
 is bounding over the gray to us. . . . 
 
 There were six grim and rusty-looking seamen in 
 the boat, and a handsome fellow held the helm. At 
 last it reached our side. A painter was thrown out, 
 and the steps were lowered. The man at the helm 
 ran up, and bowed to the crowd of inquiring faces on 
 our deck that met him as he stepped over the bul- 
 warks. He was one of the handsomest subjects I have 
 ever seen. Curling and tremendous whiskers hung 
 around a cheek bronzed by an equatorial sun. A blue 
 roundabout, with round bullet-buttons, covered a pair 
 of square and very broad shoulders. The black cravat 
 was loose about his neck ; and his black, crisp locks 
 curled close about his smooth, wide forehead, sur- 
 mounted by a neat straw hat, worn with a nautical 
 cock. His eye was blue, small, and restless. Good- 
 humor and drollery curled from the corners of his 
 handsome mouth. Add an open manner and the 
 free swagger of a sailor, and you have a picture of as 
 pretty a fellow as ever walked a ship's deck. — That is, 
 I flatter myself, quite in the style of Cooper, and, if 
 I were in the humor, and the ship did not roll in such 
 
98 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 a shameful manner, I might cover a ream in the ac- 
 count of this visit, and get to the end of my book 
 before I had returned my hero to his vessel. This 
 chap was the mate. He said they were sixty days 
 from Sierra Leone, with a cargo of African oak, and 
 that they were out of provisions, but had water. We 
 gave them nearly a barrel of beef, a barrel of biscuits, 
 a bag of potatoes, another of rice, and a drum of figs. 
 Some of the passengers added a box of cake and a lot 
 of cigars for the captain. The rusty sea-dogs in the 
 boat grinned a hungry satisfaction as the good things 
 were successively lowered down to them. The mate 
 offered to pay, but the captain declined. The poor 
 fellows looked heartily grateful for his generosity, and 
 I make no doubt toast us to-day as they dine on our 
 liberality. It was quite a pretty incident, and. helped 
 off the morning capitally. 
 
 . . . Grey is a good romance-killer. Hearing my 
 enthusiasm about Italy, he told me he doubted if I 
 ever could get through it ; he had attempted it, and 
 failed ; that the only way to get through Italy was 
 " from a sense of duty." *' It was impossible to relish 
 anything, the lazzaroni were so importunate." Credat 
 JudcEus ! When will men leave off measuring others 
 by their own foot-rules ? 
 
 April 2isi. — This is our third Sunday, and, God 
 willing, our last. Mr. borrowed my Bible and 
 
First Voyage, 99 
 
 Channing's " Sermons," one of which I was in hopes 
 he would give us ; but self-love supplied instead an 
 indifferent one of his own. 
 
 April 22d. — We now begin to flutter with anxious 
 eagerness for land. We are within soundings, the 
 water having changed its blue to a dull gray, and the 
 fine beryl tints just under the foam are lost in a turbid 
 white. The first actual symptom of land was the visit 
 of a pretty little blackbird, fluttering about us with 
 weary wings, yet fearing to alight. 
 
 So, at last I am within hail of Old England ; and, 
 after all, what is the trip across ? As Dr. Holmes said, 
 with truth, the worst part of the voyage is the ride to 
 Providence ! If a man is not sea-sick or impatient, it 
 is as if his parlor was wheeled off v/ith him ; or, as if, 
 like the man in the Eastern tale, he sat on his carpet 
 and was wafted everywhere. 
 
 April 2^t/i. — I have a faint recollection during the 
 night of hoarse cries and the rattling of blocks, vari- 
 ous symptoms of an increasing wind blending pleas- 
 antly with my sleep. I was awakened by hearing 
 screams through the cabin of " Get up, get up ! Pilot 
 coming on board." His little boat was dipping about 
 just astern of us, and a violent, favorable wind blow- 
 ing. 
 
 The pilot is a good specimen of the Bull people. 
 He has the ingrained ruddy cheeks, the heavy build, 
 
lOO Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 and the cockney accent, never to be mistaken. He 
 has been out a fortnight, an easterly wind having pre- 
 vented many vessels from getting up the Channel. He 
 says that, if the wind holds, we shall be carried to 
 Portsmouth in twenty hours. 
 
 After breakfast a cloud to the north lifted up, and 
 we could see very distinctly the land. It was the 
 Lizard — a point of Land's End, at the south — and 
 its two lighthouses were quite visible. 
 
 The captain considers the voyage as over, as he 
 has resigned his command to the pilot. He says We 
 have made a passage of twenty-three days — fifteen 
 head-winds, three days' calm, and five fair wind. 
 
 The morning was truly English. Clouds over- 
 head, and a haze hanging over the long, purple line 
 of coast. The wind is very fresh, and the scene about 
 us most animated. Hundreds of little things — fishing- 
 boats, pilot-boats, and the like — are scudding to the 
 shore with the violence of the gale. They seem, being 
 wholly black, without any white strip, like a flock of 
 ravens hovering over the water. Once or twice larger 
 boats have come so near as to show everything in 
 them distinctly ; they dance hither and thither like 
 acorn-cups in a basin. We are running in a most de- 
 lightful manner, and the captain says he expects to 
 wake us all, by six to-morrow, to go ashore. We have 
 passed one or two promontories, and my eyes have 
 
First Voyage, loi 
 
 delighted themselves with the green fields of Old Eng- 
 land. There is a haze over the shore, yet we went 
 near enough to see the trees and checkered meadows, 
 cottages, and a church, whose spire stood forth, sharp 
 and gray, against the white clouds. Mrs. Curtis said, 
 by-the-way, that it must be the Church of England. 
 
 In the evening we had a horned moon and a brill- 
 iant sunset. The frequent lighthouses stood, like sen- 
 tinel stars during the darkness, before our path ; but 
 we saw nothing of that " sea-built tower the engineer 
 smiled at," owing to the fog. 
 
 April 25///. — I went to bed early last night, ex- 
 pecting an early stirring ; and Mr. Curtis, as his head 
 was on his pillow, no doubt heard the lottery-money 
 already jingling in his pantaloons ; but, I make no 
 doubt, was as regretful as I was delighted, on finding 
 my sleep and his unbroken till the usual breakfast- 
 hour. 
 
 The wind has come round easterly, and within 
 sight almost of Portsmouth, with the white cliffs of 
 the Isle of Wight, tall and tree-crowned, on our lee- 
 bow, we have to beat up, with the prospect of not 
 getting in for three hours or more. 
 
 Berry will win the prize in the lottery — seven 
 pounds. We have drawn up and signed a polite letter 
 of acknowledgment to the captain, and are all muster- 
 ing on deck in our land-gear. Black pantaloons are 
 
102 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 hanging, damp and wrinkled, round many a leg of 
 late familiar with tar and what not ; and the unusual 
 neckcloth painfully takes precedence of the careless 
 stock. 
 
 Farewell, good ship ! Adieu, kind captain ! May 
 we meet you both again, and, till then, may storm and 
 calm, land-sharks and water-sharks, spare both ! I 
 shall not, Philadelphia ! readily forget thy luxurious 
 quarters and flying wake. Kind captain ! not readily 
 forget thine eyes' mysterious twinkle, thy stories, and 
 thy fun. 
 
 The voyage was over. The journal goes on, how- 
 ever, to relate the adventures of several of the passen- 
 gers. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LONDON. 
 1833. 
 
 Leaving the Philadelphia, the little party went 
 on board a small sloop which conveyed them to Ports- 
 mouth. As they approached the city, their eyes were 
 busy in catching the first points of interest in this new 
 world. The journal continues : 
 
 " Partly the long confinement and exclusion from 
 the world, and partly imagination, gave to every 
 individual thing a wonderful newness and oddity. 
 The tiled roofs, the salient angles of grotesque towns, 
 pinnacles and house-tops, the many colors, the multi- 
 tude of beings and novelties, all in a jumble, dashed 
 upon our stagnant spirits and excited the blood, till 
 I almost jumped out of our boat with delight. 
 
 " It appeared to be washing-day, for clothes were 
 hanging to the water's edge on every shed. It looked 
 like a Dutch painting. I was not prepared for the 
 picturesque look that everything wore. I had heard 
 
I04 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 Portsmouth was a dull place, and did not imagine 
 that sea-life could have made me so in love with the 
 stupid as I find myself. In fact, I have had to pinch 
 myself often to-day to make sure I am awake. It 
 was not till a drive in the afternoon that I fully real- 
 ized I was in England. We got a * fly/ a sort of car- 
 riage that throws open like a barouche, and four of 
 us drove off with a * coachee * in white top-boots. I 
 was staggered, stunned, and exhausted with the rapid- 
 ity and violence of new emotions. 
 
 " We turn a corner — sheets of living green appear 
 deeper, richer than we have in America — oaks, with 
 rooks cawing about their rookeries. Another corner 
 turned, and we were whirling along a road smooth as 
 if leveled by a roller, and studded with villas, and 
 rows of cottages nearly touching — each different, 
 and each as it succeeds challenging preference. The 
 farms are like gardens, and the men like the costumed 
 heroes of the drama. We were at once struck by the 
 fairness, ruddiness, and full habit of the English in 
 general. We Yankees must look like a continent of 
 consumptives. I returned from our drive, having 
 enjoyed more than was before ever compressed into 
 the same space in my life. 
 
 "After tea we visited the rest of our party at 
 another hotel, and found them all preparing to scat- 
 ter to the four winds." 
 
London, 105 
 
 The next day was spent at the Isle of Wight and 
 Carisbrooke Castle, where they entered by " a door 
 like iron, of old oak, dented with the knuckles of 
 centuries. An awful bell pealed, and a benign old 
 gentleman opened the door. We were by him 
 chaperoned." 
 
 Everything was new, and every detail noted. As 
 they left the hotel finally, " on the steps a respectable- 
 looking stranger announced himself as Boots ; the 
 maid soon simpered up after him for their vails^ after 
 which we started. There are two universal phrases, 
 as I have already discovered, in England : First, all 
 servants end everything with * If you please,' touching 
 their hats if they happen to have them on ; second, 
 on starting, or on getting over any difficulty in a 
 stage-coach, the guard universally cries, * All right ! ' 
 A coach once running over a pig, the driver thought 
 it was a child, and stopped. The guard saw it was a 
 pig, called out, ' All right ! ' and on they dashed." 
 
 From Portsmouth they went to Southampton, and 
 thence to Salisbury, visiting first, however, Netley 
 Abbey. At Southampton they were delighted with 
 their dinner : " Chickens, small and tender as pheas- 
 ants ; potatoes that crumbled under the suspicion of a 
 touch ; a sole that, for the first time, I could call my 
 own ; ale, a beverage such as Hebe never held ; an 
 omelet that lingered like fruit upon the tongue ; 
 
io6 Thomas G. Appldon. 
 
 young radishes, English cheese, an English waiter, 
 and English charges." 
 
 At Salisbury they joined other members of their 
 Atlantic company, and compared notes : 
 
 " Conversation in a flood ; we are all full to reple- 
 tion with ideas which no one has time to digest — 
 none but an anaconda could — such is the glorious 
 rush of impressions we have received these last three 
 days. 
 
 " I came over in a TroUopian spirit, but my first 
 drive sank the cynic in the boy. I am in love with 
 this my fatherland." 
 
 The description of the cathedral, and of the serv- 
 ice therein, as well as that of Stonehenge, and all 
 castles, picture-galleries, and the like, have been so 
 repeatedly given by other travelers, that they are 
 omitted here, in spite of the freshness of observation 
 which gives them individuality in the pages of this 
 journal. 
 
 Of such sight-seeing Mr. Appleton says thus early 
 in his travels : 
 
 " To tell the truth, the effect is hardly pleasant. 
 There is too much labor — one is distracted, dazzled, 
 tantalized, and fatigued. I prefer some one simple, 
 deep feeling to all this multiform and perplexing 
 pleasure. One soon wearies of just glancing the eye, 
 even at perfect pictures." 
 
London, ' 107 
 
 This is the end of the volume containing the 
 journal of the voyage. The sheets were sent off by 
 packet to give pleasure to the family at home, while 
 the young traveler, with one companion, Mr. Barnard, 
 set out for London. Of May-day he says : 
 
 ** No merry minstrelsie, no holiday pageant, no 
 garlanded May-pole ushered in the day in his Ma- 
 jesty's good town of Salisbury. The stalking-horse 
 hid his diminished head, festivity was not, and the 
 gaitered citizens, plodding through the fallen rain, 
 thought not of the fun and merrymaking of by-gone 
 years. A few filthy and miserable children mocked 
 with dirty flowers and tawdry ribbons the custom 
 they alone seemed conscious of ; they danced about 
 amid the iron-shod groups, vociferating for ha'pen- 
 nies, the muddier at every fresh gambol. Alas for 
 the days of old lang syne ! 
 
 " On the 2d of May, Barnard and myself took 
 our seats in the basket of the coach for London. 
 The English coach has an inside, a box, and a basket, 
 the two latter half the price of the interior ; having 
 engaged his place, one can not change it, as with 
 us. Now, as the interior has only four seats, and 
 as in this climate rain is the prevailing weather, 
 it must strike any one that the coach is built ex- 
 pressly for the discomfort of travelers. We drove 
 the whole way in the rain, on a seat of such con- 
 
io8 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 struction that our attention was always occupied in 
 holding on. 
 
 " The coaches are narrow, generally painted green, 
 and lettered all over. At a little distance they look 
 like our fire-engines. Straw is liberally distributed to 
 pillow the constrained limbs, and a cloud of umbrellas 
 rising from a heap of straw looks not unlike mush- 
 rooms growing under a stable. 
 
 "Twenty miles outside of London the pulsation 
 of the great heart began to quicken. Men and ve- 
 hicles became more frequent, and long before we had 
 entered the city the road was lined with houses. We 
 passed Hounslow Heath without the suspicion of a 
 * Stand and deliver ! * The frolic-ground of Paul 
 Clifford and his worthies is now almost built over, 
 and no one would call it a heath nowadays. 
 
 "We saw Virginia Water, with a cascade, just on 
 the road, and caught a glimpse, through the trees, of 
 Windsor. We dashed at once into the West End, and 
 found ourselves surrounded by palaces grim with 
 coal-dust, looking as much like prisons as palaces, 
 in spite of statuary and carving. Just as we entered 
 London, on crossing a trifling stream, I thought I 
 might as well ask its name ; the reply was, * The 
 Thames ! ' " 
 
 On the evening of their arrival the two young 
 men went to the theatre, and saw Mathews ; on the 
 
London, 109 
 
 next, to Drury Lane, and heard Madame Malibran in 
 "La Sonnambula." 
 
 " Madame's face is oval, her features very regular 
 and full of expression, her voice when speaking is 
 quite similar to that of Fanny Kemble. Her acting 
 is nature, her singing expression. She is as graceful 
 as possible, though with largish feet. She is alto- 
 gether a charming woman." Of the scene in Hyde 
 Park he says : 
 
 "I will wager a sovereign that in this immense 
 crowd there was not a smile the afternoon long. It 
 was a sort of gaudy funeral. The perspiring foot- 
 men looked with long faces into the cloudless heav- 
 ens, and even the silk-laced lap-dogs turned blue as 
 they saw the fog-like faces of their serene mistresses." 
 He writes, after two visits to the Academy Exhibition 
 in Somerset House : 
 
 " I do not wonder at the fame of my country- 
 man Leslie. He draws beautifully, and his coloring, 
 though now looking raw, only wants glazing to be 
 true. This morning I see all the wonderful merit of 
 Wilkie. His scene in a Spanish convent is esteemed 
 his very best picture, and indeed the best ever within 
 the walls of Somerset House. It represents a monk 
 at his confessional, and for breadth and force is per- 
 fectly Rembrandt. I can not admire Turner vastly : 
 
 all his pictures this year are sea-pieces, with chalky 
 10 
 
no Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 gray for sky and water, and black and white for 
 shadow and light, the sole force of the picture being 
 in most cases an ochre sail. Ochre is his favorite tint, 
 and he is often called * The Ochre-Man.* 
 
 " There are pictures here which we should hardly 
 admit into our Athenaeum. Indeed, I am quite com- 
 forted in seeing so many bad pictures. Portraits 
 occupy, as with us, an unreasonable space, and, after 
 all, in proportion, I don't know but there are as many 
 bad canvases as with us. . . . 
 
 "Last night I went to the Haymarket, to' see 
 Hackett in * Rip Van Winkle.' The theatre is about 
 the size of the Tremont, lighted with wax. The play 
 was stupid ; Hackett was poorly supported, and I 
 have seen it better played in New York. No one 
 here understands the naturalness of Hackett : all his 
 characters are thrown away. There is a Yankee in 
 the piece, played by a man who, because he talked 
 quick and wore a straw hat, though in white-top 
 boots, and using the cockney haspiration, was thought 
 admirable." 
 
 After visiting Westminster Abbey with deep inter- 
 est, he " stopped to see the Exhibition in Water-Colors. 
 This is the glory of English art. It is their forte. 
 I hardly had a notion of the richness and finish this 
 work is susceptible of. At a little distance many of 
 the pictures I should have mistaken for oils. But 
 
London, 1 1 1 
 
 that water-color pictures are so liable to destruction, 
 I think it might be equal to and as popular as oil." 
 
 They saw Pasta in " Medea." " Her figure is of 
 Siddonian proportions, her acting and carriage those 
 of the queen of tragedy. She is not in the least 
 handsome, but at times very terrible. 
 
 " After the opera, we had a ballet, in which Ta- 
 glioni was chief dancer ; though there were a hun- 
 dred dancers in it, no one would ask which was 
 Taglioni. She is tall and slender, with a pretty face. 
 Words are not to describe the perfect ease of her 
 motions. Wheeling a wheelbarrow is with her as 
 beautiful as a pirouette. She seems often to assume 
 attitudes and perform steps expressly to show how 
 much ease and grace can be thrown into movements 
 which are in themselves awkward. 
 
 ^^ May nth. — Barnard and I at ten in the morning 
 met by agreement, at the Royal Exchange, a party of 
 about twelve, mostly Americans, to spend the day 
 together rook-shooting at an estate owned by Mr. 
 Pickersgill, the partner of Mr. Searle, who invited us. 
 I never enjoyed a day of pleasanter sport. Captain 
 Champlain and I sat on deck ; the hold and basket 
 were crammed, and away we cracked. 
 
 ** After driving ten miles through a beautiful coun- 
 try, where I was startled by finding again about me 
 all the balm and song and freshness of spring, we 
 
112 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 stopped in a large court at the door of a sort of farm- 
 house, at the threshold of which, in shooting trim, 
 stood Mr. Pickersgill. He received us warmly, and 
 with English hospitality insisted before we went far- 
 ther upon our entering the hall and taking a bite of 
 bread and cheese, and a flagon of home-brewed. 
 That done, we arranged matters for the sport. We 
 divided into parties of two, each party having one or 
 two air-guns, and firing by turns. This rook-shoot- 
 ing is the only kind at this season of the year, and 
 is esteemed choice fun. Immediately from the court 
 entrance begins a noble forest, with slopes of bright 
 green, here and there summer-houses and rabbit-bur- 
 rows, and winding through all an osiered sheet of 
 water, to which some two or three prefer to retire, act- 
 ing Izaak Walton along the brink. The air was alive 
 with cawing rooks, and out we sallied, a liveried servant 
 attending to pump our guns when exhausted. 
 
 " The sport was most delightful. I killed my first 
 three birds dead, and Mr. Pickersgill paid me the 
 compliment to say he would back me against any of 
 the party. The air-gun is a delightful instrument. It 
 carries a ball as truly as a rifle, and without other noise 
 than a sort of fatal whisper, and it has the advantage 
 that when pumped it is good for a dozen shots. We 
 rambled all over the grounds in high spirits ; the day 
 was most enchanting, and the woody scenery fine. 
 
London, 1 1 3 
 
 ** When we desisted at five, after a long day, with a 
 relaxation, however, from the sport to see the grounds, 
 we found each party had bagged about two dozen 
 rooks. I killed six or seven. Whetted sharply were 
 our appetites when we sat down to a simple but good 
 dinner in the long * painted gallery,* so called from 
 having no pictures, by the lucus non rule. I ate the 
 better part of a rook-pie, which resembles pigeon, but 
 better. Departing after dinner, we gave our host 
 three cheers from the top of the coach. So much 
 for a day of capital fun." 
 
 After breakfasting one morning with some Eng- 
 lish friends, Mr. Appleton was taken by them to the 
 rehearsal of an ancient royal concert. "This is a 
 very aristocratic affair ; none but subscribers being 
 admitted to the concerts, but they can bring friends 
 to the rehearsals. It was not crowded, but select. 
 There were plenty of noblemen — who in dress, look, 
 and manners are just like anybody else — and several 
 lovely girls. The Archbishop of York had two pretty 
 daughters. There was the Bishop of London and the 
 Marquis of Westminster, and, among others, the poet 
 Rogers. The concert was rather heavy, though we 
 had a magnificent orchestra and many distinguished 
 singers. At the close of the rehearsal, Pasta came. 
 I scarcely recognized, in the smooth, round, good-hu- 
 mored face I saw, the terrible Medea of an evening 
 
114 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 previous. She sang one bravura with Rubini, and two 
 sweet arias, that drew audible bravos.'* 
 
 In the afternoon he visited the House of Com- 
 mons. " It is just opposite Westminster Abbey ; but 
 how unlike! It is small and dingy, with a gallery 
 running all round it like any chapel, supported by 
 pillars heavily gilt at the top, the only pretty thing in 
 it being the Speaker's chair, which is high and has the 
 royal arms over it. Sir Robert Peel was speaking as 
 we entered. He was in white pants, and rather witty. 
 A terribly long oration followed from a Dublin Uni- 
 versity member, who denounced Althorp's bill, and 
 was very statistical. After him Colonel French de- 
 claimed in a polished and easy flow, amid unnoticed 
 * hears * from the administration benches. Then, with 
 a heavy step into the front row, down stepped O'Con- 
 nell. He is of solid mold, tall and thick-featured, 
 with a close, wiry head of hair. He gave a very 
 spirited speech to back his honorable friend of the 
 university. His manner is earnest, violent, and his 
 deep voice has a rich brogue that gives point to many 
 of his good things. He contradicted the administra- 
 tion men often flatly, and seemed little afraid of any 
 of them. O'Connell's sarcasm called forth a shuffling 
 and stammering explanation from Lord Althorp. His 
 tones are those of a querulous old man, and when I 
 leaned forward and saw the silken whisker, erect car- 
 
London, 115 
 
 riage, and dashy waistcoat of the noble lord, I could 
 only conclude that too much politics had made him 
 old in his prime. This * hear ' is peculiar. It often 
 sounds like the cackle of a flock of geese when a 
 stone is sent among them, and its constant chattering 
 serves no other purpose than to deafen and confuse ; 
 but a loud * hear, hear ! * when a fine speaker is in full 
 swing of excitement, is to him as the shouts of the 
 hunters to the lion. It calls the sparkle to the 
 eye, and thunder to the tongue. . . . We walked 
 up to Bentley's in New Burlington Street to get 
 the new novels of Bulwer, James, and Disraeli, which | 
 we had seen announced, but ascertained that in 
 modern English 'being ready' means *not to be 
 had.' " 
 
 The Tower, the Zoological Gardens, Astley's, Chris- 
 tie's, and St. Paul's, were all visited, inspected, and 
 described, with the thoroughness of a conscientious 
 tourist. Of the last he says : 
 
 " The whispering- gallery is only the base of the 
 dome, and any circular wall would, I should imagine, 
 give the same effect. To try it, I put my mouth close 
 to the wall, and whispered to the guide, who was on 
 the opposite side — 
 
 " * Who painted the pictures overhead ? ' 
 
 " * Sir Christopher Wren,* came back, in confiden- 
 tial and mendacious distinctness. The poor man had 
 
ii6 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 but one answer for everything. They were painted by 
 Thorndike. 
 
 ..." Billiards are played with three balls, a modi- 
 fication of the French game. One evening I went into 
 one of the billiard-saloons — a fine, showy hall. The 
 marker offered to play me. It appears it is customary 
 to bet something every game. I told him I should 
 only risk sixpence, and, of course, should lose, as I 
 never played their game before. Taking me for an 
 Englishman, the man expressed surprise. I was in 
 good play, and made some hits now and then, asking 
 how to proceed, and beat him the first game. * No 
 gammon, my covey,* said he. *You don't come the 
 jerry over me ; you've played often enough. Anyhow, 
 you're the best player that ever played on this 'ere 
 table.* I blushed at the compliment, and, as I re- 
 ceived his money at the end of the rub, I told him I 
 was an American. 
 
 ''''May \()th. — This morning, while I was dawdling 
 over a late breakfast, Dr. Holm, the phrenologist, was 
 announced. I received him without ceremony. He 
 dwelt with warmth upon Spurzheim, and our recep- 
 tion of him in America, lectured me long on his sci- 
 ence, and offered to examine my head. Certainly, the 
 character which he read off instantly from my skull is 
 true in several points. *You have,* said he, 'great 
 affection ; where you attach yourself, you will love 
 
London, 1 1 7 
 
 lastingly. You are cautious, and not hasty to accept 
 new plans. You are very fond of natural scenery, and 
 can remember and represent again any scene or view 
 you may have seen. You prefer light and delicate to 
 harsh and dark colors. You remember things and 
 places, but are bad at dates and names. In music you 
 have a bad time^ but are fond of harmony/ etc., etc. 
 There must be something in this phrenology." 
 
 Mr. John Lowell, in his cab, drove Mr. Appleton 
 to Windsor, thence to Richmond, Twickenham, and 
 Hampton Court. It was a little tour of a couple of 
 days. After noting many things at Hampton Court, 
 he says : 
 
 " We at last came to the cartoons. Here the 
 crowd we came with hurried through, but Lowell and 
 I remained as long as the patience of our guide per- 
 mitted. Though the colors appear faded, the fig- 
 ures have fully retained their beauty of expression 
 and design. The cartoons are water-colors on paper, 
 and were intended to be transferred to tapestry. I 
 feel all the high superiority of the divine Raphael. 
 There are faces here that none but he could have con- 
 ceived. I shall always bear within me their excellence 
 as my standard." 
 
 These are doubtless the famous cartoons for tapes- 
 
ii8 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 try designs which Raphael drew for Leo X, purchased 
 by Charles I at the suggestion of Van Dyck. 
 
 ..." At eleven, I drove to Mrs. Wiggin's ball, 
 and found the first quadrille commenced. Madame, 
 in a gold turban, received me at the entrance. I 
 danced with the prettiest girl in the room. She 
 pointed out to me the celebrities — among others. Lord 
 Somebody, who traveled all over Europe as a Swiss 
 female minstrel. I was introduced to an ugly damsel, 
 with whom I went through the dance likewise. The 
 party was lamentably like our own — the same over- 
 dressed creatures, chattering and smiling about and 
 at they knew not what ; the same heat, the same 
 affected conversation. The quadrille is an immense 
 one, and the figures appear to differ somewhat from 
 ours. Madame asked me if I valtzed j but I declined 
 the grip of one of these stalwart Venuses. I got 
 home by one, walking the whole way, through blind 
 alleys full of rowdy characters. As I stepped into 
 bed, it occurred to me that I had not dined, and in- 
 stantly I became rabid with hunger." 
 
 A horticultural fete at Keswick, with Mr. Low- 
 ell, was the last excursion from London, and the 
 month closed with the festivities connected with the 
 king's birthday. King William held a lez'ife at St 
 James's. 
 
London. 119 
 
 "The windows of the coroneted carriages were 
 open, and fair creatures in jewelry and feathers, and 
 grim warriors in scarlet uniforms, alternately smiled 
 and glowered at us. The windows, verandas, etc., 
 were alive with spectators. v 
 
 " In the evening the illuminations presented a gay 
 appearance. 'R. W.,* in vari- colored lamps, shone 
 loyally ; but it struck me oddly that the king should 
 celebrate his birthday so long before it comes off. It 
 looks as if he were determined not to be forestalled by 
 Death of any amusement it might afford. 
 
 *' Just before twelve Mr. Lowell called for me, in 
 his cab, and we drove to Willis's Rooms, King Street, 
 St. James's, for tickets had been applied for to the ball, 
 and Princess Lieven had us upon her list. In a side- 
 hall we presented our tickets, paying a guinea each, 
 and were shown up-stairs to the grand ball-room — 
 that El Dorado to the adventurers of haut-torty that 
 promised Canaan to the tribe of toadies, that spot of 
 bitterness to the swarms of the disappointed, the holy 
 of holies of the temple of Fashion ! 
 
 " Quadrilles were just forming as we entered. It 
 is a noble hall, profusely bright with wax-candles, and 
 carved and relieved in white on a pink ground in a 
 very pretty manner. 
 
 "This was a brilliant evening on account of the 
 birthday festivities. I will describe the dress of one 
 
I20 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 of the finest women in the room, with a queenly ex- 
 pression of rank. Her face was Grecian, and the hair 
 close in front and on top without ornament, save a 
 broad, classical fillet of simple gold round the head. 
 A massive but simple gold necklace reclined on her 
 uncovered shoulders. Her dress was white, tastefully- 
 embroidered with flowers in different colors. 
 
 "The dress of the men was, in most cases, an 
 unbuckramed, skin-like coat, long, and with broad 
 flaps, a stock, colored waistcoat, pants pyramidal to 
 the ankle, stockings open-work and high colored ;'add 
 quizzing-glass, hat (not opera), cane, and mustache 
 a discretion^ and you have the ball-costume of an 
 English gentleman, a. d. 1833. 
 
 " Waltzing and gallopades were oftener than quad- 
 rilles. Gallopade is a huge square, the figure appar- 
 ently at the fancy of the dancers, taking care they 
 keep time. There were more young people — awk- 
 ward lads with painfully correct hair, and unfledged 
 misses — than I expected. Mothers walked about with 
 their daughters, as it were to display their wares ; fat 
 old ladies waddled like moving phosphorescences, 
 each, like the toad, bearing a precious jewel in her 
 head. When the dancing struck up, a green cord was 
 held by the servants to dispart the dancers from the 
 rest. The refreshments were simple to plainness, 
 little else but coffee and sandwiches ; the cake what 
 
London, 1 2 1 
 
 we call * President's biscuit.' The English affect 
 French a good deal ; one hears it constantly- at 
 parties. 
 
 " May ^pth. — This morning we four parted, Bar- 
 nard for the north of England, the Motleys for Amer- 
 ica, and I for France, by way of Brighton. Till I was 
 off, the morning was agony, with bills and botheration. 
 I took my place on the box of the Brighton coach with 
 singular satisfaction, having shaken hands with my 
 friends, and shaken off the waiters ; at ten precisely 
 we cracked away. The lion of Northumberland 
 House held his tail stiffer than ever as we swept 
 under it. The Abbey looked sad and solemn. 
 
 ''Soon, with unstifled lungs, I was with delight 
 looking back upon the smoke and hubbub of the 
 great Babylon. 
 
 *'In leaving London, I must say that hospitality 
 of all sorts has been offered me. I have seen nothing 
 of John Bull's noli me tangere spirit, but have found 
 everywhere the reverse." 
 
 This was in spite of a conirete?nps which deprived 
 Mr. Appleton of all his letters of introduction, among 
 them those given him by John Howard Payne, who 
 was in Boston the winter before, and who had re- 
 ceived the hospitality of Mr. Appleton's dinner-club. 
 Mr. Payne gave to Appleton and Hooper letters to 
 
 many of his friends — O'Connell was one of them. 
 II 
 
122 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 All the letters were seized on Tom's person when he 
 arrived in London by an over-zealous customs official, 
 and, although unsealed, were put by him in the post- 
 office for their various destinations. For long after- 
 ward the unfortunate young gentlemen were hunted 
 up from time to time by some of the more civil yet 
 naturally irritated recipients of these letters, who knew 
 not where to seek the persons so highly recommended 
 to them. Mr. Appleton used to give an amusing ac- 
 count of these interviews, and the annoyance caused 
 by his apparently innocent mode of sending the^ let- 
 ters. 
 
 On the I St of June, Thomas crossed the Channel 
 from Brighton to Dieppe, and took his mental farewell 
 of Old England — "bade adieu to her plump daugh- 
 ters and serious sons, her nectarian ale and her patri- 
 cian turbot, her melting mutton, her velvet lawns, her 
 roads, her coats, her cabs, her umbrellas, and, thank 
 Heaven, her charges ! " 
 
 1 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PARIS. 
 1833- 
 
 " Paris, June 6th. — Why did I waste my substance 
 — why did I lose patience, money, comfort, and time in 
 the smoke of the island Babylon — when dear, delight- 
 ful Paris was within a jump ? Experience must be 
 bought, and I have bought it. Would that all the 
 money that London ravished from my pocket were 
 there again, to circulate in the natural veins of Paris ! 
 
 " Paris is as unlike London as fire and fog, yet 
 some people ask me which I like best ! No money 
 can purchase in London comfort ; in Paris, every sou 
 returns a throb through the whole man. To come to 
 details : 
 
 " In London, at breakfast, you have a little coffee- 
 pot, little milk-pot, and little muffin. Here, caf/ au 
 lait brings a garcon to you, with a huge pot in each 
 hand — one is for coffee, the other milk. He pours 
 the cafi till you cry, * Tenez I * and then dashes the 
 whole cup with hot milk. This is but one instance, to 
 
124 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 show that this people certainly understand the philos- 
 ophy of living better than their fellow-creatures ; and 
 all the wonder is that they are not universally imi- 
 tated. 
 
 " I went into the garden of the Tuileries. In a 
 moment I was as if in the melancholy of primeval 
 forests. Embracing trees make twilight and silence, 
 unbroken save by giddy bursts of sunshine and the 
 song of birds. Pay a sou, take a chair, and read 
 Beranger, as uninterrupted as in a desert ; or, if you 
 have him not in your pocket, step from the 'w'ood, 
 and as far as the dark, carved palace, and your eye 
 is dazzled by sparkling water and gleaming marble. 
 Here gold-fishes leap from their circular oceans to the 
 sun, there Apollo strains the monster python. A hun- 
 dred statues appear through the trees. I walked be- 
 side the banks of the Seine, passing many a noble 
 bridge, till I came to the Pont de Concorde, lined with 
 gigantic and exquisite statues of the French heroes — 
 Bayard, Conde, Du Guesclin, etc. ; it is, indeed, noble 
 in effect. 
 
 ^^ June "jfh. — Dined at the famous cafd ' Les Trois 
 Freres Proven^aux.* The quantity of glass in Paris 
 is astonishing ; the houses are all open, and the fre- 
 quent glass realizes the idea of every one's carrying a 
 window in his bosom. Mirrors, that the Trojan horse 
 might have seen himself in, reflect you at every turn. 
 
Paris, 125 
 
 A good cafd is all mirrors. My parlor is ornamented 
 with a very elegant clock and three immense mirrors. 
 I have a capital salon and bedroom in the Prince Re- 
 gent Hotel — quiet, and but a step from the Tuileries. 
 
 " This morning my valet made his appearance, hat 
 in hand. He is a spruce, lively fellow, and will be of 
 great service in lionizing and conversation. He put 
 my room to rights, and arranged my wardrobe in the 
 most knowing manner." 
 
 Three of Mr. Appleton's friends (Drs. Holmes, 
 Hooper, and Warren) were studying medicine in Paris, 
 so that he had no lack of congenial companionship ; 
 and with them, or under the guidance of the valet, 
 Frangois, he went through a course of the lions of 
 Paris, which, like those of London, are now too familiar 
 to bear description. The Place Vend6me, the Louvre, 
 the Luxembourg, Frascati's, the Gobelin tapestries, 
 received attention on the first days after his arrival. 
 
 *' June ^th. — As this was Sunday, I gave the lions 
 a day's peace. I met Baker in the street, and went 
 with him to visit a friend of his. What was my aston- 
 ishment to find in this friend Sam Ward, with impe- 
 rials, and the disguise of a perfectly French manner ! 
 No one would doubt he was French. 
 
 "After a dinner at Prev6t*s, the medicals and I 
 sat in the Palais Royal, and watched the gambols of 
 
126 Tho77tas G, Appleton, 
 
 the children. Though I was prepared to hear them 
 speak French, they were the source of great amuse- 
 ment ; they dress prettily and oddly, have fine eyes 
 and redundant hair, and play together like embryo 
 Frenchmen. 
 
 "After amusing ourselves on the Boulevards, we 
 dropped into a theatre des enfants. The theatre is 
 little, and the performers all children. They played 
 with great spirit ; one girl did admirably. Mothers 
 bring their good children here to reward them. A 
 fine nest of young Burkes ! 
 
 "At the Pantheon we were shown the tomb of 
 Rousseau ; it is the real one, transported from its 
 former place. It has reliefs on it. One, a projecting 
 hand setting fire to a world, is very just. Vis-a-vis is 
 the tomb of his arch-rival Voltaire. AVe saw the tombs 
 of many of the generals of France, and should have 
 seen more, but one of the party, John Bull, cried out, 
 * Seeing one is seeing a thousand — let's be off ! ' and 
 as he was the majority, off we came. 
 
 " Yesterday, while I was dining at a cafe^ a whole 
 English family entered and took a table ; as was pres- 
 ently evident, not one of them spoke a word of French. 
 In vain did the polite waiter offer them the treasures 
 of gastronomy, they could appreciate nothing. But, 
 at last, in connection with bifteck^ he mentioned d 
 VAnglaise^ and the whole clump cried out, '' Oui, out/* 
 
Paris. 127 
 
 Miladi smiled on the waiter her broadest grin, and he 
 hurried for bifteck a VA7iglaise. At the Opera Comique 
 the other night, in * Fra Diavolo,' there was an EngUsh 
 lord caricatured to the life. He has red hair, and an 
 immense drab surtout, with huge buttons, long waist, 
 and low pockets. It is a good pendant to Mathews's 
 Frenchman. 
 
 " At the Cafe de Paris, the room was full of Eng- 
 lish, but there was one good specimen of the Parisian 
 dandy. His hair was parted, and fell sleek to the 
 neck, and there formed a ridge of curls round the 
 head. His collar was turned over, and sustained by 
 a complicated mass of black silk. He had a figured 
 gilef^ and large cossack ; white pantaloons, very wide 
 at the boot. His coat was huge, and the broad flaps 
 were rounded at the end. Huge rings were on every 
 finger. Moreover, he was young and handsome. It 
 must be said that the men here do not dress with at all 
 the taste of Englishmen ; but the ladies — mon Dieu ! 
 they are simplicity itself ! 
 
 ^^ June 12th. — After dinner I took a parterre-seat 
 in the Opera Fran^ais. The house is large and hand- 
 some, and cut up into different portions, each with a 
 different price. The pit is very nice, with velvet seats ; 
 and the utmost order prevails. Gens-d' arfnes at the 
 door are ready to repress the least trouble ; but none 
 occurs. If one wishes to leave the theatre for a while, 
 
128 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 and keep his seat, he puts thereon his opera-glass and 
 gloves, and, were he gone the whole evening, would be 
 sure to find them untouched on his return. 
 
 " The opera was * La Tentation,' and consisted in 
 the devices of the evil- one to seduce a holy monk. 
 The music is not very good, but the subject gives full 
 scope to the wild taste for diablerie which seems at 
 present to prevail. One scene in the crater of a vol- 
 cano, where the fiend reviews his army, was magnifi- 
 cently terrible. There were full two hundred persons 
 on the stage, and all as devils. The army marched to 
 a full band of infernal drummers, and little fiends for 
 pipers, headed by the sapeurs of hell. The garde na- 
 tionale of the brimstone country, with horned heads, 
 curved and hacked cimiters, and pale - green mus- 
 taches, appeared next ; and in the rear followed a mul- 
 titude of she-devils and young Zamiels. In another 
 place we looked into the recesses of heaven, and saw 
 afar a band of angels singing, with harp and lute, the 
 praise of God. The cold, silver light falling on the 
 purity of their robes, contrasted well with the devilish 
 glare upon the evil army in the foreground. 
 
 ^^ June i^th. — At half-past eight in the morning 
 Warren and I took a gondola for Versailles ; when 
 there, after a slight breakfast, visited the palace. It 
 is gorgeous as a lavish taste could make it. The 
 pictures are not generally very good — that is to say, 
 
Paris, 129 
 
 they are mostly French. The gardens are the perfec- 
 tion of mathematical beauty — 
 
 ' Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees ' — 
 
 ' Grove nods to grove — each alley has a brother,' etc. 
 
 It is all as Pope says, even to the swallows in ' Nilus* 
 dusty urn,' for all the fountains were rusty for want 
 of use. 
 
 ^''June 16th. — After the theatre the Boulevard was 
 a gay scene. Thousands in merry moods throng the 
 walks. The glass windows of the cafe's reveal the 
 blaze of day. Venders of all things invite at every 
 step ; here a thousand clocks of gold protrude into 
 the gutter, and there rich prints strew the earth. Now 
 a man pulls your arm to sell you a waistcoat, and 
 anon another to show you his dancing fleas. Your 
 eye glides over a gay mass of frolic. Here an image 
 Turk turns his head in grave slowness up and down, 
 and there a wooden Othello stabs a plaster Desdemo- 
 na. All is fun, and fla?ieurs riot in the witching hour. 
 In their mood, I stepped into one of the thousand 
 spectacles. A man had a collection of wise birds. A 
 lovely girl took a franc from me, and I found I had 
 bought the best place in the theatre, while all the 
 other spectators were behind me ; thus, unfortunately, 
 I had to do all the card-shuffling, etc., for the com- 
 pany. The birds could pick marked cards from a 
 
130 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 heap, make out the names of towns by letters, etc. ; 
 but the poor things were rather too sleepy to work, 
 and we were given tickets to come again when they 
 were more awake. My position drew upon me several 
 severe jokes. 
 
 ^^June I'jfh. — Holmes and I actually were at the 
 Louvre this morning three hours instead of one, such 
 was the seduction of the masters. 
 
 " O Salvator Rosa, thou king of the terrible ; O 
 Rubens, emperor of glowing flesh and vermeil lips ; 
 Rembrandt, sullen lord of brown shades and light- 
 ning lights ; O Cuyp, magician of sunny twilights ; 
 Raphael, thou prince of painters ; O Wouverman, 
 thou Mars of tumult and battle-smoke ; O Teniers, 
 Thyrsites of the canvas ; O Titian, thou god of noble 
 eyes and rich, warm life ; O Veronese, apostle of the 
 Marriage Feast ; and last, not least, Murillo, thou Burns 
 of the cottage and the shed — when shall I repay you 
 all for the high happiness of this day? 
 
 " In the evening I attended the most Parisian of 
 feteSy Tivoli. I was admitted to an extensive grove, 
 brilliant with colored lamps and vocal with a hundred 
 musicians. Laughing groups of well-dressed Parisians 
 lounged under the trees, or to the music twinkled their 
 pretty feet. Here it is that the fair milliner, the fairer 
 goddess of the caf^, and the nonchalant do-nothing, 
 meet in common revel. I wandered as chance guided. 
 
Paris. 131 
 
 A boat in full sail, holding a laughing party, whirled 
 over my head on a circular cruise in the air. Quadrilles 
 were performed on the turf, and lovers turned aside 
 to the darker alleys of the wood. A man put a pistol 
 in my hand ; I pulled the trigger, a rocket shot through 
 the skies, and, as it hit a metal bird, a shower of fire 
 fell around. I pass on ; pantomime rules the mo- 
 ment. Harlequin eats whole puddings at a swallow, 
 and plays a thousand tricks. Cafe blazes before me 
 in many-colored letters. A party is watching a game 
 in which a Frenchman strikes his ball into a hole and 
 wins — a flower. * Blanche ou rouge ? ' asks the win- 
 ner, of a pretty girl at his side. 'Blanche,' whisper 
 her rosy lips. * Excellent ! c'est I'image d'innocence et 
 de vertu,* he replies, and fastens the rose to her bosom 
 with an insinuating bow. I try my luck at archery ; 
 lose thirty sous, but do not hit the target ; the arrows 
 are charmed. From a stupendous height the rope- 
 swinger careers in air. He twists and turns till, alas ! 
 he falls headlong from the rope. A cry of horror 
 bursts from fair lips. The rogue ! he is laughing at 
 them, while he holds the rope securely in one hand. 
 Vive la bagatelle ! 
 
 ^^ June 20th. — We made a party and dined at the 
 Rocher de Cancale, the crack eating-house described 
 in * Pelham,' and had a capital dinner. . . . Went to 
 the Theatre Frangais in the evening. Mdlle. Mars 
 
132 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 played in two pieces ; her acting is nature, with those 
 little but true touches that belong to genius. She is 
 very quiet in manner ; her modulation is distinct and 
 delicate, and in verse you seem not to hear the re- 
 straints of rhyme, but only metrical prose. As she 
 manages it, I have no objection to dramatic rhythm. 
 Though not exactly looking young (she is fifty-seven !), 
 yet her fine face and figure supply the loss of youth, 
 and she has the pleasure of knowing she is an old and 
 established favorite. 
 
 "June 21st — This morning I took my catalogue 
 and gave the statues at the Louvre a cool and thor- 
 ough examination. I was all alone, save as at inter- 
 vals I passed a rusty and pale student with his bread 
 and crayons. I enjoy this gallery as much as the other. 
 Surrounded by these triumphs of the Roman chisel, I 
 can easily picture in my mind all the splendor of the 
 imperial city. I see the Pompeiian circus that this gi- 
 gantic Melpomene once guarded ; and the Appian Way, 
 gorgeous with these very statues of the emperors, runs 
 into white perspective to my eye. Here are the origi- 
 nals of the * Diane a la biche' and ' The Fighting Glad- 
 iator.' How unlike the plaster copies ! The muscles 
 of the gladiator positively tremble with fatigue, and the 
 stain of centuries but deepens the haggard and weary 
 earnestness of his furrowed countenance. He seems 
 to spring from the pedestal. The busts of the em.- 
 
Paris. 133 
 
 perors are most interesting. We are certain of their 
 fidelity, and can fancy we see them live. Trajan has 
 the lowest forehead I ever saw. Germanicus is the 
 amiable and graceful youth I expected ; Nero, a hand- 
 some sensualist ; Nerva, admirably Roman. 
 
 "I went up-stairs and met Brown, just going to 
 visit a private French collection, and joined him. 
 The house was far toward the barrier, and the col- 
 lection a famous one. The picture we were most 
 pleased with is one by Constable. It is as fine a land- 
 scape as I ever saw, and wholly above those in the 
 London exhibitions. There were also good Rubenses, 
 Murillos, and Ruysdaels. We took a walk in the gar- 
 den — very beautiful, with statues, grottoes, and water ; 
 there we met the wealthy owner of this little villa. 
 He expressed pleasure at showing us his collection, 
 and proved himself a man of taste by his comments 
 upon his own pictures. 
 
 " I dined with M. Henri, my French teacher, en 
 famille. He has a pretty little daughter, from whom 
 I dare say I shall learn more French than from any 
 one else. Little girls talk faster and more prettily 
 than men. As I paced the Boulevard, I looked in 
 upon the wise birds, but they were not visible. 
 
 ^^ June 22d. — I got from Galignani the 'Sketch-, 
 
 Book ' to re-read. How true Irving is in the narrative 
 
 of the sea-voyage and the effect of * land ! ' on an 
 12 
 
134 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 American ! The poetry of the cottages and emerald 
 fields of England was not lost upon him. I inquire 
 here often for the Saint-Simonians. They are a dis- 
 carded tribe. The only one I have seen is a student 
 in the Louvre, with flowing hair, one-sided hat, and 
 brown robes, the costume of their sect. 
 
 ^^ June 2-7,d. — After procuring a fresh supply of 
 francs from my banker, I put one of my father's 
 speeches in my pocket and went to call on Lafay- 
 ette. Unfortunately, he had the day before gone to 
 the country. Visited Percival, and we arranged plans 
 for Swiss travel. At sight of the map, and Lake 
 Geneva, I became furious to be off. I want to be 
 among the glaciers, and to hear the cry of the lammer- 
 geyer. Percival carried me to the expiatory chapel 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. It is very beau- 
 tiful, and the sad sentiments of Louis's will, and 
 Marie's last letter, breathe from the storm into the 
 tranquil chapel a pathetic solemnity. The chapel was 
 begun by Louis XIII, and finished by Charles the 
 Bigot, who put a finishing touch to every church he 
 could find. . . . 
 
 " In the evening I went to the Gymnase, and was 
 kept in a laugh the whole evening by Perlet, a capital 
 actor, who was the life of two excellent vaudevilles. 
 A vaudeville is a comedy interspersed with songs set 
 to popular tunes ; it is very common with the French, 
 
Paris. 135 
 
 and quite their /(^r/^, as the spirit and vivacity of their 
 conversational language give a sparkle to every tete- 
 h-tete. 
 
 " These French are a very strange people. It is 
 easier to like than to esteem them ; yet all that re- 
 lates to biensdance is irreproachable, and their bon- 
 homie is universal. You ask a man the way, and he 
 will go to the end of the street to show you. It is 
 their politeness that prevents them from laughing at 
 foreigners. There is no chance of meeting at a caf^ 
 that surly and grumbling tone so common in London. 
 But the French are an ugly nation. The animal is 
 stamped indelibly on their features. I do not think 
 I have seen an intellectual head since my arrival. 
 They dress badly. They are inferior in size to the 
 English ; the soldiers are short, sallow, and look ill- 
 fed. If by accident a man elongates into a grenadier, 
 he is not stout and plump like an English one, but 
 seems ready to break down under his mountainous cap. 
 
 " Whenever I see a body of these troops moving to 
 its lifeless music, I can not help pitying it as a sort 
 of animated corpse. The soul is fled. The voice that 
 called to victory is still. Under One, the French sol- 
 dier could dare impossibilities ; now he falls back into 
 an ill-fed animal. These same troops, with Napoleon 
 at their head, would be a terror to their enemies ; now 
 they are harmless. 
 
136 Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 "... As I passed the Chateau d'Eau, the finest 
 fountain in Paris was playing beautifully. These 
 fountains are very numerous, and in hot weather are 
 the most refreshing sights in the world. They consti- 
 tute one of the chief beauties of Paris. 
 
 " I descended a flight of steps from the Pont-Neuf, 
 the oldest bridge in Paris, with a fine equestrian 
 bronze statue of Henri IV, to try one of the many 
 baths of the Seine. They all consist of a large, open 
 square, into which every one turns, having little stalls 
 for clothes. The water was only up to the waist of 
 the hundred bathers, and was too turbid to suit one 
 accustomed to ocean freshness. On getting home, 
 I found a packet of letters. I danced with de- 
 light. 
 
 " In the evening we went to the Cirque Olym- 
 pique, as there was to be a r^prhentaiion extraordi- 
 naire^ and extremely so it was. The house not be- 
 ing full, the actors did not attend, and no piece was 
 played after the first. There was an uproar, in the 
 midst of which a fellow in the third row sprang upon 
 the railing, and made a violent speech to the house 
 upon the indecency of keeping the whole waiting, not 
 to mention its stupidity and weariness. He finished 
 his speech by offering his services to supply the place 
 of the defaulter, who was to have given imitations ; so 
 saying, he ran down, crossed the pit, climbed the 
 
Paris. 137 
 
 stage, and began, to the wonder of the artistes of the 
 stage, who stared at him from behind the scenes. 
 
 " y>//v isi. — The Louvre again. What originality 
 and genius there is in Poussin's * Deluge ' ! I saw it 
 suddenly lit up by bursts of light, and the effect was 
 admirable. It seems as if the faint lightning shone 
 between the falling sheets. The snake on the rocks 
 seems actually to snore, and the upright suppliant in 
 the boat has life. From studying Poussin's land- 
 scapes, I am satisfied that Allston has copied him ; 
 his early landscapes are very much in his style — the 
 same hard, cold foreground, the pebbly water, the de- 
 fined bushes. 
 
 " J^^y 4^^- — At six we were to celebrate the great 
 anniversary at the hotel next Frascati's. We found 
 the committee, with blue ribbons at their front, at the 
 door to welcome us, and were ushered into a large 
 anteroom, amid a crowd of fellow-countrymen. In 
 a few minutes General Lafayette, his son, and grand- 
 son, entered and shook hands all round. The dinner 
 was soon served ; about eighty sat down, and the pe- 
 culiar occasion, the gay table, and the splendid hall, 
 made it most interesting. A large band — large, but 
 not very good — stunned us at intervals. 'Yankee 
 Doodle ' made the table ring to the glasses, and was 
 encored. It strung my feeling to a higher pitch of 
 patriotism than I thought possible. Afterward there 
 
138 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 were toasts and speeches. The hero, in broken Eng- 
 lish, finished his speech by a toast referring to our 
 late crisis : * Public common sense, may it hereafter 
 always be the arbiter of all difficulties ! ' 
 
 ^^ July 6th. — This morning I was up betimes. The 
 day before, smitten with the irresistible beauty of the 
 boy of Raphael leaning on his hand, I resolved to 
 copy it. For a trifle I had bought an easel, etc., 
 written for permission to the director, and at ten this 
 morning I was at the door. I strode down the inter- 
 minable gallery like Napoleon, found the dear boy, 
 more lovely than ever, and con amore dashed him in, 
 in dead colors, finishing that part by four, the hour 
 the rooms are closed. This boy of Raphael is, per- 
 haps, the sweetest thing in the gallery ; it is brilliant 
 with excess of finish, and, in my two or three days, 
 I can not expect to get more than a sketch, but it will 
 serve to remind me of the divine original. I found 
 that by returning to my old pleasure I obtained a 
 more active sense of the excellence of the pictures 
 about me, I had forgotten how difficult it is to 
 produce effects ; it carried me home to my dark 
 room and the hard, lifeless abortions of my pen- 
 cil. 
 
 ^^ July 1th. — Heard the celebrated Abbe Chatel, 
 one of the most eloquent preachers of Paris. His 
 church is Unitarian ; it was founded in the year 1831 
 
Paris, 139 
 
 by the abbe, and calls itself the Fre?uh Catholic 
 Church. The house is very simple, and similar to 
 many of our plain Unitarian temples. After the 
 messe^ and burning of incense before the altar, the 
 abb^ began his discourse. It was extemporaneous, 
 against dueling. The abbe is a fine-looking man, his 
 voice clear, and his action animated. Though short, 
 the sermon was sensible and eloquent. There are no 
 pews in the French churches ; they are full of the 
 same cheap chairs that fill the Tuileries and Palais 
 Royal. The old lady bustled about for her two sous, 
 and the chink of money did not help the religious 
 effect. After the discourse, the abb6 read portions of 
 a new catechism he has published for young and old. 
 It is his ' Creed and Reasons,' and, as it was curious, 
 I bought one. The abb^ believes Christ to have been 
 a man, but for his excellence to be worshiped. He 
 disbelieves in his bodily resurrection, and discredits 
 the miracles. He told his hearers that, when they 
 worshiped in a Roman Catholic church, they must not 
 adore the symbols and images, but the Almighty ; 
 all else was to receive but a formal and secondary 
 worship. He thinks himself about identical with the 
 English Unitarians ; but he seems to me to go further 
 than we do. 
 
 " J^^y ^^^' — -^11 "t^y pla-ns for presenting the good 
 folks with a Raphael are dashed, for Monday no one 
 
140 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 is admitted to the Louvre, and losing this day ends 
 the matter. I will leave the canvas till I return, and 
 then perhaps finish. 
 
 ^^ July gth. — This morning Francois, whom I have 
 taken into service again, packed my trunk and made 
 things all ready to be off. He brought home my 
 passport yesterday, having worked all day carrying it 
 from one ambassador to another. * There, sir,* said 
 he, as he handed me the bestamped and besigned 
 paper, * I think there is not a country in Europe 
 your honor can not visit now ! * I have consigned 
 my Raphael to Brown, and am quite anxious to 
 be off ; I have seen pretty much all one should see, 
 and have no excuse for staying now but to eat good 
 dinners. 
 
 ^^ July 10th. — At one o'clock p. m. I should have 
 been at the Messagerie Royale, but, by an aberration of 
 the knowing Franfois, found myself at the wrong one. 
 As I reached the right place, I was told that the coach 
 had just started, with all my luggage on it. After the 
 necessary sac-r-r-r-is^ I jumped into a cab, and told 
 the astonished driver he must overtake the diligence 
 before the barrier. Stung by money, he was success- 
 ful, and by two I was rumbling over the rugged pave 
 in the intMeur. 
 
 " I have for the last month lived in the spirit of 
 Beranger's ' Song of Jean de Paris ' ; with Jean — 
 
Paris. 1 4 1 
 
 ' Proclamant sur son ame, 
 En prose ainsi qu'en vers 
 Les tours de Notre-Dame, 
 Centre de I'univers.' 
 
 Whether I shall say 'ay * to his cry — 
 ' Reviens dans ton Paris ' — 
 
 I know not, but for the present I have, with Jean, got 
 the traveling mania, and repeat with him — 
 
 ' Quittons nous cette ville unique. 
 Nous voyageons — Paris a dos.' " 
 
 Mr. Percival, who is mentioned here for the first 
 time, was an Englishman, the younger son of an 
 English nobleman, whose family name he bore. He 
 subsequently joined Mr. Appleton, and they traveled 
 together ; the friendship between them became warm 
 and lasting. A little pencil-drawing in one of the 
 sketch-books, under which is lightly scribbled the 
 name " Percival," gives a pleasant glimpse of a thought- 
 ful, genial face, in the turn of the head not unlike the 
 pictures of Burns. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY. 
 
 Having left Paris, Mr. Appleton, with his friends 
 Mr. Russell and Mr. Percival, went by diligence to 
 Dijon, where they took post-horses for Geneva, enjoy- 
 ing every moment of a journey of some days, which is 
 now made so swiftly by rail that all details are lost. 
 
 '* We walked the third day almost the whole of the 
 first post. The pure air of the mountains was ex- 
 hilarating, and, with Byron in my hand, I chased the 
 goats from peak to peak. A thousand lovely, rare 
 plants and flowers were under our feet. The delicate 
 bluebell azured the cliffs, wild-pinks and the beauti- 
 ful family of the mosses drew us hither and thither. 
 I filled my hands with the variety of flowers. 
 
 "We had started at seven, and about two hours 
 after, by an abrupt turn, the checkered mosaic of the 
 Pays de Vaud, the blue crescent of Leman, and the 
 brown roofs of Geneva, burst upon our sight. The 
 Spirit of the Mist was not our friend. He drew his 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 143 
 
 shadowy battalions before our eyes, and veiled in 
 cloud the icy turrets of the monarch of the mountains, 
 giving us but shifting glimpses of the lake and plain. 
 The coup (Toeil reminded me strongly of the view from 
 Mount Holyoke. Lake Leman is fairly matched at a 
 distance by the Connecticut. After winding a few 
 miles through the softly wooded plain, we stopped out- 
 side Geneva, at a most neat and English-like inn. 
 From my window I have a bit of the vivid blue of the 
 lake, with nearer a broken foreground of rich trees, 
 and can dimly discern afar the snow-streaked form of 
 Mont Blanc. 
 
 ^^ July 16th. — After shaking the dust from our ha- 
 biliments, we entered the town and crossed by two 
 bridges the whirling and deeply azure current of the 
 Rhone, along which sheds of blanchisseuses make music 
 with their bats." 
 
 They visited Ferney and the chateau of Madame 
 de Stael ; like all good tourists, bought bijouterie at 
 Geneva, and made the tour of the lake, visiting Lau- 
 sanne, Vevay, and Chillon, and then, with knapsacks 
 and other preparations for walking, leaving heavy bag- 
 gage to be forwarded to Milan, they went up to Cha- 
 mounix. 
 
 " After dinner, having amused ourselves visiting a 
 mineral collection and a live chamois, and buying 
 
144 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 rings of chamois-horn, we walked to the glacier of 
 Bossons. After tramping vainly over the fields, and a 
 toilsome march up a wooded hill, we heard a tramp 
 as of wild colts, and, looking up, I found two men, 
 six or seven boys, and an old woman let loose on us. 
 One put an iron-shod staif in my hand, and they all 
 offered service as guides. We insisted we should pay 
 but one, come who might. This they heeded not, and, 
 as I looked round while we were climbing, I should 
 have thought we were a family of squatters. Some 
 bore shoes for the .ice, others axes, all poles, and the 
 old lady brandy on a waiter. I asked one of these 
 intelligent citizens if they loved the king. * Oh, yes ! * 
 * What is his name ? * * I do not know that,' was the 
 reply." 
 
 The excursion to Montanvert, and the Mer de 
 Glace, was much like that of ordinary tourists, before 
 and since ; more exceptional is the account of a cir- 
 cuit of Mont Blanc, to take five days. 
 
 ^^ July 2^th. — We engaged Payot, whom we much 
 liked, to be ready at three that afternoon, with a mule 
 to carry our knapsacks. After a lunch of bread and 
 gruylre^ the common cheese of the country (full of 
 holes and not good), Russell and I started, bidding 
 farewell to Mr. Percival, whom we hope to meet at 
 Martigny. As we left the valley, the air was so pure 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 145 
 
 and cloudless that we obtained an unusually fine 
 view of the range of mountains. We took our mule 
 alternately, and she, with astonishing sure-footedness, 
 bore us by yawning precipices. In our gay caps and 
 worked frocks we made, no doubt, a smart appearance, 
 but one soon sinks the picturesque in the comfortable. 
 As we advanced, the setting sun hung the mountains 
 with scarlet robes, and gave the glaciers and aiguilles 
 a delicate couleur de rose. The scenery was of the 
 wildest character, but the path abominable, being 
 often the bed of a running brook. At last we were 
 housed in a nice inn at St. Gervais, the landlady 
 being a particular friend of citoyen Payot — we hav- 
 ing come at least twenty-five miles. Our guide has 
 cheered us with the story of a German who has just 
 been robbed by three banditti in masks, within an 
 hour of St. Bernard. The rogues had carbines, and 
 he nothing, with but a boy for a guide. They took 
 from him six hundred francs, and returned him forty 
 for road expenses, and his watch. We have heard 
 since that the robbers were taken. They were three 
 brothers ; they were detected somehow by the boy- 
 guide, who knew them in spite of their masks. 
 
 *^ July 26th. — We started this morning at six. The 
 first thing we saw was the Pont de Diable, under 
 which, far below, a torrent howls amid fearful rocks. 
 
 No peasant dares pass this bridge after dark ; the 
 13 
 
146 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 legend relating to it I had from my guide. It ap- 
 pears the devil had the bridge made, with the pro- 
 viso that he should have the first person that crossed. 
 After consultation, the peasants sent a cat over, at 
 which the devil was so furious that he snatched a 
 stone from out the bridge and threw it at the cat. 
 No other stone can be found to fit the place of this 
 one. Before the devil could throw another, a priest 
 advanced with eau benite and exorcised him. With 
 such tales our merry Payot beguiles the way. The 
 day was most delightful ; we passed half a dozen 
 beautiful cascades, and one covered with a lively rain- 
 bow. All we did yesterday, however, was but play to 
 to-day's work. We ascended, after four hours' labor, 
 the Mont de Bon Homme, crowned with two castel- 
 lated rocks — the good man and his son. For three 
 hours we were wading in snow up to our knees ; it was 
 often red as if with streaks of blood ; just after cross- 
 ing a bridge of ice, we came to the grave of three 
 ladies who perished here in a storm ; below was that of 
 their three servants, who dragged a little farther. We 
 arduously ascended the Col des Fours to the very top. 
 The guide assures us this is ' the finest view in the 
 whole Alps.' I am sure I shall never forget it. We 
 stood alone above the world ; about us was the whole 
 amphitheatre of the Alps, with all their garniture of 
 cloud and glacier. On one side, as from an infernal 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 147 
 
 gulf, boiled up fantastic and gigantic masses of vapor, 
 at times sweeping over the view a momentary veil. 
 It seemed, indeed, like chaos ; cloud, water, and earth, 
 mingled in unorganized order. The sky overhead was 
 a faint purple, and around us the most vivid blue. 
 The air was so rare and pure that everything was seen 
 in startling distinctness. When inhaled, it tickled all 
 the throat, and seemed to pierce the pores as with fine 
 needles. We took short breaths, and could not go far 
 without resting. I felt a most new and delightful ex- 
 hilaration ; it was the intoxication of the gods, look- 
 ing down upon a prostrate world. The mountain is 
 eight thousand feet above the sea. To fortify our- 
 selves, we ate a snow-ball drenched with ktrschwas- 
 ser^ and at last, with slow steps, left this heaven. 
 
 *' The guide showed me where once he surprised 
 an eagle carrying off a marmot, who, frightened, 
 dropped his prey, and the guide took it home for 
 supper. He knew no such bird as the lammer-geyer, 
 and says the avalanche is never called the lawine ! 
 Coming down, the hill would have made a magnifi- 
 cent * coast,' and I felt the want of * Nimble Dick.* 
 We stopped in the valley at a little hut, the ideal of an 
 Irish cabin. It is the worst place I ever was in. 
 Into the parlor — the sole room — all sorts of animals 
 have at times made entrance to greet us — pigs, goats, 
 horses, calves, and cats. The air rings with the cries 
 
148 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 of animals, broken only by the shrill treble of two or 
 three babe-lings in this one room. The mother man- 
 ages the baby in the coolest manner : the thing is put 
 into a cradle, nothing but its hand left out, and then 
 it is strapped down in primitive style. Good milk, 
 which even here was boiled for coffee, and eggs over 
 which, according to rule, three paters had been said, 
 made a good supper ; I made madame dry the sheets 
 before the fire ere she put them on the straw mat- 
 tress. Our hut is quite an original experience, one of 
 the sort of things one prefers to look back upon to 
 having present. 
 
 *'^ July 2'jth. — It appears, the house is divided into 
 three apartments : the one we occupied and filled ; 
 another is the parlor, kitchen, and nuptial-chamber of 
 our hosts ; the third is devoted to the beasts. The 
 walls, the floor, and ceiling, are all rough boards, so 
 that through the cracks we had a general supei*vision 
 all round. Glad of any couch, we stretched out our 
 weary limbs on the hard straw in hopes of sleep. 
 Things promised well until some imp pinched the 
 child in the next room, which struck up a shrieky solo 
 instantly met with an obligato from every animal on 
 the premises. This positively continued until dawn. 
 It was the choral song of fiends over a guilty soul. 
 Bells tinkled, mules brayed, goats baa-ed, pigs grunt- 
 ed, babes shrieked with varying misery, and at times 
 
Switzerland and Germany, 149 
 
 came a deep blow as if a school of porpoises were 
 playing round the beds. At last, fatigue threw me 
 into a sort of stupor, which, however, the first ray of 
 morning dispelled, and I gladly left my Procrustean 
 bed. 
 
 " We resumed our mountain-ascent. I found the 
 copious supply of fleas and such small deer which had 
 made park-ground of my limbs all night had materi- 
 ally reduced my strength ; but the guide, with the 
 simple recipe of wine poured over a slice of bread, 
 made us fresh as ever." 
 
 They reached Courmayeur about three, where they 
 passed the night at an hotel " frequented by the first 
 families of Turin," and started the next day on a de- 
 scent, reaching Aosta before noon, and St. Remy be- 
 fore night. On the way, they heard that the report 
 of the robbers being taken was a mistake. 
 
 ''^ July 2gth. — This morning, leaving St. Remy at 
 half-past five, we began the ascent of St. Bernard. A 
 Prussian count, with peculiarly straw-like mustaches, 
 joined us. After about two hours the huge figure of 
 the convent shimmered through the fog. It resem- 
 bles exactly a cotton-mill, and the pond beside it pre- 
 serves the resemblance. . . . The holy fathers were 
 much scandalized by the cool robbery within an hour 
 of their convent. They said they lent money to the 
 
150 Tho7nas G. Apple ton, 
 
 victim, and had taken all means, but vainly, to catch 
 the three rogues. 
 
 " In leaving, as we were to pass the very spot 
 where it occurred, all thought it advisable to keep 
 together ; and doubtless it was our warlike front, and 
 the curled mustache of the count, that lost for my 
 journal a nice adventure. 
 
 " We saw the plain where Bonaparte gave his 
 troops a grand dinner, and also the spot where his 
 guide saved him from falling over the precipice. 
 When fairly down the mountain, I could not but 
 confess that the difficulty of Napoleon's passage was 
 much exaggerated. Our companion, a Genevese, was 
 in the army that crossed. He says that it was in 
 May, with much snow, and avalanches sweeping off 
 men and horses. With all that, to my notion, it is a 
 feat that our Yankees would perform, and never think 
 they had * set the river on fire.' 
 
 ** At Liddes we took a char^ having a long pull to 
 Martigny. A char-a-banc has seats sidewise, like a 
 woman's on horseback, between the wheels, with the 
 advantage that one looks away from the precipice 
 over which he hangs. We rattled down stony hills, 
 perpendiculars all about us, and only by the grace of 
 God were we saved, for, just on entering a village, the 
 front portion of our char gave way, and the rest ran 
 off to one side, and, coming smack against a house. 
 
Switzerla^td and Germany. 151 
 
 overset. If it had been five minutes back, we should 
 have all been Sam Patches. By dark, at last, we 
 reached Martigny." 
 
 Thus, sometimes walking, sometimes by diligence 
 or char-a-banc^ Mr. Appleton visited Interlachen, Ve- 
 vay, Berne, Lucerne, Zurich, Schaffhausen, with a lit- 
 tle tour including FlUelen, the falls of the Handeck, 
 Grindelwald, etc. During most of this time he was 
 alone, his traveling associates having left him to 
 vary their tour. At times he joined chance com- 
 panions. He was always observant of costume and 
 national peculiarities of speech and character, and 
 especially of the beauty of nature everywhere : always 
 sensitive to the influences upon his moods of weather, 
 sunny or rainy, and of solitude and society. 
 
 "My friends left me," he says, "to go to Milan. 
 It was indeed with painful feelings that I parted with 
 them. After we have for a month traveled pleasantly 
 together, I am disturbed to lose them, and to be- 
 come indeed alone amid a world of strangers. It is 
 in such moments that the magical word * home ' has 
 to the ear its full charm, and brings before the pin- 
 ing eye all the warm hearth-loves that have been the 
 growth of a lifetime, with all the thousand little com- 
 forts we have lost — the cushioned arm-chair, the fa- 
 miliar sofa, the loved pictures, and, beyond all, the 
 
152 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 * bright familiar faces,* the undeceitful smile, and ear- 
 nest kiss. 
 
 " ScHAFFHAUSEN, August 22d. — I Walked early to 
 visit the falls. They form a charming picture. The 
 whole body of the pure green Rhine, which even here 
 is a wide, brimming, and noble river, shoots itself with 
 roaring over a mass of shingly rocks, which in three 
 or four little wooded islands stand up amid the fall. 
 On one side is a turreted old chateau, and on the 
 other an old mill. I had returned to the hotel, when 
 the well-known bonnet rouge shone through the dust 
 of an approaching diligence, and in a moment Russell's 
 hand was in mine. I was tired of trusting to casual 
 acquaintances, and right glad to meet him. The next 
 morning we started in the post-wagon for Baden." 
 
 Here they stayed some days, amusing themselves 
 at the gaming-tables, a little on their own account, 
 but more in watching the conduct of the typical 
 gambler. 
 
 " I saw all those strange exhibitions of our na- 
 ture that mature at the gaming-table — men and wom- 
 en, old and young, all following their own schemes 
 of money-winning, till, as was often the case, stunned 
 and irritated by ill-luck, they would dash from the 
 only spot able to excite. One old fellow, with a 
 stoop and a sepulchral cough, was the model of a 
 
Switzerland a7id Germany, 153 
 
 gambler. He never smiled or missed a point. His 
 cold, quick eye detected the moment of decision, 
 and his heap of silver each time almost invariably- 
 doubled. The landlord told me strangers of all 
 nations had come here in a chariot-and-four and 
 gone off in a voiturin" They met there a number 
 of friends. " We were thus a tremendous body of 
 Americans, in all nine, and we created quite a sensa- 
 tion going in a body up and down the salons de con- 
 versation et de jeic^ Their next point was Heidelberg, 
 which they thoroughly examined and enjoyed. 
 
 " Our guide was a sergeant-major by profession, 
 rum-marked but merry. He professed to have fought 
 on all sides in Europe, and to have been with the 
 British in America at the burning of Washington, and 
 in a skirmish on one of the lakes. He told us very 
 coolly that the President of the United States was 
 here last year, and that his name was in the book ; but 
 we saw it not. The pseudo-President was liberal of 
 kreuzers, and told our friend the guide that he hoped, 
 the next time he visited Washington, it would not be 
 in a red coat, and sword in hand ! The castle of 
 Heidelberg is the finest in Germany, and the noblest 
 ruin I have seen." * 
 
 They went from Heidelberg, through Darmstadt, 
 to Frankfort, where they arrived one evening. 
 
154 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 " It was after dark when we reached the diligence- 
 office. Six or seven vagrants seized our luggage, and 
 each, carrying some trifling article, as we did not know 
 German enough to hinder them, trailed after us in a 
 mob, while we went to various hotels without getting 
 in, all being full on account of the fair beginning to- 
 morrow. At last we found a room in the troisieme at 
 a second-rate hotel. The next day we luckily suc- 
 ceeded in getting a good room on the rez de chauss^e^ 
 at the * Roman Emperor,' where we found the Edgar 
 party. 
 
 " September \st. — The town of Frankfort is a free 
 town, owning some land beyond the walls. Its streets 
 are wide and cleanly, and its buildings often look 
 noble. We dined well at the table d'hdte^ and ordered 
 sanglier for to-morrow. We were told at Darmstadt 
 that we might see any evening, at a certain place, the 
 keepers of the forest feeding the wild-boars in great 
 numbers. If so, they can not be very wild. 
 
 "At last I have letters — delicious and welcome 
 they were, and put me in spirits, in spite of the rain. 
 
 " In the evening we went to the opera, as we heard 
 there was to be something fine — a new one, * L'Olym- 
 pien.' But I was disappointed. The house was ill- 
 lighted, and the opera stiflly classical. The only idea 
 I received from two acts was a suspicion that one of 
 the personages was Alexander the Great ! 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 155 
 
 ^^ September 2d. — This morning I was awakened early 
 by the falling off of the confounded down-quilt, which 
 is the sole warmth to the bed, universal throughout all 
 this country. It is in no way fastened down, and is al- 
 ways slipping off at a kick. With the valet, we visited 
 the small beginnings of the fair — a long avenue of shops, 
 many of them for the sale of pipes, handsomely painted, 
 or of clear * /cuj?ie de mer.* We visited the Museum, 
 which contains an extensive collection of pictures, 
 neatly and well arranged. The Dutch and Flemish 
 schools are better represented than at the Louvre. 
 After so long an absence from art, I found these 
 pictures gave me the keenest pleasure. 
 
 *'^ September ^d. — This morning, after dishes of 
 chocolate, we were off for Wiesbaden, in a caleche — 
 four of us. It was shamefully cold, and, tired of the 
 dreary view, we fast-ened down the sides of the car- 
 riage, flung ourselves back on the seats, and dozed the 
 route through. We noticed only three interesting facts 
 on the trip : First, that all the horses were blind in the 
 neighborhood ; second, that the pigs have very long, 
 and, third, the dogs very curt legs. It rained dismally, 
 and we found things little better in our cold, forlorn 
 rooms at the hotel at Wiesbaden. The only way I had 
 of getting warm was to take a bath, as the clumsy Kam- 
 mer-Mddchen had no success in lighting the stove. The 
 bath was mineral ; the water, full of salt and iron, 
 
156 Tho7nas G, Apple Ion, 
 
 tasted like a sloppy bouillie. When I returned up- 
 stairs after the bath, the fire was started, and the 
 smoke with it. 
 
 " All the lamp-posts in Wiesbaden have a wooden 
 snake, that, curling round them, lifts its head in air, 
 and suspends from its mouth the lamp. It is pretty. 
 We had remarked this mode also at Darmstadt. 
 
 " Wiesbaden seems to be a pretty town, but the 
 rain spoils everything. In the evening I stayed at 
 home, and amused myself with Scott's * Napoleon.' 
 
 " September ^th. — ^We started at three for Mayence, 
 in an excellent caliche^ and arrived, after crossing the 
 Rhine upon the bridge of boats. We are at a capital 
 hotel, d'Angleterre, with excellent rooms." 
 
 Mr. Appleton at this time little suspected that he 
 was destined, before many years, to make a more in- 
 timate acquaintance with this part of Germany. 
 
 " To our surprise, we saw many of the stiff Prussian 
 and Austrian troops in the streets ; since Napoleon's 
 downfall, these two powers, with Russia, have held the 
 citadel, as allies. 
 
 " O that Napoleon were again alive, to drive this 
 white-legged vermin to its native regions ! The Aus- 
 trians are all in white, with black gaiters. It must be 
 confessed they are stout-looking fellows. 
 
 ^^ September ^th. — This morning, by the early hour 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 157 
 
 of five, we were upon our feet, and, half an hour later, 
 on board the Europa, to enjoy the descent of the 
 Rhine. The morning was not favorable, but, as day- 
 advanced, it grew warmer and the sky bluer. At first 
 we thought the scenery inferior to our expectation ; 
 but, in a few moments, doubt was hushed in delight. 
 The color of the Rhine here is not other than a turbid 
 yellow, whirled in eddies, and sliding at a pace that 
 makes the boat but one day descending, though two 
 coming up. The scenery, as we found, in a short while 
 burst upon us in all its famed beauty. It is unique, 
 and should be compared with no other, as its castles, 
 which are unrivaled, form the chief glory of the scene. 
 They crown every crag, and the dashing boat gives 
 them to the eye like the quick changes of a panorama. 
 Crags and chateaux shoot up at every turn, as fantas- 
 tic as ever falling cinders take shape of moat and cas- 
 tle, turret and drawbridge, before the dreaming eye. 
 Ranks of vine, step over step, make green every patch 
 that is not rock. But for the castles the scene would 
 not be so fine ; but they are all poetry and robber- 
 wildness — all different, but all possessing a Salvator 
 fierceness. We passed numberless towns and storied 
 towers. 
 
 " All the fine portion of the river is between May- 
 ence and Coblentz, with one solitary exception. Below 
 
 Bingen we passed the Mouse-Tower, where the rats 
 14 
 
158 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 devoured the miserly bishop. At Coblentz we had, 
 on the right, the fine fortifications of Ehrenbreitstein. 
 They are not equal to Quebec, but very fine and 
 enormous in extension." 
 
 There they left the exciting features of Rhine- 
 scenery. At Cologne the party separated ; Mr. Apple- 
 ton, with Mr. Russell, passed, by post or diligence, 
 through Prussia to Hamburg. There was some talk of 
 going on to St. Petersburg; but the season was too late, 
 and everything adverse : it was necessary, it appeared, 
 that their names and intention of traveling in Russia 
 should be published for three weeks before they could 
 depart. 
 
 July and September were passed in Germany, 
 chiefly in the large cities. Mr. Appletoh does full 
 justice to the Museum at Berlin, and the wonderful 
 Gallery at Dresden. At Leipsic he inspected the 
 famous battle-plain. The first Napoleon was an ob- 
 ject of intense interest always to Mr. Appleton, and, 
 throughout his life, he failed not to read every book 
 written about him, and missed no opportunity of sift- 
 ing and analyzing his character and course. 
 
 But Germany was not congenial. The language did 
 not flow readily upon his tongue, so fluent in French 
 and Italian. The " frog-like " French of the Germans 
 suited him no better, and he never got used to the 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 159 
 
 German bed. The journal speaks well of the people, 
 condones the food, and praises the galleries ; but it is 
 but half-hearted praise, and it is to be noted that, with 
 the exception of an enforced stay at Mayence some 
 years later, Mr. Appleton never revisited the country. 
 It rained all the time he was in Dresden, and weather 
 was very apt to influence his impressions. On the 
 whole, he was glad to be beyond the boundaries of 
 Saxony, in an Eilwagen, on the way to Prague, on the 
 27th of September. "Before long," he writes, "we 
 had entered Austria. Everywhere the double -eagle 
 was perched, and all the turnpike - posts were now 
 striped black and yellow." 
 
 He had fallen in with a chance friend, in whose 
 companionship he traveled for some time ; he is at 
 first always spoken of as " the merchant," or " my fat 
 friend." He turned out to be the Swedish consul for 
 Brazil. 
 
 The " shocking German bed " pursued him to 
 Vienna, where he, at length, rejoices in " Christian 
 sheets and a downy pillow." 
 
 He stayed nearly three weeks in Vienna, visiting 
 all the monuments. He made the chance acquaint- 
 ance of an agreeable Polish count and his fascinating 
 countess, whom he frequently encountered at places 
 of amusement. At Vienna he was much impressed 
 with the mustache, a modern innovation there uni- 
 
i6o Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 versally worn. He says : " They are full half and 
 half with smooth cheeks, and their variety is a philo- 
 sophical study. They may be reduced to four classes 
 — amatory, savage, sentimental, and unfortunate — ac- 
 cording to the twist given them by their wearers." 
 
 On his first arrival in Germany, Mr. Appleton was 
 disgusted with the frequency of the pipe and its ac- 
 companying habit ; but, before leaving Austria, he 
 had set up a pipe of his own, in deference to the cus- 
 tom of the country. However, pipes were never much 
 in favor with him, although he dearly loved a good 
 cigar. 
 
 His Brazilian departed, Mr. Appleton found him- 
 self solitary in Vienna, and decided to make his way 
 without further delay toward Florence, where it was 
 his intention to repose for a while. At Munich he 
 found, to his great satisfaction, his friend Percival. 
 They met there a Scotchman named Campbell, " stout, 
 and about forty-five," who asked to join their party. 
 " I am to do all the talking," writes Mr. Appleton, 
 " and bargaining, as he is just from India, and speaks 
 not a word of French." 
 
 Thus the three companions, on the ist of Novem- 
 ber, found themselves driving through the Tyrol, and 
 soon, to their delight, leaving the crabbed German 
 tongue and slippery beds, for the softness of Italian 
 speech and slumber. 
 
Switzerland and Germany, i6i 
 
 Two weeks in Venice, a memorable day in Milan, 
 looking at the " Last Supper " of Leonardo da Vinci, 
 and rapid posting, brought the travelers to Florence, 
 where, with feelings of profound relief, Mr. Appleton 
 laid aside for a while the habits of the tourist. 
 
 ^^ December ^th. — At last I am settled at No. 1159 
 Borgo di Santi Apostoli, with two little rooms in a 
 central situation. I pay seven dollars a month, with 
 ten cents for breakfast and thirty cents for dinner. I 
 have wandered for a few moments in the Pitti Palace, 
 but glanced only at the glorious affairs on the walls, 
 to stand most of my time before the heavenly * Seg- 
 giola,' with its earthly mother and divine boy. What 
 unutterable sweetness and soul in the expression of 
 the Madonna ! It enters the heart, with the certainty 
 of living there, while a thousand other emotions may 
 vainly agitate it. The eye and the mouth Raphael 
 stole from heaven. 
 
 ** Mr. Percival found rooms in the same house ; 
 poor Colonel Campbell we have left aground, and, 
 like a whale deserted by his pilot-fish, he rolls his 
 huge sides in vacillating uncertainty. He will be 
 landed ere long in an English pension^ if he does not, 
 as I prophesy, drift with the stream that moves Rome- 
 ward. 
 
 " Eh bene ! Is it not odd ? Here I am scribbling 
 
1 62 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 in precisely the position I have always looked at as 
 il Paradiso, the horizon-star of my hopes, to paint at 
 Florence ! And I am happy. I shall copy at the 
 gallery, and make sketches from my travels — strike 
 before the iron is wholly cold. 
 
 " Barnard is here, but only for a few days. Like 
 old men, we sit and talk over our young enthusiasm 
 in England, now dead and buried under the broad 
 tide of events and emotions ; yea, even in Florence, 
 we look to the end of our career with pleasure, and, 
 overleaping Rome, draw hopes of happiness from 
 home, sweet home ! 
 
 " We went, with Barnard, in the evening to the 
 theatre. We could not get into the pit, so took a 
 whole loge^ for which the janitor asked fourteen pauls, 
 and accepted eight. Such is this universal spirit of 
 roguery, that one by instinct abates the half. I ques- 
 tion not that, so strong is custom, a Florentine would 
 dispute the toll of the angel that admitted him to 
 paradise. 
 
 "... Raphael is, on many accounts, the most 
 wonderful artist of any day. He lived only thirty-six 
 years, and yet his pictures mark a growth and ma- 
 turity of genius that any one would suppose those of 
 a long life. He, too, united all excellences and all ex- 
 tremes. With a genius that gave birth to the heaven- 
 liest, most ideal beauty man has conceived — his in- 
 
Swit2erla7td and Germany, 163 
 
 fants and his Madonnas — yet, in minuteness and 
 truth, he equaled Teniers or Mieris. His portraits 
 are the finest in existence. Then, too, how much con- 
 trast ! From his portrait of his mother to Leo X ! 
 The first has more dryness even than Perugino, and 
 the last matches Titian. His last works, indeed, are 
 faultless. What might he not have done if his life 
 had had the limits of the Evangelist's ? " 
 
 Mr. Appleton was resolved to copy in the galleries 
 of Florence, but it was a work of time, not only to 
 decide upon a fit subject, but to obtain the necessary 
 permission, and to fairly establish himself. Mean- 
 while he was sketching and taking Italian lessons, and 
 his time was fully occupied in sight-seeing and obser- 
 vation. 
 
 " My opinion is made up as to the weather. The 
 Florentines themselves allow winter to be bad enough, 
 between the traniontino from the hills and the sirocco 
 from the west. When it is fair here, the sky is quite 
 blue ; the air is bracing and chill, and one requires a 
 cloak. It is to me very agreeable — like our fine Octo- 
 ber weather. 
 
 " My street, or rather lane, as we should call it, is 
 so narrow, and the eaves lap over so much, I doubt if 
 a sun-ray ever reached the pavement ; it is wet, damp, 
 and dirty. I have no light till eight in the morning,^ 
 
164 Thomas G, Appletom 
 
 and it goes by half-past four. I have foolishly left oil 
 and wood to be furnished by my hostess. However, 
 she says that Americans are fini^ con testi discreii. 
 
 ** We burn wood — no coal is to be had ; and our 
 lamp is of a very antique and classical figure, with two 
 flames and a chain suspended. Once a week Madame 
 Fiocchi places a fresh pot of flowers upon my mantel, 
 which retain their bloom by aid of water during the 
 interval. Our furniture presents the usual Italian in- 
 congruities. Beside a bureau, without locks, stand 
 chairs once fit for a palace, imposing in their tarnished 
 gilding and torn satin. There is not much neatness in 
 our room, but of course one comes down to the Italian 
 standard. My ceiling is a sky, in which birds are 
 sporting. It retains its blue with vastly more con- 
 stancy than the fickle Tuscan heaven out-doors. On 
 the whole, I am already at home, and like my sur- 
 roundings. I think I could live a year thus, and find 
 active occupation all the while. As yet the days are 
 too short by half, and I hardly once a day find time 
 to smoke my dear pipe, the admiration of the ladies." 
 
 Here the manuscript-book of the journal was sent 
 to the hands of the book-binder, and thence was for- 
 warded to America, with a warm greeting to the loved 
 ones at home. The volume is dedicated, affection- 
 ately — 
 
Switzerland and Germany. 165 
 
 " To the eyes of the family circle ; to them, and to 
 them only." 
 
 It is only with the full permission of the remaining 
 members of that group, and with the license given by 
 the lapse of so many years, that these extracts from 
 its pages are given to the wider circle of friends. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 FLORENCE. 
 1833-1^34- 
 
 " One bulky volume," writes Mr. Appleton, " in the 
 hands of the book-binder, and now I am to fill an- 
 other. A merry heart blots much paper ; and so, with 
 a prayer to our patron, the god Saint Mercury, I ap- 
 ply myself to the task, made pleasant by the hope that 
 some future hour may owe its amusement to the piece- 
 meal scrawlings of the present." 
 
 He was now pleasantly established for a couple of 
 months in Florence, with his friend Mr. Percival, in 
 an Italian family, of which the two daughters amused 
 the young men by their easy talk and kind attentions. 
 The society of several Americans, old friends, pre- 
 vented Mr. Appleton from feeling lonely ; and the 
 relief from the hurry of travel, and the comfort of set- 
 tling down to a methodical life, proved most agree- 
 able. 
 
 He applied immediately for permission to copy in 
 
Florence. 167 
 
 the galleries, and was impatient of the long delay which 
 attended the application. " I patiently (impatiently !) 
 wait my day," he says. " Titian's mistress will soon 
 be mine. As for the Pitti, only seven are admitted at 
 a time ; and an artist who is to copy some Salvators 
 for Mr. Perkins has been waiting eight months. Pretty 
 patrons of the arts ! No art but that of procrastina- 
 tion." Meantime, always observant, he filled up his 
 time inspecting all the treasures and curiosities of 
 Florence. 
 
 ^^ December 20th. — There are always in the Ducal 
 Square two rivals, Punchinello and a charlatan. The 
 latter puffs his drugs and elixirs from his old sulky with 
 infinite variety of gesture and eloquence, and apparent- 
 ly does a good business with the soft ones of the town ; 
 but Punch draws the larger crowd and the loudest 
 laughs. I notice that he differs somewhat from his 
 relative in England, though retaining his usual charac- 
 ter for gallantry and quarreling. He appears here in 
 a black mask, and with a nose much more moderate 
 than his English namesake, who, in vivacity and varie- 
 ty of adventures, certainly does not equal the hero of 
 Italy. Bergamo had the honor of originating this 
 Lothario, immortal and ubiquitous. 
 
 ** My banker gave me a billet to procure me per- 
 mission to copy the Seggiola at the Pitti. I have 
 
1 68 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 little hopes. On application, I was requested, with 
 much solemnity, to wait a moment for the high and 
 mighty custode. In five minutes a servant came, 
 took my cloak, and told me to pass to another apart- 
 ment, and wait again. In five minutes more the 
 great man bowed himself in, and, after some solemn 
 talk, told me that Monday, at twelve, I should know 
 when I could gain my object. Gil Bias could hardly 
 describe more courtly detentions. 
 
 "Last evening Madamigella Rosalinda was quite 
 gay ; she did up our hair in papillotes and laughed 
 heartily at the effeminate figure I cut, and the Gorgo- 
 nian one of Mr. Percival. 
 
 "The Italians are very fond of bonbons. There 
 is an invaluable shop in my neighborhood, where soda 
 and mineral water are also sold ; it is always full of 
 Italians filling their pockets. 
 
 " I am crawling through Sismondi's * Italian Re- 
 publics.* What poor stuff these Italians were, from the 
 first ! The soul sickens at the unvaried variety of the 
 causes — quarrels and massacres of Bianchi and Neri 
 — Guelph and Ghibeline. How many bloody rains 
 have reddened the bases of these old churches ! How 
 many times has the affrighted Arno blushed an alien 
 hue ! As I walk under the Duomo, I fancy it living 
 and musing upon the inconstant tide of humanity 
 that has swept along beneath it, ever vain, ever busy, 
 
Florence, 1 69 
 
 * hasting to do evil,' with the passions, objects, of in- 
 sects. 
 
 ^^ December 25///. — Christmas-day is one that should 
 be spent at home. I was fortunate to have friends 
 enough about me to give our dinner a Boston appear- 
 ance, whose wit and geniality made a holiday indeed 
 of the flying hours. The day is kept by the Italians 
 pretty much as we keep it. The shops are shut, the 
 citizens lounge and drive along the Lungo Arno, and 
 retire early to their turkeys and mince-pies. Yester- 
 day was kept as a sort of fast. No one ate anything. 
 Mdlle. Taquina quoted the proverb — 
 
 ' Chi non jejeuna la vigilia di natale, 
 Corpo di lupo ed anima di cane.' 
 
 " December 28///. — What miserably short days ! I 
 can not do the half I propose, and have many affairs 
 of three days' neglect on my hands. I have bought a 
 full collection of prints from Bardi, and have con- 
 signed them to friend McCracken's portfolio, to be 
 sent to New York, there to await my coming. 
 
 "Yesterday, a Turk in full costume visited me. 
 
 What was my astonishment to hear him inform me, in 
 
 pure English, that he was a professor in my own Alma 
 
 Mater f He only meant, however, that at Cambridge 
 
 he had taught the Oriental languages to any one who 
 
 wished to learn. He knew all the professors ; he was 
 15 
 
170 Tho7nas G. Appleton, 
 
 there in the time of Madison, whom he said he knew. 
 He did not relish the high society he went into, it cost 
 him so much in shirts and coats ; and at the dinners 
 he felt so uneasy he could not eat, and was obliged to 
 entreat a second dinner for eating. On the strength 
 of American associations, I bought of him a pound of 
 Turkish tobacco, not quite so good as that I obtained 
 at Vienna. 
 
 "To-night, as Signor Rosea (the Italian teacher) 
 was taking his leave, he saw a lady sitting in the chair 
 at the top of the stairs. With his usual courtesy, he 
 bowed and wished her the felicitations of the season. 
 There was no answer, and smothered laughter from 
 down the corridor induced him to take her by the 
 hand. It was a mere figure that the girls had prepared 
 in the carnival spirit, amusing themselves with the mis- 
 takes of the passers. Gay folks these in our house, and 
 yet they are always saying they are very miserable. 
 
 " Picture-dealers begin to find me out. A man 
 came yesterday, and I bought of him a copy of Correg- 
 gio's * Madonna of the Tribuna.* It is very excellent, 
 and I felicitate myself on the purchase. 
 
 ^^ December ^oth. — Spent the morning running about 
 making bargains and paying bills. I fell in with the 
 famosa stock-maker, and am advised to beware of her 
 seductions. She is a Corsican, who, they say, has 
 made as many conquests as Bonaparte. 
 
Florence, j 7 1 
 
 " Went to visit the secretary of the Palazzo Pitti, 
 to hear what chance I have of copying. To my joy 
 and surprise he told me, with a smile, that I shall have 
 La Seggiola for all the next month ! I give up, there- 
 fore, my other applications ; a careful copy of this 
 touching Virgin will repay me for my lost time, and 
 feed my future days with pleasant reminiscences. 
 
 " While w:alking through the rooms, I met Mr. and 
 
 Mrs. . They were all Boston ; and their northern 
 
 salutation reminded me of the cold manners, half-for- 
 gotten, of my countrymen. 
 
 ^^ Jantcary 3, 1834. — The third day I have been at 
 my easel in the Pitti. I am much amused at the par- 
 ties of English who, from behind me, express their 
 various opinions upon the picture and my copy ; not 
 suspecting my English, they express their criticisms 
 freely. I have been twice asked if the Madonna were 
 original. From my platform I see a galaxy of genius. 
 The * Leo,' the * Judith of Allori,' Rubens's portraits of 
 himself, his brother, and Hugo Grotius, his master- 
 piece in this way ; two Sartos, most delicious, and 
 others, all admirable. If, while gazing upon these fine 
 works with something of sympathetic love for the art, 
 I in my vanity exclaim, * Ed io anche son pittore ! * I 
 must be pardoned the presumption for my passionate 
 admiration of these high names in whose presence I 
 find myself. I paint better for the influence of their 
 
172 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 presence, and, far from being overawed, feel only 
 warm ambition to produce a copy which may gain 
 some admiration for the original Seggiola. . . . 
 
 " Last night, at the Cocomero, I saw *" Maria 
 Stuart,' newly translated from Schiller. I could not 
 pardon the want of beauty in the fair Mary, though 
 she acted well. The costume was not ill generally, 
 and great sympathy was manifested for the unfortunate 
 Catholic, wearing a conspicuous golden rosary at her 
 girdle. The queens are made to meet, and they scold 
 like fish-women. Mary taunts Elizabeth so keenly 
 that she is hurried off in a speechless paroxysm of 
 rage. Unfortunately, this Elizabeth was much the 
 prettier. 
 
 ^^ January ^th. — ^We went to a little theatre, the 
 Bourgonisante, taking Constantino to explain. These 
 small theatres amuse me better than the larger ; one 
 finds more jollity and fun in the house, often more spirit 
 and merit in the actors, and the drolleries of the super- 
 numeraries, and the natve remarks of the audience are 
 very diverting. There are eight theatres here, and 
 some where the tickets are eight cents ! In the farce 
 we saw a personage, new to me, but a favorite with the 
 Florentines, who has ousted, it seems, from the public 
 favor his rival, Arlichino, viz., Steniirello. This indi- 
 vidual is a servant, dressed comically and painted with 
 huge eyebrows, and wearing a party-colored coat. He 
 
Florence, i ']2) 
 
 always misunderstands all remarks, and with his buf- 
 foonery, wit, blunders, and improvised songs, keeps the 
 house in a convulsion of merriment. 
 
 ^^ January "jih. — All day at the Pitti. Finished the 
 head of the Virgin. 
 
 ^^ January loth. — Mild and rainy. In fact, this is 
 by all said to be a very mild winter. I have only seen 
 ice once, while last year there was a month of skating 
 on the Arno. All day, as usual, at the Pitti. 
 
 " Last night went again to Fenzi's soiree. L.a, 
 Guicciola was expected, but, to my disappointment, 
 she came not. I have seen her on the Lungo Arno, 
 but not distinctly. She is not, however, so pretty as 
 she ought to be for Byron's good taste in selection. 
 
 "January \a,th. — Yesterday I received a solemn 
 note from Ambrosi, saying that I must be at the Pitti 
 Palace in the evening, in froc de ville, at half-past 
 eight precisely, to be presented to the grand cham- 
 berlain and then to the duke. After long and un- 
 successful efforts to make use of the white cravat 
 Linda has bought for me, I succeeded in dressing to 
 my mind. 
 
 " We entered the Pitti grounds at the side-gate, and 
 drove through the Boboli to the private entrance of 
 the duke. The approach was magnificent ; at every 
 few yards were candelabras blazing on either side. 
 These almost illuminated the gardens and the cy- 
 
174 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 presses, and the statues, in mysterious number and 
 obscurity, gave a finish to the elegance of the effect. 
 Soldiers were stationed in many places ; as we 
 stopped, a servant showed us into the palace. We 
 wandered through many long galleries filled with ex- 
 otics, doubting where to find the presentation-room. 
 At last we came upon a large body of servants in 
 the livery of the duke — ^buff and crimson. The first 
 room was not large and few persons were in it. We 
 passed soon, however, to a large and magnificent 
 salon, where we found some other gentlemen waiting 
 to be presented. The French took one side of the 
 room, and we the other ; the English were on the 
 right, and the Russians on the left. We formed thus 
 an amusing congress of nations, solemnly staring and 
 quizzing at each other. We Americans were almost 
 as numerous as any — not far from a dozen, I think, 
 with many ladies. Our three officers were in uni- 
 form. We were kept waiting a long while ; finally the 
 entrance of the duke was announced by every one 
 rising. He was simply dressed in a greenish coat, 
 with three orders. The duchess came with him, pale, 
 but richly jeweled. He glided through the crowds, 
 without ostentation, the chamberlain introducing him 
 to each person. They began with the Russians ; the 
 English followed, and we, having no minister, were 
 miserably left. The introduction was done in an easy 
 
Florence. 1 75 
 
 manner, with but slight remarks. At last he came 
 to us. * Voici les Americains,* said the chamberlain. 
 We gave our names. The duke paid us some national 
 compliments, and said to one of the officers, in Eng- 
 lish, * The Americans do not fear the waves in the 
 middle of the sea.* All this occupied about an hour 
 and a half, when the presentation was over, and con- 
 versation and dancing began. The duchess took her 
 seat in the center of one side, with the princesses 
 about her, and her maids of honor behind. The 
 duke opened the dance with Lady Seymour, the Eng- 
 lish ambassadress. The duke danced as though he 
 loved it, but with the gaucherie of a backwoodsman. 
 There was great variety of dress. Some old Russian 
 ladies were almost in the Queen Anne court costume. 
 Feathers were in quantities, and the blaze of dia- 
 monds, and moonshine of pearls, redoubled the splen- 
 dor of the wax-candles which were in trees or pyra- 
 mids to the ceiling. The different ministers of the 
 Italian states wore orders, ribbons, and other distinc- 
 tions. The Pope's legate was in a sort of cloak, with 
 brown stockings ; he wore a little black skull-cap 
 jauntily on one side of his head, and the expression 
 of a volpo soprafino. There were any number of 
 splendid rooms en suite. Many had card-tables, and 
 some persons were pretending to play chess amid all 
 the uproar. 
 
176 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 " The supper was laid out on two buffets, in a 
 room next the salon de danse. It was most recherchi. 
 Statues and a variety of little alabaster figures were 
 interspersed amid patisseries and cakes, and two whole 
 sturgeons were not among the least conspicuous of 
 the dainties. A pyramid of champagne looked like 
 the cone of happiness. 
 
 " We left before supper was announced ; and I 
 drove home to dream of jeweled duchesses and pretty 
 English girls, at times nightmared by some monster of 
 a sturgeon squatting with finny tail upon my melan- 
 choly bosom. . . . 
 
 "Rusca told me to-night a curious story of a 
 snare laid for him by an antiquarian friend of his. 
 This friend, it appears, was a profound rogue. He 
 lived in Leghorn, and Rusca used him to hunt up 
 antiquities for him. One day he told him he had 
 stumbled upon some famous bronzes, outside the 
 Leghorn gates, at the house of a fair lady. They 
 agreed to go at the twenty-fourth hour (by the Ro- 
 man calculation — i. e., sunset). Though rather sur- 
 prised at its lateness, Rusca did not object, and forth 
 they fared. When they arrived at the house, the 
 man kept outside, and on entering Rusca found a 
 most beautiful and agreeable woman, in whose soci- 
 ety he soon became absorbed, forgetting his antiques 
 in the charms of this modern specimen. The lady 
 
Florence. 177 
 
 left him alone for a moment, when, hearing low and 
 mysterious voices in the next room, the idea of a be- 
 trayal came suddenly upon Rusca, and, coupling with 
 the circumstances suspicious things he had heard of 
 his acquaintance, he gave himself up for lost. In 
 this unpleasant state of things, knocks were heard 
 at the door. The lady returned, and some female 
 friends entered, which fortunately gave Rusca an op- 
 portunity to make off, though the lady was much 
 displeased, and urged him to stay and examine the 
 bronzes. He pleaded an engagement, seized his hat, 
 and, without waiting for his ' friend,* made but half 
 an hour's walk to Leghorn. 
 
 " He afterward learned that it was undoubted- 
 ly planned to murder him for the money he had 
 brought with which to pay for the bronzes. His 
 * friend' was afterward exposed; and he saw the 
 lesina^ an awl with which this man used to kill 
 men, by a sharp blow at the back of the neck. The 
 victim hardly felt it at the time, it was so delicate, 
 but bled to death when at a distance. 
 
 ^''January \Zth. — To-day is Saint Antonio's day. 
 He is the patron of animals : my hackman came run- 
 ning to me with a splendid bouquet, which he pre- 
 sented in the name of the saint. It is a sort of April- 
 fool's-day with the people. They say to some one, 
 ''Prestatetni un paulo 'y and when they have it, they say. 
 
178 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 ^jRtngf'aziate Dio e San Antonio ! ' and run off, the poor 
 lender having no right to ask again for his money. 
 
 ^^ January 22d. — Went to-night to the duke's ball 
 again. It was in the same rooms, with the same style, 
 and almost the same persons I knew there. The 
 supper was as distinguished. Mr. Curtis and I were 
 determined to try it this time ; and when the eating 
 began we slid up to the sturgeon and demanded a 
 slice. This fish is delicious, and deemed princely 
 here. Having heard the duke's pheasants were fine, 
 we tried them, and finished with a beaker of kingly 
 tokay, such tokay as Vienna could not afford, such as 
 monarchs give one another, such as slides down the 
 throats of princes. Noble duke ! his supper has 
 bribed me to eternal praise. 
 
 * January 2^th. — We dined at Madame Humbert's, 
 at the invitation of Colonel Campbell, my quondam 
 traveling friend. After dinner I took a walk with the 
 gastronomic hero, who was one of the guests, an 
 Englishman. His father paid sixty thousand pounds 
 of gambling debts for him and disinherited him. He 
 is as rosy as the morning, and professes to worship no 
 other god than his appetite. He moves about Italy in 
 the direction of good hotels. He has never entered 
 the Pitti, and stays here only for his good table ; but 
 soon goes to Naples, cutting Rome. 
 
 ''January 25//^. — Desirous of making some return 
 
Floreiice. 1 79 
 
 for the civilities of our friends, Percival and I gave 
 out invitations to a dinner for to-day, at March^'s. 
 March6 did his duty, and served us a most exquisite 
 dinner. We were all in spirits, and laughed and talked 
 till near eleven. 
 
 " I found Professor Pacciani in the parlor at home. 
 We began a conversation ; the professor was very 
 polite, and ended by offering me most excellent letters 
 to Rome, Gibraltar, and other places. He is a queer 
 person. Distinguished for his literary attainments, 
 one moment he is pulled by nobles, and the next 
 carousing with vagrants. He dresses at the north and 
 south of decency ; now in brocade, and now in rags. 
 A philosopher, he turns a deaf ear to the solicitations 
 of his high-born patrons. He avoids the court, and 
 prefers to sip his vino comune with his own valet, to 
 kissing cups of tokay with the duke. 
 
 "We are drawing near to a close of our sojourn 
 here. My visit to Florence has been delightful, and I 
 am indeed sorry to break this studious quiet, and re- 
 commence gyrations. Mr. Curtis thinks he shall not 
 take his own carriage to Rome, but is desirous that 
 we should all go together in some large conveyance. 
 This is charming. His servant, Gretano, is now on 
 the lookout for some such * carry-all.' 
 
 ^^ January 26th. — The Carnival at its close gets a 
 sort of sickish vivacity. Rusca says he can recollect 
 
i8o Thomas G, Appleion, 
 
 when it brought every one into the streets in masks ; 
 now for ten years it has inexplicably languished. 
 
 ** The Corso winds, in a long file of carriages, from 
 Santa Croce to the Annunciata. All the windows, 
 roofs, and streets are crammed with spectators, with 
 a plentiful sprinkling of masks. Crowds of wigged 
 doctors, Rinaldos in beaver, cuisses and waving 
 feathers, Swiss girls, etc., and more than one redoubt- 
 able Arlecchino in spotted clothes, jostled along with 
 much less vivacity and life than I should have ex- 
 pected from an Italian masking. At Santa Croce, the 
 bright-colored crowd on the steps was a brilliant sight, 
 like a frozen rainbow — many pretty faces shining amid 
 the gay shawls. There were several fine-looking peas- 
 ants from the environs, inheriting more of the old 
 Italian features than the town people, the pure type, 
 as Pacciani says, of the language, preserved in great- 
 est purity away from the cities, where it is corrupted. 
 
 "The duke was present, with ten dragoons be- 
 hind him ; many of the nobility with liveried ser- 
 vants, and I noticed one shining negro, magnificently 
 turbaned and shawled, with a crooked sword by his 
 side. 
 
 ^^ January 27//^. — Finished to-day my picture, and 
 fairly to my satisfaction, with extravagant compliments 
 from others. In catching the expressions, and the old, 
 rich tone of the original, I have not been wholly un- 
 
Florence, 1 8 1 
 
 successful, and these are the points in which most of 
 the copies I have seen fail.* 
 
 ^''January 2Zth. — To-day is charming. I have al- 
 ways had a childish impatience to see the statue of the 
 Apennines, as I have looked at it when a child in my 
 * Wonders of the World.' So to-day Percival and I 
 took a caliche and drove to Pratolino, six miles to the 
 north. The landscape was lovely, with many Doughty- 
 like effects upon the sun-smitten hills. 
 
 " We found the garden in the English style, like a 
 beautiful forest, and wandered through its Cretan in- 
 tricacies till, at last, we came to the sheet of water 
 where Pater Apenninus 'se toUit ad auras.' This 
 statue is by John of Bologna, and curiously construct- 
 ed of masses of rock and brick plastered over. It did 
 not seem sixty feet high, as asserted, but Mr. Percival, 
 sitting on one of the feet, was scarcely bigger than one 
 toe of it. There is much poetry in the idea ; the 
 genius looks so reverend with time and hoary with 
 sleet and snow, his stony beard sweeping to the 
 ground, and his matted locks overhanging his ancient 
 visage. Water trickles from the mound on which he 
 rests. His face is painted to imitate life ; the rest 
 looks as gray and grim as it ought. We ascended be- 
 
 * The copy of the Seggiola made by Mr. Appletonis now in 
 the possession of his brother, Mr. Nathan Appleton. It hangs at 
 present in the gallery of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. 
 i6 
 
1 82 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 hind, amid the braces which bind the statue, into the 
 head, and, looking out of the eyes, enjoyed a fine view 
 of Fiesole and the valley. 
 
 ^''January 2gth. — A thousand things to do — bills to 
 pay, neglected sights to kill off, cards to leave, and 
 clothes to pack. I went with Madame Curtis to see 
 my Seggiola in its frame. We both were pleased with 
 Xh^framey and she admired the picture. 
 
 **I visited the gallery, to see the jewel-room I 
 have neglected till now. 
 
 " * No more, oh, never more ! * what sadness in the 
 words ! I was wretched to think I should never be 
 again before these glorious things. Madame de Stael 
 says — 
 
 ' Voyager est le plus triste de tous les plaisirs * — 
 
 and, though I do not fully accord with her reasons, 
 yet the grief of parting, so often to be repeated, makes 
 it so indeed. 
 
 " I believe I have never looked with such fondness, 
 such intense and melancholy enthusiasm, upon the glo- 
 ries of the gallery as to-day. I lingered over the round 
 and flesh-like limbs of the Venus, the fearful curiosity 
 of the Slave, the sweetness of Correggio, as friends I 
 would not leave, but was forced from. As I moved up 
 the gallery, the care-worn brow of Caesar, full of pain- 
 ful study, occupied my attention. Then came the great 
 Pompey ; the beautiful child, Germanicus ; the fat, 
 
Floreiice, 183 
 
 round face of the baby Nero — no trace of vice yet 
 in those infantile features. I stood before the odious 
 Messalina ; she has a mouth sunk and dimpled, and 
 her head behind is, according to phrenology, licen- 
 tious. It was with pleasure, on the other side, to turn 
 to the amiable Trajan — one can not look into his face 
 without loving him — to the stern Severus, and the 
 sharp, Wellington features of Nerva. There is more 
 excitement in running over a gallery of Roman busts 
 than can be got in any other way. It is history in 
 marble. They are full of truth, and one reads the 
 satire of Tacitus and the judgment of Gibbon in every 
 head. 
 
 "After dinner, a last visit from Pacciani, dressed 
 come un orso, and bearing the marks of intelligence 
 and dissipation both in his eyes and features. He 
 has 'narrowly escaped being a great man,' as the 
 Irishman said. He was an intimate friend of Shelley, 
 and gave me the full story of Shelley's shipwreck. 
 
 ^^ January ^isi, Friday. — This morning, at half-past 
 eight, with a brilliant sun to encourage us against 
 Friday proverbs, we took leave of Florence. Our 
 carriage is light and commodious, and, when heaped 
 with all our traveling apparatus, looks indeed like a 
 long journey. PortmanteaXix and sacks upon top ; 
 Mary's hoop slung on in front, behind Gaetano and 
 Pauline. The interior, besides ourselves, is full of 
 
184 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 books, and a canestra of all the little wants gastro- 
 nomic of an Italian journey. Our big-footed vetturino 
 cracks his whip over the backs of four fat, round 
 horses, with their tails tied in trig knots, like one who 
 girds himself for serious battle. 
 
 " My parting with my landladies was dolorous. 
 Tears were plentiful, and I only gave them consola- 
 tion by promising to send remembrances by Percival." 
 
 Finding his friends the Curtises in Florence was 
 one of the happy chances always befalling Mr. Apple- 
 ton through life. Mr. T. B. Curtis, his lovely wife, 
 and little daughter, were old Boston friends ; they 
 were upon the packet Philadelphia, whose voyage had 
 given to Thomas his first delightful impression of 
 ocean travel ; and now he came across them, after 
 six months of Europe, unexpectedly. They met with 
 great satisfaction in Florence, " told each other," Mrs. 
 Curtis wrote in her journal, " all the news we had 
 from home in letters, all talking at once ; and the 
 next day the same items passed for news again." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SOUTHERN SKIES. 
 1834. 
 
 Now began a charming journey through romantic 
 scenes full of classical associations. The big carriage, 
 besides Mr. and Mrs. Curtis and Miss Mary, held Mr. 
 Appleton and his friend Mr. Percival ; so that a con- 
 genial and sympathetic party was formed, of which 
 the members shared the novelty of the scenes through 
 which they were passing — not hackneyed, it must be 
 remembered, and made commonplace at that time, by 
 countless guide-books and notes of travel. Virgil and 
 Byron were their forerunners, furnishing them with quo- 
 tations apt, and indicating to them where to dilate with 
 the right emotion. They drove up the Val d' Arno at 
 its loveliest ; through cultivated country, where old, 
 brown, castellated towns peered out from masses of 
 pale olive-trees — the soul of Etrurian scenery. The 
 fruit was just being gathered by men in the trees, and 
 girls with baskets below. They drove through an- 
 
1 86 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 cient towns — Arezzo, Castiglione, Cortona — delighted 
 all day by the charm of the scenery ; amused at night, 
 rather than discouraged, by the discomfort of the inns. 
 At the Papal frontier they stopped to have trunks 
 examined, and the gentlemen walked on to scan the 
 view of the Thrasymenian plain. 
 
 " Everything about here," says the journal, " has 
 an air profoundly old ; the very ground is hillocked 
 and Avorn as by the plows of eternity. Every foot of 
 it is kneaded with the dust of a hero ; the trees 
 gnarled and crooked, the peasants brown and rusty ; 
 the very buildings seem to grow from the soil and be 
 of equal antiquity. 
 
 " This battle-field is one of the most interesting in 
 history, and it is perfectly comprehensible. I could 
 see the low and shaggy hills on which Hannibal had 
 his horse and troops hidden; and the narrow, foggy 
 plain, sweeping in an amphitheatre to the shores of 
 the lake. The ground is gullied by rains, and broken 
 into rugged and irregular tumuli, where the affrighted 
 Romans were slaughtered without being able to see 
 their foes or to form their ranks. It is, indeed, * locus 
 insidiis aptus,* and all remains now as then, except that 
 a peaceful fertility has sprung from that day's carnage. 
 A brown peasant- girl, driving an obstinate flock of 
 black pigs over the rough ground, was a sort of cari- 
 
Southern Skies, 187 
 
 cature of the flight of the luckless Romans. I could 
 fancy the shallow current of the streamlet crimson 
 with Roman blood, and the shores of the lake heaped 
 with Roman shields ; but now, as the Childe sings — 
 
 ' Far other scene is Thrasymene — 
 Her lake a sheet of sih'er, and her plain 
 Rent by no ravage but the gentle plow.' 
 
 " Perugia, February 1st. — I think we shall scarcely 
 find any older people than this. The shops bear such 
 names as Caesar and Pompey, and the cart of the 
 peasant is almost exactly the old Roman car, with low, 
 heavy wheels and triangular body. In a chapel are 
 two pictures — the first by Raphael, the other by Pietro 
 Perugino. The church of San Pietro is perfectly 
 covered with pictures ; several admirable ones of 
 Pietro. One by his master was curious, as showing 
 that he has made as great advances from the stiff and 
 colorless mannerism of this old master, as his illus- 
 trious pupil, Raphael, from his own. 
 
 "... On descending the hill from Perugia, as we 
 crossed a bridge, a boy cried out, ^Eccolo, il Tiverel' 
 It was an interesting moment, and I was glad to find 
 it was not the pitiful stream I had feared. It was not 
 ^ flavum Tiberim^' but of a pretty green, and as large 
 as the Arno. Some miles farther on we came to the 
 banks of the sacred Clitumnus, a brook of sunniest 
 
1 88 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 waters, and now, as in Virgil's time, with its banks of 
 a living green, and white oxen : 
 
 ' Hinc albi, Clitumne greges et maxima taurus 
 Victima, saepe tuo perfusi flumine sacra.' 
 
 ^^ February ^d. — We drove to the falls of Terni, 
 from the old town, through a twisted grove of ^ fron- 
 defites olivce ' ; walked through orange-groves until we 
 came to a most romantic wood of ilexes. The scenery 
 about was majestic, with mountains soaring to heaven, 
 and piled up in all variety of shade and outline ; the 
 green and glancing river rushing below, through rocks 
 worn and hollowed. We gathered many flowers, and 
 ran over the hills till we reached the grand point where, 
 as the guide said, all painters sketch the fall. 
 
 "Beggars are rife on these hills, and have all ways 
 of earning their money. One spreads olive-branches 
 to make a seat, another sweeps the platform, a third 
 presents a bit of petrified earth, and all unite in their 
 clamor and tenacity. 
 
 "I sat on the bank and read aloud Byron's de- 
 scription to my companions. It is beautifully true, 
 only giving rather too savage a tone to this charming 
 scenery. I see not how Addison could find anything 
 here to warrant him in calling it the passage to the in- 
 fernal regions. The height of the chufe^ we were told, 
 is as many feet as there are days in the year. The 
 
Southern Skies. 189 
 
 river suddenly tumbles from the mountain's head into 
 a chasm where boils up an unceasing shower of spray 
 
 * That is an eternal April to the ground,' 
 
 giving to the grass a luxuriant emerald tint. It then 
 slides over the rocks in two other falls of silver, whose 
 grace and lines, constantly vacillating, form a beauti- 
 ful contrast to the thunder and lightning of the first. 
 On every side the scene is glorious. We climbed to 
 the top, not equal to the lower view, but with a rich, 
 Claude-like picture of the plain and town. 
 
 " February ^th. — Though the road was very heavy, 
 Percival and I walked on, rewarded by a magnificent 
 view on descending to the plain, through which in 
 graceful windings meanders a lovely river. I asked 
 an old peasant-woman what name it bore. * Se chia- 
 ma il fiume ' was the only answer I could get from 
 her. Soon we met a man, who said it was the Tiber ! 
 To think that a peasant-slave should live on the bor- 
 ders of this mother of streams, and not know it as 
 other than * the river ' ! 
 
 " February ^th. — A date never to be forgotten, for 
 last night I slept in Rome ! Walking as usual beyond 
 the carriage, Percival and I advanced amid the morn- 
 ing fogs, having started thus early to be at Rome be- 
 times. It was imprudent getting beyond the carriage 
 just here, as there is special danger, for a straggling 
 
IQO Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 oak-wood, full of low brush, near, is a famous haunt 
 for banditti, and Gasparo regaled us with stories of 
 persons variously ill-treated therein. Only last week, 
 on the Siena road, a courier, with two Englishmen, 
 was stopped. We were more fortunate. We noted 
 every mile-stone that brought us nearer the city, and 
 fancied that many were the old Roman ones. Our 
 excitement was constantly on the increase, and we 
 rushed on at last to gain the view which we were 
 sure of having from the hill-top. This summit was 
 Soracte. My eye caught instantly, far in the blue 
 distance, amid the sparkle of its palaces, that illus- 
 trious dome which Buonarotti hung in air ; at the 
 same moment flashed upon me the long, white line 
 of the Mediterranean. I cried out to Percival as he 
 came running up — 
 
 ' The Niobe of nations, there she stands ! ' 
 
 We chose a flowery seat and gave way to the intensity 
 of our feelings. For a long, silent hour we were in- 
 dulging in the excitement of the situation, calling up 
 all those bright things that make Rome the most inter- 
 esting city on earth. It is not sentiment, it is not an 
 artfully stimulated ebullition of romance, but awe and 
 sublime joy which every student must feel when look- 
 ing his first upon the * lone mother of dead empires.* '* 
 In this enthusiastic spirit the party entered Rome 
 
Southern Skies. 191 
 
 at a fortunate moment, near the close of the Carnival, 
 just as the Corso di cavalli was beginning ; the whole 
 square of the Popolo was crammed with carriages and 
 people, every balcony was full. The scene was far 
 more gay than the languid merry-making of the Flor- 
 entine Carnival ; there was every possible drollery of 
 costume, and the air was buzzing with the flight of 
 dolces and the chattering of the masks. The war was 
 carried on with great spirit. 
 
 ^^ February 'jt/i. — Without wishing any guide, we 
 wandered down the Corso. Shattered columns and 
 mutilated statues, the facade of a temple protruding 
 from some stall or shop, served to link us with the 
 idea we wished to realize ; wandering on, we passed 
 the magnificent column of Antoninus, now * purified ' 
 by the Pope, and surmounted by a bronze of Saint 
 Paul. More than half-way down the street, we turned 
 to the left and came upon the Forum of Trajan, 
 its massy granite columns lying scattered or broken 
 round the area, with at one end the famed column. 
 I need only glance at the antiquities we fell upon, for 
 beyond all was the prince of ruins — the Coliseum. I 
 have no time to express the emotions I felt at first 
 standing within that terrific area where the blood of 
 slaves and martyrs has so often run at the feet of 
 thousands." 
 
192 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 After much difficulty, Mr. Appleton succeeded in 
 finding excellent rooms in the Via Tritone for him- 
 self and Mr. Percival, up three long flights of stairs. 
 He says : 
 
 " My old woman seems honest and kind, and we 
 trust that our ox-eyed boot-black will not steal any- 
 thing. My landlady says I may leave all my things 
 unlocked ; but I am too old for that." 
 
 On the last day of the Carnival, to give it a coup de 
 grace, the whole party determined to go to the masked 
 ball of the evening. 
 
 "We supplied ourselves with dresses from the 
 shops, and put them on in Mr. Curtis's parlor. Our 
 toilets furnished us with much laughter before we 
 stood complete. I was a sailor in blue stripes, with 
 Percival's Tyrolese belt round my waist, and a straw 
 hat on my head ; Mr. Curtis was very droll without a 
 mask, as the veritable Madame Starke " (the writer 
 of the only guide-book for Italy then in use), " with 
 Mary's cottage-bonnet on the back of his head, Paul- 
 ine's gear for his female-ship, our lunch-basket on his 
 arm, containing a mirror and the latest edition of 
 madame's valuable work. Percival dressed as a dow- 
 ager of the last century. At the ball we chanced to 
 meet with no acquaintances, but had a deal of fun 
 with the masks. Percival waltzed a V antique, Mr. 
 
Southern Skies. 193 
 
 Curtis told folks the price of washing, and I halloed 
 my brother ship-mates. It was very crowded and 
 hot, though brilliant. Mr. Curtis was half afraid of 
 meeting the other Dromio, Starke the veritable. A 
 man came up to him, felt his pulse seriously, and said, 
 * Siete uomo ,^ ' " 
 
 Lent now began, and Mr. Appleton, without dis- 
 tractions of society and the theatre, could apply him- 
 self to the wonders of Rome, which are fully described, 
 as he visited them from day to day, in the journal, as 
 well as the studios of artists and firesides of friends. 
 
 ''''February 13///. — This morning we visited Thor- 
 waldsen's studio, and spent much time there. He has 
 many rooms, all full of unfinished works. An immense 
 basso-rilievo, and the twelve apostles, for the King of 
 Denmark, fill several rooms. We saw a fine statue of 
 Byron, much admired a full-length likeness of a Rus- 
 sian princess, pensively touching her finger to her 
 cheek, and with a figure of Innocence. There were 
 some miniatures of the Lion of Lucerne. Thorwald- 
 sen is very like the busts of him ; the image of a 
 patriarch, with a strong expression of amiability in his 
 features. He wore a hairy Danish cap, quite droll — his 
 silvery hair escaped from it upon his neck." 
 
 At St. Peter's, on a first visit, he says : 
 17 
 
194 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 " We had no time to study out the Titanic groups 
 on the ceiling of the * Last Judgment,' but merely felt 
 the usual emotion of disappointment. There is much 
 wanting to this performance — held to be the highest 
 effort of human genius. It has little to which human- 
 ity can attach itself ; and it is with a feeling of doubt, 
 and a suspicion that the artist was not of the first cast 
 of mind, that one examines the details of the great 
 fresco. 
 
 "Jackson talks much of Shelley. He knew him 
 well ; says that he was a perfect child in his habits. 
 He remembers Shelley telling him how fine a death 
 he thought it would be to be shipwrecked in the 
 bay of Spezzia. Poor lad ! He learned to know too 
 well. 
 
 "... While we were visiting the Palatine to-day, 
 we made the alarming discovery that Mr. Curtis had 
 lost our inseparable Starke. We were in distress ; but 
 on driving back to the Farnese Garden were fortunate 
 enough to find her enjoying a tete-a-tete with my vol- 
 ume of Byron. 
 
 ^^ February 2^th. — Two nights since I visited the 
 Coliseum by moonlight. It was one night only before 
 full moon, and darkness seemed to have been annihi- 
 lated ; long before the sun set, the effulgence of the 
 moon seemed to rival it, and the garish, rosy hues of 
 day changed, without death, into the broad silver glow 
 
Southern Skies. 195 
 
 of an Italian night. The night skies here are very- 
 peculiar ; they have no share of the obscurity of other 
 lands, but their deep azure has a transparency and life 
 that are inexpressibly beautiful. Byron knew what 
 this was when he wrote the line — 
 
 ' Hues that have words and speak to us of heaven.' 
 
 " We drove to the amphitheatre, and found, to our 
 surprise, nearly a dozen carriages drawn up before the 
 entrance. I thought the number of visitors would kill 
 the solitude, but they only enforced the vastness and 
 grandeur of the pile. Their voices were at times 
 heard as from a far mountain, and their torches, as 
 they burst from under some gap, poured a shower of 
 light upon the old, haggard arches, their red play form- 
 ing picturesque eifects of chiaro scuro^ that contrasted 
 with the coldness of the moonlight. The effect from 
 the moon was that all was light or all shadow ; the 
 ribs of the seats running down to the arena seemed 
 restored, the seats were in shadow, and the simplicity 
 and force of the contrasts accorded with the sublimity 
 of the structure. The contrast of the present and the 
 past was full of poetry, thus to be contemplating, un- 
 der a melancholy moon, in mournful silence, the arena 
 which once rang to the applause of thousands peopling 
 its stately walls. We joined a party also furnished 
 with lanterns, and rambled everywhere. Every mo- 
 
196 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 ment the effect was new and delightful. The vivid 
 light broke through the darkness of the circular cor- 
 ridors in white patches upon the pavement ; on every 
 side rose arches upon arches. The stars 'twinkled 
 through the loops of time.* Jupiter, especially, shone 
 with fine brilliancy through an arch upon the northern 
 side. 
 
 '* Rome is now a city of artists; they have a delight- 
 ful society of their own, and are held in high esteem. 
 The name artist is the best passport to favor and kind- 
 ness here. They have not the jealousy and ill-blood 
 that mar other professions, but assist one another with 
 the greatest good-will and esprit de corps. One can not 
 take a walk without seeing some fellow seated on a 
 ruined column, with his colors beside him, sketching 
 some temple or group, unmolested and .abstracted. 
 The galleries are full of them copying, and weeks 
 may be spent visiting their studios. There is, too, 
 a race of beings called models, a profession that ex- 
 ists by the artists. One man has a fine head of hair, 
 this other a well-turned arm ; such a girl has a noble 
 head, and such a one a good body. Each lives upon 
 some natural beauty. A man who is slovenly and 
 miserable in all other respects, keeps his beard long 
 and unsullied ; it is his stock in trade. 
 
 ^''February 26th. — To-day, again, we visited the 
 artists ; refreshed ourselves with the sweet things of 
 
Sold hern Skies. 197 
 
 Wyatt and Gibson. While we were at Gibson's, a 
 boy came in with two snow-white pigeon-wings, to be 
 modeled for Cupid ! " 
 
 The party left Rome for an excursion of a few 
 days to Tivoli, Adrian's Villa, and other objects of in- 
 terest in the vicinity of Rome. When they returned 
 they found, to their regret, that during their absence 
 an application for audience with the Pope had been 
 answered, and the day before fixed for the ceremony.^ 
 They had lost the chance, by being away. They wrote 
 for another audience ; but the answer was, " Too 
 late." 
 
 ** March 6th. — Yesterday we ascended St. Peter's. 
 The day was fine. The ascent is of brick, and with- 
 out steps — an inclined plane as far as the roof of the 
 body of the church. The apostles, on nearer acquaint- 
 ance, we found to be rough giants, and the leads a 
 perfect town, covered with sheds and corners without 
 end. When standing within the railing of the dome, 
 it was terrific to look below. Men were mice, and the 
 marbles of the floor, at that distance, seemed a calico 
 pattern. Above it was as if 'heaven were mining in.' 
 All the dome is mosaic ; the bits are nearly half an 
 inch square. It looks rough when seen close at hand, 
 but very delicate at a distance. The ladies held fast 
 to the railing, swimming with giddiness. 
 
198 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 " From the lantern the view is very extensive, and 
 we saw distinctly the sunny Mediterranean. 
 
 "The rest of the day I gave to the Vatican, no 
 longer a maze to me. I spent some hours in the Sis- 
 tine Chapel. As I expected, I have completely changed 
 my first ideas about this. I fully believe in the pre- 
 eminence of Buonarotti, and almost own it superhu- 
 man for any man to execute the ceiling in nineteen 
 months. The colors are much faded, but seem to 
 have been worthy the drawing. In fact, after coming 
 from these grand forms^ I almost condemn Raphael 
 for careless and trivial drawing. The * Last Judgment * 
 is so very startling, one with difficulty gets over his 
 first ideas of it ; but the more I study it, the more I 
 am reconciled to the figure and attitude of the Saviour. 
 He is full of an anger which is foreign to .him, but is 
 justly excited by the wickedness of the condemned ; 
 it enforces a more salutary and impressive moral than 
 the sedate meekness with which he is usually invested. 
 
 " The * Stanze ' of Raphael I can not too much ad- 
 mire. The * Incendio del Borgo,* the * Chase of the 
 Wicked from the Temple,' and the * Miracle of Bolse- 
 na,' are among the finest works of this wonderful youth. 
 What wonder he died at thirty-seven, consumed and 
 exhausted by the ardent visions that every day grew 
 more vivid to his fancy! The sword destroyed the 
 scabbard too soon for the delight of our race, if not 
 
Southern Skies, 199 
 
 too soon for the full illustration of how near to angelic 
 genius the creature may ascend. 
 
 " I was joined in the galleries by a priest, who was 
 a droll character, and not a little crazy. He made the 
 strangest remarks upon the pictures, and constantly 
 bothered me with polemic subtilties. He wished much 
 to know what was my idea of the particular nature 
 of the fruit with which Eve tempted Adam. . . . 
 
 " To-day we visited Pinelli. I have had a desire 
 to make his acquaintance, as he is an original. We 
 found him modeling some of his famous terra-cotta 
 groups, and it was delightful to watch the stroke of his 
 stick. He is a perfect master of Roman character, 
 and every dash he made was happy, bringing out some 
 new expression. His manner is artificially brusque 
 but his genius is marked. 
 
 " From him we visited Severn, the young artist who 
 attended Keats in his last moments. In the parlor 
 was a picture of his from the * Ancient Mariner,' poet- 
 ically treated. Standing upon the ribs of the specter- 
 ship, Life in Death holds up the die and exclaims, 
 * I've won ! I've won ! * Severn's pictures have a rich 
 manner of coloring, though he appears as yet young in 
 art. There was a portrait of Keats which represented 
 him less thin, though pale, than I had imagined him, 
 and three likenesses of Trelawney. He has a fine head ; 
 but no one would imagine him an Englishman ; his 
 
200 Thomas G. Appleto7i, 
 
 locks and mustache are black as ink, and his hue and 
 expression are Greek. I spent several hours with 
 Severn in most agreeable conversation. He told me a 
 thousand things about Keats, and regaled me with 
 choice Falernian, very like claret, a present from a 
 /^friend of Keats. We talked of Allston, Leslie, and 
 poor Newton, and a thousand things, and parted with 
 mutual wishes that we had sooner met. 
 
 ^^ March Zth, — Already the fever of departure has 
 begun. I look upon all the old familiar columns and 
 ruins as if to rivet them in my memory, since so soon 
 they will be seen by me no more. In some places we 
 have been taking up dropped stitches, revisiting the 
 Vatican. We warmed ourselves before the Apollo, 
 the Niobe, the Aldobrandini Marriage, the Minerva, 
 (,^ etc. We roamed again over St. Peter's, and gained 
 permission to descend into the old church built by 
 Constantine. There we saw, among others, the tomb 
 of Hadrian IV, the only English Pope, and the tombs 
 of the Pretender and his brother Henry. 
 
 " March gth, Sunday. — The last day ! We none of 
 us had seen the Pope ; and as to go to Rome and not 
 see the Pope has become a proverb to prove a fool, 
 we determined to-day to be at the Sistine Chapel. We 
 walked up the magnificent entrance to the Vatican 
 through ranged files of the antique and many-colored 
 Swiss Guard. Their costume is most gaudy, and un- 
 
Southern Skies, 201 
 
 becoming a Pope's attendants. They carry halberds, 
 and their red-plumed caps, slashed breeches, and ruf- 
 fled necks, make them look like relics of the four- 
 teenth century, as in fact they are. . . . 
 
 " We were well tired when the rites were over, but 
 my time was not lost, for I was studying all the while 
 the wonders of the ceiling overhead. 
 
 " I have paid for all my mosaics and cameos. Our 
 imperial seems made aposta for our prints, of which we 
 have bought a large supply. 
 
 ^^ March loth. — We drove silently down the Corso, 
 looking our last at the columns, and when we swept 
 under the Coliseum it was with sad feelings. We 
 traversed the desolate part of Rome on the southern 
 side, where the finest churches seem planted in a 
 desert. 
 
 
 
 Mr. Percival left the party at the end of their visit 
 in Rome, remaining there while they went on. His 
 place in the carriage was taken by Mr. Barnard, who 
 had been found by his friends very ill on their first 
 arrival in Rome. He was now well enough to be re- 
 moved, although almost too weak for the journey. 
 
 They were now on the way to Naples. The first 
 night was spent at Velletri ; then they crossed the 
 Pontine Marshes ; and beyond Terracina they came 
 suddenly upon the sea. 
 
202 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 " Our feelings were tumultuous. We rushed down 
 to the soft, sandy shore, and almost kissed for joy the 
 ripples that broke upon the beach. We listened to 
 the old familiar music of the waves as to the welcome 
 of an ancient friend. We sat upon the rocks, and fan- 
 cied ourselves at Nahant. The rocks were redder, 
 and the sea was bluer, and the far headlands wore 
 a different, soft, sunny clearness, but the dashing of 
 the billows was the same, and it seemed as if they 
 must be the ones that had so often broken at my feet. 
 Vessels skimmed along .the horizon, and I watched 
 them as if they were messengers from home. I had 
 touched upon a sudden spring of warm home-feelings 
 and old memories. 
 
 ''''March 12th. — To-day we left St. Peter's estate 
 and entered the kingdom of Naples. Our passports 
 were examined, and we lost half an hour, but nothing 
 further. Passing on, the scenery became deliciously 
 Italian. We have seemed to note the increased tropi- 
 calness at every post. Now we have reached a clime 
 where a serene and languishing air steeps everything 
 in sunny indolence, where the far sea wears the look 
 of lapis lazuli, and over the senses is wafted a blended 
 perfume by every breeze. We went through a perfect 
 orange and lemon grove, these fairy fruits gilding the 
 deep green. A variety of flowers I knew not were 
 under foot. In short, we had entered the garden of 
 
Southern Skies, 203 
 
 the earth, or, as the natives say, ' un pezzeito di cielo 
 caduto in terra.* 
 
 " As we drove up a hill once celebrated for ban- 
 ditti, we remarked two fine caverns where doubtless 
 these gentry stowed their spoils. Gasparo says he 
 once was robbed in this very place, and soundly bas- 
 tinadoed — although he is a stout fellow ! We stopped 
 at Mola, most gloriously situated on the Mediterra- 
 nean. Upon the terrace of our hotel the view was 
 strikingly beautiful. Under and around us was all the 
 glory of the Mediterranean. A number of Claude- 
 like islands hung upon the horizon. One of the 
 farthest, dimly seen through a cloud of sharp-sailed 
 feluccas, snowy as sea-fowl upon the waters, was Ca- 
 pri ; on the left was Procida, and above it, still far- 
 ther coastward, Vesuvius reared its bifurcate head, 
 its faint white smoke at times perceptible to the eye. 
 On our right, far into the sea, stretched the bold town 
 of Gaeta. Behind it rises a gentle hill. Surrounding 
 our terrace a grove of oranges invited us to pluck, 
 and the waves in long, silver ridges broke at our feet. 
 All that my eye embraced, as the scene of the last 
 book of the *^neid,' has been immortalized by Vir- 
 gil." 
 
 With as little delay as possible, to spare fatigue to 
 Mr. Barnard, the travelers went on to the city of Na- 
 
204 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 pies, which they reached on the 14th of March. They 
 established themselves with the caution and experi- 
 ence of old travelers, and devoted nearly three weeks 
 to the city and its environs, although the weather 
 was dull, the summit of Vesuvius veiled in mist, and 
 beggars were rampant. But weather was of no im- 
 portance when once they were within the walls of the 
 Museo Borbonico, where there was enough to occupy 
 the mind and delight the eye for any length of time. 
 To their vexation, a /^/^-day closed the doors of the 
 museum on their second attempt. 
 
 "All the public buildings and many shops are 
 shut. We made instead several visits. Called on the 
 Jacksons, and found them melancholy as cats, on ac- 
 count of the weather." 
 
 The next day they returned to the inspection of 
 the Museo. 
 
 ^^ March 21st. — To-day it is my fate to describe 
 the most blase excursion in the world, one that is 
 quite threadbare even to myself : we went to Baice'' 
 
 Another day was devoted to shops ; lava and 
 coral ornaments tempted them not in vain, and the 
 Etruscan vases of Giustiniani. The weather continued 
 stormy and the sea roared beneath their windows 
 " like uncaged lions." 
 
Southern Skies, 205 
 
 He says of Cumae : " The Cave of the Sibyl is no 
 great affair. It seems to have been the city residence 
 of her ladyship, whence she went to bathe at the Tar- 
 tarean Lake." 
 
 " Easter - Sunday, March 3ii'/. — To-day is my 
 birthday, and the anniversary of my departure from 
 New York. Certainly one year has taken off not a 
 little of the edge of youthful adventure, not a little of 
 the vivida vis of life. I got a letter from Percival to- 
 day. He is pleased with Holy Week in Rome, and 
 will join me here for Sicily." 
 
 On the first of April, the Curtises and Mr. Barnard 
 left Naples in the Francesco Primo for Leghorn ; but the 
 rough sea prevented much progress, and the steamer, 
 having received an injury to her piston, was obliged to 
 put back. Mr. Appleton, on his return from Psestum, 
 an expedition of two days, found them still at Naples ; 
 he also found his friend Percival, and was ready to 
 depart. 
 
 ^^ April $th. — In the greatest hurry, got my passport 
 completed, took leave again of the Curtises, and all my 
 other friends, and, leaving all my baggage but a sac de 
 nuii and my haversack, went on board the Real Ferdi- 
 nando with Percival. The paddles flew round, and 
 we extricated ourselves from the forest of masts, with 
 
 a fine wind on our quarter, which, as both our sails 
 
 18 
 
2o6 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 were spread, aided us much. We had about seventy 
 on board, most of them English. The notable Ma- 
 dame Starke was of the party ; I was very attentive to 
 her, for which she expressed much gratitude, and in- 
 vited me to her house at Sorrento. She is a very dif- 
 ferent body from what I had imagined She can not 
 be far from seventy-five, stout, and with a face good- 
 humoredly ugly, seamed and burned with much trav- 
 el. She did not seem very intelligent, though pretty 
 learned, and quite feeble with age. She was sur- 
 rounded by toadies plder and uglier than herself. 
 She had made a capital mistake in bringing the body 
 of her carriage to sleep in ! It was of no use,' and it 
 caused her much trouble to send it back from Mes- 
 sina." 
 
 They passed between Scylla and Charybdis, with- 
 out experiencing any of the dangers which have made 
 these names famous, and the lovely Messina was 
 reached. The steamer stopped, and they were sur- 
 rounded with boats pouring forth Sicilian cries to 
 attract attention. Mr. Percival and Mr. Appleton 
 were rowed ashore, and found themselves upon the 
 soil of the garden of Proserpine. 
 
 This voyage was a round trip ; the steamer 
 touched at the various ports of Sicily, allowing, at 
 the least, an interval long enough for the passengers 
 
Southern Skies. 207 
 
 to inspect each place. Catania and Syracuse were 
 thus briefly visited ; they then crossed to Malta in a 
 heavy sea, which caused many of the passengers to 
 take to their beds. At Malta they found English car- 
 pets and English hospitality, called for a bottle of 
 English ale, and felt quite at home. 
 
 On the return they stopped at Girgenti, and passed 
 several days in Palermo, of which the bay, in Mr. 
 Appleton's estimation, is more beautiful than that of 
 Naples. 
 
 " On the morning of the 29th,'* he writes, " we were 
 skimming between the romantic heights of Amalfi and 
 Capri, with the huge bay just in front. We came 
 cracking up the gulf, old black Vesuvius looking a 
 little ill, and not discharging his smoke so stoutly as 
 before. Fresh from Palermo, I could venture an opin- 
 ion, and boldly now assert, that bay to excel this of 
 Naples. This glaring white town, the unrelieved 
 brown of the hills, are inferior to the Sicilian beau- 
 ties of Panormus. I began at once to prepare for 
 departure next day. I visited Mr. John Lowell, and 
 listened to his tales of travel. He has an artist with 
 him on purpose to sketch for him, and intended 
 going through the East with a cavalcade of twelve 
 horses. 
 
 ^^ April ^oth. — At ten, all things in order, I found 
 
2o8 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 myself on board the Francesco Primo, a little French 
 steamer of sixty tons. It may be imagined I had had 
 enough of steaming, but the comfort of quiet sketch- 
 ing and reading makes me ever enjoy it. Our party, 
 too, was good. Folks in a packet begin by staring, 
 and end by shaking hands. Mrs. Gower, the clever 
 wife of a Leghorn merchant, I had a legal title to be 
 attentive to, and a blonde, blue-eyed German girl, and 
 a newly married English lady, did not take^my knight- 
 ly devoirs in dudgeon. We jounced out of the bay 
 and waved our adieus to bella Napoli. The proverb, 
 * Vedi Napoli e poi mori,' I felt not inclined to follow ; 
 I can not say I left it with regret. Our sail was de- 
 lightful, and unwillingly we retired to our couches. I 
 had come so late as to be forced to take a berth in the 
 second cabin, eating and sitting with the first-cabin 
 passengers. When I descended the narrow stairway 
 at midnight, I was reminded of the Campo Santo at 
 Naples. In the dim lantern's light lay two or three 
 gaping servant-maids, children were sprinkled over 
 them, and around, sailors, waiters, and unfortunates 
 like myself, all in their clothes, assumed various awk- 
 ward attitudes. At the sides, more lucky ones were 
 laid in berths, like the dead in the catacombs of Syra- 
 cuse, with as much space, and as silent. 
 
 " Despite the prospect, next morning I had to 
 thank the Virgin for a quiet and unbitten night." 
 
Southern Skies, 209 
 
 The steamer stopped at Civita Vecchia, where all 
 went ashore ; but at noon they were off again. Mr, 
 Appleton read the " Pilgrims of the Rhine," while 
 Mrs. Gower embroidered, and the doctor sketched 
 her. Before night they had glimpses of Elba and 
 Corsica — "the propinquent cradle and cage," and, at 
 seven the next morning, were riding in the open road- 
 stead of Leghorn, amid feluccas and men-of-war. 
 
 " The Baron de Poilly and I had combined, and 
 we now took rooms in common. The baron is a French- 
 man of the best sort, witty and full of good-humor — in 
 short, a charming companion." 
 
 A rapid excursion to Pisa, in a caliche^ gave Mr. 
 Appleton a chance to see the famous leaning tower, 
 the Campo Santo, and the palaces of the city. He 
 came back in time to see somewhat of Leghorn ; 
 called upon Mrs. Gower, now at home in tasteful 
 apartments, " She showed me the table of Byron, a 
 round, neat one, on which he wrote * Don Juan.' I 
 envied madame this relic. It was left by Byron to 
 Mr. Gower's partner, who received his last letter from 
 Greece." 
 
 One more night on board the steamer brought him 
 to Genoa. 
 
 " Here the baron surprised me with an early visit, 
 
2IO Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 and an offer quite pressing that I would join him in 
 his phaeton, and drive to Marseilles along the Cornice, 
 that we might enjoy it together, while his servant 
 Edouard should take my place in the steamer. I con- 
 sented, and we arranged matters. I had only time to 
 see some of the interesting objects in Genoa — a Ma- 
 donna by Paget, and a relief of Michael Angelo." 
 
 This excursion proved delightful, as many other 
 travelers have found it, the road hanging constantly 
 upon cliffs over the Mediterranean. In the midst of 
 a description of it, the journal stops abruptly, and, 
 after a few . . . , is resumed in Paris on the 2 2d of 
 May : 
 
 "Alas for my neglected diary! Paris and Paris- 
 ians, bewildering, have quite driven its existence from 
 my memory. I find it impossible to retrace my im- 
 pressions of fair Nice, industrious Toulon, and revo- 
 lutionary Lyons, and must resume my tale in the very 
 heart of the Frog nation." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TWO WEEKS IN A FRENCH CHATEAU. 
 1834. 
 
 Dramatis Personce : 
 
 The Baron de Poilly. 
 
 His daughter Cecile. 
 
 Her husband Charles. 
 
 Duchess of Fitz-James, the mother of Charles. 
 
 LuciLE, younger daughter of the Baron. 
 
 Henri, younger son of the Baron. 
 
 Governess. 
 
 Mr. Appleton has described in later years the 
 beginning of his acquaintance with the Baron de 
 Poilly, which grew into one of the pleasantest rela- 
 tions of his lifetime. " Gliding along," he says, " un- 
 der a Mediterranean sun, I was making, with the 
 dreamy activity of the traveler, a sketch of a pictur- 
 esque person in the steamer which was carrying me 
 from Civita Vecchia to Marseilles. My subject was 
 an alert, active Frenchman, with a flat traveling- 
 casquette, and a ribbon at his button-hole, which 
 somehow seemed to have been worn in imperial days. 
 
212 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 and on the field of battle. Such proved afterward to 
 be the case. After a fashion, a tolerable likeness was 
 accomplished. This led to that easy acquaintance 
 and fellowship so natural to unoccupied minds, when 
 congenial. . . . We disembarked at Genoa, and went 
 forward by land accordingly. The lovely coast, 
 where our post-horses ran on a narrow ledge, smooth 
 as a floor, with precipices and summits towering 
 above us, scalloped into little indenting bays, each 
 with its village as a center, made every moment a 
 surprise. 
 
 '' We dashed across France ; trying in Burgundy, 
 as the accomplished baron insisted, the cheap cms of 
 the country, to test his statement that this native wine 
 has a flavor of the soil, and a homely merit of its own. 
 We went twenty miles out of our way to Melun, to try 
 its famous eels. Finally, Paris was reached. 
 
 *'Then, for the first time, I really heard French. 
 The grace and charm of it, as spoken by the family 
 into which I was introduced, I had previously no idea 
 of. And the pretty, old-fashioned, friendly, family 
 ways were delightful. Games, in the evening, whose 
 childishness would have repelled a Briton ; dances, in 
 which old and young shared, their only raison d'etre 
 being the seeming cheerfulness by which they were 
 moved ; amusing talk with the duke — for there was a 
 duke in the center of the circle, who, in the house of 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteaii. 213 
 
 peers, led the Carlist chivalry of France. These were 
 all novelties to me, freshly delightful, and justly seem- 
 ing the fair spoil of travel. At that time Lafayette 
 died. With a dignified wave of his hand, my duke 
 permitted me, as an American, to join the funeral co7'- 
 tdge. 
 
 " ^ The most dangerous man in France,' he said ; 
 * and he is well laid away in his family vault in the 
 Picpus graveyard. With him lies buried the republic ; 
 and in America, even, you will soon be of our opinion, 
 and desire the dignity and comfort of a monarchy.'" 
 
 Mr. Appleton enjoyed the society of these charm- 
 ing friends as long as they remained in Paris ; a fort- 
 night after their departure, he followed them, by cor- 
 dial invitation, to Picardy, where his journal is re- 
 sumed : 
 
 " FoLEMBRAY, Jiim ^th. — Two days ago, at eight 
 in the morning, I was glad to leave the steamy air 
 and stunning streets of Paris, in the diligence for 
 Compiegne. The features of our drive were those 
 universal to a French highway — a huge, wide road 
 with a raised, rumbling pavd in the middle, flanked as 
 far as the weary eye can reach with files of elm, or 
 that nuisance of France, the poplar. Villages num- 
 berless we went through, of equal beauty — or want of 
 
214 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 it, as you please; in one of them we met a bridal- 
 party, all with big bouquets in their hands. 
 
 " Passed the night at Compiegne, and went on the 
 next day to Chauny, a town of about five thousand 
 inhabitants, full of glass-factories. There I borrowed 
 a chamber at a cafi^ and made my toilet, while I 
 hired a lad to hire a vehicle to carry me to Folem- 
 bray, which is off the diligence-route, about two 
 leagues away. 
 
 " After passing through a lovely country, I turned 
 a corner, and saw the house of my friends afar at the 
 end of a long forest of magnificent trees. I jumped 
 out of the gig in my ardor, and hurried forward. On 
 ascending a swell, the whole estate burst upon me in 
 its loveliness ; at my feet was spread a little lake, and 
 on its farther side, behind a quaint old dove-cote and 
 various out-buildings, rose the elegant house of the 
 Baron de Poilly. It is large and square, with a ter- 
 race supported by columns in front. The moment 
 I had mounted the slope, I was seen, and hats and 
 handkerchiefs were waved to me from the windows. 
 I rushed forward to embrace friends as kind as I 
 ever had, and ones of whom I am proud, as their 
 acquaintance is all of my own making. They all 
 met me in the court-yard, and Dash and Love leaped 
 upon me with affection. Edouard, too, the valet, 
 welcomed me with his civilities. I was instantly 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 215 
 
 carried into the house and installed in a room next 
 the baron. They all took me over the house, which is 
 furnished in a style of simple elegance. The baron's 
 apartment is decorated with boars' tusks, stag-horns, 
 and the like. 
 
 " Instantly a thousand plans were projected for my 
 amusement. After a bottle of cider, they all accom- 
 panied me over the grounds. 
 
 " We passed over a lovely lawn to a white bridge 
 spanning the little lake. By winding paths and tufted 
 groves of various trees, we wound up the side of the 
 hill behind the house, and visited a neat and pretty 
 garden, and, passing through berceaux cut in the for- 
 est, we gained the height whence an enchanting pros- 
 pect burst upon me. At our feet was the little village 
 of Folembray, of which the baron is the lord and 
 patron ; it has only nine hundred inhabitants. The 
 valley before us was full of round and verdant for- 
 ests, and bits of water running off into the far blue ; 
 while on the left, from the crest of a bold rock, rose 
 the fine ruins of the chateau Coucy, completing an 
 unrivaled picture. 
 
 "We returned, and horses were ordered. In a 
 trice the groom brought four to the door, and madame 
 appeared, lovely in full riding-dress. She tells me the 
 family are called MinotaurSy on account of their fond- 
 ness for riding. We mounted and rode through a 
 
2i6 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 rich plain till we reached the Coucy cliff, up whose 
 green side we wound, the baron nodding on all sides 
 to the passers. 
 
 " The castle is the finest ruin I have seen in 
 France. The Coucys were the tyrants of this prov- 
 ince, and waged constant war with the suzerains of 
 the environs. There is a horrible legend of Raoul 
 de Coucy, who made his wife eat the heart of an 
 enemy ! Nothing can be imagined stronger than this 
 workmanship of the thirteenth century. It has suf- 
 fered severely from an earthquake, but is still full of 
 interest. Everywhere are little niches in rich Gothic, 
 giving an idea of what the whole must have been. In 
 the small town on the right hand is an oubliette. This 
 tower retains its frescoes. 
 
 " We returned by a circuitous route through a 
 charming country. Suddenly a thunder-shower passed 
 over and broke upon our heads. We were almost 
 pelted from our saddles, and, spurring on, pushed like 
 the wind for home-shelter. Madame bore herself most 
 gallantly. Every one laughed at us as we dashed 
 through the villages. At last we gained the basse- 
 cour, and hurried in to change our habiliments. Soon 
 we were laughing it over in the parlor. Delicious is 
 the view from this room, and most comfortable it is, 
 with flowers and prints, and drawings of the baron's 
 favorite dogs. We dined capitally, at half-past five, 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteaii. 217 
 
 vegetables, in honor of my English notions, being 
 served with every course. Afterward, we smoked on 
 the terrace, while Madame Cecile made a cap for her 
 baby. The evening was spent, without candles, chat- 
 ting. The gouvernanie told me she felt perfectly ac- 
 quainted with me at once, principally because I had 
 been educated after the Fellenberg manner ! 
 
 '* To finish the evening, after a game of billiards, 
 they got out the rare books of the library. We all 
 retired early — about ten, and so ends one of the 
 pleasantest days of my life. 
 
 "Jufie 6th. — By accident, I was dressed to-day be- 
 fore the baron, entered his room and found him read- 
 ing. At eight I joined Charles and Cecile, who went 
 to the lake to fish for carp and brocket^ of which the 
 lake is full. While they fished, I took the boat and 
 rowed out into the lake to sketch the house and this 
 group of fishers. They had no great good fortune 
 except bites, and Cecile returned to the house in de- 
 spair. Charles soon after was rewarded by jerking 
 into the air an enormous carp, which, however, es- 
 caped him. We occupied ourselves as each saw fit 
 till breakfast — sewing, walking, reading, sketching. 
 They had sent me coffee at eight, therefore I was 
 quite equal to awaiting lunch ; I sketched the wood- 
 scene from the bridge, with the swans. 
 
 " Lunch was, as in England, copious and almost 
 19 
 
2i8 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 a dinner, but here it is a breakfast. Capital potatoes, 
 the first I had seen in France. After this meal, a gen- 
 tleman was descried descending the hill, and all ran 
 to meet him, as he is the chief friend of the family. 
 He ate bread and milk in the arbor for his breakfast. 
 The baron then took me to visit his glass-factories, 
 which are just behind the house, and the smoke of 
 which made me at first fear it was a fire. This estab- 
 lishment he inherited, but has much enlarged it. 
 
 " The dinner-bell rang at six, and all having com- 
 pleted our toilets we descended. It is usual to dress 
 completely twice a day. In the morning a free un- 
 dress for fishing, driving, etc., but for dinner full dress 
 is requisite. We had a brocket^ taken in the lake, a 
 noble fish resembling a pike. The dinner was excel- 
 lent, and the cream for our strawberries thick as oil 
 and yellow as gold. After dinner we smoked, and in 
 the buio had a conversation upon literature, in which 
 the gouvernante denounced the generality of modern 
 French novels as of the worst influence upon the 
 young, whether it be the * horrible * school of Victor 
 Hugo, or the amorous tales of other writers. 
 
 ^^June ph. — Edouard brought me my coffee early, 
 after which I sauntered forth to sketch. I met a gen- 
 tleman (whom I afterward ascertained to be some- 
 what light-headed), who accompanied me to the spot 
 I had in mind. This poor gentleman believes that we 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdtcau, 219 
 
 Americans eat young children, and it was my cue to 
 astound him with Munchausen stories. Once when I 
 sprang up to look for my India-rubber which had 
 escaped me, he fled in terror, crying out, ^ II a eu U7i 
 acces ! * At breakfast we amused ourselves with him, 
 and I continued to be a sort of wild animal in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " The baron proposed a visit to Saint-Gobin, a fa- 
 mous manufactory of mirrors, and we went on horse- 
 back, I riding the * Cossack.' This establishment is 
 the largest of the sort in France. 
 
 *' Jutie Zth. — To-day we were to hunt the chevreuil^ 
 and departed early with a garde de chasse and the 
 Comtesse, a dog of an indigenous breed, excellent 
 for hunting wild-boars and the roebuck. We trailed 
 across the woods for a league, until we reached the 
 hunting-ground, and loaded with about a duck-charge, 
 though our pieces were short wood-guns. We were 
 stationed along an alle'e in the wood, down or 
 across which we knew the beast would make when 
 started by Comtesse, the guard beating round with 
 the dog higher up. After only a short interval, for 
 the forest abounds in game, we heard the deep, ear- 
 nest baying of the dog moving from left to right and 
 advancing upon us. Presently, through the thicket, 
 I saw the roebuck dancing along with Comtesse at its 
 heels, tossing her nose in the air, and giving tongue 
 
2 20 Tho7nas G, Applet on. 
 
 most sonorously. I thought the varmint would take a 
 stand in a sort of berceau in front, and therefore I ad- 
 vanced upon it, which was wrong, as the beast saw 
 me and fled incontinently. However, soon he crossed 
 the alley lower down than where we were, and de- 
 scended the hill into the bosom of the forest. We 
 followed hotly, when suddenly we roused another old 
 fellow with longish horns ; having put the dog on this 
 new-comer, we again took our stations, and seemed 
 likely to get a shot, but the buck made oif, and, after 
 waiting some time, we went home without a shot. 
 
 ^''June ^th. — To-day was proposed a visit to the 
 
 Duchesse de C , and a cruise round the country. 
 
 To-morrow Charles goes to town, but he accompanied 
 us a part of the way. The morning was perfection, and 
 our path was as usual across the woods. The long, 
 green branches filliped our noses as we rode through 
 them, and the birds sprang away screaming when we 
 invaded their remote bowers. 
 
 "When we emerged, long, sweeping hills, thickly 
 wooded and crowned with waving wind-mills ; valleys 
 shining with villages and a sheet of cultivation, were 
 the features of the scenery. We cut across orchards, 
 stealing cherries from the trees. After about two hours 
 we came in sight of the chateau of the duchess. It 
 is a great modern affair, with little wings and a large 
 body, like a show-turkey. In front is a sward, with a 
 
Tzvo Weeks in a French Chdteau. 221 
 
 little ^tang and a white bridge, like the baron's, but not 
 so pretty. We found the duchess had * gone to ves- 
 pers,* though it was noon ; and there was no servant 
 to help us in stabling our horses, except a big-armed 
 wench of Picardy. We made ourselves at home, how- 
 ever — walking, sketching, and gathering flowers. At 
 last, however, the duchess returned with her husband. 
 She is a short little thing, amiable, and so forte d 
 Vesprit that we never heed her lack of beauty. Her 
 husband seemed very good-natured. They were both 
 very hospitable and kind. The duchess got out cu- 
 rious books for me. They insisted upon our staying 
 to dinner. The duchess is a savante^ has read Mrs. 
 Trollope and the Prince Puckler, and is full of a 
 short, repartee wit. She spent the evening picking out 
 colors for embroidery, while we laughed over her ex- 
 cellent caricatures. 
 
 ** We were to have departed at seven ; but Saint- 
 Medard, whose day it is, and who, being a neighbor, 
 is especially attentive to all hereabout, brought up a 
 banging rain over our heads, which obliged the duke 
 to order beds for us. I slept well ; and, in the morn- 
 ing, after coffee in my room, the duke appeared in his 
 dressing-gown, to see us off. It still rained, and, leav- 
 ing our horses behind us, we took the diligence for 
 Laon. 
 
 " I can not think that this easy hospitality would 
 
222 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 be shown to a stranger in England; every day con- 
 vinces me of the untruth of the statement that there 
 is no home comfort in France, or never beyond Paris. 
 We reached Laon in two hours, and dried our clothes 
 before mine host's fire, at the Hure or Boar's Head. 
 
 " There we found Monsieur de L , and with 
 
 him sought the house of a friend of the baron, who 
 gave us a glorious breakfast, with artichokes cooked in 
 the incomparable way I find hereabout. The rain 
 moderating, we sallied out to visit the cathedral. . . . 
 
 *' We drove home in the baron's tilbury, which was 
 sent after us, leaving Edouard to pick up the horses ; 
 and returned to a late dinner, while the family, who 
 had done, sat round us for the sake of chat. 
 
 ^''June iith. — At half-past six in the morning the 
 baron sent to inquire which of four plans for amuse- 
 ment I should prefer. I decided to accompany him 
 to breakfast with a family about two leagues off, known 
 in the neighborhood for their excessive pride of birth. 
 When once there was some prospect of one of their 
 family becoming a cardinal, they are reported to have 
 said, *Z<? bon Dieu veut pour la rdligion quelqu'un de notre 
 sang.' Afterward, when this scion of their stock was 
 not appointed, our witty duchess remarked that the 
 bon Dieu seemed to have had enough of that blood. 
 
 " Unfortunately, the two ladies, who are genuine 
 characters, did not appear — one was ill, and their 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteau, 223 
 
 sympathy is such that, when that is the case, the other 
 goes to bed too. The chateau, with its grounds, which 
 are very English, is pretty, and justified their good 
 opinion of it. 
 
 " At Chauny, on our way, the baron stopped to 
 visit an old woman, whom he esteems much for her 
 conduct when the Cossacks were here. Her two sons 
 were shot dead at her door for firing on the Russians, 
 and left there three days, as an example to the town. 
 During this time the poor mother could not leave her 
 house without passing the corpses of her sons. 
 
 " I spent several hours among the ruins of Coucy, 
 examining the enormous tower, sketching, and dream- 
 ing among the shrubbery of the days of past glory of 
 the house. The frescoes still remain, and the circular 
 chambers must have been very grand. 
 
 " We spent the evening merrily, with many a lively 
 tale. My mis-attempts to pronounce the French queue 
 amused the family much. 
 
 ^''June i^th. — Saint-Medard yesterday and to-day 
 has continued to sustain his reputation ; we have scarce- 
 ly dared venture beyond the garden, so frequent and so 
 sudden are the showers. I have been reading Dumas's 
 'Impressions de Voyage,' and find it very clever — par- 
 ticularly interesting to me, as he had the same guide I 
 did (Payot) through the environs of Chamouni, and he 
 made many of the same remarks to me that he did to 
 
224 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 Dumas. The important event yesterday was the ar- 
 rival of a rich cousine of the family, an original charac- 
 ter. She is quite rich and entirely independent. She 
 prefers to live in a little, plain house, all alone, with- 
 out ostentation. She does much good, sending cows, 
 flannels, and all things needful to the sick and suffer- 
 ing peasants in her neighborhood. She gave Henri 
 one day a present of several thousand francs, all in hard 
 cash, which she found and took out of all sorts of cu- 
 rious corners, tobacco-jars, preserve-pots, etc. ! 
 
 " To-day arrived a s.till more important character, 
 the Duchess, la belle mlre^ who appeared in a pouring 
 shower. Cecile and the baron had gone forth to meet 
 her, and returned with her. She came in her flowered 
 caliche J much time was consumed in unpacking the 
 vehicle, and others that came afterward containing her 
 effects. At dinner I saw her fairly. She is an old 
 lady, with one of those comfortable, unmarked faces 
 that one can not remember a long time. She was 
 dressed very simply, and her manners are as plain as 
 possible. She has not the wit of the Duchesse de 
 
 C , but quite as much good-nature. She spent the 
 
 evening at her embroidery. Cecile, the young mother, 
 made a froc for her baby ; Lucile threaded a bit of 
 stuff with silver ; and the baron turned over some 
 views in Switzerland. As usual, all retired by half- 
 past ten. Now Charles is gone, M. Q is my 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 225 
 
 opponent at billiards, and I find him a hard cus- 
 tomer. 
 
 "June \Afth. — During the intervals when the sun 
 shines and the birds sing, we take the duchess round 
 the grounds. She is delighted with the charming 
 views and umbrageous alleys. 
 
 " We were very lucky in a drive we took to Coucy. 
 A blue sky relieved the sun-struck towers, and the 
 gray shadows falling sharply at the angles and soft- 
 ened round the old tower like the deepening tints 
 of a flower, made the place wear its finest charms. 
 Around the tower flit numbers of rooks, the only 
 ones I have seen in France. They give an admirable 
 effect. 
 
 " The duchess proves a most amiable person, and 
 as we sat vis-^-vis in the carriage, we had an agreeable 
 conversation upon Cooper's novels, on which she sur- 
 prised me by the justice of her criticisms. In con- 
 versing with the French nobility, no idea of rank 
 comes into one's head, they are so natural and modest 
 in their manners. Perhaps one springs a Utile quicker 
 to pick up the fan of a duchess than another, espe- 
 cially if she be agreeable ; but that is the only differ- 
 ence. 
 
 *' Cecile, the charming daughter of the house, 
 whom I sometimes call mademoiselle^ she is so young 
 and girlish, is a most amiable wife and mother. She 
 
2 26 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 awaits with impatience the return of her husband, 
 who writes her every day. She has copied for me 
 her brother-in-law's * Lines written in Prison,' and she 
 has also presented me with an Egyptian idol ! This 
 evening was passed as usual, except that the duchess 
 and Cecile joined us and played billiards. They 
 play with cues, like all French ladies, and Cecile was 
 in fine play. She beat all the gentlemen. 
 
 ^^Jufie i^th. — Birds and sunshine to-day have got 
 the better of Saint-M^dard, and after breakfast we all 
 took a promenade up to the hill-top behind the house. 
 La vieille cousine was dragged along, much against her 
 will, and contrary, I fancy, to her habits, as she seized 
 every opportunity to rest upon the benches we met. 
 
 '* The others could not wait till I had finished my 
 sketch ; so they left me basking upon the turf, and 
 penciling the humble roofs of Folembray, the proud 
 towers that crest the distance, and the forest waving 
 between. 
 
 ^* Cecile has been all day in a flutter, for Charles 
 was to return ; and that he might be welcomed with 
 due honors, after dinner, at the hour he should come, 
 we formed a cortege to meet him. Henri, in a droll 
 surtout, and looking like an English huntsman, and 
 his father, were on horseback. The duchess and the 
 rest of us were in the caleche^ driven by Monsieur 
 Q ; the servants in livery, as usual. Love, in 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 227 
 
 his excitement, nearly leaped out of the carriage, till 
 Lucile restrained him with her handkerchief. Cecile 
 was near imitating the dog in her impatience for her 
 husband, and she was the first to cry, * I see him ! ' 
 afar down the avenue, in his carriage. After the 
 shower of welcomes was over, Cecile got into his car- 
 riage, and we all drove home, so soon that there was 
 no need of the stock of cloaks with which we had 
 been provided. 
 
 " Charles returned laden with the results of his 
 commissions — ornaments for the baby, my watch, 
 which he had taken to be mended, and, best of all, 
 a box of excellent cigars, which we forthwith pro- 
 ceeded to essay on the steps. 
 
 "June \^th. — All things have an end ; and, after 
 a fortnight, I must close my visit. I am pressed to 
 stay, and, I doubt not, with genuine sincerity. 
 
 " I sent to Chauny to order a vehicle for nine to- 
 morrow — the same in which I came ; but how differ- 
 ent will be my sensations from those with which I 
 mounted before its crazy steps ! 
 
 " Before bedtime, Edouard had packed all my 
 things skillfully. I took farewell of the duchess, as 
 she rises late, and I shall not see her again. 
 
 " Saint-Quentin, June 16th. — Last night was 
 troubled ; thunder pealed and the winds howled as if 
 to share my distress at departure. I took my solitary 
 
228 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 bowl of milk, garnishing it with three eggs, against 
 grief and the journey, and then visited the baron's 
 chamber, where I found Charles and Henri, all in 
 morning-dress. We smoked until my voiture was an- 
 nounced. All the family, the duchess excepted, were 
 on the steps to see me off. I lingered as long as pos- 
 sible, fixing and refixing my various little packages. 
 The baron has my address, and we have promised to 
 write. On saying that ugly word * adieu,* I kissed 
 warmly the cheeks of all the gentlemen, and the fair 
 hands of all the ladies, and did not find the custom 
 either affected or ridiculous. Then, jumping into my 
 gig, I was driven from the door, amid the waving of 
 handkerchiefs and the bows of the servants. As I 
 jolted down the avenue, I took a last look — I have 
 faith that Heaven will not make the word literal — at 
 the white mansion and the sparkling lake. 
 
 *' I was too sad to speak, and the commonplace 
 efforts of my driver to be agreeable but added to my 
 gloom. 
 
 *' As a traveler I have acquired a philosophy for 
 the severing of pleasant ties generally, but I confess 
 that here it fails me. 
 
 " I arrived at Chauny in an hour, and just in time 
 for the diligence for La Fere. I was in the coupi and 
 alone — it was well." 
 
Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 229 
 
 Mr. Appleton resumed his solitary travels, and 
 drove through Belgium to Brussels, where he stopped 
 a few days, then passing on to Antwerp. There was 
 some difficulty about crossing into Holland, as Bel- 
 gium was not then in accord with the Prince of 
 Orange, and Mr. Appleton was obliged to pass a 
 dismal night on the frontier, awaiting permission to 
 leave. 
 
 " We were allowed to proceed some small distance 
 on the Dutch side without molestation. The Belgi- 
 ans had amused themselves by scribbling on my pass- 
 port, and all seemed in a prosperous way. But we 
 were hailed at a guard-house, and ordered to stand." 
 
 In a small, ten-foot cabin, with other travelers who 
 had arrived before, he was obliged to wait indefinitely 
 for "further orders." 
 
 " I was the last the house would hold, and en- 
 gaged to sleep in a low, musty room, with a courier. 
 I say to sleep — the future was not then unveiled to 
 me. My companions were artists, who had been 
 waiting eight days, carrying on a long correspond- 
 ence with the Prince of Orange. Their crime is be- 
 ing Belgians, and they despondingly said they saw 
 
 no end to the matter ; but stay they must, as they 
 20 
 
230 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 have not money to make the detour of the longer 
 route. 
 
 " To cheer me, when the landlady discovered my 
 nationality, she said there was another American who 
 waited twelve days ere he passed, awhile since. All 
 this frightened me, but I buried my sorrows in my 
 dinner, which consisted of a certain black, grainy ma- 
 terial the landlady hesitated not to pronounce beef- 
 steak. 
 
 " My afternoon was spent in cogitating the ad- 
 vantages of passports, wars, and frontiers, and in pok- 
 ing the peat-fire with my stick. I took a walk and 
 sketched a cow ; the association reminded me of my 
 supper, so I returned and ate a bowl of bread and 
 milk. We smoked, we chatted, took down the old 
 draught-board from the wall and played. 
 
 " At ten all were in bed but myself. I seem to 
 have had a sort of presentiment. At length I threw 
 myself on the pallet beside the snoring courier, and 
 actually fancied I was going to sleep. Vain hope ! 
 Hungry and innumerable hordes of such warriors as 
 do infest lowly couches campaigned on my wincing 
 limbs. I rolled and rolled again, and, horrid thought, 
 I feared I should never sleep ! I sprang from my 
 enemies, and, not knowing why or how I dressed, I 
 darted forth into the street, rushed up and down 
 the solitary road, and, getting weary, crept into a 
 
Two Weeks ift a French Chdteau. 231 
 
 silent farm-yard, and stretched myself upon a cold, 
 hard cart in the middle of it. I was nearly asleep, 
 when rheumatic chills reminded me of the exposure 
 of the damp boards. I burst again into the house, 
 and, throwing myself into a chair before the extin- 
 guished fire, in an instant was asleep. Unconscious 
 that a moment had passed, I found it broad day as 
 a man in the dress of a postilion touched me on the 
 shoulder. * Here it is,' said he ; * I have ridden long 
 and late, not to detain the gentleman.' 
 
 " * Here is what ? ' I seized the paper ; it was the 
 permission — the dear never-to-be-too-much-welcomed 
 permission to cross the frontier, and in a few mo- 
 ments, waving triumphantly the paper in my hand, I 
 started in a crazy chaise, with a soldier and a gar^oii 
 de poste. 
 
 " The artists looked wistfully after me. 
 
 ** * You have no permissions ? ' I asked. 
 
 ^* ' No, but we are resolved to steal across the 
 frontier to-night.' 
 
 " * Bon voyage^ and au revoir in America, where 
 there are, thank Heaven, no passports and no fron- 
 tiers ! '" 
 
 Here the journal ends in a burst of gratitude for 
 the royal permission of the Prince of Orange, at Bre- 
 da, on the 19th of June, 1834. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WANDERING YEARS. 
 I.— 1835-1844. 
 
 The curtain falls abruptly, and shuts out the scene 
 which has shown so vividly the events of Mr. Apple- 
 ton's life. Suddenly, the picture which appeared so 
 close to us that every detail of it might belong to yes- 
 terday is withdrawn, and a gap of fifty years renders 
 everything dim and distant. For the motive of actions 
 we are left to conjecture ; only bundles of old letters, 
 yellow with time, connect the chain of events, besides 
 the friendly reminiscences of the few remaining com- 
 panions who are still here. Mr. Appleton from this 
 time dropped the good but difficult habit of keeping 
 a regular journal ; there are one or two exceptions, 
 but in general he trusted to his letters, especially those 
 to his father, to give an account of himself. 
 
 His little sketch-books, however, of which there 
 was always one in his pocket in the early days of his 
 travels, carry on the story for a time. A small, yellow, 
 
Wandering Years, 233 
 
 marble-covered duodecimo, much worn at the corners, 
 shows that he spent the summer of 1834 in England 
 and Scotland. Nothing escaped his quick eye and 
 ready pencil. 
 
 The study-window of Geoffrey de Monmouth, the 
 cone-like outline of Malvern Hills, a little sketch of 
 Grisi taken at Cheltenham, the interior of Shake- 
 speare's room at Avon, a specimen dowager at Leam- 
 ington with a cap terrific in frills and feathers — War- 
 wick and Manchester — are followed by a series of 
 Scotch subjects, in one of which Ellen, the fair Lady 
 of the Lake, awaits Fitz- James in her boat, beneath 
 the overhanging branches of Loch Katrine. 
 
 The last sketch in the little book is of stewards on 
 shipboard, from which we may gather that his face 
 was turned homeward. After eighteen months of 
 wandering in Europe, in fact, Mr. Appleton sailed for 
 New York, October i, 1834, in the packet North 
 America, arriving November 6th. His pleasant trav- 
 eling companions, Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Curtis, with 
 their little daughter Mary, were again fellow-passen- 
 gers. There were thirty in all, but, like most return 
 voyages, this one seems to have lacked the sparkle 
 of the first. Mrs. Curtis, not long after this return 
 home, wrote to a mutual friend in Florence : 
 
 " Our friend Appleton is one of the lions of society, 
 having a great variety of Parisian and Highland vests, 
 
234 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 an English white top-coat, and fancy studs from all 
 parts of the world, exhibiting all the ruins of Rome in 
 mosaic, and Berlin-iron in every shape. In fact, he is 
 voted a fop ; but he and I laugh at the report, it is 
 but a whim of the day." 
 
 The delight of his return, and the great happiness 
 of joining again his father, whom he so revered and 
 loved, and of sharing with his dear sisters and brother 
 the repose and comforts of home, were disturbed be- 
 fore very long by the anxiety of the family on account 
 of Charles's health. He was ill during the summer, 
 under the care of Dr. Warren in October, 1835, and 
 died before the end of the month. On the i6th of 
 November following, Mr. Nathan Appleton, with his 
 remaining children, Thomas, Mary, and Fanny, sailed 
 for Europe, accompanied by William Appleton, a 
 second - cousin of the young people, and another 
 cousin, J. Appleton Jewett, who afterward published 
 his impressions of Europe. Apparently there was a 
 dog in the party also ; Mr. Jewett writes from the 
 cabin, to Mrs. Samuel Appleton : 
 
 *' Packet-Ship Francis Depau, November 16, 1835. 
 
 " Here we lie, still moored at the very point where 
 
 we took leave of you this morning. The wind has 
 
 been so unfavorable that the pilot would not venture 
 
 to weigh anchor. . . . When you had vanished from 
 
Wandering Years, 235 
 
 our eyes, we gave way for a time to some melancholy 
 emotions, and then addressed ourselves to business. 
 All things were set in order for the voyage, and then 
 we promenaded, and chatted, and laughed, and in- 
 quired out the company. Miss Fanny took a very 
 -V pretty sketch of the surrounding scene, and Miss Mary 
 went with me into a little, hot kitchen. Uncle Nathan 
 ingratiated himself with the captain, and Tom made 
 merry with his dog, and declared that 'his tail would 
 soon put forth leaves ' ; Mr. William looked, as Miss 
 Maria might say, * angelic' . . ." 
 
 T. G. A. adds a postscript to the letter : 
 
 " I am almost sorry I did not go ashore yesterday, 
 if only to get the kiss I missed when we parted. I in- 
 close two warm ones in this sheet, freighted with my 
 last American ideas, hopes, and fears. We have for a 
 day been rehearsing the voyage ; lying still — an excel- 
 lent plan, as it gives the timid time to recover. I give 
 you one wild farewell, and a sketch of our party (in 
 pen and ink on the margin) in their present attitudes, 
 looking their last upon the land of liberty. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, T. G. A. 
 
 " P. S. — Alas ! we have no buckwheats on board." 
 
 Mr. William Appleton, who went abroad in search 
 of health, died the following summer at Schaffhausen, 
 
236 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 deeply regretted by a wide circle of friends. He was 
 a young man of great promise and charm of char- 
 acter. 
 
 Two years were pleasantly passed in traveling on 
 the Continent, passing over ground where Thomas was 
 well able to act as guide, visiting scenes new as well 
 to him as to the others. The family traveled in Switz- 
 erland in their own carriage, and he sometimes left 
 them, to walk from one place to another, rejoining the 
 carriage at points agreed upon beforehand. It was on 
 one of these occasions that he found, on meeting the 
 family, his place occupied by a young American gen- 
 tleman, whom they had lately met — Mr. H. W. Long- 
 fellow, of Portland. 
 
 A tedious interruption of their travels was caused 
 at Mayence, where both the young ladies were at- 
 tacked by a sort of gastric fever, by which the father 
 and brother were detained with them, in a dull Ger- 
 man town, for several weeks. It may be guessed that 
 Mr. Appleton, in this later experience, had enough of 
 Germany, for in all his subsequent travels abroad he 
 avoided that country, in favor of England and sunnier 
 climes, and he never had much sympathy for German 
 traits, or proficiency in the language. 
 
 Mr. Nathan Appleton and his son endured their 
 enforced stay at Mayence with wonderful patience. 
 Thomas writes to a near relative at home : 
 
Wandering Years, 237 
 
 " Mayence, October lo, 1836. 
 " I do not think it is fair, after all your kindness, 
 to allow a post to escape uncommissioned by our party, 
 and as the ladies fair are hors de combat, I champion 
 myself to say something in their place. You may like 
 to know that the foul fiend that just now so annoys us 
 is gastric fever, a sort of infliction of these regions for 
 the vile compounds of their kitchen, bred of grease, 
 lard, and all the abominations of the German sausage. 
 The doctor, one Herr Grose, a vast, rotund, cane-sus- 
 tained stranger, most attentively pock-marked, dares 
 not confess this, but shakes his head and says eternally, 
 ^Ayez de la patience* What with him and the fever, 
 the girls have dragged through a most unsentimental 
 month. The prominent feature of the malady, its 
 slowness, is just now, within jump of Paris, the ugliest 
 that any disorder could wear. But I am happy to say 
 that all goes on well, and soon we shall be cracking our 
 whips over the chauss^e to Paris, where we shall make 
 up for lost time. Father and I lounge an hour at the 
 Casino over the * Charivari,* and another at the Favor- 
 ite, a delicious promenade along the Rhine, and then 
 hurry home to drown our sorrows, amid red-legged 
 partridges, with the tender exhilaration of Mr. Kaiser's 
 very best Grafenberger. So you perceive our days are 
 much like days in Boston — meaning to pay them no 
 very extensive compliment on the score of variety. 
 
238 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 *' We have actually taken to window-gazing, and I 
 recount to Mary, as Rebecca to Ivanhoe, the marvels 
 I espy abroad. We are just on the river's brink, and 
 opposite the only bridge; so we have a famous selec- 
 tion among barrels and tarry Dutchmen on week-days, 
 and trim and well-laced officers on Sundays. Out of 
 this it is no difficult matter for do-nothings to weave 
 long romances ; we have also ferreted out a nest of 
 overgrown rats, at the corner of our hotel, said to be 
 of the same family who, of old, ate up the wicked 
 Bishop of Mayence, and 'nibbled his very miter,' as 
 says the ballad. I have often seen them, of a shiny 
 morning, waddling about with a most diabolical leer in 
 the shadow of our neighbor's house ; I see the inher- 
 ited stain of blood in the very timidity of their mincing 
 steps. So you perceive we are as full of news and 
 bustle as a ship or a prison-yard. 
 
 " Father seems to take it all quite patiently. Quiet 
 is in his way more than in mine. We have a theatre, 
 but there he is shy of going ; he is almost as hard to 
 drag out of an evening as at home. He consented, 
 however, to see with me * Hamlet ' in German. We were 
 both much edified, and the tears came into our Apple- 
 ton eyes as naturally as if we really understood what 
 was going on." 
 
 All dullness was forgotten in the rapid journey 
 
Wandering Years. 239 
 
 from Mayence to Paris. Every mile that brought them 
 nearer to the great capital was a gain. They passed 
 through in their traveling-carriage much of the terri- 
 tory which became in 1870 the battle-ground between 
 France and Germany, little dreaming as they did so 
 that the insignificant towns where they " baited " were 
 to become historical, like those already famous as 
 battle-fields in the wars of Louis XIV. 
 
 In 1837 the Appletons returned to America, and 
 to the pleasant home in Beacon Street, where the three 
 young people entered with zest into society. Boston 
 was a different place from the Boston of to-day. 
 Small it was, and provincial, perhaps ; but the inti- 
 macy of the leading families, the ease and simplicity 
 of social gatherings, accompanied as these were by 
 the cultivation and intelligence for which the town 
 was then gaining its reputation, made it a charming 
 place to live in. And, though Mr. Appleton early 
 described his native city as " a good place to go away 
 from," none more thoroughly than he enjoyed the 
 friendly luxury of its life. 
 
 Two winters were passed in Boston ; the summer 
 home of the family was at Pittsfield, the native place 
 of Mrs. Nathan Appleton, in the old mansion belong- 
 ing to her people. 
 
 During his father's absence, Thomas keeps him in- 
 formed of the family welfare : 
 
240 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 "Boston, May 2, 1838. 
 
 " Dear Father : I will not insult your memory of 
 the past by hinting that there can be news. We are 
 hopefully torpid as ever, painfully waiting the rolling 
 off of this wet blanket of a storm, to believe that May 
 it is. Some of the schools yesterday had planned an 
 old-fashioned Maying. What came of it I don't know, 
 through the mud and pother. Fancy the poor things 
 dabbling in pools for buttercups, their India-rubbers 
 ankle-deep in mud ! 
 
 " The Allston Gallery draws famously when the 
 sun peeps out, and every day some new hand cracks 
 off a puff at it. Holmes has a loud one to-day in 
 the * Transcript.' Did you see Miss Fuller's in the 
 * Daily ' ? It is thought very well of. 
 
 "At home it is very pleasant, nor are we much an- 
 noyed even by the racket of cleaning, except as we 
 descend stairs and behold the frippery mass of boxes, 
 chairs, and statues that appears in every corner of the 
 entries. Cook and his broth-spoiling minions we found 
 had taken down the busts, and disparted the pedestals. 
 However, with all care I have made them replace 
 them, and have seen nothing broken yet, though of 
 course there will be basketfuls of fragments." 
 
 The year 1839 brought many changes. Mr. Na- 
 than Appleton was married for the second time ; in 
 
Wandering Years. 241 
 
 1840 Mary Appleton was married to Mr. Mackintosh, 
 and went soon after to live in England, where her 
 brother and sister visited her at — 
 
 " St. Catharine's, May i8, 1841. 
 
 " Dear Father : . . . I have just returned from a 
 delightful walk through the Zoological Gardens, almost 
 the first rural walk I have had as yet in England. 
 Nothing can be lovelier than they are just now, such a 
 profusion of blossoming bushes and trees ! Our house 
 is more like an angle in one of the Oxford colleges 
 than anything else, with a Gothic fountain in the 
 court, an embayed window overhanging the turfy 
 square, and ivy creeping up to the sill; over the way the 
 umber turrets of the modern-antique dwelling of the 
 head of St. Catharine's. Altogether our position is one 
 of the pleasantest in London. 
 
 " Tell Mr. Prescott that we were in charming 
 rooms, quiet and sunny, with laburnums waving at the 
 window, in fifteen days after quitting East Boston, 
 without anxiety or fatigue, and do make him feel that 
 he ought to have come, as we wanted him to. 
 
 "... The more I see of the play of the English 
 machine, the more I see the imperfection of our 
 boasted one — public opinion. I find nothing here 
 resembling the *it is thought' of America. Individ- 
 ual morality and harmonious complexity of interests 
 21 
 
242 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 make the reins draw evenly. Everything here is 
 under-'^XdXtd. ; every man colors the fact by his person- 
 ality, and none but the liojis fall into that extrava- 
 gance which, with us, is the effort to state still stronger 
 what is already stated too strongly. 
 
 "... There has been a sale of pictures, first-rates, 
 the Lucca Gallery ; I came near bringing you in a bill 
 for one, they were so sacrificed. If I had bought a 
 dozen, I could have sold them at home for double the 
 money. Think of a half-length Titian for seventeen 
 pounds, an exquisite Murillo for thirty pounds ! " 
 
 It was at this sale that Mr. Appleton saw the 
 ** Virgin of the Candelabra " knocked off at a low 
 price — the picture which, lately on exhibition at the 
 museum in New York, was offered at a much larger 
 sum. 
 
 Mr. Appleton could not resist a visit to Paris. 
 
 **RuE DE LA Paix, June 18, 1841. 
 " Though most of the fashionables have left town, 
 it is cool and pleasant, and the evening stroll along 
 the Boulevards, after all, is prettier than any of the 
 street-scenes in winter. Last night we were at the 
 first representation of a new ballet, which is as pretty 
 as even the ' Sylphide '; and, now that the haut ton has 
 left the town, it is amusing to witness the noisy enthusi- 
 asm of the second class. 
 
Wandering Years, 243 
 
 " Tivoli is no more ; we drove there the other 
 evening, and paid a franc, only to see what a scene of 
 desolation it has become. 'On va percer des rues, 
 mon cher monsieur,' told the story of the monster 
 Improvement devouring these pretty suburbs. 
 
 " We have tried the Versailles Railroad. One goes 
 in a half-hour, and every half-hour. All the engines 
 are Scotch-built, with French names. We went on 
 Sunday, and the train was full. Nothing can be more 
 splendid nor more tiresome than the miles of gallery 
 at Versailles." 
 
 •' Paris, July i, 1841. 
 
 "... I have been about seeing old acquaintances. 
 De Poilly is away, but his servant was very glad to see 
 me, and assured me that Boston^ my dog, is now the 
 hope of the kennel, for Dash and Love are dead or 
 lost, and mine reigns supreme. He is related as won- 
 derful for sagacity and beauty ; draws a boat full of 
 people after him by a rope, etc." 
 
 This was the dog which embarked with the family 
 in 1835. 
 
 "/«6' 15, 1 841. 
 "... My friend the baron is gone with all his 
 grandchildren to Dieppe, but I saw him plentifully be- 
 fore he went. We dined at the Cafe de Paris, and 
 talked over old times. . . . Healy is an excellent fel- 
 
244 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 low, and, if he perseveres, will come back to us some 
 day with the best reputation for portraits of any- 
 American of his time." 
 
 " Long's Hotel, London, July 30, 1841. 
 " Dear Father : I am going immediately to the 
 city to take our places for the ist of October. I saw 
 Macready last night in * Money,' which you liked so 
 much. I cried a good deal ; but still, how inferior it 
 all was to an inferior French play with trashy virtuous 
 sentiments and conventional French gestures ! " 
 
 " TuNBRiDGE Wells, August 15, 1841. 
 *' We are all comfortably housed in a rural yet ele- 
 gant town, once a sort of rival of Bath — Tunbridge 
 Wells. The town is high, and the air blows over 
 woods and healthy downs, until it is full of sweetness 
 and freshness. We found the place so much to our 
 liking, while trying it for a day or two, at the Mount 
 Ephraim Hotel, that we descended the hill, and took 
 lodgings for a week in a snug half -house, half-cottage, 
 that rejoices to be called No. 2 Clarence Terrace. 
 We sally forth with our sketch-books, about eleven, 
 and find cottages in abundance to adorn our sheets ; 
 we have had the luck to discover two walks composed 
 of woods and brooks, and heights of land overlooking 
 a broken and most generous country. 
 
 1 
 
Wandering Years. 245 
 
 " All Kent, that we have seen, is lovely, fertile, and 
 most beautifully undulating, giving at times startling 
 overlookings of the richest fields. I have taken out 
 an armful of books from the library, and among others 
 we have read Miss Burney's * Camilla,* which young 
 lady met once many old-fashioned adventures in these 
 very streets that now look so provokingly unadvent- 
 uresome. If you wish to get a notion of the place, 
 turn to the last volume of that novel. 
 
 " We know nobody, and, if we should stay till we 
 occupied the pretty grave-yard, probably should know 
 no one. I brought no dress-coat, aware that the Wells 
 had had their day, and that now no spangled Camilla 
 sighed and loved in the semicircular lobbies of the 
 Parade. We all drink the water, for form. It is not 
 bad, and probably also not good — a very weak Sara- 
 toga species. Aged widows and harmless old women 
 of both sexes seem to be the natural inhabitants of 
 the place." 
 
 Mr. Appleton, with his sister Fanny, returned home 
 in October, 1841 ; but he was soon again upon the 
 other side of the Atlantic, where he was always multi- 
 plying the number of his friends. The residence in 
 England of Mrs. Mackintosh was a strong attraction, 
 and other ties drew him thither, although, when he 
 was away, the attraction of home was equally power- 
 ful, so that his absences were seldom long. He was a 
 
246 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 good sailor, and the voyage was nothing to him — 
 indeed a pleasure, even in the days of long packet- 
 passages. He could extract something from all char- 
 acters — interest from the agreeable, amusement from 
 the dull ; with sketch-book and blotting-book he was 
 always busy — the great secret of comfort at sea. 
 
 Mr. Appleton went into lodgings in London, and 
 it was not until after the season that he crossed to the 
 Continent. He writes from Bordeaux : 
 
 ''August 24, 1843. 
 
 " Dear Father : . . . I have not written you be- 
 fore in France. Spain is too restless for comfortable 
 traveling, but I thought I would just take a look at the 
 Pyrenees, and walk a bit on the hills. I found nobody 
 in Paris ; was only a week there. I brought over the 
 Sedgwicks. It is wonderful what a deal of history 
 Mrs. Theodore knows. She has more to say of Philip 
 Augustus than of Louis Philippe, and the Fronde is 
 about as low down as she goes with interest. The 
 Baron de Poilly was in town, and very glad to see me. 
 He is desirous that I should visit him on my return 
 from the south, as the duchess and a pleasant party 
 are at Folembray. 
 
 "I went from Havre to Nantes all the way by 
 steam, which shows how considerable, even in France, 
 the changes are in travel. A brother of the Vendeean 
 
Wandering Years. 247 
 
 hero, M. La Rochejaquelin, owns a line of steamers 
 on the Loire, one of which I came in. They are all of 
 iron, the size of a canal-boat, and are waggishly called 
 les Inexplosibles. On the safety-pipe is written, in large 
 white letters, systlme de VinexplosibiliU. We constantly 
 scraped over the river's sandy bed, and twice stuck fast ; 
 had to all leave the boat and wait till she was jostled 
 out of the sand. ... At Tours I saw Plessis-les-Tours, 
 the den of Louis XI, so capitally described in ' Quen- 
 tin Durward.' It is nearly destroyed, but what remains 
 is very interesting, showing how gangrened the clever 
 king was, mind and body, to live in such a way. He 
 kept his friends round him, boxed up in dungeons, 
 ready for use, I suppose. I saw where Cardinal Baluc 
 languished for years in a cage. It was Louis who in- 
 vented them, unless it were Bajazet." 
 
 Many years later Mr. Appleton saw this "den of 
 Louis XI," and the monarch himself, reproduced by 
 Irving, with great enjoyment. In October, 1843, Mr. 
 Appleton established himself in Rue Richelieu, at 
 Paris. He writes : 
 
 " I am snug and comfortable here. My nearest 
 neighbor, in the Hotel de Paris, whose deity is the 
 mercurial Miss Michel, the adored of her guests under 
 twenty, and smiling only upon some twelve spaniels 
 'of each degree of littleness and tendency to bark.' I 
 
248 Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 find I began above about a neighbor, seeking in vain 
 for a verb. She is Lady Staples, of Marion Square, 
 Dublin. Her suite consists of Sir T. Staples, Dr. 
 Banks, and a hairy King Charles, the torture and envy 
 of Miss Michel, its toes being fringed at least an inch 
 and a half beyond its nails. We dine together at the 
 table d'hdte J she comes in to see my sketches, and I 
 hold Fanny^ the dog, in my lap and hear Lady S. play 
 the concertina, a new instrument, like an organ, while 
 Sir Thomas draws gut across an enormous violoncello. 
 My friend par Eminence js a youth of nineteen, who 
 asks me daily, * Dites-moi, m'aimez-vous beaucoup ? * 
 He is a Hungarian count, officer in the Austrian serv- 
 ice, who bought, for I don't know how many thousand 
 coins, the duplicate of the Correggio * Magdalen,' at 
 Dresden. He is fiery and Teutonic, talks English like 
 a vague approach to hog-Latin, and takes me for a 
 mentor. . . . But I have not mentioned my noblest 
 acquaintances ; — Mrs. Erskine, whose dewy eye speaks 
 pity and pardon for all human ills and vices, whose 
 very smile is an absolution 'un vrai ange,' as Leduc 
 calls her, and the compact-browed Miss Stirling, whose 
 keen mind looks Mystery in the face. They have with 
 them a refugee Sardinian to complete the group — 
 Gratitude waiting upon Aspiration and Faith. One 
 day they put me in their carriage and bade me preach 
 Soul, as taught by magnetism. I never enjoyed so 
 
Wandering Years. 249 
 
 much unlocking as then. I talked two hours, finding 
 full sympathy, the strong Lady E. weeping when I told 
 her of the material proofs of re-existence, from the 
 pure individual being, of powers undeveloped here." 
 
 It was at this time that Mr. Appleton made a visit 
 of inspection to the haunts of robbers, which he was 
 fond of telling about in after-years. He described it, 
 in a letter to his father, just after it had happened : 
 
 '• Paris, December 30, 1843. 
 "... There is a strange book you must have 
 heard of, called * Les Mysteres de Paris.' Wishing 
 to judge if its fearful pictures of crime were true, 
 with Bruce (the son of Lady Elgin) and Ledru, I vis- 
 ited, protected by two valiant guides, all the worst 
 haunts of the robbers, the other night. We were 
 armed ; and in one huge hot cabaret were three hun- 
 dred of the worst villains of Paris drinking and howl- 
 ing. We were halloed at, insulted, and, but for much 
 coolness, might have been roughly used. Our guides 
 said they would make nothing of falling upon us and 
 stabbing us. The police, every quarter of an hour or 
 so, descend into this hell and carry off a victim. We 
 were thought to be policemen in disguise till two rob- 
 bers recognized Ledru, who is called, in the prisons, 
 * Le Petit Mirabeau.' I never shall forget the faces we 
 saw there. We then visited the day-time haunt of the 
 
250 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 thieves, where they lie perdus from the police. It was 
 then nearly empty. We went to all the vile places our 
 guides knew of, and I had the satisfaction of drinking 
 with some vagabonds and passing off for one of them, 
 calling myself a commis-voyageury with a long story, 
 which seemed to pass perfectly. All that you will read 
 in the * Mysteres de Paris ' I can vouch to be under 
 the truth. The spectacle was the most eloquent moral 
 lesson. It gives one matter for thought for a lifetime. 
 I saw it but for one night, and it seemed to me a 
 revelation from the devil ; what must it be to the poor 
 creatures not quite hardened, to whom it is all they 
 see every day, and the same ! No wonder that at 
 length their faces gain an expression which, to call 
 beastly, is to insult the brutes." 
 
 Fanny Appleton was married to Mr. Longfellow in 
 1843. The pleasure the new connection brought to 
 her brother is shown in a letter addressed to Mr. 
 Nathan Appleton in Washington, in May, 1844 : 
 
 " Dear Father : Here I am at last, safe and 
 sound, though I find some fears have been had for our 
 safety, and with reason, for we were besieged during a 
 day and night with floating ice, and hung after that 
 in a fog, at the mouth of the harbor of Halifax, for as 
 long. 
 
 " I am, half in your house in Boston, and half with 
 
Wandering Years, 251 
 
 Longfellow in Cambridge, amply repaid for coming 
 home, by finding dear Fanny so poetically and happily 
 situated. Their house is charming, and I really lose 
 my way in the many turnings. They both give me the 
 sacred welcome of friend and brother, so dear in this 
 world of strangers. . . . 
 
 " I tried to hear the Whigs last night, at Faneuil 
 Hall, but could not get in for the crowd. We had a 
 dance at the Inglises, where many friends shook warm 
 hands with me. I really think people like one better 
 for going away. To-day I dine at the Ticknor's, and 
 take your place (how poorly !) at your club." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WANDERING YEARS. 
 II.— 1345. 
 
 Mr. Appleton was now thirty-two years old. He 
 was fully able to understand his own nature and its 
 capacities. The indulgence of his taste for travel, 
 during ten years and more, instead of satisfying him, 
 had proved, to himself at least, that he was not fitted | 
 
 for the sedentary, monotonous life of a profession 
 at home. The pursuit of the law, which he had ac- 
 cepted at first in accordance with the wishes of his 
 father, he learned to find as unsuited to him as he was 
 to it. Proud and sensitive, he carried the conviction 
 to an exaggerated length, that he had nothing of the 
 kind of talent then needful in America for what was 
 there called success. He felt, as he expressed it, 
 " humbled and despicable before men who could build 
 towns, pour whole villages into factories, and under- 
 mine the everlasting hills." Deeply and sincerely as 
 he admired his father's qualities of character, he had 
 no pretensions to become, like him, a leader of public 
 
Wandering Years, 253 
 
 opinion, nor did he find within himself the dogged 
 perseverance required for a life-long devotion to some 
 practical business. "And yet," he writes at this time 
 to his father, " I can not see that a man, improving his 
 character and mind, living modestly on a moderate 
 income, is wholly despicable. If he tries to do good 
 and to find the truth and speak it, I can not see that 
 he is inferior to a man who merely toils, nobly to be 
 sure, but still without leaving himself time for much 
 of these. . . . My ambition is my own, arid it is as 
 strong as any man's, but it has not triumphs which the 
 world can appreciate or behold. It may not be a 
 lofty or very useful one, but it is to the best of my 
 abilities." 
 
 Such a life as he was thus imagining for himself 
 was little understood, in 1844, in Boston. He was 
 conscious that he was regarded as a mere idler ; and 
 that his enthusiasms, poetical and artistic, were 
 wholly unappreciated. Most of all, he feared to for- 
 feit the good opinion of his father, whom he intense- 
 ly loved. These thoughts and tendencies, pulling in 
 opposite directions, had made his early manhood full 
 of unrest. It was now that he came to a full under- 
 standing, not only with himself, but with that kind, 
 generous father, who, although doubtless he was dis- 
 appointed that his son did not accept a career of use- 
 fulness and distinction, in some direction allied to his 
 22 
 
254 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 own, never wavered in the affection and indulgence 
 he had always borne for him. 
 
 Thus relinquishing definitely all pretense of office 
 or even studies at home, Thomas sprang away to his 
 friends in Europe, among whom he found or fancied 
 himself free from the painful sense of being misunder- 
 stood, which oppressed him at home. 
 
 Yet it should be remembered that, from the first, 
 Mr. Appleton had a strong affection for Boston, and 
 that after short absences he returned to it always with 
 pleasure. As he grew older, and his thirst for travel 
 abated, he was content to settle down in his native 
 place. The last twenty years of his life, with few 
 exceptions, were passed in sight of the gilded dome 
 of the State-House. 
 
 He writes to his father, then in Pittsfield, from — 
 
 " Boston, July i8, 1844. 
 " I am oif to-morrow. There is every appearance 
 that we shall not have many passengers. I am very 
 sad at leaving Fanny, and all my friends, but that is 
 an inevitable feeling when one quits those one so 
 much loves. You shall know, as soon as I have made 
 definite my plans, what these are. At all events, I am 
 determined to be as happy as a poor mortal can who 
 is not in active business. . . . Receive my embraces, 
 and never cease to love the economical prodigal, 
 "Your affectionate son, . T. G. A." 
 
Wander mg Years, 255 
 
 This jesting fashion of speaking only covered a 
 deeper and more earnest state of feeling, which found 
 expression in a later letter. He writes : 
 
 " If an ardent wish to do good and be of some use 
 indicates anything, I feel that some day I shall be 
 better understood and loved for other reasons than at 
 present. ... I do not suppose I should, or shall, ever 
 do much very American ; it is too late to achieve 
 strict habits of business and method ; but I shall be 
 able to handle my talents so as to satisfy a little the 
 natural demands of society upon me." 
 
 With some friends, Mr. Appleton passed a part 
 of the summer in Derbyshire, in a charming little 
 cottage, "looking," he writes, "from some points not 
 larger than one of our Nahant cottages. The Howes 
 (Dr. S. G. and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe) and the Sidney 
 Brookses all are here, and the rest of our party are 
 very agreeable people — among others, Hallam, the 
 historian. Lady Sitwell, and Mr. Smith Wright, neigh- 
 bors of the Nightingales*. We breakfast at half-past 
 nine, with, among other things, some Derbyshire 
 cakes, tough and gritty; lunch at two, in a very 
 moderate way ; and dine at half-past six. It is a 
 quiet but very charming life we lead, with fine 
 mountain-walks, and horses for those who like them. 
 The Nightingales are as delightful as ever. Miss 
 Florence and Mrs. Brooks are very excellent friends, 
 
256 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 chattering like sparrows together, while Partley and 
 Lady Sitwell are dabbling over their water-color 
 drawings. The country hereabout is very like our 
 Berkshire — the same woody amphitheatres, the rush- 
 ing water, and the dry roads." 
 
 He adds, referring to a standing joke : " I do not 
 feel so sure of marrying an Englishwoman as I did, 
 though they are delightful ; at least, I have asked none 
 yet." 
 
 '■'■August 31, 1844. 
 
 "Since I wrote, I have been a week with Lady 
 Sitwell and her husband, Mr. Smith Wright, not far 
 from here. The house is a model of taste. Lady S. 
 is famous for her flowers. Her conservatory is superb, 
 and her white yuccas unrivaled. Yesterday she drove 
 me to Sir George Beaumont's, the nephew of the 
 famous art-patron. He received us at his superb 
 porch, and took us over the fine house, a miracle of 
 taste, as was everything of his uncle's ; and at length 
 into a conservatory-like gallery he had built to hold 
 the over-abounding pictures. Here were all the first 
 good things of Wilkie, Leslie, etc., which Sir George 
 bought to encourage these young artists ; but his own 
 sketches were as interesting as any, and as good. 
 Allston's picture is in a lovely gray stone church close 
 to the house, a sort of guardian angel to the place. It 
 is the one he often spoke to me about. An angel in 
 
Wandering Years. 257 
 
 white, with sky-blue scarf fluttering, points, while 
 standing on the steps, to the prison-door, with a ra- 
 diant hand, while Peter lifts a majestic face, heavy 
 with sleep, upon the angel, from between his bent and 
 drowsy guards. There is a huge patine of moonlight 
 breaking through the grates of the prison above. We 
 thought the angel a trifle too robust for air ; but who 
 can fitly imagine these dear brothers of ours ? The 
 figures are life-size, and the picture one of Allston's 
 fine ones, though not equal to the 'Jeremiah,* * Miriam,' 
 or ' Belshazzar.* " 
 
 This picture, "The Angel releasing Saint Peter 
 from Prison," was painted by Allston for Sir George 
 Beaumont, and placed by him in the church at Ashby 
 de la Zouche, here mentioned. Mr. Appleton's admi- 
 ration for the picture had for a result its coming to 
 this country ; for Dr. R. W. Hooper was led, by his 
 friend's praise of it, to buy it in 1859, from the nephew 
 of Sir George. It was exhibited at the Boston Athe- 
 naeum, and afterward at the Museum of Fine Arts, 
 .and a few years ago was presented by Dr. Hooper to 
 the new State Lunatic Hospital at Worcester, where 
 it now hangs, in the great hall, in an excellent light, 
 and gives great satisfaction to the patients. 
 
 The autumn and winter were passed in Rome, 
 which Mr. Appleton found to have lost none of its 
 
258 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 charms since his visit ten years before. His friends 
 the Perkinses made his stay especially pleasant. Their 
 Christmas dinner is described with great enthusiasm. 
 The days were passed in drawing from the life, paint- 
 ing la Grazia, a model then much in demand, and in 
 visiting the studios. In the spring of 1845, i^ com- 
 pany with William M. Hunt, his mother, sister, and 
 brother, Mr. Appleton w^ent to Greece and Constanti- 
 nople. The party was delightfully congenial. William 
 Hunt was, about that time, a pupil of Pradier, and 
 "in a fair way," as Mr., Appleton expresses it, " to be- 
 come a sculptor." 
 
 They sailed from Ancona early in April, had a few 
 hours at Corfu, and a day at Corinth, on their way to 
 Athens ; there they spent several days visiting all there 
 was to be seen of interest, going to the Piraeus and to 
 Marathon. There is a sketch-book amply filled with 
 rapid water-color impressions of these places. 
 
 On their way to Constantinople, they had a day at 
 Smyrna, and a few hours at Gallipoli ; they stayed 
 some time in the Eastern Capital, and then returned 
 to England by the way of Trieste, etc. 
 
 "Roma, March 28, 1845. 
 '* My Dear Father : At length I am off for 
 Greece — a rather rapid visit, as I dread the hot 
 weather — and a run to Constantinople. Thence I am 
 
Wandering Years. 259 
 
 not very decided ; perhaps up the Danube, perhaps 
 back by steam to Marseilles and the west of Spain, 
 and then home. I shall thus ^ave exhausted all there 
 is of the wild Indian in me, and shall stay at home 
 like a good boy. 
 
 " I have lingered and lingered in Rome, deferring 
 my Eastern trip, snared by the charms of this old 
 artistic town, and the graces of my friends the Cleve- 
 lands, etc. My winter has been monotonous, but 
 studious. I shall have the company of a pleasant 
 family from Ancona to Corfu, if not farther — the 
 Hunts, of Brattleboro, whom you know." 
 
 A long letter to his sister calls upon her for the sym- 
 pathy he is sure of. 
 
 •* Athena, April 17, 1845. 
 
 **My dear Fanny: It will be a satisfaction to 
 you to get a letter from me dated Athens, and I assure 
 you it is the greatest satisfaction to me to find myself 
 here. It is only for a few days, for it is getting warm, 
 and on the 20th I shall steam for Constantinople. The 
 Hunt party have decided to go too, so I shall not want 
 for acquaintances on the way. 
 
 " I left Ancona in the Austrian steamer of the 4th, 
 and came hither, touching at Corfu, and getting a 
 hurried visit to Corinth. We have now been here 
 about a week, which has been one of the most memo- 
 rable of my life. It is such a strange and perpetual 
 
26o Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 pleasure to have the names of Theseus, the Academy, 
 Phidias, and the rest daily in our mouths, and when- 
 ever we doubt if all be not a summer dream, to see 
 from every point the Parthenon flaming like a vast 
 altar above our heads. What a morning I passed 
 there yesterday ! One gets up here by sunrise, and 
 the pure, elastic air is something to intoxicate one, 
 if the Parthenon were not enough alone. We all 
 sketched ; I in the lovely little Temple of Victory, 
 without wings — a figure of a victory binding its san- 
 dals, very likely from the chisel of Phidias ; what a 
 delight to find myself sketching that there ! Then I 
 drew in water-colors an interesting monument on 
 the hill opposite. At ten we descended and lunched, 
 and at eleven all set off, some in one of the wild-driv- 
 ing carriages of the place, and the rest on horses, for 
 Eleusis, a pretty drive of two hours. We passed the 
 Academy and the plain beyond, and when we drove 
 beside the sparkling sea, blue as the eyes of Minerva, 
 we were wild with delight. At DajDhne we rambled 
 over a quaint ruined convent, with a head of our 
 Saviour in mosaic, in Byzantine fashion, so quaint and 
 fierce as to seem almost a robber. At length we 
 reached Eleusis, where we found a party of English 
 officers pottering over an incomprehensible monu- 
 ment, once a sort of huge medallion, with a head in 
 alto-rilievOf but now destroyed ; we rambled about, 
 
Wandering' Years, 261 
 
 "i* 
 
 looking at the few remains of that famous and myste- 
 rious city, sketching many little girls in their pretty 
 costume. Here each damsel carries her dowry in 
 solid coin on her head, and feels the weight of riches 
 from her earliest years. We saw a girl of eleven, very 
 pretty, on the point of being married, with plenty of 
 gold mingled with the silver coins. This coiffure 
 looks precisely like an old helmet, having a band of 
 coins to hold it on, passing under the chin like the 
 band of the helmet. The evening I spent at Mr. Hill's. 
 " This little sketch of a day gives you an idea how 
 we spend our time. The weather is delicious, and the 
 sunsets — bathing all the town in gold, even making the 
 palace of Otho endurable, while behind Hymettus is 
 the glow of violet — are the finest in the world. Dr. 
 Howe and others gave me letters, and I have more 
 friends here than time to see them in. To-morrow I 
 dine with Sir Edmund Lyons, and breakfast with the 
 Hills, who are the best people in the world. There is 
 no one in Athens more respected than he, and no 
 one who does more good. They are both friendly 
 and merry, enjoying life as very few missionaries do, 
 and every day more and more beloved of all. Every 
 one sings their praises, and indeed when one witnesses 
 the things they have done at their school, the five 
 hundred children so orderly, so obedient, and so 
 clever, it is with pride that they are of our country 
 
262 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 that one sees it all. The school is on the Lancastrian 
 plan, and the quick demonstrations of the scholars, by 
 gesture and voice, altogether show the most perfect 
 training. I went to hear Mr. Hill preach on Sunday 
 in an ugly little Gothic church, like one of our dread- 
 ful efforts at home ; but it is pretty within, and some 
 of the scholars who sing have exquisite voices. 
 
 " But what shall I tell you of the ruins here ? 
 Nothing, for one can say nothing I They must be felt, 
 and that is all that can be done. We have been to 
 Marathon, over the glorious mountain-passes, and over 
 the worst roads, where my horse, and the guide's, 
 pitched us headlong without harming us. I have wan- 
 dered in the Academy, and recalled the Plato we read 
 in the cave at Newport. I have been on the Bema 
 where Demosthenes tamed the * fierce democratic,' and 
 which is as fresh as then ; on Lycabettus, to see be- 
 yond the town -^gina, and the gulf leaping to the sun ; 
 every step we take is over the memory of some great 
 man. To-day I go to Pentelicus, far less interesting 
 than before the barbarians came as gunpowder-blasts 
 to destroy the neat excavations of the days of Phidias. 
 We shall return home by a young moon, which here 
 is indeed lovely. 
 
 "Dr. Howe is everywhere here remembered. I 
 have shaken hands with friends of his, whose eyes 
 sparkled when they spoke of him." 
 
Wandering Years, 263 
 
 "Stamboul, Pera, April it, 1845. 
 
 " My dear Father : Fanny was, indeed, right 
 when she said, in one of her late letters, * Fail not to 
 pass that Golden Horn, which shall unlock more en- 
 chantment than ever did Orlando's.' Tell her the old 
 enchantment still lingers about these shores, that fairy- 
 land begins with the blue entrance to the Dardanelles 
 — but let me not rave in general. 
 
 " Two days have I been here, two days of Arabian 
 Nights' entertainments. Even Pera, dirty Pera, favors 
 us, for the season is so dry we walk without filth to the 
 scenes of the various tales of Scheherezade. Our good 
 French captain halted his boat through the night, be- 
 fore we arrived, that we might have a sunrise impres- 
 sion for the first. Good fellow ! he is an artist, and 
 sympathizes with those who love the beautiful. We 
 were all up bright and early, you may be sure ; and, 
 shining afar off, with wavering lights glancing here 
 and there over the mighty sweep of shores, slowly 
 rose Stamboul. 
 
 " We came so slowly, we drank in every slight 
 change of this unrivaled panorama. A writer for the 
 London * Times,' who was with us, told me, though 
 often here, he never saw the city show so fine. We 
 swept by the seven towers, Galata opening over our 
 bow, with fringes of dark red from the Judas-tree re- 
 lieving the young green of the other foliage. Like 
 
264 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 candlesticks of some heavenly Jerusalem, burned in 
 the early air the minarets, while the white domes of 
 the mosques, suspended among the trees, reminded 
 me of Aladdin's famous roc's ^^g^ which none but a 
 magician could furnish. Seraglio Point we lingeringly 
 rounded, wondering at the latticed kiosks, the delicate 
 trees fresh with their earliest green, the cypressed- 
 walks of the garden, where we fancied sultanas, lights 
 of the harem, were culling flowers, with night's dia- 
 monds still upon them. The Golden Horn then, like 
 a cornucopia, poured _its treasures at our feet, and, 
 amid ships and steamers, and thousands of caiques, we 
 dropped our anchor. 
 
 "We were soon, after no bother of passports, or 
 nonsense about baggage, snug in Madame Giusep- 
 pina's lodging-house at the top of Pera, looking down 
 into a Turkish burial-ground, with tombstones like 
 petrified Turks — scarce stiller or more sedate than the 
 living ones. 
 
 " We are in great luck. We at once took caiques 
 for a tour down the Bosporus, to see the Sultan go 
 to mosque. No sooner had we arrived than, amid 
 prancing Arabs and lines of Europeanized soldiery, 
 the Sultan stumbled along, almost supported by two 
 officers, to his phaeton, rather gay with gold, and, after 
 taking one long, sleepy look at us, he drove off with a 
 grand chatter of attendants. 
 
Wandering Years. 265 
 
 "We there saw, also, the famous Riza Pasha, the 
 real head of the government, whose portrait Mr. Kel- 
 logg, a clever American artist, is now taking. We 
 ascended the tower of the Genoese, to get a map-view 
 of the town. While taking a pipe and coffee in that 
 airy caf/ we looked over sea and town, lingering at 
 every window, and lapped in a true Turkish Elysium. 
 After this we visited the Armenian and Greek church- 
 es near us. It was their Good-Friday, and we wit- 
 nessed very curious ceremonies, and saw gorgeous 
 church-costumes. It is our luck, after having it at 
 Rome, to find Easter everywhere. Reckoning by the 
 old style, the Greeks gave it to us, and now the good 
 people of Constantinople — like strawberries following 
 one as one goes north in spring. 
 
 " But our crowning treat was yesterday. As luck 
 
 would have it, yesterday was the betrothal of the last 
 
 sister of the Sultan to Mahomet Ali Pasha, and, with 
 
 all the world, we went to see the presents carried by. 
 
 During a long detention, our time was spent (besides 
 
 long chats with excellent Mr. Carr, our minister, and 
 
 Brown, his dragoman) in trying all the sweetmeats, 
 
 lemonade, etc., and peeping into all the droll arabaSy 
 
 where, with faces hid in their yashmaks^ were all the 
 
 wives of the various pashas, as well as those of the 
 
 bourgeoisie. Little Mussulmen trotted about on ponies 
 
 with running servants at their side, and in the gayest 
 23 
 
266 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 dresses. Every wall and balcony glowed like a tulip- 
 bed. Such colors and such silence ! Black eyes alone 
 spoke through their narrow door in the yashmak. We 
 perched ourselves on a pile of boards, where we were 
 long examined by the Sultan himself, from the artillery 
 magazine near by ; soon his cawass came and told us 
 to go down lower — we were, probably, cutting too 
 much of a figure. 
 
 " Not till after two o'clock did the procession 
 come, to the clang of Turkish music. After servants 
 to clear the wa.y, supported on the shoulders of men 
 in double file, came boxes of jewels, dresses, etc., and 
 of sweetmeats, a hundred or more trays, covered and 
 bound up in cone-like shapes, with vari-colored gauzes. 
 Behind came the rest of the paraphernalia, splendid, 
 but not so rich, they say, as when the other sister was 
 married. 
 
 " I shall, probably, send home a parcel through 
 Smyrna, as no one can resist the thousand pretty 
 things here. Our room is a litter of Damascus blades, 
 silk, embroidery, etc., etc., all dear but divine. I may 
 return by way of Trieste, or to England direct, by 
 steam, so avoiding quarantine." 
 
 Mr. Appleton writes from England on July 2, 1845 : 
 
 " Dear Father : This is the last letter I shall 
 send you from this side of the water, if I succeed in 
 
Wandering Years. 267 
 
 getting off, as I hope, by the middle of the month. 
 You sent me an invitation to spend August with you 
 in Pittsfield a long time ago ; I have been acting on it 
 ever since ; I have come night and day to Paris, and 
 should by this time have been in America, but for the 
 plans of others. I shall soon be there." 
 
 This promise was fulfilled, and August found him 
 in America, with his father. He passed a part of the 
 autumn at Newport, of which he writes : " I find New- 
 port as pleasant as in the olden time, though widely 
 different. It swarms now with fashionable people, 
 and the study of my fair countrywomen has been to 
 me a very pleasing occupation since my arrival here. 
 If you have not been to Newport since we were in the 
 Lawrence House, you would be amazed to find so 
 many huge caravansaries, so many new cottages, and 
 so much new company." 
 
 The original manuscript remains of this poem, writ- 
 ten on the steamer : 
 
 ALBANIA. 
 
 Beneath Chimari's peaks of snow 
 
 We sweep with flying keel. 
 The murmuring wave rolls blue below. 
 
 Above the rare clouds steal ; 
 With faces turned toward the land, 
 
 We watch the strengthening lines. 
 Where o'er our tossing bow expand 
 
 Albania's far confines. 
 
268 Tho7nas G, Applet on. 
 
 No tree, no shrub, relieves the dark 
 
 And barren precipice ; 
 No perfume greets our hurrying bark, 
 
 From mountain-peaks of ice. 
 To Fancy's eye, only, the goat 
 
 May tread those fierce defiles. 
 The circling eagle's shadow float 
 
 Along those splintered piles. 
 
 No streamlet from the fissured rock 
 
 Drops with its murmuring sheet 
 Of dew, to nurse the fading flock 
 
 Of wild flowers at its feet. i 
 
 Stern cliffs, all thirsty for the rain, J 
 
 •Implore the passing cloud. 
 Which droops with heavy fringe in rain. 
 
 While thunders mock aloud. ^ 
 
 Oh ! well in those tremendous vales 
 
 Must echoing thunders speak. 
 With antique cries awake the gales, 
 
 And man the mountain-peak. 
 With grisly shapes, which throng to hear 
 
 Those martial sounds again. 
 Gleams fast and far the Dorian spear. 
 
 The dead desert the plain ! 
 
 The men of old, the immortal dead. 
 
 Are now again alive ; 
 The phalanx musters overhead, 
 
 Where airy armies strive ; 
 The watch-word, and again the sweet 
 
 Call of the Spartan flute 
 Above in grand confusion meet. 
 
 Where late all heaven was mute. 
 
Wandering Years. 269 
 
 Better such dream, than where the shore 
 
 Swarms with its living dead ; 
 Men on whose sordid souls no more 
 
 Fame's fiery light is shed. 
 We listen where, 'mid thunder rolls. 
 
 Old Freedom's echoed cry. 
 Nor turn to look where meaner souls 
 
 Pollute that holy sky. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WANDERING YEARS. 
 III.— 1846-1854. 
 
 It would be difficult to follow Mr. Appleton at this 
 period, in his shuttlecock passages across the Atlantic. 
 Space forbids more than slight gleanings from the 
 sheaf of letters at hand, written with a full heart, and 
 overflowing with matter, to his father, commenting 
 freely upon men and nature. 
 
 In 1846 he spent some time at Malvern, whence 
 he writes : 
 
 " I board in a genial old house with some Chelten- 
 ham friends. It is called the Abbey, and is hundreds 
 of years old, with corridors, carved panels, diamond 
 lattices, and old matters. The guests consist of frouzy 
 old matrons, pursy East-Indians, etc. The landlady 
 is as old and as odd as her house, and the servants are 
 all originals. 
 
 ** At tea, each of us has a separate tray, and makes 
 his or her own tea. It is very droll, and looks like 
 
Wandering Y^ears. 271 
 
 four-and-twenty housekeepers all in a row. I mean to 
 hold on to the Abbey, and get all the oddities of the 
 place." 
 
 The winter of 1847-48 was passed in Paris ; and 
 again, after a summer at home, a journey to Niagara 
 and Montreal, with an English friend, Mrs. Wedgwood, 
 Mr. Appleton found himself in Europe. The spring 
 of 1848, in Paris, was an exciting time. After the fall 
 of Louis Philippe, *he provisional government found 
 itself beset by immense difficulties. The moderate 
 members, Lamartine, Garnier-Pages, and others, were 
 opposed by the party of Ledru-Rollin and Louis 
 Blanc, who held extravagant socialist or communist 
 opinions. The Assembly met on the 5th of May, 
 pretty evenly balanced between the two antagonistic 
 parties. Mr. Appleton arrived in Paris just in time to 
 see the opening of the Assembly. A few days after- 
 ward he was present at a stormy meeting in the new 
 Chamber of Deputies, when its halls were invaded by 
 a mob. The excitement of that occasion was quelled 
 for the time. It was not until June that the struggle 
 took place in which the Archbishop of Paris lost his 
 life, when General Cavaignac, nominated as dictator, 
 restored order after six days of anarchy. On the 
 loth of December, 1848, Louis Napoleon was elected 
 President. 
 
272 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 On the loth of May, 1848, Mr. Appleton writes : 
 
 " I was yesterday at Lady Elgin's, where there was 
 no talk but of the state of affairs. Some predicted 
 utter ruin, some had hope ; all told stories of the 
 wreck of their friends' fortunes. The servant an- 
 nounced Monsieur Rochefoucault. The young man 
 came in laughing, saying that two months ago he was 
 a duke ! Like every Frenchman, he has no impreca- 
 tions against the government, but hopes for the best. 
 Poor Madame Baudraud, who is half ruined (her 
 husband educated the Count of Paris), received me 
 sadly but with pleasure. I find Paris too sad a place 
 to be in very long ; it wears upon one, and, though I 
 hope to see it somewhat brighter, it may darken." 
 
 In the autumn of 1848 Mr. Appleton was at home. 
 He made a brief trip to the West Indies, to escort 
 Mrs. Mackintosh, who had been visiting her New 
 England friends, back to St. Kitt's, where her husband 
 was at that time governor. Much as Thomas was 
 charmed with the beauty of the islands, "the mos- 
 quitoes and lizards, and the perpetual sauce which the 
 sun serves up," were too much for him ; he was in New 
 York, and off to London, before the end of the year. 
 
 " England," he writes, " is staggering along under 
 her many difficulties, trying to keep up heart, and yet 
 feeling that in all probability she has seen her best 
 
Wandering Years. 2 73 
 
 days. There is in the air a something not full of con- 
 fidence for the future. The fact is, she is frost-struck 
 at the root, at the top, and in her branches, at once. 
 The people will run down into an Irish condition be- 
 fore many years ; the nobility are made to feel poor 
 by the corn-laws, and the colonies are restive. All 
 this changes the tone of feeling very much from what 
 it was two years since. But, if possible. Englishmen 
 are finer fellows than ever. Never was there so much 
 goodness, so active virtues — tolerance, patience, char- 
 ity — in men and women as now ; never before such 
 restlessness to hunt up ways and means of relief — 
 such sacrifices of time and money. It does one good 
 to see such things. ... I spent evening before last 
 with Carlyle, who was very pleasant. Emerson had 
 sent him Indian corn, ground and unground, and 
 Carlyle was preaching it with apostolic fervor. The 
 English millstones, he says, are too soft for it ; it 
 comes back full of sand. Mrs. Carlyle produced 
 some half-Indian bread of her making, which had a 
 home flavor. Carlyle has been in Ireland, but brings 
 back no plan of cure ; it seems beyond his grasp, or 
 any man's. They say in the spring whole counties 
 will take ship. Can we stand this indefinitely ? I 
 wish they all could be dumped among the Mormons 
 at once ; they might bump their Celtic cocoanuts 
 against the Rocky Mountains, and so gain a spark or 
 
2 74 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 two. . . . There is a new life of Swedenborg ; he 
 says people are not well in the other world ! That 
 is rather hard, and yet one can't imagine the identity 
 of a confirmed invalid and a robust angel ! '* 
 
 *' January 3, 1850. 
 
 "Cobden is passing over the land like a prairie- 
 fire. The mechanic is become master of England. 
 He will gain more and more boldness, draw from 
 America his doctrines, and before twenty years Eng- 
 land will be a republic in all but the name. ... I 
 shall try to write Jewett a * screed of my mind,' as 
 Carlyle says, whom I made roar by telling him Prud- 
 hon's last saying, ^ Je d/teste un Dieu qui ne s*explique 
 as. 
 
 The whole winter of 1849 and 1850 he passed in 
 London with Mrs. Mackintosh, whose husband was 
 still away at St. Kitt's. He greatly enjoyed her chil- 
 dren, and was prime favorite with them, teaching 
 them how to make molasses-candy, " which was a 
 failure," he says ; " Mrs. Lawrence thinks we boiled 
 it too long," and telling them wonderful stories. 
 The other children across the Atlantic began to be 
 powerful attractions toward home, for every letter 
 contains messages, and many report boxes of toys 
 exported for the benefit of the new brood of half- 
 brothers and sisters who were coming upon the field. 
 
 \ 
 
Wandering Years. 2 75 
 
 and for Mrs. Longfellow's little ones. " Uncle Tom " 
 was a wonderful and exciting relative ; now here, 
 now there, always turning up with his hands full, 
 and then disappearing without warning. 
 
 *• Paris, March 6, 1850. 
 " Never was Paris gayer. I hear on all sides that 
 the profusion, the luxury, the living au jour le jour, 
 have been something remarkable. This haste to en- 
 joy was one of the features of the first French Revo- 
 lution. I hear the upper classes reproached for a 
 lack of real fusion with the lower, for no real effort 
 to meet the present feeling, no interweaving of com- 
 mon rights and common ideas which might bridge 
 the gulf which, to the socialist, divides as between 
 heaven and hell. I doubt not it is true. The French, 
 sunk so low in their own esteem as to have been 
 caught in this republican trap of 1848, accept a lower 
 position, and have not manhood enough to overcome 
 difficulties they did not seek. They have no fear for 
 the present, but all talk of some possible bad bloody 
 future. The Reds are kept at bay, but they stand 
 firm on the grand ground of pillage ; no reason, no 
 argument, reaches them. It is the finest dramatic ex- 
 hibition of Satan and the Spirit of Good, in dialogue, 
 which, I suppose, the world has seen for ages. It 
 gives me a wholesome belief in the reality of the 
 
276 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 devil ; and a disbelief in him, and such as he, I have 
 ever considered as quite absurd. The spirit surely is 
 of evil as of good, and why, in the spiritual world, 
 there should be any barrier to prevent the develop- 
 ment of spiritual evil, I never could see. After all, 
 goodness is only a force ; so is evil ; one exists as 
 well as the other. . . . 
 
 " I was agreeably struck by the President. He is 
 reckoned as ugly, and said to resemble me: but his 
 phrenology I liked, and his mowed hair unveiled 
 his organs — fine courage, good firmness, small self- 
 esteem, fair frontal width, and reasoning powers, with 
 large observing organs, and an eye strong, concen- 
 trated, and thoughtful. These things are well, and 
 people till lately have not done him justice. I saw 
 him at a splendid show. The aunt of the President, 
 the Grand Duchess of Baden, had that day arrived, 
 and the diplomats and officers were in grande tenue. 
 Many a fair shoulder was plowed with those small 
 wings of the army-cherubim — epaulets. . . . 
 
 * My poor Baron de Poilly is dead, of cholera, 
 after typhus, last summer. He seemed to me as 
 much a part of Paris as the Pont Neuf." 
 
 The next year was passed in America. Mr. Na- 
 than Appleton, whose health was failing, went abroad 
 to try the benefit of a change of air for a troublesome 
 
Wandering Years. 277 
 
 cough, and Thomas remained at home as the head of 
 the family. 
 
 He writes his father from Boston, in November, 
 1850: 
 
 *' The parties rattle round our ears like the 
 leaves of autumn. It seems November is our party- 
 month ; certainly the fever is on. Mrs. Paige's great 
 ball comes off to-night, and will, no doubt, be splen- 
 did. . . . We have a capital show of two Aztec nobles, 
 half the size of Tom Thumb, and infinitely diverting. 
 Theorists of a gloomy turn of mind predict from these 
 the fate of the Beacon Street nobility. They seem 
 very happy and lively, though pygmies, and certainly 
 have a very distinguished physiognomy, very like the 
 heads on Catherwood's monuments. . . . There is 
 nothing I more envy you than seeing Mary's children. 
 A year's romping with them has made me very fond 
 of them. I have no fear that they should forget 
 Uncle Tom." 
 
 The summer was passed at Pittsfield and New- 
 port ; at the latter he found " the same scheming 
 mammas and polking daughters, the same roaring table 
 d'hote, the same Bloomer bathing. Newport is in- 
 deed unique, very amusing and instructive, abound- 
 ing in fine studies of human nature and panoramas 
 
 of mankind." 
 24 
 
278 Thomas G, Apple ton, 
 
 " Newport, August 5, 1852. 
 "Yesterday the sea wrote in heroic measure. It 
 had been composing a poem all night, and we went to 
 the Spouting Horn to the hearing after breakfast. It 
 was Shakespearean, and of the finest. A sustained 
 march of noble rhymes, with every now and then a 
 sounding Alexandrine tossed to our feet. Never have 
 I seen the scene there so fine. It was like one of 
 Napoleon's great battles, whole parks of artillery blaz- 
 ing away at every reef. Sometimes the spray would 
 stand for a second in. the air, one lovely tree of silver 
 with all its shining leaves, and then melt as a frost-tree 
 does on a window. At times the angles of the rocks 
 would send off rockets of foam clear over our heads, 
 and the big-backed waves growled afar on the beach. 
 I think it the finest sight in nature, such power, such 
 variety, such beauty. Our party went to the verge of 
 the rock, and were remarking on the playfulness as 
 well as the terror of the ocean, when the jolly sea 
 shook a whole wave over us. We were drenched to 
 the skin. Delicious ! " 
 
 Mr. Nathan Appleton returned in September, much 
 improved in health. In November, Thomas estab- 
 lished himself in Paris for the winter. He was in fine 
 bodily condition and great spirits, and the time passed 
 delightfully, with American and French friends. He 
 
 \ 
 
Wandering Years. 2 79 
 
 was in comfortable gar(on quarters at the corner of 
 the Rue de la Paix and the Boulevard. " Would you 
 ever have thought," he writes, " that the ugly clump of 
 buildings crowding the court of the Tuileries at the 
 farther end w^ould come down ? Well, down they are, 
 and our clever Emperor has now to contrive to make 
 the two ends meet, which he can never do without an 
 angle, and it will be an ugly one. We have just done 
 voting for emperor, as you for president. Both have 
 swept the country, both talk of peace, and I hope both 
 will keep it. Already a solemn print of Louis in im- 
 perial robes is in the shop-windows. It looks fearfully 
 old-fashioned and impossible, and seems powerfully to 
 criticise the situation. JVous verrons. . . . 
 
 "Last night I was at the Vaudeville to see the 
 "Dames aux Camelias," the most renowned of the 
 plays now going, by Dumas fils. It is wonderfully 
 clever ; as a piece of acting, far beyond anything we 
 can do — a play full of that sickly interest the French 
 like so well. Great red faces were streaming with 
 tears at the pathos, and, when each act was done, a 
 flourish of nasal trumpets proclaimed the clearing of 
 the shower. There were belts of these happy, mobile 
 Celts, their faces discharged of care, and devouring 
 every word and feature. Rows of little children in 
 the highest tier fluttered with their oranges and 
 barley-candy, and their obeliskal bonnes nodded in 
 
28o Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 Norman caps at their sides. No one could feel the 
 heart of that audience without believing in the differ- 
 ence of races. No Anglo-Saxon actor, by any chance, 
 could have performed the meanest of the characters, 
 and no American or English audience could furnish 
 that brooding and intelligent content with which the 
 play was received. 
 
 " The Hunts are near me. I went to-day to see 
 packed a very admirable picture by William, bought 
 by young Brooks, a * Fortune-Teller'; you will do well 
 to see it when it arrives in Boston. Hunt is doing 
 uncommonly well." 
 
 '■'December 22, 1852. 
 
 "... Yes, I am pretty comfortable. I dine out 
 very often, sleep well, paint in pastels, talk a good 
 deal, and enjoy life. 
 
 "It seems to me that the sort of thing people 
 would like, and that they find they miss, called happi- 
 nesSy is not quite that, but will turn out, when we get 
 it, to be something with a nobler edge than that has. 
 Happiness is a feather-bed ; the sort of thing intended 
 for us may be a wing, something on which we can 
 either lie hushed in dreamy calm, or cut through the 
 keenest and most bracing air. The body loves effort 
 and repose, the spirit loves struggle and calm ; our 
 happy destination may be a wonderful alliance of all 
 these. ... I do not know why I have written to you 
 
Wandering Years. 281 
 
 in such a strain. It is this smooth quill which does it, 
 so different from the harsh, unloving edge of a steel 
 pretender. How admirably our improvements are 
 typed in that pen ! The charm taken, and the use 
 left — a business utensil indeed. I do not believe I 
 ever wrote three words of sentiment, affection, or feel- 
 ing with any of them, and who ever did ? If Lamb 
 had lived in the day of steel pens, he never could have 
 got beyond his ledger. ... I send by the America 
 a box from the good city of Paris, containing Christ- 
 mas-gifts, but nothing for you, dear papa, who give 
 me everything — but what to send you ? I could think 
 of nothing ; Cordelia-like, I hope. I would send you, 
 if possible, the whole Palais Royal if it would give you 
 pleasure. You do not want a French carriage, some 
 porcelain, some Carcel-lamps, some bronze statuettes, 
 some French wines, boots, toys, dogs, cats, do you ? I 
 think a good Angora cat would be the thing. They are 
 immense, very strong, very long hair, very scratchy. I 
 saw one at Madame Mohl's, who went through my 
 trousers as if they were paper. I do not think they 
 could stand our climate. Madame Mohl is as usual 
 wonderful : hair, a mare's nest ; dress, a pen-wiper ; 
 wit, exuberant ; oddity, immense. She lent me books, 
 good ones. Perhaps you will be glad to know that 
 Lucrezia Borgia had the fairest of golden locks. . . . 
 " I dined last night at Lady Elgin's. She is won- 
 
282 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 derfully alive to our knockings and spiritings, and had 
 two philosophers to meet me. I propounded my 
 strongest statements, and they all swallowed them. 
 In return, I was told of one Mr. Forster's new system 
 of reading hieroglyphics. He conceives the pictured 
 lion to express the letter L, and not the animal — 
 spells away, and finds he makes old Arabic words. 
 There are gullies in Mount Sinai he reads off in the 
 same way, and finds they are the same Mosaic account 
 of the Israelites we have in the Old Testament. But 
 this is all new, and against ChampoUion, so he rather 
 gets laughed at by the savants, ... I dined a few days 
 ago with Ary Scheffer — very pleasant, delightful anec- 
 dotes about Beranger. Once a poor fellow, at whose 
 bedside he was, unable to speak, could only turn his 
 eyes from his old wife's face to Beranger's till he died. 
 So Beranger toddles across the room, tells the old 
 woman he has great need of coarse sewing, etc., and 
 carries her off home with him, obeying the silent 
 look of the dying man. I have bought a little Diaz — 
 the French Rubens — Spanish blood and Murillo steal- 
 ing constantly into his pictures. The Louvre has a 
 tribune now — the great square room. It aches with 
 immortal pictures — the focus of human genius." 
 
 This Diaz now belongs to the collection of the 
 Boston Museum of Fine Arts. 
 
Wandering Years. 283 
 
 ''January 13, 1853. 
 
 " The Emperor lives snugly in his palace, but rides 
 and drives out in very simple and confiding style. 
 Every one here agrees as to his abilities. To have 
 fatigued and used up all the clever entourage he had 
 showed remarkable independence. He gradually 
 numbed them all, and then, with one torpedo-touch, 
 sent them under. He lives in an austere solitude of 
 will. No one can divine the future, no one knows his 
 secret intentions, his future wishes. The peace of 
 Europe, the happiness of France, depends upon one 
 life, his single brain. It is ghastly to look into this 
 blank, unknown to-morrow ; luckily, the French never 
 do care to look ahead. For us it would be intolerable. 
 Every man would make it a matter of conscience, 
 thereat to be miserable, but here they cry, ^ Vogue la 
 galhre ! * and snap their fingers. ... I met at dinner 
 the other day Merimee, a good writer, whom I have 
 long wished to know. 
 
 *' He was very pleasant, indeed ; gave puns and 
 conundrums, and spicy historical anecdotes, of that 
 rare sort that do not get into the books ; anecdotes of 
 Hoche, Napoleon, Josephine, and others ; he was de- 
 lightful, and kept my carriage waiting two hours, so 
 that I lost another party I was to go to. 
 
 " I dined also, a few days ago, with Bristed, who 
 has taken a funny little hotel in the St. Germain quar- 
 
284 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 ter. The grand salon is like a private chapel, with a 
 gallery all round, plafond painted to imitate fresco, 
 and rich Italian furniture. Altogether, I was much 
 amused ; our gay party of Yankees, drinking their 
 champagne in all this splendor, was like Sam Slick 
 musing in the ruins of. Carthage. 
 
 "I received, yesterday, from Longfellow's London 
 publisher, a new edition of his poems. Prefixed to it 
 is a woodcut portrait, which, of course, resembles not 
 at all. It is as fine a flight of fancy as any in the book. 
 I will send this to Jasmin. Merimee says Jasmin 
 does not understand one word of English, but will be 
 delighted with the present, and will get somebody to 
 translate all there is about himself." 
 
 There is an account of this Proven9al poet in Mr. 
 
 Appleton's "Sheaf of Papers." 
 
 " May 4, 1853. 
 
 " I have had a new, very agreeable pleasure. You 
 know how often I have bored you with stories of the 
 delightful new forces in table-moving, and such like, 
 which found no favor among the sagacious people of 
 Boston. A few days ago I was importuned to show 
 something of it here, and did so with full success, not 
 a person witnessing but found it genuine. Peter Par- 
 ley, at whose house it came off, gave immediately a 
 grand seance. I happened to be dining with the 
 Mohls, where we had Mignet the historian, Lady 
 
Wander mg Years, 285 
 
 Elgin, and others. I carried them all off to see the 
 fun. We had over fifty people assembled — many 
 savants and remarkable men, the young people of 
 Arago, he being too infirm to come. In a quarter of 
 an hour we were under way. M. Coste (the Govern- 
 ment agent for the new pisciculture) made the table 
 move by his unspoken will, while Arago's nephews 
 were seen hugging a little table, which trotted under 
 their hands. So I was content. No one has called 
 me odd or crazy, but I get satisfaction on every side." 
 
 "June 9, 1853. 
 
 *' . . . /e reve un cottage at Newport, and look for- 
 ward to a snug house, and a snug wife, and a snug leg 
 of mutton. . . . 
 
 " Thank Henry for his joke. I return him one of 
 mine. A play by Ponsard, * L'honneur et I'Argent,* is 
 playing here ; the heroine is called Laure : so I say of 
 the lover, * Quoi qu'il meprise I'argent, il adore Laure 
 (I'or).' 
 
 " So he has taken leave of Hawthorne. We shall 
 see how such a ghost-seer will manage as consul at 
 Liverpool." 
 
 When the weather grew too hot for Paris, Mr. 
 Appleton broke up his establishment and went to 
 Dieppe, where he took much pleasure and good from 
 sea-bathing. He received news there of the death of 
 
286 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 his uncle, Samuel Appleton, which was a great grief to 
 him. He returned to England and joined Mrs. Mack- 
 intosh, who had been in America, at Tenby, in Wales, 
 
 " October 5, 1853. 
 
 " Dear Father : I have been now some three or 
 four days at this Welsh watering-place, certainly one 
 of the prettiest I ever saw anywhere. I look from 
 the window upon a semicircular little harbor, filled 
 with shining brown-sparred fishing-boats, driven in by 
 these equinoctial gusts, as, for instance, day before 
 yesterday, when the whole sea was starred with little, 
 straight-down hits of wind, and many a sea-sick craft 
 crawled round our corner. The coast beyond is won- 
 derfully like our cliff-house view at Newport — the same 
 ledge running out, overhung by cliffs, and green and 
 sloping shores beyond. This is softer and bigger ; 
 that is richer and brighter. 
 
 "... I wish to heaven God would make people 
 well and keep them so, and at last knock them off 
 their perch in a comfortable and manly manner ! I 
 can bear seeing a man or woman suffer, but I loathe a 
 morbid disposition. I have been looking over the life 
 of poor Henry Ware. Capital fellow, good as gold, 
 but all sickly, and made wretched by a want of reason- 
 able physical life, such as every animal has, and most 
 savages. It may be one of the advantages of the next 
 
Wandering Years. 287 
 
 world, and of not being encumbered with bodies, that 
 we shall not trail these hindrances and checks. 
 
 "The children are nicely and charming, so well 
 behaved and very companionable. I drove them, 
 yesterday, to see an old castle of Lord Mitford's, a 
 noble ruin, very fine Norman style, said to be of the 
 days of Rufus. Coming back we stopped at Lydstep 
 to see some extraordinary rocks. You would have 
 enjoyed the sight ; I never saw anything finer. The 
 strata are perpendicular, honey-combed beautifully by 
 wind and wave, and with three lofty and picturesque 
 caverns, growing on a soft, smooth little beach. One 
 would be the beau-ideal of an opera pirate, far beyond 
 any Saddlers' Wells smugglers. I should have well 
 liked to hear Grisi in it. All along this shore the Old 
 Red is in great force, lying in ridges and sidewise. 
 The shells and algae are also very fine here. We go 
 to-day and get an early dinner with the Misses Allen, 
 two good old ladies, quite the model of the olden 
 time, like Miss Hannah More, Mrs. Barbauld, and 
 Mrs. Trimmer — I always fancied her name most as a 
 teacher for the young. They live in a pretty cottage 
 with such a lovable view, headland and isle and 
 plunging beach, broad seas, and the bright flowers of 
 a very tidy garden to give value to all these neutral 
 tints. In the second place is the Burrows, a favorite 
 spot with the children, whither they led me, and we ran 
 
288 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 up and down the grass-tufted sand-hills and peeped 
 into the holes to see the rabbits ; but all the Welsh 
 rabbits I have seen are in our supper-plates at home. 
 . . . The children have brought in their letters, and I 
 must finish. Soon this will be leaping on the bright 
 billows and tumbling into your hand. I am much 
 tempted to take a trip to your side, and see you all 
 before you lie shut in with snow, like plums in a 
 wedding-cake. I should so like a crack with you over 
 the mahogany, this goose-quill substitute is so poor 
 — no eye meeting eye, no voice echoing to voice ; but 
 one writes away into the void, like a man talking 
 against the wind, though haply believing the voice is 
 heard, and not lost on its way. Good-by. 
 
 ** Ever your loving son Tom." 
 
 As it happened, not long after, Mr. Appleton 
 returned to America, and really settled down for a 
 longer time than ever before. His sister, Mrs. Long- 
 fellow, who was happily living in Cambridge, per- 
 suaded him to take a house near her ; and finding one 
 in Phillips Place which suited him, he there estab- 
 lished his household gods, and for the first time set 
 up housekeeping for himself. The wandering years 
 were at an end ; he began to taste the comforts and 
 delights of a home ; indeed, his rive of snugness was 
 realized, with the omission of one of its three items. 
 
Wander i7tg Years. 289 
 
 In his Cambridge house he had a good cook, and 
 gave delightful dinners. He soon surrounded himself 
 with a pleasant circle of friends, and it was easy to 
 supplement guests and viands from Boston when the 
 nearer supply gave out. He had a favorite story of 
 an occasion when the ice-cream ordered from Mrs. 
 Mayer's did not arrive in time. The anxiety of the 
 host, the despair of the cook, the ill-concealed malaise 
 of the guests were reaching the tragic point, when the 
 longed-for wagon rattled up to the door, and all was 
 well. . 
 
 Mrs. Longfellow's children, as those of Mrs. 
 Mackintosh had been, became a source of interest 
 and enjoyment to their uncle ; his strong affection for 
 their mother, and their own development, were bind- 
 ing them closely to him. With Mr. Longfellow, Mr. 
 Appleton took a cottage at Nahant, which to the time 
 of his death was his favorite home. Close to the 
 rocky edge, its piazza overlooks the water and the 
 bay, with a view of distant Boston, commanding the 
 sunset view behind the town. Yachts, steamers, cat- 
 boats, come and go directly in sight, and in later years, 
 at her moorings, within easy hailing distance, swung 
 his own yacht, the beloved Alice, always ready for 
 a sail. 
 
 Nahant had always been a favorite resort for all 
 
 the Appletons, and Thomas had passed many gay days 
 25 
 
290 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 at the old hotel there. In 1855 Mr. Nathan Appleton 
 bought a place on Ocean Street, in Lynn, within easy- 
 driving distance of the cottage at Nahant, where was 
 to be found the happy family circle of half-brothers 
 and sister, fast becoming favorites with the oldest son 
 of the house. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OATLANDS PARK. 
 1855. 
 
 It was not to be expected that a planet with so 
 erratic an orbit should at once become a star abso- 
 lutely fixed. Frequent runs to New York, where, as 
 in the large European cities, Mr. Appleton found 
 always hosts of friends, interrupted the even tenor of 
 life at Cambridge. In New York he was at home in 
 the studios of artists, a race of beings with whom he 
 had close affinities. Church, Darley, Kensett, were 
 among his intimate friends. The tie with the latter 
 was peculiarly strong, and lasted until the death of 
 the artist. 
 
 In the summer of 1855 Mr. Appleton was busy 
 with the debut of Elise Hensler upon the stage in 
 opera, and went to New York in order to interest his 
 friends there in the prima donna, and the occasion. 
 He writes from the Everett House : 
 
292 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 ''June 16, 1855. 
 " I am very well entertained here, and not a little 
 busy, trying to give Miss Elise a good start. To-night 
 is the eventful occasion. I have interested my friends 
 here, who gladly lend themselves to a pretty girl's 
 d^but. So we are to take a box, encourage the 
 debutante^ and hit her with bouquets." He adds : 
 ** Yesterday I took a run up the river, by slow train, 
 saw better than ever the lovely features of this river 
 prince, and dined at Cozzens's at West Point ; saw son 
 and father. The old* man rem-inded me of twenty 
 years ago, and I heard him complaining of a barrel of 
 eggs broken, which had been brought from New York 
 so that country visitors might have them fresh. The 
 serious faces of several Boston people caught my eye 
 under the spacious verandas. I took a drive down 
 the banks for an hour ; saw landscapes beyond ex- 
 pression lovely, and painted at hand from them a 
 dozen big pictures ; when back I was just in time to 
 ferry over the river, and whirl to town for Elise's 
 serenade and supper, both of which failed, however ! " 
 
 That summer was spent at Newport with the Long- 
 fellows, and two or three friends ; among them Ken- 
 sett and George William Curtis. " We find," he says, 
 "our plan of a mixed household as pleasant as ever. 
 Never were Curtis and Kensett more agreeable or 
 
Oat lands Park. 293 
 
 sunny. Mrs. Perry is as strong and willing a body as 
 can be, and her daughter, next door, is Newport's best 
 washerwoman. We had Mr. Boker, the dramatic 
 author, to dine with us yesterday. We called on his 
 wife at Bateman's, where we saw swarms of children, 
 dogs, swings, and black-fish. We do have a good 
 time. The weather is rather helpless, lazy, and good- 
 for-nothing, but we become sociable in proportion. 
 North, South, East, and West fuse very well, and ought 
 to be even better friends than they are. . . . Mr. 
 Everett is at the Bancrofts', charming the young peo- 
 ple with his affluent mind. For long I have not seen 
 him so happy, even gay ; I do not recognize the 
 austere president of City Library Trustees. . . . We, 
 that is, Kensett, I, and the boys (Charles and Ernest 
 Longfellow), were out fishing for four hours yesterday 
 in the foggy, soft morning, and yet got pretty well 
 burned. Mine nose feels rather loose to-day, and looks 
 like a lobster's claw. We caught, that is, Charley did, 
 who beat us all, one big tautog, eight or ten sculpin, 
 and four or five flounders, besides one blue-fish I got, 
 which proved very good to-day for breakfast. So as 
 yet Kensett and I have not painted. He chooses sites 
 and takes it easy. It is full hot to work in the sun as 
 yet. I am trying to get up concerts for Elise Hensler 
 here. Newport needs something to fill up the time, and 
 I may amuse the public and put money in her pocket." 
 
294 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 ''August 9, 1855. 
 " We are all charmed with Tennyson's new poem, 
 of which Fields has sent us the proof-sheets. We even 
 took it out to Lawton's Valley, and read it to Mrs. 
 Howe, to the tune of her leaping brook, and, when we 
 were done, went and took tea under the trees very 
 merrily, looked at with wonder by the good people 
 going by. We hope soon to share your content with 
 the Sydney Smith Life. He was wise and witty, 
 which is a much happier alliteration than witty and 
 wicked, which Heine, whose book I have just read, 
 seems to have been." 
 
 This poem of Tennyson's was "Maud," which 
 appeared in the spring of that year. 
 
 " Mrs. Anthony's, Church Street, September — , 1855. 
 " Dear Father : I suppose by this time the Long- 
 fellows are with you, to our great loss, who will at the 
 Saturday dinner tell you all the latest summer news. 
 Here now, luckily, we have none. Long, balmy, 
 placid days, untormented by the restless male and 
 female dandy, glide over our heads. Nature, with a 
 sad sweetness in her fading smile, says, * Come quick 
 and paint me, ere my last leaf is ravished, my last 
 colors pale.' And we go and paint her, poorly, mean- 
 ly, with the soul, the sunshine, the heart of her left 
 out. But in our defeat some of the tender meaning. 
 
Oat lands Park. 295 
 
 the grace, the glory, gets into us — let us hope for 
 good. My dear Kensett, that sweet child sitting at 
 the feet of Nature, is gone to wrestle with the mount- 
 ains, to put down from their haughty scalps some- 
 thing of their ethereal crown and nobleness. He is 
 gone, to my great regret ; but the Storys have come, 
 old friends of mine — he, the ready, quick-witted 
 artist ; she, the full-hearted, unpinched woman ; and 
 here in our new house, with Curtis, we live the heaven- 
 ly autumn hours. To-day is to be turned to special 
 account. With the Shaws we are to spend the day at 
 the Glen ; we take our wine and chicken, and by the 
 gentle sea, and near a picturesque mill, we shall use 
 well this latter sunshine. 
 
 Pleasant as was this experiment of Newport life, 
 the next July found the inveterate wanderer on the 
 Atlantic, writing as usual from the steamer, " This is 
 certainly one of the pleasantest passages I have made." 
 The ship's company were especially agreeable ; his 
 friends the Storys went on that voyage, and Mr. Rich- 
 ard Dana {\}ci^x\. junior^ the writer of "Two Years be- 
 fore the Mast "), and there were a number of less 
 intimate acquaintances who proved amusing ; one of 
 them a Mormon elder on a proselyting tour, whose 
 nasal twang, as he described the interview between 
 Joseph Smith and the higher powers concerning the 
 
296 Thomas G, Apple ton. 
 
 authenticity of the Mormon tablets, Mr. Appleton 
 used to imitate to his last days, *' which being shown 
 to the angel, proved to be abso/^a//ly caorrect." Mr. 
 Barry, of the Boston Theatre, and Miss Biddies, the 
 pretty actress, were on board ; the gay party found 
 the paddle-box a nice place to sit, in the morning, 
 where they told stories, recited poems, and talked of 
 writing a book, to be called " Spray from the Paddle- 
 box." 
 
 With these friends, Mr. William W. Story and his 
 family, Mr. Appleton took a house for three months, 
 at Walton-on-Thames, in Surrey, not far from Lon- 
 don, just by the country-place, at that time, of Mr. 
 Russell Sturgis, Mount Felix. He describes it thus : 
 
 "Oatlands Park, August \t^, 1856. 
 " Dear Father : Once upon a time there was a 
 rich Englishman whose name was Hughes Ball (re- 
 verse it, and you have a poor American sculptor). 
 Now this man was a prodigal, and spent his sub- 
 stance, and his estate is called Oatlands Park, and 
 has been brought to the hammer. It is to be sold 
 in ten days, and won't bring more than four thou- 
 sand pounds ; and if I could only transport the whole 
 to our side, I should consider it a bargain. It is most 
 tastefully and comfortably fitted up, the drawing and 
 dining rooms are exquisite, and it has a conservatory 
 
Oat lands Park, 297 
 
 full of promising grapes and flowers, a capital stable, 
 a large garden full of fruit ; the grounds are well laid 
 out and picturesque. We have the silver Thames just 
 by, and a large lake of our own, full of carp, mullet, 
 and jack. I have my painting-materials, and yester- 
 day painted a distance, tender wheat-fields, the heavy 
 sheaves looking from afar like a yellow mass-meeting, 
 a few farm-houses, and a square church-tower in light, 
 sentineled by black and burly elms against the faint 
 gray hills beyond. That is one view ; and I shall do 
 many more ; there are river-views full of beauty, and 
 we have in our park large places wild as Wisconsin, 
 with trees freshly planted. It is ridiculously like 
 America for a place so near London. . . . Thackeray 
 is gone to the Continent with his two daughters ; he is 
 not well, and is to begin there a new book, which he 
 says he means to make good. I hear that Lady Byron 
 wishes to talk spirits, etc. ; she is a neighbor of ours, 
 so I may drive over and see her. It feels unelectrical 
 here ; I should be surprised if the ghosts could keep 
 dry enough to rap in these mists. They drop down 
 now, like mercy, in an unstrained shower, making 
 the roses hang their heads, waving before the distant 
 farms in lawny veils." 
 
 " Oatlands Park, September 3, 1856. 
 " Dear Father : The Saturdays fly in so thick, 
 I almost forgot that a letter will not be to you unac- 
 
298 
 
 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 ceptable ; of late we have been particularly busy. 
 Our friends Lothrop Motley and family have just left 
 for your side, and you must fete this lucky author, 
 who has so Well explained how the Dutch came to 
 take Holland. He has made us very lively, and to 
 him our lovely river-brink after Germany was an Ar- 
 mida's garden. 
 
 " Besides dinners and lunches, which between our 
 two houses were daily varied, we boated down to 
 Hampton Court, and though somewhat bored by its 
 ill-cared-for gallery, were more than delighted with 
 the Raffaelles and the grand grape-vine hanging full 
 of nearly ripe bunches. It is a wonder, a miracle ; I 
 saw not a spot or blight on a single leaf. 
 
 " The shooting is in full play, as the frequent bang 
 near me reminds me. I do not make as many pict- 
 ures as I wish, as lunches, visits, dinners, eat into the 
 time. But the idlesse of this rural life is the greater 
 reason. One reads the * Times,' with the wide shad- 
 ows falling across the sheet, in a garden-chair, and 
 music all around from the shrubbery, and one gets to 
 protract the reading and enjoy the sunny garden-side. 
 Sometimes, upon our lake, I watch my quill and float, 
 but never get a bite. I have not, as yet, tried in the 
 river ; but last night, as we rowed up through rocks 
 and osiers, and fringed banks, we passed many a punt 
 holding a whole family, the papa whipping the stream 
 
Oat lands Park. 299 
 
 while the daughters read or sewed, sung under their 
 umbrella-hats ; and though the fish might be small, 
 the fun evidently was great. I saw one rather majes- 
 tic barbet taken, which reminded me of Izaak Walton. 
 There are perch and trout, and many more fish, in the 
 river. We have an old church and quaint church- 
 yard, and we have a pew. It is rural and pleasant, 
 albeit so near London, though certainly the clergy- 
 man is no wonder. I went to-day through the vil- 
 lage, and was wonderfully reminded of all the novels 
 I have lately read of English life. The same style of 
 men in the same tap-rooms, and the village oddity 
 and snob, seem here well imitated from the books. 
 " Love to all the chicks, and to the Nahant cottage." 
 
 The house at Oatlands Park was taken for three 
 months, and Mr. Appleton stayed there till the mid- 
 dle of November ; his gay party gathered around 
 them a succession of guests, with whom, and their 
 neighbors at Mount Felix, there were nightly frolick- 
 ing, charades, music, tableaux. Mr. Hurlbut was a 
 frequent and welcome visitor ; Mr. Charles Norton 
 came ; in fact, the capacities of the house being over- 
 strained, the lodge was fitted up as quarters for bach- 
 elor guests, and at the same time as a studio ; it had a 
 lattice-window, oak benches and chairs, and clematis 
 flourished over the porch. 
 
300 Thomas G. Apple ton. 
 
 Mr. Appleton writes on the presidential prospect 
 of 1856 to his father: "If Buchanan comes in, and 
 goes on, if ever so little, in the Pierce fashion, we 
 shall have to pull down our pretensions to liberty in 
 Europe. I dare say we may yet turn out a strong, 
 rich, clever, tyranny-loving people. There still will 
 be a few nations worse than we shall be, but nowhere 
 are the free energies of a people like New England's 
 so adroitly and constitutionally enslaved as the North 
 will then be by the South. It will be hard to bear, 
 but may do us good, make us more humble, and more 
 willing to look after our sins. ... I am now awaiting 
 the arrival of Mrs. Rich and the Wedgwoods and 
 Farrars, who are coming from London to lunch with 
 us, if not deterred by this fog ; to-day is better, but 
 yesterday was a day of Acheron ; as Mrs. Story clev- 
 erly said, it was like biting into a raw potato. We 
 have asked Lady Augusta Bruce, and she promises 
 to drive over with the duchess's carriage. If they 
 all come, we shall have the merriest of meetings, such 
 good and friendly people." 
 
 This pleasant episode, which Mr. Appleton used 
 to refer to in later years with great satisfaction, came 
 to an end. The party broke up ; the Storys went to 
 Rome, and Mr. Appleton to Paris, for the winter. This 
 time he took an apartment in the Rue de Luxembourg. 
 
Oatlands Park. 301 
 
 ''December 10, 1856. 
 
 " I went last night to the Piccolomini's dibut — a 
 dear little woman, singing with feeling and heart, and 
 some voice, in that sad and nasty opera ' La Traviata.* 
 It was a full house, all artistic and literary Paris there 
 — Scribe, Gautier, and other clever Parisians. No 
 Emperor, however ; but after a short waiting for him 
 we began — amid what eagerness and interest ! Before 
 the trashy opera was over how much were they cooled ! 
 There seems here a general want of first-rate talent — 
 on the stage, in opera, in the cabinet — I suppose, the 
 old complaint of all time. Last night I was at a very 
 agreeable house, that of M. de Tourgenieff, a Russian, 
 who has forfeited his life at home for trying to free 
 his serfs, and has to live here ; a noble fellow, with a 
 charming wife speaking perfect English, and a daugh- 
 ter. I met there Mrs. Stowe, who was very pleasant ; 
 so I asked her to dinner for next Thursday, to meet 
 Madame Mohl, etc. I shall start my cook and valet, 
 and hope they won't blunder and bother. . . . 
 
 " Yesterday I went to the famous doll-shop (imag- 
 ine how it was overrun, anticipating the /<?^^r ^<? /'dt«), 
 and found such a cunning box of doll, three dresses, 
 hat, cloak, etc. ; I bargained for it for little Alice, and 
 it will go in the box with the cast of the Venus de 
 Milo." 
 
 26 
 
302 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 ''March i8, 1857. 
 
 " I do not know if you understand the Credit Mo- 
 bilier, but if you do you are among the happy few. It 
 has its offices, in an imposing way, in the stately Place 
 Vendome. The very look of them has a humbugging 
 air ; and that they should be in that famous place 
 built, you may remember, by the Scotchman Law, is 
 ominous. So violent is speculation here, that many 
 pieces on the stage satirize it. To show the temper of 
 the times, I give you the saying of a witty St. Germain 
 dowager the other day — that to marry a girl, nowa- 
 days, she must have her fortune en rentes^ and her 
 parents en terre. The Emperor holds good ; I hope 
 you read his opening speech, one of his best, full of 
 good sense and character. He extorts a sort of admi- 
 ration even from his enemies. Our medium-friend, 
 Hume, is capsizing all Paris. The Emperor sends for 
 him very often, and he and the Empress shake hands 
 with the other world and see marvels, to which the old- 
 time imperial writing upon the wall was but a phos- 
 phoric trick. 
 
 " Miss Hensler first touched here on her way. She 
 is much admired, singing at private concerts, and soon 
 will get a good engagement." 
 
 Thus passed the winter ; in May, 1857, Mr. Apple- 
 ton left Paris ; as it happened, this was his last stay 
 there for any length of time. 
 
Oatlands Park, 303 
 
 *' Dear Father : To-morrow I am off for Eng- 
 land, and I think for home, and that speedily. I 
 never make up my plans till the last moment, which 
 gives them great freshness and vigor. My heart yearns 
 toward you, and I must see you. I shall find you at 
 Lynn, listening to the rustling billows, and will take a 
 good swim with Master Will. I have some coins for 
 him. I am giving away my pictures, and leaving sun- 
 dry half-finished toiles to the dogs. . . . Well, I come 
 home on the 13th, in the Persia, once again with Jud- 
 kins ; it will be pleasant." 
 
CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 HOME WANDERINGS. 
 1856-1863. 
 
 Among the artists whom Mr. Appleton met at 
 Kensett's studio, on his frequent New York excur- 
 sions, was Mr. F. O. C.'Darley ; in the summer of 1859 
 Mr. Darley was visiting him at Cambridge, when a visit 
 to Moosehead Lake was proposed, and put into exe- 
 cution with that suddenness which characterized all 
 his excursions. His admiration of the wildness and 
 beauty of the scenery of Maine was unbounded. He 
 was particularly struck v/ith the cry of the loon ; its 
 strange, wild voice, with the fiend-like, mocking laugh 
 at the end of it, inspired then and there these lines : 
 
 THE LOON. 
 
 When swinging in his silent boat, 
 
 The sportsman sees the happy lake 
 Repeat the heavens which o'er him float, 
 A quiet which no whispers break — 
 Then, ah ! that cry 
 Drops from the sky. 
 In mournful tones of agony. 
 
Home Wanderings, 305 
 
 The spirit of the lonely woods, 
 
 Of wastes unseen and soundless shores. 
 The genius of the solitude 
 
 In that complaint appealing pours — 
 One voice of grief, 
 Appealing, brief. 
 As hopeless ever of relief. 
 
 When evening breathes with perfumed air, 
 
 Delicious sadness, longings high, 
 A pensive joy, untouched by care. 
 Then hark, a laugh falls from the sky — 
 A mocking jeer 
 Floats o'er the mere. 
 And Eve-born sorrows disappear. 
 
 'Tis thus, when Nature overbears 
 
 Our human needs of joy and woe 
 Too much, these link it to our tears, 
 And shame us in their overflow : 
 That laugh, that cry, 
 To us come nigh, 
 And solitude's society. 
 
 There is a fragment of a journal begun but never 
 finished on this trip, called, " The Sporting Tour of 
 Messieurs Romeo and Chunks." It begins thus : 
 
 ^^ July 6^ 1859. — We left Boston by the Boston and 
 Maine Railroad, at 7.30 A. m. We were mentally busy 
 counting the various sundries which constitute the 
 total of sporting-people's outfit, sure that some if not 
 more items were forgotten, but after the tenth time of 
 counting we wiped the slate of memory and organized 
 
3o6 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 ourselves as cheerful. We decided to keep our eyes 
 buttoned open, not to miss one startling or picturesque 
 fact of our tour ; and so sharp were we, that we almost 
 squeezed something to note out of the heavy basket- 
 ful of chips which always constitutes the contents of 
 a Yankee car. One stalwart man, with suppressed 
 neck, and staff longer than an umbrella-case should 
 be, I already spotted as a fellow of the craft ; need I 
 add that he has dogged us ever since ? A sort of com- 
 mittee of Maine men, all in the national red-shirt 
 (which goes to show that, if the Indians are gone, 
 there are a few red-men left), burst into the car; they 
 had the tan of a hundred noons on their merry faces, 
 their straw hats had a touch of the smuggler and the 
 peasant, broad and serviceable, with flowers and tap 
 of ribbon. Later we made their acquaintance, and 
 talked of their adventures, and their high spirits raised 
 ours. They had been driving logs in Canada. Here 
 are some of their mugs, sketched by Romeo (Mr. 
 Darley), vide sketches. 
 
 "We reached Newport, where we left the rail, 
 about 5 p. M. Our stout friend and his rod-case got 
 out with us and scrambled up on the only coach, 
 while we walked up the hill to the inn, had a jolly 
 supper with our lumbermen, whose child-like fun 
 began to be a little embellished with liquor. They 
 drove off in a big wagon, screeching and laughing like 
 
Home Wander mgs, 307 
 
 wild Indians. We chartered another wagon to fetch 
 us on. We had a capital fellow for driver, an egg- 
 merchant, who keeps eggs six months and sells thirteen 
 thousand dollars' worth of them to the Boston markets. 
 He told us wonderful stories of his mare and his frolics. 
 We rattled along for two hours under a pleasant moon 
 to Dexter, where we found our stout friend and rod in 
 profound thought in the front parlor. We took a 
 copious tea, and retired to rest to the music of a 
 brook behind the house. 
 
 ^''July ph, — The scenery grew and grew into no- 
 ble mountains, sparkling lakes, and wild, fascinating 
 country. The day was hot, the valleys plunged into 
 musquitory stillness, and the elevations showing the 
 sailing cloud-shadows and many hills. 
 
 " We lunched at Abbot ; nothing but an inn. 
 Wild-strawberries, brought in by the boarders, saved 
 a fearful meal. We are in the heart of the famous 
 cuisine of New England — doughnuts, as if a hail-storm 
 had dropped over us, huge cake, scalped and painted 
 like a sachem, and meat which gave us for its origin 
 the choice of quadruped or old shoes. After lunch a 
 grim woman, in heavy glasses, burst into the parlor, 
 and gave us a shower-bath of all her family events : 
 how her husband was gone to Californy, and did not 
 mean to return for five years (looking at her, I thought 
 this exile might be wise) ; how she lived in a level 
 
3o8 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 country, and the first day she got here she thought she 
 must go back right away, the meauntins looked so 
 duberous^ she could not get used to them no ways. 
 
 " By 5 p. M. we were at Greenville ; the splendid 
 lake washing the town, and the hotel agreeable. We 
 walked through a clearing to see a young moose 
 caught last winter. We pitied him, tethered and 
 bleeding from the cuts of cord, dancing about his tree 
 with untamed haughtiness. . . . The evening was per- 
 fect ; the moon came out, and the broad lake, the 
 many isles, all with perfect black shadows thrown into 
 the tumbling opal of the water, made the scene like 
 a first-rate one of the Grand Opera. An old un- 
 painted tow-boat partook of the picturesqueness that 
 all things gain from ruin. What broad, tender tints 
 washed the mountains ! How reluctantly they parted 
 with their beauty and color ! . . . 
 
 ^^July ^th. — At breakfast we found our trout, 
 though the ruddiest ever seen, not so wonderful, 
 treated by the imbecile cook ; these fine gentlemen, 
 disguised in the vulgar dress of a Greenville kitchen, 
 were changelings. By eight o'clock we were off in our 
 yacht Katahdin. Delicious was the sail ; from little 
 to little, we fell into dreamy calms, monotonous but 
 charming ; yet we crept along, enjoying scenery and 
 cigars, saw all the wonders of the lake, admired and 
 trolled and bathed, and so spent the day. Mr. Romeo 
 
Home Wanderings, 309 
 
 sketched, and Mr. Chunks confided his feelings to 
 
 verse. 
 
 THE YACHT KATAHDIN. 
 
 Like cherubs nestled in a cloud, 
 We float along the mighty lake, 
 
 Our shade Katahdin's sail — 
 We float along, and see our wake 
 
 Of frosted silver pale. 
 
 Louis, the brother of the moose, 
 Whose step recalls the springing trout. 
 
 Watches our tinkling prow ; 
 We lie, like gods, and gaze about. 
 
 And feel contented now. 
 
 At first, so sweetly earth and heaven 
 Agreed, each seemed the other's twin — 
 
 Earth an inverted sky ; 
 Now some dark, heavenly hand has driven 
 The brightness, stamping, soft and dim. 
 
 Each isle and mountain high. 
 
 The ranks of pine are twined with mist, 
 On Lily Bay the smile expires, 
 
 Her brow in sorrow veiled ; 
 On the far reach die out the fires 
 
 Where late the sun prevailed. 
 
 But fair our lake at crimsoned eve, 
 Or wavering in the moonlight wild ; 
 
 At morn a cup of pearl : 
 Though wild, her face still glances mild — 
 
 A sweet New England girl, 
 
 " After this serious effort he felt better, unscrewed 
 his comforter, and blew a cloud, which Romeo immor- 
 
3IO Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 talized on paper — ' The Helmsman.* Later, Chunks 
 got off in another strain, as the dejection of calm came 
 over him : 
 
 DECEPTIONS. 
 
 Our thought is on the monstrous moose, 
 
 Our thought is on the trout ; 
 We long to see the first run loose, 
 
 To pull the other out. 
 
 Two guides took us to see the moose. 
 
 We fired up our tobaccos ; 
 We found him haltered in a noose, 
 
 And looking like a jackass. 
 
 Beside him was a little pool. 
 
 " Trout there ! " the guides said ; so 
 We looked down through the shadows cool, 
 
 And saw a minnow go. 
 
 We thought the bottom of the lake 
 
 Was trout all laid in stacks ; 
 We thought a walk we could not take. 
 
 For fear of rifle-cracks. 
 
 I guess the bottom's fallen out. 
 
 The shooting but report ; 
 We've bagged three horse-flies — that's about 
 
 The total of our sport. 
 
 " The calm increased. Louis, silent, sculled the 
 heavy boat. Our only music was the squeak of his 
 oar. Chunks, fallen into deeper gloom, came to 
 this : 
 
Home Wanderings, 3 1 1 
 
 CALM. 
 
 It's getting calm, and I am not ; 
 
 It really is provoking, 
 To help ourselves to hot and hot. 
 
 With baked puns for our joking. 
 Our Romeo sits, as Memnon did, 
 
 As silent and as sunny ; 
 And Chunks towers up a pyramid. 
 
 And just about as funny. 
 Mount Kineo's off full fifteen mile — 
 
 We'll reach it when we get there ; 
 Before we do, our dinner'll spoil, 
 
 There'll be another het there. 
 We've drawed the hills, we've writ the varse, 
 
 Each one in his gray jacket. 
 And just saw that old steamer pass 
 
 With most insulting racket. 
 Oh, dear ! the Bourbon's nearly out, 
 
 Our lunch is stuck at Dexter; 
 We see no likelihood of trout— 
 
 We're vexeder and vexed-er. 
 The landscape's going from our sight, ^ 
 
 We're both of us lugubrious. 
 And think the Abbot woman right — 
 
 We called the mountains " duberous!' 
 
 "... My bath in the lake was delightful, but not 
 long, for the boat, drawing ahead, would have de- 
 serted me ; so Louis drew me in, and I reposed, like 
 a gigantic frog, upon the sunny deck. It was the 
 heaviest fish he had ever got in. Suddenly, whisk ! 
 came a shower, and such a one ! From one or two 
 
312 Thomas G. Appleton, 
 
 big drops, the field of the lake became a huge chess- 
 board, where pawns, jet black and white, were moving 
 and taking each other, and then were put away in some 
 invisible box. It was we who were the stake of this 
 diabolic game. 
 
 ** Then, from tumult, we fell again to calm ; but 
 we were under Squaw Mountain, and Kineo was in 
 sight." 
 
 Soon after this the journal ends abruptly — either 
 never finished, or missing. 
 
 Mr. Appleton was very fond of the out-door de- 
 lights belonging to camp-life. One of the best beloved 
 of his reminiscences was of an excursion to the Adi- 
 rondacks in the autumn of 1859, with an exceptionally 
 agreeable party of friends. For a person who loved 
 his ease, and was singularly well versed in the meth- 
 ods which conduce to ease, Mr. Appleton was won- 
 derfully able to dispense with it. He endured the 
 discomforts of camp-life with cheerful heroism, and 
 rose in the early morning from a bed of boughs, fresh 
 and refreshed, as from the best of mattresses. 
 
 The travelers left Boston in a driving easterly 
 rain-storm, such as we have sometimes in September, 
 on the journey that was to be such " a joy forever " 
 to all of them in memory. The rain ceased by the 
 
Home Wa7iderings, 313 
 
 time they got fairly into the wilderness, and when 
 they reached Bartlett, on the upper Saranac Lake, 
 the clouds lifted, and they had delightful weather all 
 the rest of the time. 
 
 **You may well imagine," writes Mrs. Lawrence, 
 who was one of the party, " what it must have been 
 to travel through those lovely regions in company with 
 Mr. Appleton. The gorgeous tints of the autumn, 
 the mellow sunshine, the open-air life, and the peace 
 and stillness of all around us seemed to sink into his 
 very soul, and to develop all the poetic elements of 
 his nature. Wonderful talks we had while gliding 
 down Rackett River, or seated beneath the shadow 
 of the pines, or couched among the pale mosses and 
 scarlet whortleberry-bushes of the fairy-like islands." 
 
 This Adirondack trip inspired many an impromptu 
 poem ; among them the following : 
 
 When autumn leaves were fading fast 
 
 In the keen October weather, 
 Two fair ones from the city passed 
 
 Out to the woods together. 
 The sunshine which the day denied 
 
 Lived in their eyes entrancing, 
 And, as they stepped, their mutual stride 
 
 Was as a brooklet's dancing. 
 
 Through mist and rain and cloud they faced 
 
 With sunshine in their faces. 
 So bright, no melancholy dared 
 
 Live in the dreariest places. 
 27 
 
314 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 The Saranac stood robed in mist. 
 
 Struck through with gold and cherry, 
 And all its hemlocks would have kissed 
 
 Those cheeks so round and merry. 
 In keeping with the dying year, 
 
 Their Balmorals repeated 
 The tints on every mountain sere, 
 
 And crimson crimson greeted. 
 
 . . . Thus guarded, they confiding roam 
 
 Through all the forest mazes ; 
 Each cavern is their happy home, 
 
 And safe the wildest places. 
 . . . His war-horn no mosquito dare 
 
 Sound as they- float between the islands. 
 No midget bite, no spider scare 
 
 Where all is perfume, dream, and silence. 
 
 The pine-tree, like a Persian chief. 
 
 Bearded and dark above them towers, 
 His carpet rich with many a leaf 
 
 And wine-red moss and scarlet flowers. 
 Beside him, like a daughter fair. 
 
 The birch leans trembling modestly, 
 The golden sequins in her hair, 
 
 Which, caught by zephyrs, fall and fly, 
 Flooring with gold the amber sheet 
 Which spreads in beauty round their feet. 
 
 An undated letter from Trenton Falls, N. Y., to 
 his father, expresses his appreciation of the beautiful 
 nature of his own country : 
 
 " I shall never more wonder at your enthusiasm 
 about this place. I hold it to be the noblest cas- 
 
Home Wanderings, 315 
 
 cade I have ever seen. When I arrived, the waters 
 of three days had swollen it to wildness. It has not 
 one mean or paltry accessory to all its mile of won- 
 derful beauty. How unique is that magical walk, 
 close to the whirling water, and the rich trees, with 
 sweeping and grooved rocks below ! Nothing can be 
 finer. 
 
 " I find here my friend Church and his new bride. 
 I have lent her my Claude mirror to see the falls 
 in ; but she has or ought to have a mirror within for 
 everything now which Claude never dreamed of. She 
 is lovely, like a marble by Palmer, whose studio, by- 
 the-way, we had time to visit in Albany, and saw 
 lovely things, though he was away." 
 
 The memory of his early camping experiences 
 was bright enough to induce him, in the autumn of 
 1 88 1, when he was nearly seventy years old, to yield 
 to the persuasions of Mr. and Mrs. Church, and go 
 with them and a little party they formed, to Mr. 
 Church's camp on Lake Millinoket in Maine. 
 
 The weather was exceptionally warm and summer- 
 like when the little fleet of canoes was launched to 
 ascend the Penobscot. Mr. Appleton bravely stepped 
 into the one prepared for him, a mighty craft of birch, 
 exceptionally large and strong, with a wise and ex- 
 perienced guide at each end to pole it up the japids. 
 
3i6 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 All day the canoes glided over the water, sometimes 
 through placid places where pond-lilies were seen 
 floating on the surface, more often picking their way 
 along the stony, turbulent bed of the swollen stream. 
 Two nights were passed in tents before the destina- 
 tion of the party was reached. They slept well on 
 couches of pine-boughs, to the music of the mosquito 
 and kindred melodies. No one in the morning was 
 more gay, or with a better appetite for delicious fried 
 salt pork, than Mr. Appleton ; he was the first ready 
 for the walk through the woods across the " carry." 
 
 Mr. Church's luxurious log-camp is on the edge 
 of a lovely lake, confronting Mount Katahdin, which 
 rises in all its majesty directly opposite. Little waves 
 plash upon a beach of yellow sand ; a tiny rivulet of 
 ice-cold water trickles through the thick forest to the 
 shore. A huge fire of logs, in the open air, blazed 
 before the camp, and, when evening came, glowed 
 afar. The band of guides made a most efficient staff, 
 anticipating every want of the party, and cooking the 
 ample meals demanded by out-door appetites. 
 
 Mr. Appleton enjoyed everything — the bath in the 
 lake, for which the weather was mild enough, the ex- 
 peditions in canoes to beautiful points, the wondrous 
 effects of sunset upon the mountain, and even the little 
 hardships inevitable to the smoothest sort of *' rough- 
 ing it.'* With his cigar he reclined upon the sand. 
 
Home Wanderings. 317 
 
 under a fragrant pine, and listened to a novel, read 
 aloud by one of the party, interrupted, perhaps, by 
 the sound of a gun from an absent member, shooting 
 ducks upon the lake, or by the melancholy cry of the 
 loon. 
 
 When a telegram, announcing illness in the family 
 of Mr. Church, summoned the happy little party sud- 
 denly home, Mr. Appleton bore the enforced haste of 
 the return with his usual cheerfulness and gayety. 
 
 This reminiscence of the last camping excursion 
 is anticipated, in order that it may find its place with 
 the other out-door episodes of Mr. Appleton's varied 
 life. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 COMMONWEALTH AVENUE. 
 
 1864-1874. J 
 
 With the death of Mr. Nathan Appleton, in 1861, 
 the letters come to an, end which have hitherto served 
 as the best journal of his son's life. From that time 
 until his own death, the sources of information to be 
 relied on are but the ever-fresh recollections of his i 
 surviving friends. 
 
 Thomas took a lively interest in the enlargement 
 of Boston by the addition of the Back Bay lands. 
 Everything, indeed, which tended to the adornment 
 and improvement of his native town was sure to find 
 his ready sympathy. He had already been active in 
 the project, successfully carried through, of erecting 
 the statue to Benjamin Franklin, in School Street. 
 He was, from the first, a trustee of the Public Library, 
 as he had been, from its early beginning in Pearl 
 Street, one of the Boston Athenaeum. 
 
 He watched with delight the rapid growth of 
 streets on the " New Land," and, when Commonwealth 
 
Commonwealth Avenue. 319 
 
 Avenue was laid out, he was among the first to make 
 sure of possessing a house-lot while he could select 
 the best situation. He chose one on the north side, 
 with sun at the back, near the Public Garden, next 
 his friend Mr. Erastus Bigelow. Then followed the 
 absorbing interest of building, under the advice of an 
 experienced architect. 
 
 The result was a delightful library, with a house 
 built round it. In a long, large room in the middle of 
 the lower floor were arranged low book-cases on all 
 sides, where his collection of books, accumulating for 
 years, might now expand and "suffer themselves to be 
 admired." The room was lighted from above by 
 means of a well, running up through the house. Soft 
 light, through a ground-glass ceiling, fell upon the 
 pictures gathered together from his frequent travels in 
 Europe. His favorite pictures hung always in this 
 room, where he loved to spend the greater part of his 
 time ; but they overflowed into the drawing-room, 
 which occupied the front part of the house, and into 
 the sunny dining-room behind ; they climbed the 
 stairs, ornamenting the halls, and invaded the large 
 bedrooms, penetrating to the very top, where the 
 billiard-room occupied the front of the upper story. 
 Mr. Appleton used to say that he never bought a 
 picture unless he liked it. His taste, cultivated by the 
 long study of the best, was admirable, while at the 
 
320 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 same time it was always indulgent. He was never 
 afraid to buy a picture that he liked, and his kind 
 sympathy for talent and genius wherever he found it, 
 above all, in his fellow-countrymen, led him to encour- 
 age many a struggling artist, not only with words of 
 praise and just criticism, but by the more solid test of 
 a purchase. His own pictures also added their charm 
 to the series, helping to tell the tale of his wanderings. 
 His copy of the " Madonna della Seggiola," taken, in 
 his first enthusiasm, from the original in the Pitti 
 Palace, at Florence, hung for many years on the 
 wall of the dining-room, by most of the guests in that 
 hospitable place little suspected to be the work of 
 their host. 
 
 So full did the large house become with all the 
 pictures, books, bibelots, curios of all sorts, it seems 
 hard to understand how its owner could have pre- 
 viously lived in closer quarters ; the numbers have 
 gone on in rapid increase, until now, at the sad break- 
 ing-up of this home, it is a difficult task to imagine 
 what will become of them all. Mr. Appleton in his 
 later years was an insatiable reader, and books poured 
 into the house — not only books, but magazines, re- 
 views, weeklies, daily newspapers. A pile of the latest 
 foreign literature from Schonhoff found its place in a 
 corner of the library, until, in a short time, it had been 
 thoroughly read; then it disappeared to the binder, to 
 
Commonwealth Avenue, 321 
 
 be replaced by a new set ; the bound books, in due 
 time returning in their pretty coats of calf and paper, 
 were relegated to closets and shelves above-stairs, until 
 every crack and corner were filled, and then the 
 cry was, "Bridget, what shall be done with these 
 books?" 
 
 Unlike many book-collectors, Mr. Appleton was 
 always ready and willing to lend ; but even this habit 
 of his did not perceptibly diminish the amount. 
 
 The death of Mrs. Longfellow, in 1861, closely fol- 
 lowed as it was by that of Mr. Nathan Appleton, came 
 as a double blow and terrible shock to the brother and 
 son. The affection and reverence he held for his father 
 was the underlying sentiment of his life from early 
 childhood; as has been seen in his letters, the closest 
 confidence existed between them, and, in his ripening 
 manhood, the intimacy between them was more like a 
 friendship of young men than the usual ties between 
 son and father. Next to this feeling, his affection for 
 his sisters held its place in his heart. Since the mar- 
 riage of Mrs. Longfellow, to watch her happiness, and 
 the growth of her young family, had been among his 
 chiefest satisfactions. He became deeply attached to 
 Mr. Longfellow, and upon all these dear ones, including 
 the absent sister in London and her children, he con- 
 centrated the warmth of an affectionate nature. Two 
 of the circle were now gone — suddenly taken away, 
 
322 Thomas G, Appleton. 
 
 and at the same time. The blow to the current of his 
 life was a sharp and severe one. 
 
 A marked characteristic of Mr. Appleton's mind 
 was his vivid perception of the other world. At all 
 times his sense of the nearness of those who have left 
 us was active ; his faith in the unseen ran, like a 
 bright thread, through all his currents of thought. It 
 was this tendency that made him ready to investigate 
 and even accept the wonders of " spiritualism," so 
 called, growing out of the phenomena of magnetism 
 and table-tipping; seeking, as he always did, the high- 
 est manifestations of spirit through matter. It would 
 be a mistake to suppose that he derived his belief in 
 another world, in the presence around us of spirits, 
 and his firm conviction of the reality of future exist- 
 ence, from the idle feats of the medium and the tip- 
 ping-table; on the contrary, he grew weary, in his 
 latest years, of such manifestations, because they took 
 on methods too coarse and material to match in any 
 measure the delicacy of his own perceptions. It was 
 his theory — not taught him by Hume, or any mer- 
 cenary medium, but his own — that the spirit-world is 
 ever close to the world of matter ; and that, with the 
 advance of time, the slight barrier between them may 
 be broken down. Such a conviction, underlying as it 
 did his whole being, and not merely taken up from 
 time to time as a matter for speculation, made the 
 
Commonwealth Avenue. 323 
 
 memory and presence of his lost friends ever near 
 to him, though it might not do away with the pain of 
 losing their daily intercourse. 
 
 The wandering years were over. Mr. Appleton 
 was now prepared to reap the benefit, in tranquil and 
 wise living, of the years of intellectual training that 
 had gone before. Ripe in years and judgment, he 
 was fitted to give to his town and to his time an 
 example of the results of the highest culture upon a 
 generous nature. 
 
 His ideal of twenty years before, " of improving 
 his character and mind, and living modestly on a 
 moderate income," had indeed been fulfilled, but at 
 the same time he had been, consciously or uncon- 
 sciously, educating himself for the position of a man 
 of means. The inheritance left him by his father, by 
 judicious management, went on increasing until his 
 death ; in the wise dispensing of his ample fortune, 
 the liberal sharing of his possessions with the less 
 fortunate, revealed him as a man accomplished in the 
 difficult art of generous living. It has been said, 
 especially of America, that there are plenty of men 
 who can make money, but few who know how to 
 spend it. Mr. Appleton understood and practiced the 
 knowledge. He spent money for the enjoyment not 
 only of himself, but of others, and was not happy 
 unless the luxuries and amusements with which his 
 
324 Thomas G, Applet on, 
 
 intelligence, even more than his wealth, surrounded 
 him, were amply shared by others. 
 
 His health was admirable ; for he had outgrown, 
 it "would seem, the hurt which affected so seriously 
 his earlier years. His disposition and habits were of 
 great activity ; his luxurious idleness was not indo- 
 lence, for his active brain and mind were always on 
 the alert. 
 
 When the war came, in 1861, Mr. Appleton's pa- 
 triotism was aflame. Like many others of his contem- 
 poraries, he had nev.er been what was called a " free- 
 soiler," nor an abolitionist, although a personal friend 
 of Charles Sumner, and admiring his heroism for a 
 cause which won his sympathy, while he shared the 
 opinions of his father and the older men of Boston, in 
 favor of moderation and compromise in dealing with 
 the question of slavery. But when the crisis came, 
 there was no faltering ; his feelings were intensely 
 Northern, his speech strong and sharp against the 
 rebels, and his purse open to furnish to the Northern 
 army the sinews of war. Much as he loved England, 
 where he had so many friends, his wrath knew no 
 bounds for the English tendency to sympathize with 
 the South ; his brilliant, witty tongue lashed those 
 miscreants unsparingly who dared to be on the wrong 
 side. He was especially interested in the colored 
 regiments ; he was a personal friend of Governor 
 
Commonwealth Avoiue. 325 
 
 Andrew, and a useful one, with a hand that knew 
 how to sign a check. Private and public subscrip- 
 tions of all kinds found their way easily to the house 
 in Commonwealth Avenue. Mr. Appleton's corre- 
 spondence for the last twenty years of his life, in 
 great measure, consists of letters acknowledging sums 
 greater or smaller, for all sorts of enterprises, from 
 those of large patriotic weight, philanthropic impor- 
 tance, or aesthetic attraction, to private gifts lifting 
 loads from the humblest homes. 
 
 The winters of this period were passed in Boston, 
 the summers sometimes at Newport, but oftener at 
 Nahant, in the cottage shared with Mr. Longfellow. 
 In these summers Mr. Appleton sketched and painted 
 most industriously, his quick eye for the beauty of 
 Nature selecting with great judgment the right ** bits " 
 for landscape, which his favorite way of noticing was 
 by transferring to large pebbles, painted in oils with 
 admirable taste. In the winter, too, he painted, but 
 not so much. In 1868 he discovered for the first 
 time the amusement to be derived from writing to 
 dictation ; and after that he composed a number of 
 essays prepared in this way for the press. Never be- 
 fore had he published anything, with the exception of 
 a few fugitive poems ; after his early journals had 
 come to an end, his pen ceased to be so active as 
 
 before. It is much to be regretted that his delightful 
 28 
 
326 Thomas G. Applet on, 
 
 letters too had grown " small by degrees." He found 
 dictating was more like talking than writing down in 
 silence and solitude words for an unknown audience. 
 Nothing that he has dictated can compare in brill- 
 iancy with his talk ; but the essays thus written have 
 preserved reminiscences and speculations that would 
 otherwise be wholly lost. 
 
 In this full, active life of philanthropy and intel- 
 lectual enjoyment the years slipped by, the old rov- 
 ing instinct lessened but not wholly lost. In 1866, 
 to satisfy his own fondness for sailing, and to indulge 
 the same taste in his nephews and nieces, Mr. Ap- 
 pleton gave orders for the building of a yacht. He 
 has described this, and the first voyage of the Alice 
 (named for his niece, Alice Longfellow), in *' A Sheaf 
 of Papers," published in 1874. He says he "felt 
 himself bitten by the gad-fly of construction," and de- 
 termined '* to encourage native talent and build within 
 our own borders." 
 
 When the Alice was finished, the young people, 
 whose pleasure it was built to serve, were seized with 
 a desire to cross the Atlantic in it. Mr. Appleton was 
 still young enough to sympathize with this longing, 
 and his consent was soon obtained. 
 
 " Parents and relatives were weak before the ardor 
 of youth, and, to the astonishment of many and the 
 
 I 
 
Commonwealth Avemie. 327 
 
 terror of some, the little creature was actually soon 
 found to be taking in stores, and then quietly facing 
 the breadth of the ocean, as if she were an India-man 
 or a Cunarder. Amid many hands upheld in warn- 
 ing, many solemn words of discouragement, with three 
 stalwart, confident seamen, with a youthful captain, 
 who has seen his flag fly in every quarter of the world, 
 and a quaint Chinese steward, whose face suggested 
 remoter foreign parts than it was proposed to visit, 
 away went the Alice." 
 
 The captain was Arthur Clark, and the other young 
 men were Charles Longfellow and his friend Harry 
 Stanfield. Mr. Appleton published his recollections 
 of the voyage in the " Sheaf of Papers." 
 
 While the yacht was triumphantly making its way 
 through the waters, its owner crossed in a steamer, and 
 joined his young friends at Cowes on their arrival. 
 The little vessel was received with wonder in England, 
 and her officers with courtesy, who passed the summer 
 in sharing the honors of their craft. They returned 
 home in the autumn, leaving the yacht to winter at 
 Cowes. She was brought back the next spring, and, 
 for many a happy summer, was the point around which 
 centered the pleasures of the young people, and of 
 their indulgent uncle as well. Year after year, from 
 the piazza of the house at Nahant, the Alice was to be 
 
328 Thomas G. Apple ton. 
 
 seen all through the summer, at her moorings within 
 easy whistling-distance. At the summons of a note, 
 or the waving of a handkerchief, the skipper comes on 
 shore to receive his orders. For a few moments all is 
 bustle in the house, running up-stairs for wraps, search- 
 ing for parasols j the morning newspaper and the novel 
 must not be forgotten, nor the cigar. The gay party 
 hastens to the rocks just below the house, where a. 
 " bright " boat, manned by dapper, saluting sailors, lies 
 waiting to row them to the yacht. The broad sail is 
 up, the anchor-chain ,is wound,' Mr. Longfellow from 
 the piazza waves a genial farewell, and the graceful Alice 
 glides from her moorings and sweeps away, freighted 
 with happy spirits — none more gay, none so important 
 to the pleasure of the day, as the master of the yacht. 
 
 One of the pleasantest of his European tours was 
 made by Mr. Appleton in i868-*69, when he went with 
 Mr. Longfellow and his daughters abroad. To revisit 
 old, familiar scenes in company with such dear friends 
 is the best form of traveling. A part of the winter 
 was passed in Rome, going over the old ground, now 
 enhanced by the presence of many acquaintances. 
 
 The following years were spent at home — the 
 winters in Commonwealth Avenue, the summers at Na- 
 hant. 
 
 Although Mr. Appleton at this time lived alone, 
 his hospitality was such that he was seldom left to 
 
Commonwealth Avenite. 329 
 
 himself ; a small circle of intimate friends was always 
 about him, many of them artists. Among these may 
 be mentioned Mr. Petersen, whose marine -pictures, 
 and his thorough knowledge of everything belonging 
 to ships and boats, were very attractive to Mr. Apple- 
 ton ; and especially Mr. William Allan Gay, between 
 whom and Mr. Appleton there was a warm and lasting 
 friendship. At that time Mr. Gay was very important 
 to Mr. Appleton, as an ardent enthusiast for art, and 
 an appreciative listener. The closeness of their inti- 
 macy, never broken, was interrupted only by Mr. 
 Gay's departure for Japan. His fine picture of a 
 wood-interior hung always in the library, where Mr. 
 Appleton could see it, when enjoying his cigar upon 
 his favorite sofa. He had the happy faculty of enjoy- 
 ing his own possessions, and especially his pictures, 
 and not losing sight of them through familiarity, as 
 sometimes happens. He often spoke of the lasting 
 charm of this subject and its treatment. 
 
 From all his European travels the Nil6 and Syria 
 had hitherto been omitted, and, as he advanced in life, 
 Mr. Appleton had it on his mind that this Eastern tour 
 was yet to be accomplished. In the autumn of 1874, 
 after various false starts, he found himself in Florence, 
 on his way to Egypt, without as yet having secured for 
 himself any party or congenial companion. 
 
 One day, in a gallery in Venice, he entered into 
 
330 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 conversation with an artist who was copying before 
 one of the masterpieces of the collection. After some 
 easy, agreeable talk on matters of art, this gentleman, 
 turning round, said : 
 
 " Although I have never seen him, I should guess 
 you were Mr. Tom Appleton." 
 
 " What ! are you so good a Yankee as that ? You 
 have guessed right." 
 
 " I have heard my friend Kensett describe you and 
 your ' talk ' so often, that it was impossible not to rec- 
 ognize you," replied the artist, who then introduced 
 himself as Mr. Eugene Benson. 
 
 In less than five minutes, according to Mr. Apple- 
 ton's way of telling the story, he had invited Benson 
 to join him and go up the Nile. It had been the 
 dream of the artist's life, hitherto unattainable. On 
 learning that his new friend, less " unattached " than 
 himself, was married, Mr. Appleton at once extended 
 the invitation to his wife and her daughter, Miss 
 Fletcher, and thus a party was rapidly formed of just 
 the right size, and, as it proved, of admirable elements ; 
 the proposal proved one of those lucky hits which Mr. 
 Appleton always loved, which insured in advance their 
 own success, by the pride he felt in his " flair," as he 
 used to call it. 
 
 They all repaired to Alexandria and Cairo ; a da- 
 habieh was procured, with all the accompanying para- 
 
 K 
 
Cominonwealth Avenue. 331 
 
 phernalia of dragoman, cook, sailors, provisions, etc. 
 The winter was passed upon the Nile in high enjoy- 
 ment ; sketching, shooting, writing, filled up the time, 
 with ever-flowing congenial conversation. 
 
 Miss Fletcher's pen was ready to put on paper the 
 journal dictated by Mr. Appleton, and this account 
 of the trip was published in London and Boston, on 
 the return. In the spring Mr. Appleton went into 
 Syria, with the same companions, and then returned 
 as far as England, where he visited Mrs. Mackintosh. 
 
 That summer, with his niece, Eva Mackintosh, and 
 a friend, Mrs. Erskine, he made a trip into Scotland, 
 and the habit of dictation then being strong upon him, 
 they kept a journal, which begins thus : 
 
 " Oban, August 22, 1875. 
 
 "That double Sabbath of Scotland, of seriousness 
 as well as rain, constrains us Lowlanders, kirkless and 
 confined, to attempt our long-contemplated journal. 
 We have hours behind us too faint and far for 
 memory, though here and there some peculiar gleam 
 of brightness holds the past unforgotten. 
 
 " A jolly triad of us — an oldish gentleman, doubled 
 by two young women, make our party. Two of us 
 feel the pull of Scottish blood in our veins, and the 
 other, at least, is so saturated with Scott and Burns 
 as not to be behind them in interest." 
 
332 Thomas G. Apple ton. 
 
 They went by rail to Glasgow, up the Clyde in 
 a little steamer, running upon Loch Gyle, to its 
 head, the scene of Campbell's poem, " Lord Ullin's 
 Daughter." 
 
 *' What we saw was no dark and stormy water, but 
 imagination could see the black and boiling loch into 
 which the conflict of marital and parental love drove 
 that fated pair. Evidently the chief of Ulva's Isle 
 was a man of small possessions, and that silver pound 
 may have been his last penny, in which case he may 
 have been well out of the scrape altogether." 
 
 At Inverness he writes : 
 
 **The Assizes have begun, and Lord Muir has 
 opened the court. I was just in time the first day 
 to see his lordship return to the Caledonian Hotel. 
 Justice was not without its pomp and circumstance. 
 His lordship's carriage was drawn by four horses, 
 with two postilions ; he was escorted by a file of 
 Highland soldiers in kilt and sporran, the pipers play- 
 ing away at their head, followed by a silent band. His 
 lordship was attired in white satin, with scarlet crosses 
 upon it, a hood of scarlet ; above all a wig towered, 
 divided into little curls, and over all something flat, 
 like a buckwheat-cake. It was high-jinks with the 
 barefooted gamins of both sexes; they followed the 
 
Commonwealth Avenue. 2)Z2i 
 
 band with a tenacity which I emulated, and we all 
 marched to the playing of the pipers down Church 
 Street and over the bridge to the barracks, where all 
 but the band were dismissed, but I stuck to them, with 
 only three other gamins, till we reached the bridge 
 near the cathedral; there they disappeared, and I 
 came home musing upon the advantage it would be 
 to us in America if justice there had these august 
 surroundings. Yet Justice Gray persists in towering 
 upon the bench in the simple dignity of his white 
 cravat." 
 
 Thus, in alternate travel and repose in picturesque 
 places, the month of September was passed. The 
 journal closes on the first of October, with an account 
 of the' wedding, at the cathedral, of the Lord of the 
 Isles : 
 
 "The bridegroom drove up in coach-and-four, 
 with postilions in scarlet jackets. Later came the 
 fair array of bridesmaids, and last of all, in a fly, the 
 bride and her father. She was very handsome, and 
 her dress perfection. Many of the party came in full 
 Highland dress, and never have I seen such a display 
 of beautiful stockings ; they looked like a procession 
 of those plaid boxes which Edinburgh offers to the 
 traveler." 
 
334 
 
 Thomas G. Appleton. 
 
 Not long after Mr. Appleton returned to America. 
 This was really his last voyage across the Atlantic. 
 Spain was still unvisited, and Norway ; plans for 
 journeys to t?iese countries often occupied him, but 
 were never realized. The attractions of home, the 
 magnet in his sofa and fireside, became too powerful 
 even for his hitherto insatiable thirst for travel, and 
 he was content to " fight his battles o'er again," for 
 delighted listeners, and occasionally to dictate remi- 
 niscences of the past for the pleasure of the public. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 YEARS OF REPOSE. 
 1875-1883. 
 
 Nearly all of the last ten years of his life were 
 passed by Mr. Appleton in the tranquil enjoyment of 
 the comforts and luxuries by which he was surrounded, 
 and the active use of his faculties and talents for the 
 benefit of others. After the maturity of manhood, it 
 may be said that a man's life from day to day is but 
 the printing off of impressions from the types of char- 
 acter which have been set in earlier years. In such 
 impressions may be read the lessons learned, the ex- 
 periences stored up in those previous hours, and by 
 them may be judged the value of the course of life 
 which set these types and no others. 
 
 Mr. Appleton's friends, now that he is gone, love 
 to remember the home he made for his last years, 
 comfortable without parade, luxurious without osten- 
 tation. The arrangements of the household were ex- 
 actly as he liked them ; that everybody who had the 
 
33^ Thomas G. Apple Ion. 
 
 luck to share them liked them as well, is a proof that 
 his taste and judgment were of the best. His serv- 
 ants were devoted to their indulgent master. He 
 was served from affection rather than obligation. 
 
 During these years, Mr. Appleton's brother Na- 
 than lived with him, the affection between them being 
 so strong that each had become indispensable to the 
 other. With the double management of these two 
 heads of the household, there never seemed lacking 
 that feminine influence which is said to be all-im- 
 portant to the proper regulation of a home. But any 
 account of the establishment would be incomplete 
 without some mention of the faithful housekeeper, of 
 admirable intelligence and tact, who for years reigned 
 supreme in her department, carrying out the will, ex- 
 pressed or only guessed, of her chief. Mr. Appleton's 
 hospitality, to which there was no limit, sometimes 
 put the resources of Bridget to a severe test, but she 
 was always equal to the occasion. The latest, least 
 expected arrival at the crowded table was welcomed 
 by her quiet smile, though a slight contraction of the 
 brow might hint her anxiety lest the soup might not 
 go round, but in fact there was never any difficulty 
 on that score. 
 
 It will not be easy to forget the charm of that 
 dinner-table, round, well lighted from above, bright 
 with fine damask and tasteful appointments, the host 
 
Years of Repose. 2>Z7 
 
 at its head always genial, never more entertaining 
 than when he saw a circle of merry faces around the 
 board ; never less agreeable, however, when the num- 
 ber was reduced to its smallest limit. Mr. Appleton 
 believed in the gospel of good-eating, maintaining 
 that the pleasures of the palate were given us to en- 
 joy, as much as those of sight and sound. Marvelous 
 were the huge turkeys, fat capons, and generous sir- 
 loins that appeared upon his table ; but the charm 
 was not in these, but in his own unflagging conversa- 
 tion and bright spirit of conviviality. 
 
 Mr. Appleton was an early riser. Even in winter 
 he was up and out for a little walk before breakfast, 
 by eight o'clock or half past, often without an over- 
 coat, greeting the letter-carrier, the newsboy, and his 
 early neighbors, as they went down-town, with cheer- 
 ful praise or vigorous abuse of the weather. He loved 
 the eccentricities of the Boston climate, for the very 
 extremity of it. " The whip of the sky," he called 
 the east wind lashing the Inhabitants into desperate 
 energy. 
 
 " Is it not delicious ? Is it not delightfully con- 
 sistent ?" he would exclaim, joyfully opening the door 
 himself to some wind-blown guest, when the gale was 
 sweeping gusts of snow and sleet along the avenue. 
 
 After breakfast and his newspaper, his custom was 
 
 to paint for an hour or two, either In oils or water- 
 29 
 
338 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 color, enjoying the work for its own sake, and for the 
 memories of lovely nature it called up. Then he 
 never failed to start for a walk, often without any 
 definite object in view. Fortunate was the chance 
 companion he might invite to join him on one of 
 these delightfully vague excursions ; in and out of pict- 
 ure-shops, book-stores, carpet-warehouses (if by good 
 luck Bridget had told him he needed a new carpet). 
 Everybody knew him. Briggs rejoiced to see him 
 enter his carefully-spread and tempting snares, and 
 Doll and Richards pricked up their ears as the light 
 tap of his cane sounded upon their steps. All the 
 artists knew him, and each was glad when Mr. Apple- 
 ton's well-known figure appeared in his doorway, 
 when he took the proffered seat, and stayed perhaps 
 an hour, perhaps two, talking in genial strain, prob- 
 ably himself sustaining all the frais of the occasion, 
 after which he rose and took his leave, saying — 
 " Well, this has been a delightful conversation ! " 
 A cream-cake at Fera's often satisfied him for 
 lunch, after which he found his way home again, 
 across the Common and through the Garden, where 
 he never failed to observe the changing flowers, and 
 note with pleasure the improvements, and the won- 
 derful growth of the city since his younger days, when 
 Charles Street was the water-street, and the waves 
 dashed against its wall. 
 
Years of Repose. 339 
 
 Then came the cigar and well-earned repose upon 
 his sofa, accompanied, if any listener were by, by the 
 narration of his morning's experiences. He was an 
 ardent smoker. A box of Upmann Brevas stood al- 
 ways in a corner easily accessible ; in this, as in every- 
 thing else, he used moderation and method, and never 
 exceeded the number of cigars per diem which he 
 found suited him the best. 
 
 Reading occupied the rest of the daylight hours. 
 Mr. Appleton read for the pure love of reading, and 
 his taste in books was very general ; serious, gay, 
 heavy, light, scientific, or frivolous subjects all com- 
 manded his attention ; he read thoroughly, and sel- 
 dom forgot what he read, and could give an abstract 
 of a biography, or an exploring expedition, often more 
 pithy than the book from which it was derived. All 
 the new books, all the magazines, all the daily and 
 weekly papers came into that house, and none re- 
 mained unopened. 
 
 Then came darkness upon the short days of winter, 
 and cheerful fire-light in the coldest evenings made 
 the library bright. The dinner-hour was every day a 
 time for enjoyment, prolonged to its utmost by delay 
 and pleasant chat. In the evening, at one time, Mr. 
 Appleton had the habit of dictating his letters to an 
 amanuensis, or the text of the volumes of essays pub- 
 lished at that time. For the last few years, however, 
 
340 Thomas G, Appleton, 
 
 he preferred, most of all, listening to reading ; and, in 
 the quiet room, when the guests had gone, under the 
 light of softened lamps, the harmonious litter of books, 
 papers, Christmas-cards, invitations, scattered broad- 
 cast over tables and book-shelves, how many a ro- 
 mance, how many a biography, he has listened to with 
 appreciative delight ! 
 
 Mr. Appleton dearly loved a novel. He liked best 
 a good one, but he was not above enjoying a bad one ; 
 and, with generous sympathy for the difficulties of au- 
 thors, discovered the merits even of doubtful efforts. 
 In literature, as in art, he was a most indulgent critic, 
 making all allowance for the intention of the workman, 
 tolerating some books which many a reader finds dull ; 
 but a really clever book, with an intricate plot and 
 sparkling conversation, delighted him. 
 
 With his convivial habits and gifts of conversation, 
 Mr. Appleton, of course, was much in demand in so- 
 ciety, receiving plenty of invitations during the gay 
 season. He had always liked dining out, which is not 
 to be wondered at, as he was sure to be the life of the 
 table, and he readily accepted the demands made on 
 him by his friends. In his latest years, however, and 
 especially after his fall on the ice, in 1877, he grew a 
 little weary of so much visiting, and gradually came 
 to prefer the quiet evenings at home. He enjoyed the 
 theatre, and seldom missed a new play, or an old fa- 
 
Years of Repose. 341 
 
 vorite. He had seen all the great performers of his 
 time, but never spoiled his own enjoyment of the 
 present, by comparing the actor he was seeing with 
 the phoenixes of the past. During the last winter of 
 his life he saw every play, at least once, of Irving and 
 Miss Terry. His pleasure in their performance was 
 just as keen as at the triumphs of Grisi and Taglioni 
 fifty years before. 
 
 *' Now we are perfectly sure of a good time," he 
 said every night, as the door was shut of the cab 
 which was taking him, through storm and sleet, to the 
 Boston Theatre to see " Louis XI," " The Bells," and 
 all the rest. 
 
 Such were the winter pursuits of the last few years. 
 In summer, Mr. Appleton's favorite home was the 
 house at Nahant, than which it is difficult to imagine 
 anything pleasanter, especially during the lifetime of 
 Mr. Longfellow, who shared the place with his brother- 
 in-law. There was a warm affection between these 
 two men, which deepened as they grew older. The 
 death of Mr. Longfellow, in 1882, was a great loss to 
 Mr. Appleton — one more of the events which loosened 
 his hold upon this life, and turned his thoughts, always 
 conversant with the things of another world, more con- 
 stantly to the life beyond. 
 
 At Nahant was the yacht Alice, and the ever-lovely 
 sea, with the town and sunset-view across the water. 
 
 \ 
 
342 Thomas G, Applet on. 
 
 The piazza there took the place of the cozy library in 
 town, and there Mr. Appleton passed luxurious hours, 
 with his cigar, surrounded by books and papers. A 
 daily walk, varied by calls upon his neighbors — for in 
 every house at Nahant he was a welcome visitor — and 
 a drive across the beach, or perhaps as far as the Ap- 
 pleton pulpit at Saugus, filled up the day, with some- 
 times an ocean-bath. 
 
 A new generation had come up to claim his atten- 
 tion. His niece, Mrs, Dana, was often with him at 
 Nahant, and her children were a great source of satis- 
 faction to him. The house in town, on Sundays espe- 
 cially, overflowed with children, the two families of 
 his half-brother and sister. These young people re- 
 produced, to his thought, their parents, who also had 
 come about him as children, regarding, as they had 
 done, " Uncle Tom " as a source of manifold bless- 
 ings. 
 
 Once or twice Mr. Appleton was persuaded to 
 leave the comforts of home, to which he was becom- 
 ing more and more bound, for short excursions not far 
 away. One of these was a trip to North Carolina, in the 
 autumn of 1880, with Mr. and Mrs. F. E. Church and 
 the present writer. The journey was a most agreeable 
 one, the mountain-scenery of North Carolina proving 
 as fine as it had been described. The party spent ten 
 days delightfully at Warm Springs, in a pleasant, old, 
 
 ./ 
 
Years of Repose. 343 
 
 rambling hotel. Mr. Appleton was as active as of old, 
 and as keenly awake to the amusements of the place. 
 Always a wonderful traveler, his spirits rose with the 
 discomforts of bad inns, bad food, and sleepless 
 nights. He never was funnier than on one occasion, 
 in the middle of the night, when the train was late, 
 and there was nothing to do but to walk up and down 
 the hideous carpet of a dreary hotel-parlor, between 
 one and two a. m., for an hour or more. Mr. Apple- 
 ton said he enjoyed it ; and, with his gay talk, kept 
 the party not only awake but merry until the arrival 
 of the train. 
 
 He kept up his relations with friends and things in 
 New York till the last, generally making a visit there 
 in the spring of each year, as much at home there, in 
 the galleries, shops, studios, and drawing-rooms, as in 
 Boston. These trips were sometimes extended as far 
 as Washington. Two or three weeks sufficed for such 
 absences, and he returned to Commonwealth Avenue 
 to Bridget, to the dogs and birds, with content. 
 
 These genial pursuits did not prevent him from 
 maintaining a lively interest in the public matters of 
 Boston. The Art Museum was his favorite hobby ; 
 his walks often tended toward it, and he delighted to 
 show friends and strangers what it contained. He was 
 the best cicerone for the treasures of it ; indeed, he 
 prepared a short addition to its catalogue, full of infor- 
 
344 Thomas G. Apple ton, 
 
 mation valuable to the visitor ; but it was far better to 
 hear him talk about the statues and pictures. He lin- 
 gered always before the busts of the Roman emperors ; 
 like the likenesses of old friends, they called up to him 
 the characters and lives of those whom they repre- 
 sented. He had many a personal anecdote connected 
 with the objects of art in the various rooms. 
 
 It would be too long to enumerate the many ob- 
 jects for the adornment and improvement of Boston 
 in which he took an active share ; and vain to try to 
 reveal the countless kindnesses, pecuniary or other- 
 wise, which dropped from his open hand, unknown 
 and unmentioned, upon the objects of his sympathy. 
 In that direction no day was without its mark. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LAST. 
 1884. 
 
 In the autumn of 1883 the friends of Mr. Apple- 
 ton could not have failed to observe a slight change 
 coming over him, which even then seemed to them a 
 faint foreshadowing, not of the end, but of approach- 
 ing old age. Although he had passed his seventieth 
 year, he had still up to this time been as young in his 
 feelings as any of his circle. Now there appeared a 
 little flagging of the hitherto undaunted spirit. His 
 sense of hearing, always remarkably quick to catch a 
 chance for repartee, the song of a bird, the roll of 
 waves upon the shore, began to fail him, according to 
 his own impression, though others did not perceive it. 
 He was advised to consult an aurist. 
 
 " It may be only wax in your ears," said some one, 
 consolingly. 
 
 " Ah, my dear ! " he replied, " I fear it is not wax, 
 but wane." 
 
34^ Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 How idle to repeat such things as these, which, 
 lacking the manner, the glance, the smile, which be- 
 longed with them, convey no point to the reader ! 
 
 He became more attached to his sofa, more in- 
 different to the invitations of society, put off demands 
 upon his time requiring exertion, and sometimes sent 
 away the carriage waiting at the door for him to 
 drive. 
 
 Yet he never was more genial, more sympathetic, 
 more gentle in his judgment of men and things. In 
 his earlier years, very likely, he was willing to pass 
 sharp sentences upon follies and crimes, even upon 
 acts which did not excite his sympathy ; but of late 
 this was changed. It was easy to turn away his wrath, 
 about to fall upon some imagined offender in a torrent 
 of condemnation, by a few gentle words defending the 
 absent sinner. " You are quite right," he would say ; 
 ** I am glad to hear so much good of him. No doubt 
 he is an excellent fellow." 
 
 It would be pleasant to linger over those hours, so 
 pleasant while they were passing ; so sweet, so sad, to 
 recall now that they are gone forever. Those who 
 enjoyed them would fain have put forth a detaining 
 hand to check their rapid flight, but this could not be. 
 Mr. Appleton's devoted brother, and the friends near- 
 est him, saw the gradual change with unspoken pain ; 
 found themselves, to their surprise, called upon at the 
 
 in/7 
 
 MCV-4l34i 
 
The Last. 347 
 
 bright dinner-table to be talkers rather than listeners, 
 because the host, who once had needed no spur to be 
 the life of the party, now sat listening, though always 
 cheerful and pleased. No one thought of death, but 
 perhaps of long years of failing perceptions, senses 
 dimmed, and activity repressed. Perhaps he himself 
 saw something of this in the future ; and bravely, si- 
 lently prepared himself to play the part of old age, 
 retired from the active scene he so long had distin- 
 guished. 
 
 From such a decline he was spared. It was better 
 that a brief, unexpected illness, without much suffer- 
 ing, should close a life with which it would be hard to 
 associate the ideas of physical failure and infirmity. 
 His last hours were distinguished by the same bright 
 cheerfulness which ruled his later years. In the full 
 possession of his faculties to the last, it is easy to 
 imagine that he approached with intense satisfaction 
 the portals of the other world — the solution of the 
 mystery of the two lives which had ever occupied his 
 earnest and devout speculations. 
 
 No effort has been made in this little memoir to 
 adorn or add to the story of a life spent in the pursuit 
 and use of the highest things. It may be seen, with- 
 out comment, that, from the beginning to the end, Mr, 
 
348 Thomas G. Applet on. 
 
 Appleton's course of intelligent travel, his search for 
 the best in Nature and in art, his intercourse with the 
 leading minds of his time, were fitting him for the 
 position he was destined to fill — of a leader in artistic 
 thought and advanced cultivation in his native to-vn. 
 
 Since his death it has been frequently said that 
 there is no one to fill his place in Boston. Truly, the 
 position he held there, as authority in all matters of 
 art and literature, foremost in brilliant conversation, 
 a liberal protector of talent in every line, was not 
 lightly won. It was the well-earned result of a youth 
 and manhood spent in wide and liberal self-culture, 
 resulting in a knowledge scattered broadcast for the 
 benefit of all who came within its influence. 
 
 THE END. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 iiilllB 
 
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